If it hadn’t been for a sudden train delay in Vinaròs, Spain, we never would have found Morella. It wasn’t on our itinerary. In fact, we hadn’t even heard of it. After waiting several hours in an overcrowded train station, surrounded by bleary-eyed twenty-somethings returning from the party island of Ibiza, we realized we had two choices: spend the night on the tiled floor of a transport hub that smelled vaguely of beer and sunburn, or find another way forward. While my son retreated into a book, my husband scanned the horizon like he might will a train into existence. I sat cross-legged on the floor, teetering between optimism and mild despair. I pulled out my old-school Spain travel guide. I wasn’t expecting miracles, just an alternative to what was rapidly becoming a low point in our five-week European adventure. That’s when I found it. A small entry tucked between better-known destinations: Morella. A walled hilltop town, medieval in appearance, steeped in military history, and according to the guidebook, host to a unique local festival held only once every six years. I checked the date, and as luck would have it, this was the year. I nudged my husband. “What if we just… rented a car and went to Morella?” I pointed to the page like I was revealing a winning lottery number. “There’s even a car rental desk here at the station. Two, actually.” Even if the trains resumed (they wouldn’t), no train went to Morella. If we wanted to get there, it had to be by road. We took that as a sign. Road Trip to Morella: Spain’s Hidden Medieval Gem Keys in hand, backpacks in the boot, and an actual paper map in my lap, we set off, having never driven in Spain before and hoping the car’s clutch wouldn’t be our undoing. Our first challenge came at the toll booth. Feeling falsely emboldened, we chose the automated lane. Unfortunately, it didn’t speak English. We didn’t speak Spanish. It asked us something we didn’t understand, and the only thing we could offer in response was panic. We backed up awkwardly, waved the locals around us, and shuffled over to a booth with a human inside. Between gestures, our guidebook map, and a shared tolerance for awkward grins, we communicated our destination. The toll agent nodded, took our coins, and lifted the gate. We were off! As we left the coast and entered Spain’s dry, rugged interior, the landscape shifted from parched to parched-and-hilly. For over an hour, we wound our way through quiet, sun-bleached terrain. Occasionally, we’d pass a farmhouse or a sheep. It was, by every measure, the road less travelled. Then, just as our son asked for the fourth time how much longer it would be, we rounded a bend and there it was. Morella, Spain First Impressions of Morella, Spain Morella. Perched high on a hill like a crown, flanked by soft valleys and jagged outcrops, it looked less like a town and more like a medieval film set untouched by modernity. The castle ruins caught the late-afternoon sun like a beacon. Everything—the sandstone walls, the warm-toned rooftops, the sheer drop of the cliffside—glowed with the kind of light you can’t photograph well but will remember forever. We were giddy. It was more than promising; it was perfect. We found a parking spot just outside the old-town gate and hauled our bags into the village. The town was quiet. Surprisingly quiet. Perhaps it was the hour or the day of the week. We had no reservation but managed to find a room at a small hotel where no one spoke English, and our collective Spanish hovered somewhere between “tapas” and “gracias.” Still, we managed. We got directions, mostly through mime and repetition, and went out in search of food. As we made our way down the main street, something struck us. The sidewalks, which ran under the buildings' overhanging roofs, were barricaded from the road by thick wooden planks. It gave the place an odd, Wild West feel, as if at any moment, a saloon brawl or shootout might erupt. We made a note of it, but only in passing. At the time, it seemed like quirky small-town infrastructure. That would change later. The town itself was charming. Local bakeries, small tapas bars, and shops selling woollen goods and wine all had a distinctively Spanish feel, but none of the polish or pretense of a place used to catering to tourists. In fact, we got the distinct impression that we were the only tourists in town. It didn’t feel secret. It felt untouched. Finding Paella in Morella, Spain Finding Paella and Local Flavours in Morella Our first meal in Morella was found down a narrow alleyway just off the main street. The kind of place with no English menus and no apologies for it. The chalkboard listed items we could only half-translate: “pollo,” “arroz,” “verdures.” So we pointed, ordered one dish for the three of us, and hoped for the best. What arrived was not just better than expected; it was a feast. A massive, silver-rimmed paella dish, still steaming, filled with perfectly seasoned chicken, smoky rice, and just enough vegetables to convince ourselves it counted as a balanced meal. It was the kind of meal you don’t so much eat as surrender to. We devoured it. No polite small talk. No bites held back. When we finally looked up, dazed and glowing with post-paella contentment, the streets outside were hushed. Lights glowed faintly in doorways, and for a town that was apparently about to unleash flaming bulls, it seemed almost absurdly peaceful. With full bellies and a long unexpected travel day now behind us, we decided to head off to bed and rest up for what Morella had to offer us tomorrow. Exploring Morella Castle and Ancient History The next morning, with our nerves rested and the town still fresh to our eyes, we set off to explore the castle that had been looming over us since our arrival. My husband, ever the history enthusiast, looked like a kid en route to a medieval candy store. Our son, still not quite over the paella coma, trudged along behind us. At one point, he climbed a low wall, announced he was a knight defending his kingdom, and promptly got bored. It was hard to tell if he was more interested in the history or in getting back to lunch. The castle at Morella is exactly what you'd hope for in a Spanish hilltop fortress: old, dramatic, and clinging to the edge of a cliff like it’s refusing to retire. Built on a chunk of rock that’s been considered prime real estate since the Neolithic era, it’s been occupied by just about everyone: Greeks, Romans, Visigoths, Moors, Christians. Think of it as a centuries-long game of military Airbnb. Strategically, it makes sense. You can see everything from up there—the valleys, the surrounding hills, probably even your neighbour’s dinner if you squint. While various armies fought to control it over the centuries, nowadays it's mostly claimed by tourists in sensible footwear and puffed-out dads pointing at battlements. We climbed the uneven stairs, explored weathered stone rooms, and read signs we only half-understood. The view from the top was worth every step: the entire town stretched out below us like a movie set, the surrounding countryside rolling on forever. I could see why everyone wanted to conquer it. I also now understood why no one wants to walk back down without a snack break. Afterwards, we wandered back into the village, poked around shops, and noted the bullring, still very much in use, though thankfully not that day. We embraced the idea of a siesta before returning to the same little alleyway restaurant for what quickly became our signature order: chicken paella. Same server. Same bliss. The Flaming Bull Festival in Morella (Bou Embolat) And that’s when the real spectacle began. As we sat back, content once more with our meal, I remembered those odd wooden barricades from the day before. They no longer seemed like quirky infrastructure but more like a warning, the kind you only recognize too late. Then the sound hit us: drums, horns, music rolling down the narrow streets, shaking the quiet air awake. The town had stirred, and so did our curiosity. As we made our way to the main street, the bands grew louder, echoing down the narrow stone street. Families climbed the barricades, settling in with the casualness of people who’d done this their whole lives. At first, it all seemed harmless. The men in white and red rolled out their wheelbarrow bull, a rough wooden contraption with curved horns. Children squealed as they were chased, giggling and darting between the barricades. Then came the older kids, the bull’s horns now fitted with sparklers that spat light and smoke. It was charming in a slightly pyromaniacal way. “That must be it,” I said. “Their version of the running of the bulls. Cute.” We relaxed. We even chuckled. And then the horn blast came. Loud. Guttural. The crowd surged as if hit by a shockwave. Suddenly, everyone knew something we didn’t. The first real bull charged into view. Massive, fast, its horns rigged with some kind of sheathed contraption that flared with balls of fire. The flames spat and roared with every shake of its head, lighting up the night. And behind it came another! The heat rolled off them as they thundered past, so close you could smell the singed hair. Meanwhile, the locals leaned in casually, as though this were no more alarming than waiting for a bus. The street was barely wide enough for a car, and here they were, tons of flaming muscle, charging within arm’s reach. I grabbed the wooden barricade with one hand and my son with the other as the bulls tore past, hooves striking sparks on the cobblestones. The crowd screamed, cheered, and leaned dangerously close. This wasn’t cute. And it definitely wasn’t controlled. We might have survived unscathed had one bull not doubled back. Instead of heading for the ring at the end of the street, it slipped through a gap in the barricades and reappeared on the sidewalk—our sidewalk. Instinct took over. In one motion, I shoved my son sideways, trying to push him out of the bull’s path, just as someone behind yanked me backwards through an opening. The bull thundered past, flames licking the night, and for a few terrifying seconds, I had no idea where my husband or son were. When I spotted them—my son wide-eyed across the street, my husband hustling from another barricade—the relief lasted all of two seconds. Because the bull was coming back again! Spanish Hospitality Chaos, Barricades, and Balcony Hospitality We scrambled up the nearest crowded barricade, clawing for any handhold. In my panic, I grabbed what I thought was a support post, only to discover it was a local man’s anatomy! He yelped, I screamed, and somehow he shifted aside on the overcrowded barricade to make room for us. To this day, I’m thankful my Spanish wasn’t good enough to translate what he told his friends about what just happened. We climbed off the barricade, but just when we thought we were out of danger, another bull came careening down the street. We spotted a ladder leading up to a balcony. We climbed, assuming it was public, only to find ourselves on someone’s private balcony. But instead of shooing us out, the family welcomed us, pressing food and drink into our hands as if we were distant cousins who’d just dropped by mid-stampede. From our perch, we watched more bulls charge down the street, the barricades rattling, the flames glowing against the stone walls. By the time we climbed back down, still buzzing with adrenaline, the streets were quiet again. We ducked into a bar to decompress. That’s when my son turned to me and asked, “Mum, why did you push me in front of the bull with flaming horns?” “What? I pushed you out of the way!” “Well, that may have been your intention,” he said with a grin, “but I came eye-to-eye with a flame-throwing bull, so… that’s a moment I won’t soon forget.” It’s his favourite version of the story. Mine is that I saved him. The truth, as always, is somewhere in the chaos. Back in our hotel room, none of us said much. My husband lay silently staring at the ceiling, my son kept replaying the moment in slow motion, and I sat there Googling “bull festivals Spain: how often do people die?” “Well,” my son finally said, “that was… something.” And that was the understatement of the trip. What is the Sexenni Festival in Morella? Only later, over coffee in a quiet corner of the village the next day, did we finally ask the obvious question: What exactly had we just witnessed? As it turns out, Morella’s flaming bull spectacle isn’t some one-off village stunt or eccentric summer tradition. It’s part of something much bigger. Every six years, the town holds the Sexenni de Morella, a nine-day festival to honour the Virgin of Vallivana, believed to have spared the town from plague back in the 1600s. In gratitude, Morella vowed to mark the occasion every sixth year with pageantry, processions, dancing guilds, and yes, bulls with literal fire on their heads. The event we’d stumbled into, called the bou embolat, is part of that centuries-old promise. Whether it’s cultural pride, divine obligation, or just a particularly intense form of local entertainment, it’s taken very seriously. And here we were, clueless Canadians, dodging flaming livestock like it was just another Tuesday night. Morella vs. The Rest of Spain: Why This Detour Stands Out In the days that followed, we continued on with our trip, finally making it to Valencia, then on to Seville with its orange-blossom air and shaded plazas. We followed this with a visit to Gibraltar, where we were unceremoniously chased by monkeys on the Rock like it was some sort of wildlife-themed slapstick sketch. From there, we wandered through the medieval maze of Toledo, El Greco’s old stomping grounds, and a hilltop town that almost gave Morella a run for its money before eventually making our way to Paris and then into Germany to visit family. Over five weeks, we covered a lot of ground. We ate a lot of bread. We argued about directions. We got better at packing and worse at resisting pastry. But even with all that, nothing quite matched the absurd, accidental brilliance of Morella. It hadn’t been planned. It hadn’t even been in the realm of “maybe.” If the trains hadn’t stalled that day, if we hadn’t been stuck in that hot little train station full of hungover backpackers, if I hadn’t flipped open a guidebook out of desperation, we never would’ve known that Morella existed. Let alone that we’d be there, just hours later, climbing medieval barricades and dodging bulls with flaming horns like it was the most natural thing in the world. And to think, if that train had arrived on time, our story would have been about nothing more memorable than sweaty backpacks and missed connections. Medieval towns of Spain Final Thoughts: When Travel Detours Become the Story Morella wasn’t just a detour. It was the story of the trip. The one that comes up whenever someone asks, “What’s the wildest thing that’s ever happened to you while travelling?” It’s the one we still tell with dramatic hand gestures and overlapping interruptions around dinner tables, long after the photos have been buried in old phones and half-filled albums. It’s the one my son never tires of retelling, especially the part where his mother heroically shoved him into the path of a charging bull on fire. Travel rarely goes exactly to plan. And thank God for that. Because the truth is, most of the best moments don’t happen when everything goes right. They happen when the train doesn’t come, and you’re forced to do something unexpected. Something mildly reckless. Something that might involve rental cars and toll booths and, if you're particularly lucky, flaming bulls. Morella gave us that story. And we didn’t even see it coming. I’ve revisited our Morella misadventure for Travel Notes from Seat 12A, with the benefit of hindsight and a son who has never allowed me to forget the important parts. Read The Day I Apparently Threw My Son to the Bulls. Your turn... I’ve told you mine, flaming bulls and all. Now it’s your turn: what supposed disasters ended up as the best stories in your own travels? Leave in the comments below.

How to get there, what to see at Hierapolis and why Pamukkale deserves more than a hurried photo stop. White travertine terraces and thermal pools at Pamukkale, Türkiye. This article contains affiliate links. If you book through one of them, I may earn a small commission at no additional cost to you. I only recommend experiences I’ve taken myself or genuinely believe will be useful to other travellers. Our visit took place several years ago, so I’ve checked current access information and linked to official sources wherever conditions may change. Pamukkale was one of the places I was most excited to see on our first trip through Türkiye. I had seen pictures of pale blue thermal pools spilling across a hillside that looked as though it had been covered in snow. The whole thing appeared slightly unreal. We planned to stay for a few days rather than treat it as a quick stop. That turned out to be the right decision. Pamukkale is hot, exposed and popular. If you arrive in the middle of a summer afternoon expecting cool water, empty pools and a gentle stroll, the place may offer a fairly brisk correction. Here’s how to get there, what to see and how much time you actually need. Pamukkale at a glance: Allow at least four to five hours at the site. Two nights gives you one unhurried day and helps you avoid planning around a return bus. Visit in spring or autumn when possible, and treat Hierapolis as half the experience. Why Pamukkale is worth the journey Pamukkale is worth visiting for the combination of the travertine terraces and the ruins of Hierapolis. Thermal springs, ancient spa culture, Roman ruins and a sprawling necropolis all occupy the same improbable hillside. The natural and archaeological parts of the site aren’t separate attractions. Together, they explain why people have been coming here for the thermal water for thousands of years. Pamukkale and Hierapolis have been recognized together as a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1988. Seeing both properly requires more than the hour many tightly scheduled tours appear willing to grant them. Where is Pamukkale? Pamukkale is in Denizli Province in southwestern Türkiye, approximately 18 kilometres from the city of Denizli. Denizli is the main transportation hub. Most independent travellers arrive there by bus or train before continuing to Pamukkale village. The village of Pamukkale sits directly beneath the archaeological site and is small enough to walk around. The site itself, however, is much larger than it looks from below. How to get to Pamukkale We travelled from Kuşadası by small bus. Most routes pass through Denizli. From Denizli: Take a local minibus, known as a dolmuş, or a taxi from the bus or train station to Pamukkale village. The journey usually takes around 20 to 30 minutes. From İzmir: Travel by train or intercity bus to Denizli, then continue to Pamukkale by dolmuş or taxi. From Selçuk or Kuşadası: Choose between an intercity bus, rental car or guided day tour. Driving generally takes around two and a half to three hours each way. If you’re combining Pamukkale with Ephesus (also highly recommended), Selçuk or Kuşadası and don’t want to coordinate buses and transfers, a guided tour is the simplest option. Before booking, check that the itinerary includes both Hierapolis and the terraces and allows enough time to see them properly. If, like me, you prefer to work out your own travel plans, Rome2Rio is a useful place to start. It shows possible train, bus, ferry, flight and driving routes in one place. I use it to decide which route makes sense, then confirm the schedule and book directly with the transportation provider. How long should you stay in Pamukkale? I recommend spending two nights in Pamukkale. You don’t need two full days of sightseeing. The second night simply lets you visit at a sensible hour instead of building the day around transportation. That gives you one full day at the site and lets you visit earlier or later than most day-trip groups. You can explore without timing the entire day around a departing bus. One night can work if you arrive early or leave later the following day. If you only have a few hours, prioritize the travertines and the Roman theatre. We stayed for three days, including one quiet day around town and the hotel pool. The slower pace was welcome. The hotel itself provided several experiences we hadn’t booked, but that story belongs elsewhere. Pamukkale’s white terraces overing looking the village in Denizli Province. Walking on the Pamukkale terraces Pamukkale means “Cotton Castle” in Turkish, which makes sense when you see the hillside rising above the village. The terraces were formed by calcium-rich thermal water flowing across the slope and leaving deposits behind. Over time, those deposits created the shelves, channels and shallow pools visible today. Visitor access is limited to designated areas to protect the formations. Don’t expect every pool seen online to be open, full of water or available for bathing. You must remove your shoes before stepping onto the designated travertine route. Fair warning: the surface isn’t smooth, so expect something resembling a deep-tissue foot massage. We rolled up our pants and walked barefoot through the shallow pools and streams. The water was warmer than we expected, which was worth knowing during a Turkish heat wave. Bring a small bag for your shoes and belongings so your hands stay free, and take your time on the wet, ridged surface. Walking barefoot through the travertine pools at Pamukkale. Don’t miss Hierapolis I’m slightly embarrassed to admit that before we visited Pamukkale, I thought it was just the terraces. Then we reached the top and found an entire ancient city. Not a few stones and an optimistic information board. Hierapolis includes a Roman theatre, temples, gates, baths, ancient streets and an extensive necropolis. The city was founded in the second century BC and developed around the thermal springs. People came here to bathe, receive treatment and enjoy the benefits of what became an important Roman spa centre. The Roman theatre The theatre was the highlight of Hierapolis for me. Much of the seating and part of the stage building remain, making it easy to understand how the structure once functioned without requiring a diagram or an advanced degree in Roman architecture. It sits away from the travertines, so allow enough time to reach it. The climb and summer heat require some effort, but the theatre is worth it. he Roman theatre in the ancient city of Hierapolis above Pamukkale. The Northern Necropolis The necropolis stretches for roughly two kilometres and contains tombs, sarcophagi and funerary monuments from different periods. It’s fascinating, but it adds a considerable amount of walking. If your time or energy is limited, see the theatre and central ruins before deciding how far to continue. There is very little shade across Hierapolis. The ancient Romans made many important contributions to civilization, but the covered moving walkway was not one of them. Should you swim in the Antique Pool? The Antique Pool, often called Cleopatra’s Pool, contains warm thermal water and submerged stone columns. It sits inside the archaeological site. When we visited, it was crowded and incredibly hot. After several hours walking through warm water and sun-baked ruins, getting into another heated pool had lost some of its charm. We chose not to swim. Do I regret that decision now? Yes. But at least I have an excuse to go back. If bathing among ancient remains appeals to you, allow extra time and bring a swimsuit. If your priorities are elsewhere, you won’t have missed the essential Pamukkale experience by skipping it. If you’d prefer to explore with a guide while keeping the option of swimming in the Antique Pool, the Thermal Pamukkale Tour From Pamukkale – Small Group combines the major sites with time to visit the pool. Check the current inclusions and any additional pool admission fee before booking. The pool has periodically closed for restoration. Check its current status on the official Hierapolis-Pamukkale listing before your visit. When is the best time to visit Pamukkale? Spring and autumn offer the most comfortable conditions for exploring the site. Summer can be extremely hot. When we visited, the temperature was over 40°C. The pale formations also reflect the sunlight with impressive enthusiasm. If you visit during warmer months, go early or later in the day. Bring more water than you think you’ll need, along with sunscreen, sunglasses and a proper hat. Opening hours and evening access can vary by season. Check the official Turkish museum website shortly before visiting rather than relying on hours copied into an article several summers ago. Which entrance should you use? Pamukkale has three commonly used entrances: the town entrance, north entrance and south entrance. The town entrance begins near the bottom of the travertines and requires walking barefoot uphill towards Hierapolis. The upper entrances provide more direct access to the archaeological area. Your best choice depends on where you’re staying, your transportation and how much uphill walking you want to do. Ask your accommodation which entrance currently makes the most sense and arrange a taxi if you want to start at the top and finish closer to the village. Practical tips for visiting Pamukkale Wear supportive walking shoes for Hierapolis and shoes that are easy to remove at the terraces. Carry a small bag for your footwear. Bring plenty of water, sunscreen, sunglasses and a hat. Pack a swimsuit, small towel and waterproof phone pouch if you plan to enter the thermal water. Allow at least four to five hours for the main sites. Is Pamukkale worth a spot on your itinerary? If Pamukkale fits naturally into your western Türkiye route, it’s worth two nights and one complete day of exploring. Go early, carry water and keep walking once the pools are behind you. The site makes much more sense when Hierapolis is treated as half the experience rather than an optional extra. If a Turkish hamam is also part of your trip, read my guide to what to expect at a Turkish hamam before someone in a bathing wrap begins communicating entirely through pointing. For the story of the broken air conditioner, two oscillating fans and the hotel breakfast we still talk about, read The Pamukkale Hotel Where Fawlty Towers Met Ratatouille.

Mineral springs, grand colonnades, forest walks and a treatment menu that takes a rather literal approach to wellness. Colourful historic buildings lining the Teplá River in Karlovy Vary, Czechia This post contains affiliate links. If you book through one of them, I may earn a commission at no additional cost to you. It helps support Tailor Made Travels and the stories shared here. Karlovy Vary may not be a name familiar to many North American travellers. Some may remember it as Karlsbad, but whatever name you use, this historic European spa town deserves considerably more attention than it gets. Karlovy Vary was built around natural mineral springs and the rather serious business of taking the cure. Set inside a forested river valley, it offers pastel architecture, grand colonnades, woodland walks and one of the more unusual wellness traditions you’re likely to encounter in Czechia. Here, the mineral water comes with temperatures, recommended uses and peculiar porcelain cups designed for drinking it while walking. The entire town seems organized around the business of getting better, although nobody promised the cure would taste good. We spent two nights in Karlovy Vary, which gave us enough time to explore the historic centre, ride the funicular into the forest and discover that Czech spa treatments use considerably more alarming vocabulary than their Canadian counterparts. Is Karlovy Vary worth visiting? Yes, especially if you enjoy places that feel completely different from the rest of your itinerary. Karlovy Vary is compact enough to explore without turning your day into an endurance event, but there’s enough to justify staying for two nights. You can follow the river through the historic centre, taste the mineral water, ride the funicular into the forest and investigate a treatment menu containing words such as pelotherm, pneumopuncture and four-chamber galvanization. The centre is easy to walk, although the steep hills surrounding it occasionally remind you that “spa town” doesn’t necessarily mean “effortless town.” Comfortable shoes remain one of Europe’s least glamorous but most reliable travel investments. What makes Karlovy Vary memorable isn’t one particular building or attraction. It’s the feeling that the town is still living inside its history rather than displaying it behind glass. What makes Karlovy Vary a historic spa town? Historic spa architecture in Karlovy Vary’s riverside centre It took me a while to understand that Karlovy Vary wasn’t simply a town with an impressive number of spas. The entire place had been designed around the business of getting better. The colonnades sheltered people as they moved between mineral springs. Walking routes led through the surrounding forests. Hotels, gardens and social spaces gave visitors somewhere to spend the considerable amount of time remaining between treatments. Even the porcelain spa cups began to make more sense. Their narrow spouts allow people to sip hot mineral water while walking, turning something medicinal into a remarkably civilized public activity. They also make everyone look as though they’ve joined a very elegant club whose admission requirements include digestive concerns. Karlovy Vary is part of the West Bohemian Spa Triangle with Mariánské Lázně and Františkovy Lázně. In 2021, all three were included among the eleven towns in seven countries designated collectively as the Great Spa Towns of Europe UNESCO World Heritage Site. Visitors collecting mineral water beneath a colonnade in Karlovy Vary The designation recognizes more than attractive buildings and grand hotels. These towns developed around natural mineral springs and helped shape European ideas about medicine, leisure and spa culture. The colonnades, parks, treatment buildings and forest paths were all part of taking the cure. That history is still visible throughout Karlovy Vary. People continue to walk between the springs with their porcelain cups, although today you can experience the town’s spa traditions without committing to several weeks of medically supervised water drinking and woodland walks. Fortunately, the walking continues. After tasting the water, it seemed wise to keep moving. Best things to do in Karlovy Vary Begin with a walk along the Teplá River through the historic centre. The pastel buildings, grand hotels and elaborate colonnades give you plenty to look at without requiring a military-grade sightseeing schedule. The Teplá River running through the historic centre of Karlovy Vary Stop beneath the colonnades, buy one of the peculiar porcelain spa cups and sample the mineral water. Apparently, water can be medicinal or delicious, but expecting both may be placing an unreasonable burden on the water. Try a small amount unless you’re following a medically supervised drinking cure. The mineral content isn’t merely there for atmosphere. Have tea at Grandhotel Pupp, where our order arrived on a trolley and briefly allowed us to impersonate people accustomed to this sort of thing. You don’t need to be staying at the hotel to visit its café and admire the surroundings. Spa hotel Grandhotel Pupp in Karlovy Vary From near Grandhotel Pupp, take the funicular to Diana Lookout in the forest above town. We travelled uphill while facing downhill, giving the impression that we were reversing into the forest without having made any obvious navigational error. The Diana Observation Tower provides a proper view of how tightly Karlovy Vary fits into its valley. Check the official Diana website for current operating hours and fares. Rather than taking the funicular back down, we followed one of the marked forest trails into town. This gave us the view without the uphill portion of the wellness program, which struck me as an entirely sensible arrangement. View of Karlovy Vary from Diana Lookout Finally, look through the treatment menu at your hotel. At Spa Resort Sanssouci, where we stayed, the options included pelotherm, pneumopuncture and four-chamber galvanization. Karlovy Vary’s approach to wellness is considerably more medical than the familiar North American spa model. If there’s a particular treatment you’d like to try, investigate it before arriving and book ahead. It turns out spa etiquette changes quite a bit once you cross a border. If a Turkish bath is also on your travel list, my guide to what to expect at a Turkish hamam explains what happens, what to wear and which questions to ask before you step into the steam. Where to stay in Karlovy Vary Where you stay will shape your experience, particularly in a town built into a steep valley. Hotel Imperial is the grand hillside landmark we initially mistook for a castle. It suits travellers looking for old-world atmosphere and broad views over the valley. Spa Resort Sanssouci offers the full spa-hotel experience, including an extensive treatment program. Its design felt preserved from the 1950s or 1960s, but the staff were excellent and the slightly time-warped surroundings became part of the experience. Grandhotel Pupp places you inside one of Karlovy Vary’s best-known historic hotels at the end of the main spa district. It’s the most luxurious of the three and the obvious choice if your travel plans require more chandeliers. Whichever hotel you choose, check its exact location on the map. A property described as “close to the centre” may still be directly above it. How many days do you need in Karlovy Vary? I recommend spending two nights in Karlovy Vary. That gives you one full day to explore the historic centre, colonnades and mineral springs, ride the funicular and walk through the forest without turning the visit into a clipboard exercise. One night would provide a quick introduction, but a day trip wouldn’t leave much time to settle into the town’s slower rhythm. Karlovy Vary makes considerably more sense once you stop rushing through it. Getting to Karlovy Vary Karlovy Vary works well as part of a road trip through western Czechia, particularly if you want to explore beyond Prague. Karlovy Vary works well as part of a road trip through western Czechia, particularly if you want to explore beyond Prague. Before collecting the keys, read my practical guide to renting and driving a car in Czechia. Travelling by car allowed us to fit the town into a wider itinerary and stop where we wanted along the way. You can compare rental-car options through Discover Cars. You can also travel from Prague by bus or train. Direct buses are generally the quicker option, with services offered by RegioJet and FlixBus. Trains are operated by České dráhy, Czechia’s national railway. Check current routes and journey times before booking. The train’s scenic ambitions generally come with a longer travel time. Practical tips for visiting Karlovy Vary Wear comfortable shoes. The riverside centre is gentle, but hotels and viewpoints may involve steep hills. Buy a spa cup if you want to participate in the mineral-water ritual. It will also become a useful conversation piece of questionable beauty once you get home. Sip the mineral water in small amounts unless you’re following professional medical advice. Check the funicular schedule before walking to the station. Book ahead if there’s a particular spa treatment you want to try. Leave some empty space in your itinerary. Karlovy Vary works better as a place to experience than a list to complete. Is Karlovy Vary worth adding to your Czechia itinerary? Ornate architectural details on a Karlovy Vary colonnade Karlovy Vary is worth at least two nights, particularly if you enjoy places where the experience matters more than collecting attractions. It also fits naturally into a 10-day Czechia road trip beyond Prague. We came expecting an elegant European spa town. We found prescribed drinking water, forest trails, a hotel that looked like a castle and a treatment menu with considerably more alarming vocabulary than anticipated. It was beautiful, slightly baffling and unlike anywhere else we visited in Czechia. Prague may be the city that brings most travellers to the country, but Karlovy Vary is the sort of place that gives the trip its personality. And really, how often do you get to return home claiming that the local drinking water came with both a temperature and medical ambitions? For the story of the peculiar spa hotel, the treatments we failed to book in time, and how an innocent spa break brought us dangerously close to electricity and bathwater, subscribe to Travel Notes from Seat 12A. The practical advice is here. The part where we didn’t entirely know what we were doing is in the story.

A Turkish hamam experince that's become a core travel memory Before our first Turkish hamam in Kuşadası, I did exactly enough research to get us through the front door. Everything beyond that, remained mostly a mystery. I confirmed that my husband, son and I could attend the hamam together. Once I knew that, I stopped asking questions. My assumptions at this point was that we'd sit in a steam room, relax, wash ourselves and emerge refreshed and clean. What else was there to know? Quite a lot, as it turned out. A Turkish hamam can be very relaxing, memorable and an amazing introduction to a centuries-old tradition. It can also feel slightly mysterious when everyone else appears to understand the procedure and you're sitting on a marble bench waiting to see what, if anything, happens next. If you're wondering what to expect at a Turkish hamam, this guide covers what usually happens, what to wear, what to bring and the questions worth asking before you book. Hamams don't all operate in exactly the same way. That's the most useful thing to know before you enter one. The short version: Expect time to sit on warm marble, a firm scrub with a coarse kese mitt, an impressive amount of soap foam and a thorough rinse. A massage may cost extra. Clothing rules, gender arrangements and supplied items vary, so confirm the details with your chosen hamam. Turkish hamam What Is a Turkish Hamam? A Turkish hamam, also called a hammam or Turkish bath, is a heated bathing space built around warm marble, water and cleansing. Depending on the venue, you may bathe yourself or book an attendant-led scrub and foam wash. Traditionally, a male bathing attendant is called a tellak, and a female attendant is called a natır. They guide guests through the bathing ritual and perform the kese scrub and foam wash. How to Choose the Right Hamam Hamams range from local bathhouses, restored historic baths, to luxury hotel spas. A local hamam may be less expensive and more self-directed, while historic or visitor-oriented hamams generally offer clearer packages and more guidance. Hotel spas tend to provide more privacy and familiar spa-like services. When we visited Kuşadası, we chose the now-closed Kaleiçi Hamam because it was the only co-ed option we found within walking distance to our accommodation, and it was located right in the old town where we were staying. For your first visit, look for recent reviews, clearly explained treatments and staff who will answer your questions before you book. Don't get too hung up on finding the most 'authentic' option. The best first hamam is the one where you understand what you've booked and feel comfortable enough to enjoy it. What Happens During a Turkish Hamam? The exact order varies, but most visitor packages follow the same general sequence. Check In and Change At reception, you'll confirm your package and receive a locker or changing area. Many hamams provide a peştemal, that's the lightweight cotton wrap traditionally worn inside the hamam, along with slippers and a dry towel. Warm Up You'll spend time in the warm room sitting or lying on heated marble. Along with feeling amazing, this allows your body to adjust to the heat before the bathing treatment begins. Don't rush this part. It may be the calmest portion of the experience, especially if a large bathing attendant is about to emerge through the steam and start pointing at you. That last part isn't hypothetical. When we did this, the tellak considered us for half a second before choosing my husband as our first bather. You can read that experience here. The Kese Scrub The attendant uses a coarse kese mitt to exfoliate your skin and then rinses you with water. The scrub is usually firmer than a typical spa exfoliation, but you can ask for less pressure. The Foam Wash A cloth pouch is used to create a mountain of soap foam. The attendant washes you in the foam before rinsing it away. This is sometimes called a foam massage, but it isn't the same as a separate oil or therapeutic massage. Rinse and Rest The treatment ends with a thorough rinse. Water temperature varies by hamam. Ours finished with a brisk deluge of cold water that brought all three of us to the present like an unwelcomed hotel wake-up call delivered directly to the nervous system. Afterwards, you'll cool down, dress and relax. Some hamams serve water, tea or another drink in the lounge. Lounge area after your Turkish Bath Optional Treatments Oil massages and other spa treatments usually will cost extra. Hair washing may also be included. Confirm exactly what your package covers, and let the attendant know beforehand if you prefer to keep your hair dry. Questions to Ask Before Booking a Turkish Hamam These questions will remove most of the uncertainty without spoiling the experience: Is the bathing area co-ed or separated? Traditional hamams usually separate men and women, either in different bathing areas or by offering different visiting hours. If you want to attend as a couple or family, look for a hamam that specifically offers co-ed, mixed or private sessions. Can couples or families remain together? Don’t stop at the word co-ed, as I did. Ask whether your group will share the changing area, hot room, scrub, foam wash and relaxation area. You may be together for part of the visit and separated for the treatments. Who provides the treatment? Traditionally, a male attendant called a tellak treats male guests, while a female attendant called a natır treats female guests. Visitor-oriented and co-ed hamams may operate differently. If you have a preference, request it when booking and ask the venue to confirm. Is the visit self-serve or attendant-led, and what does the package include? Self-service generally means using the bathing rooms and washing yourself. An attendant-led package usually includes the kese scrub and foam wash. Hair washing, oil massage, facial treatments and other services may cost extra, so ask for an itemized description rather than relying on a package name. Do we need to reserve in advance? Popular historic hamams and private or co-ed sessions should usually be reserved ahead. A neighbourhood bathhouse may accept walk-ins, but book in advance if you have limited time, want a particular attendant or need your group to remain together. Can Children or teenagers attend? Some hamams welcome younger guests, but age restrictions and available treatements vary. Confirm the rules direclty with the hamam before booking. . Five minutes of questions at reception is considerably more relaxing than trying to sort everything out later while sitting in a steamy room wearing a damp cotton wrap. What to Wear and Bring to a Turkish Hamam You don't have to be naked in a Turkish hamam. Most hamams provide a peștemal, and what you wear underneath depends on the hamam. Some ask guests to wear swimwear or underwear, while others provide disposable garments. Confirm the rules before arriving and choose whatever permitted option makes you comfortable. And remember, you don't need to prove your commitment to cultural immersion by spending the entire treatment worried about a towel. Bring a towel with you, and if you don't need it, you can put it in the locker or change room provided. Visitor-oriented hamams often do provide towels, slippers and toiletries. Ask what is included before packing half your bathroom. I would bring: Swimwear or spare underwear Clean, dry clothes for afterwards A hair tie, comb or brush Personal toiletries, if preferred A small waterproof bag for wet clothing Water for after the treatment Packable travel towel How Long Does a Turkish Hamam Take, and What Does It Cost? For a first visit, I would allow at least 90 minutes from arrival to departure. Give yourself closer to two hours if your package includes a massage or additional treatment. Remember that the advertised treatment time may not include changing, warming up and relaxing afterwards. Prices vary considerably by city, hamam and package. Admission-only visits are generally the least expensive. A kese scrub and foam wash cost more, while massages, private sessions and luxury treatements can natuarlly raise the price even more. Compare what is included rather than looking only at the final price, and check the hamam's official website for current rates. Most importantly, don't wedge your first hamam between two tightly scheduled sightseeing stops. This isn't an experience improved by watching the clock through a cloud of steam. Does the Scrub Hurt? No, but it isn't particularly gentle either. The kese mitt is intentionally coarse, and the scrub is generally firmer than a typical spa exfoliation. From the marble bench, it may look as though the attendant is removing several regrettable decisions along with your dead skin. However, based on my experience, it is less intense than watching someone else go first. Tell the attendant before hand if you have sensitive skin, an injury or any areas you don't want scrubbed. If the pressure feels too strong, ask for a gentler treatment. Avoid having sunburned or irritated skin scrubbed. Most importantly, speak up if something hurts. Respecting a cultural tradition doesn't require suffering silently through it. Turkish Hamam Etiquette, Privacy and Comfort You don't need to arrive fluent in several centuries of bathing protocol. The attendant will guide you, and the routine becomes fairly easy to follow once you stop worrying about doing everything right. A few basics are worth knowing though: Wear the supplied slippers or sandals on wet marble. Keep your voice reasonably low in the bathing rooms. Don’t photograph other guests, and better yet, don't take pictures inside the hamam. Follow the hamam’s rules about clothing and remaining covered. Speak up if you need less pressure, cooler water or a break. Ask reception about tipping rather than assuming a particular amount. Treatments may take place in a communal bathing rooms. If you would prefer more privacy, ask whether private treatment areas are available and how much of the experience is shared with other guests. Is a Turkish Hamam Worth It? For us, absolutely. A Turkish hamam is worth trying if you enjoy cultural experiences that invite you to participate rather than simply observe. Our first visit was more thorough than expected and conducted in a spa language consisting almost entirely of pointing and grunting. But, even with much of it lost in steamy translation, it was a relaxing and memorable experience we still talk about today. Choose a hamam that suits your comfort level, ask what you're booking and leave enough time to enjoy it. Once the practical questions are settled, you can stop wondering what happens next and just relax into the experience. For the full story of the grizzly-sized bathing attendant, the mountain of bubbles and how my husband became the first volunteer, read How My Husband Became the Sacrificial Lamb. For a very different encounter with European spa culture, read Is Karlovy Vary Worth Visiting?, my guide to the Czech spa town where drinking the water is part of the treatment. More Travel Notes from Seat 12A If you like your travel advice with the story of what actually happened, subscribe to Travel Notes from Seat 12A. It’s where I share longer travel stories, shorter notes from the road and practical ideas for travellers who prefer to plan their own adventures. Subscribe to Travel Notes from Seat 12A

Three women, four weeks and one itinerary built around different interests, energy levels and ideas of a good afternoon. How to Plan a European Girls' Trip This article contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase through this link, I may earn a small commission at no additional cost to you. I only share products and services I genuinely use or believe may be helpful to other travellers. A quick note: This is a longer article because planning a European trip with friends involves more than just choosing matching luggage. Pour a coffee, save it for later or use the headings to find whichever subject your group chat is currently debating. Planning a girls’ trip to Europe sounds simple enough. One person wants museums. Another wants markets. Someone else wants a quiet afternoon, a proper lunch and a hotel room that doesn’t require climbing four flights of stairs with a suitcase. Before long, three wish lists become one holiday with the geographical logic of a dropped plate of spaghetti. I travelled through Europe for four weeks with two friends, moving from Paris to Munich by way of France and Italy. We had different interests, different strengths and different ideas about what made a good afternoon. Yet the trip worked out really well. The secret sauce for us was planning the important things together, being honest about how we liked to travel and accepting that one shared trip didn’t have to mean one identical experience. If you’re planning a European girls’ trip with friends who travel differently, here is what helped us. Avignon, France Before four weeks in Europe, we started with a weekend closer to home. Start With the Kind of Trip You Want, Not the List of Cities Before anyone starts collecting hotel links or announcing that Croatia is “only a little farther,” talk about the shape of the trip. How quickly do you want to move? What level of comfort does everyone expect? Are you happy changing hotels every two nights, or would that leave half the group muttering darkly at a railway platform? Discuss: How many days or weeks you have How often you’re willing to change accommodation Whether you prefer trains, rental cars or short flights How much walking everyone can comfortably manage Whether you want busy sightseeing days, slower days or a mixture What “comfortable accommodation” means to each person These questions aren’t as exciting as choosing between Paris and Rome, but they determine whether you’ll enjoy either one. For travellers over 45, pace and comfort deserve your attention. This doesn’t mean scheduling an afternoon nap after every cathedral. It means being realistic about stairs, cobblestones, luggage, early departures and how much energy remains after three consecutive days of trying to make sense of European train stations. Give Everyone a Short Wish List For our trip, each person chose three places or experiences she most wanted. This was useful because it forced us to identify what actually mattered. A three-item list reveals priorities. A 47-item shared map reveals only that everyone has internet access. Once we compared our lists, the overlap became clear. Paris appeared more than once. An Italian cooking class appealed to all three of us. Other choices could be connected into a route through France and Italy, finishing in Munich. Ask each traveller to choose: Three places or experiences she would be disappointed to miss Three things she would enjoy but could live without Anything she definitely does not want to do Train travel Three wish lists eventually became one route through France and Italy. Choose One Person to Build the Route Everyone should help shape the trip, but one person should turn the ideas into a workable itinerary. In our group, that was me. I had travelled through Europe before and enjoyed the planning. I gathered the wish lists, researched the transportation and built a route that included something important to each of us. This doesn’t mean the planner becomes the group’s unpaid tour operator, emergency department and keeper of all confirmation numbers. It means one person checks whether the destinations actually connect, the logistics make sense and you're not spending all your waking hours of your european vacation through a train window. Once the route is drafted, review it together. Everyone should understand: Where you’re going How long you’re staying How you’ll travel between stops Which bookings are fixed Where there is room to change plans Too many people editing the itinerary at once can turn a holiday into a constitutional convention. One person builds it; everyone approves it. Talk About Money Before You Book Anything Money is one of the quickest ways for a group trip to become uncomfortable, particularly when everyone uses the word “reasonable” to mean a completely different number. Agree on a realistic range for: Accommodation per night Transportation between destinations Meals Tours and admission fees Taxis and local transit Also decide how bookings will be paid. For our trip, I booked and prepaid the accommodation, and my friends transferred their shares to me. Meals were generally paid individually. That system was simple because we agreed to it before leaving. It is equally important to make optional activities genuinely optional. If one person wants a private tour and another would rather explore independently, neither should be quietly drafted into the other’s budget. Be Honest About Accommodation Accommodation can make or break a group trip because it is where minor irritations come home, remove their shoes and settle in for the evening. Before booking, talk about: Whether everyone wants her own bed Who is willing to use a sofa bed Whether you’re comfortable sharing bedrooms How many bathrooms you need Whether stairs or a lack of lift will be a problem Whether a kitchen or washing machine would be useful Whether anyone needs quiet time in the morning or evening Read room descriptions carefully. “Sleeps three” can mean three proper beds. It can also mean two beds and a sofa or a folding lawn chair. Look closely at photographs and guest reviews, especially for bathroom privacy. We once arrived at a hotel in Naples to discover a spacious modern bathroom separated from the bedroom by a completely transparent glass door. It was memorable, although not in the way the designer had presumably intended. If your trip is longer than a week or two, apartments can be very useful. A kitchen lets you occasionally eat in, a washing machine reduces the amount of clothing you need to pack and a little extra space gives everyone somewhere to exist without forming a queue beside the bed. When I’m comparing rooms and apartments, I use Booking.com to compare accommodation options, paying close attention to the bed configuration, bathroom photographs, lift access and recent guest reviews. Amboise France Accommodation "Sleeps three” occasionally requires a closer look at the photographs. Let Everyone Use Her Strengths Our roles appeared without being assigned.I planned. One friend navigated. The other found food markets and cooked whenever we stayed somewhere with a kitchen. Nobody held a meeting. We simply noticed what each person was good at and had the sense to leave her to it. Les Halles, Avignon Les Halles in Avignon, where one member of our group found her nirvana. Your group may have: A route planner A confident navigator Someone who checks train platforms and departure times A restaurant researcher A person who keeps track of tickets and reservations Someone who speaks the local language or is willing to try Use those strengths, but don’t let one person carry the entire trip. The planner should not be expected to answer every question that could be solved by looking at the itinerary. There is a fine line between being organized and accidentally opening a small travel agency for your friends. Plan Shared Anchors, Not Identical Days Choose the experiences that matter to everyone and make those the anchors of the trip. These might be a cooking class, a special dinner, a museum, a walking tour or a day trip. Then leave room around them. You don't need a group vote on every café, shop and afternoon activity. In Paris, one of my friends chose to stay at the apartment, take care of some laundry and enjoy a few hours alone while the other friend and I visited the Musée d’Orsay. Musée d'Orsay Nobody took it personally. My one friend didn’t have to inspect Impressionist paintings to prove her commitment to the friendship, and we didn’t have to give up something we wanted to do because she preferred clean clothes and some quiet. That small decision established the rhythm for the rest of our trip. We could spend time together without being attached to one another all day. One shared trip doesn’t have to mean one identical experience. Make Splitting Up Normal People often talk about compromise as though it is the only way to travel successfully with friends. Compromise is useful, but so is occasionally going in different directions. In the Cinque Terre, two of us wanted to hike the steep coastal trail from Corniglia to Vernazza. Our third friend preferred the five-minute train. So that's what we did. Corniglia, the start of our hike to Vernazza in the Cinque Terre Two of us took the long, steep route. The clever one took the five-minute train. We chose different routes and met in Vernazza, where the clever member of the group had already found a restaurant and saved us a table. Nobody had been abandoned. Nobody had spent the afternoon doing something she didn’t enjoy. We each had the experience we wanted and came back together afterwards. Before the trip, agree that opting out is allowed. A person should be able to skip a museum, take a slower morning or spend an afternoon alone without creating a friendship summit over dinner. Travelling separately for a few hours can also give everyone something new to talk about when you meet again. Four people experiencing the same guided tour generally return with one story. Four people wandering off in different directions may return with several, plus a pastry no one remembers ordering. Agree on How You’ll Find One Another Again Freedom works best when the reunion plan is slightly more precise than “somewhere near the church.” Europe has a lot of churches. Before splitting up, agree on: A specific meeting point A meeting time How long you’ll wait What to do if someone is delayed Whether everyone has mobile data Whether location sharing is enabled and understood by everyone Take a screenshot of the meeting point and make sure each person has the accommodation address. A portable charger is also worth carrying because a phone with a dead battery is simply a small expensive rectangle. Location sharing can be useful, but it should always be discussed and agreed upon. In Avignon, one friend willingly carried an AirTag because navigation was not among her most celebrated gifts. When she lost track of time while shopping, it helped us find her. For the complete story of the AirTag, the Avignon search party and the hotel bathroom nobody had asked for, read Three Women, Four Weeks and One AirTag. Take a Short Trip Together First Before committing to several weeks abroad, take a weekend trip closer to home. We tested our travel friendship in Gibsons, British Columbia. It gave us a chance to see how we handled shared accommodation, meals, decision-making and prolonged exposure to one another before coffee. The weekend went well, which was encouraging. Nobody became irritating. Nobody quietly checked the ferry schedule for an earlier route home. A test trip won’t reveal everything, but it may uncover useful differences: One person needs a firm plan while another prefers spontaneity Someone is ready to leave at 7:00 a.m. while someone else considers that the middle of the night One traveller wants every meal researched and booked Another is content to follow whichever smell is coming from the nearest bakery Some need down time to recharge None of these traits is necessarily a problem. They become problems when everyone discovers them after the non-refundable bookings have been made. What to Discuss Before Booking a European Girls’ Trip Before anyone pays a deposit, make sure the group has discussed: The overall budget and accommodation range The length and pace of the trip Everyone’s three priority experiences Physical considerations, including walking, stairs and luggage Room and bed arrangements Morning and evening habits Whether separate activities are encouraged Who will plan, book and track reservations How shared costs will be handled Mobile data, emergency contacts and location sharing What happens if someone wants to change or cancel Frequently Asked Questions About Planning a Girls’ Trip to Europe How far ahead should we plan a European girls’ trip? For a multi-country trip, I would start discussing the route and budget nine to twelve months ahead. Flights and major accommodation can then be booked once everyone has committed. Popular destinations and smaller properties may fill early, particularly for spring and summer travel. Should everyone have the same budget? Not necessarily, but the group needs a shared baseline for accommodation and transportation. More expensive optional activities can be booked individually. No one should feel pressured into spending beyond her comfort level simply to keep the group together. Is it rude to do separate activities on a girls’ trip? No. Spending a few hours apart can make a group trip work better, especially when people have different interests or energy levels. Agree on the plan, choose a clear meeting point and let everyone enjoy her own afternoon without guilt. How do you divide expenses on a group trip? Choose a system before departure. One person can book shared accommodation and collect everyone’s portion, or the group can use an expense-sharing app. Meals and optional activities are often easiest to pay individually unless the group prefers to split them evenly. How do you choose the right friends to travel with? Look beyond whether you enjoy one another’s company at home. Good travel companions can communicate honestly, respect different budgets, adapt when plans change and allow one another some independence. A short trip together is the best practical test. What if one person doesn’t want to do the planned activity? Let her opt out. Not every activity needs full attendance. Keep a few major shared experiences, then allow room for separate interests. One person’s museum does not need to become another person’s hostage situation. The Best Group Trips Leave Room for Different Travellers Cinque Terre - Drink with a view Different interests, different routes and the same table at the end. Our four-week trip worked because we stopped measuring its success by how much time we spent side by side. We planned the important parts together. We used our strengths. We talked about money and accommodation before leaving. And when we wanted different things, we sometimes chose different routes. That independence didn’t weaken the trip. It gave each of us room to enjoy it. You don't need friends who travel exactly as you do. You need friends who can be honest about what they want, kind when someone wants something different and sensible enough to agree where to meet for lunch. Preferably somewhere specific. And if one member of the group is directionally challenged, you may also want a backup plan. For the story behind the practical advice, read Three Women, Four Weeks and One AirTag, where our system is tested in Avignon, the Cinque Terre and one unusually transparent hotel bathroom.

This article contains affiliate links. If you book through one of them, I may earn a small commission at no additional cost to you. Some experiences mentioned are ones I researched but didn’t personally take, and I’ve identified those clearly. Amboise Royal Chateau Loire Valley, France The short answer: Yes, Amboise is worth visiting, especially if you want a walkable Loire Valley town with château history, Leonardo da Vinci’s final home and cafés spilling onto old streets that make you feel like an extra in a French film. We stayed for two nights after visiting Paris. None of us had heard of Amboise before we booked it, which is always reassuring when you’re the person responsible for organising the trip. By the time we left, it had become the place in France we talked about most. Why Is Amboise Worth Visiting? Amboise offers history and culture in a town small enough to explore on foot. The Royal Château rises directly above the centre, Château du Clos Lucé is about a ten-minute walk away and the Loire River runs alongside the town. You can spend the morning immersed in Renaissance history and the afternoon wandering through old streets without making sightseeing feel like an endurance event. Amboise also provides a welcome change of pace after Paris. We loved Paris and wouldn’t have skipped it, but arriving in Amboise felt as though someone had quietly turned down the volume. When we walked towards the Loire and saw the Royal Château rising above the town, our bags hit the ground and our phones came out. A dignified arrival was briefly considered but immediately kicked to the curb. The Best Things to Do in Amboise Visit Château du Clos Lucé If you visit only one place in Amboise, I’d make it Château du Clos Lucé. Leonardo da Vinci lived here during the final three years of his life after accepting an invitation from King Francis I. Today, you can walk through the rooms where he lived and worked before exploring the gardens filled with interactive models inspired by his designs. da Vinic's personal office Leonardo’s study was the room that stayed with me. Books, papers and a quill were arranged across the desk, making it feel less like a formal museum display and more as though he’d stepped away and might return once the tourists stopped peering at his belongings. The gardens were an unexpected highlight. Models of Leonardo’s bridges, machines and inventions are spread throughout the grounds, and several can be touched, entered or operated. It’s history allowed outside for some fresh air. Allow at least half a day for the house and gardens. Opening hours change seasonally, so check the official website before visiting. Explore the Royal Château of Amboise The Royal Château of Amboise is impossible to miss. It sits above the town and dominates the view from the Loire River. We admired it from below but didn’t get to tour the interior because it was closed for a special event. It’s firmly on my list for a return visit. The château was an important royal residence during the Renaissance, and its Saint-Hubert Chapel contains Leonardo da Vinci’s tomb. Its elevated gardens also provide panoramic views across the Loire and the town’s rooftops. If the thought of another room filled with heavily carved furniture may cause you to lose the will to tour, the setting and views provide a compelling second argument. Wander Through the Old Town One of the best things to do in Amboise is also the least complicated: walk around without trying to accomplish very much. Amboise, France The old centre has cafés, restaurants, shops and historic buildings gathered beneath the château. We looked in windows, stopped for pictures and sat at a street café watching the town get on with its day. After Paris, the lack of urgency felt almost suspicious. Leave time to wander along the Loire, cross the bridge for the view back towards town and sit somewhere long enough to notice where you are. Amboise doesn’t need a minute-by-minute itinerary to keep you interested. Take a Day Trip to Chambord and Chenonceau If we’d had one more full day in Amboise, this is how I would have spent it. The Loire Valley Tour to Chambord and Chenonceau departs from Amboise or Tours and visits two of the region’s best-known châteaux. The approximately eight-hour small-group tour includes transportation, an English-speaking guide and admission to both properties. It’s a pricier option than visiting independently, but it removes the need to rent a car, work out how to travel between two widely separated châteaux and pretend that navigating rural France was all part of the cultural experience. I haven’t taken this tour personally, but it’s exactly the type of experience I wish we’d had time to add. Chambord and Chenonceau are very different from one another, and seeing both would make for a memorable day. Lunch isn’t included, so bring something with you or plan to buy it during the scheduled stop. Where to Stay in Amboise We stayed at Le Clos d’Amboise, a 17th century manor house in the centre of town. We stayed at Le Clos d’Amboise, It wasn’t technically the castle my friends had requested, but it had converted stables, dark wooden beams, landscaped gardens and a swimming pool tucked among the greenery. We decided not to become overly concerned with architectural classifications. It was a castle in our eyes. The castle idea didn’t disappear. It followed me to Czechia, where I eventually booked a hotel beside Hluboká Castle. Our room was a converted loft above the former stables. One wooden beam in the bathroom doorway was low enough that anyone over five feet tall had to duck. I’m not particularly tall, so if I have to duck, it isn’t really a doorway. It’s a warning. The hotel’s central location meant we could walk into town, reach Clos Lucé in about ten minutes and enjoy Amboise after many of the day visitors had left. Check current prices and availability at Le Clos d’Amboise. How Many Days Should You Spend in Amboise? I recommend spending two nights in Amboise, or three if you want to explore more of the Loire Valley. Two nights give you one full day to visit Clos Lucé and the Royal Château while leaving time to wander through town. With three nights, you could add the excursion to Chambord and Chenonceau without treating the Loire Valley as a historical obstacle course. If I were planning the trip again, I’d use this outline: Arrival day: Explore the town, walk along the Loire and settle into your accommodation. First full day: Visit Château du Clos Lucé and the Royal Château of Amboise. Second full day: Take a day trip to Chambord and Chenonceau or continue exploring Amboise and its surroundings. Can You Visit Amboise Without a Car? Yes. We travelled from Paris to Amboise by train and explored the town on foot. The train ride generally takes around 1½ to two hours, depending on the train and connection. Some routes arrive at Amboise station, while others connect through Saint-Pierre-des-Corps near Tours, so check the details carefully when booking. The town centre, Royal Château, Clos Lucé, restaurants and many hotels are within walking distance. A car is helpful if you want to visit several châteaux independently, but it isn’t necessary for enjoying Amboise itself. Although Amboise can be visited as a day trip from Paris, I think it’s better as an overnight stay. Once many of the day visitors leave, the town settles into the calmer version of itself that made us like it so much. Is Amboise a Good Loire Valley Base? Looking over Amboise and the Loire Valley Amboise makes an excellent base if you want somewhere walkable with restaurants, historic sites and accommodation close together. It works particularly well for couples or friends travelling independently, visitors arriving by train and anyone interested in Leonardo da Vinci or Renaissance history. If your goal is to visit a long list of châteaux scattered across the region, you’ll need a car or an organised excursion. Otherwise, Amboise gives you plenty to see without requiring a different hotel every night. Frequently Asked Questions About Amboise Is Amboise walkable? Yes. The historic centre, Royal Château, Clos Lucé and many hotels and restaurants are within walking distance. Is one day enough for Amboise? One day is enough to see the principal sights, but two nights provide a more relaxed experience and let you enjoy the town after many of the day visitors have left. What is Amboise known for? Amboise is known for its Royal Château, its setting on the Loire River and its connection to Leonardo da Vinci. Leonardo spent the final years of his life at Château du Clos Lucé and is buried at the Royal Château. Is Amboise worth visiting without a car? Yes. Amboise is one of the easier Loire Valley towns to visit without a car because its major attractions are within walking distance. Guided excursions also depart from Amboise for châteaux farther away. Why Amboise Stayed With Us Amboise offers something tightly planned itineraries often forget to include: enough breathing room to become memorable. We went looking for somewhere château-like to stay and found Leonardo da Vinci’s final home around the corner. Not bad for a town none of us had heard of. For the story of how a questionably acquired magazine led us to Amboise, read We Went Looking for a Castle and Found Leonardo da Vinci in Travel Notes from Seat 12A.

Hluboka nad Vltavou, Czechia This post contains affiliate links. If you book or purchase through these links I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. I only recommend things I've personally experienced or genuinely believe in. The castle dream started in France, on the first half of my back-to-back trip through Europe, travelling with two of my closest girlfriends through France, Italy and Germany. In one corner of France we wanted, badly, to stay in an actual castle. We couldn't afford one. I found us an equally stunning country manor instead, and it was wonderful, but the castle stayed lodged in my head. That French manor was Le Clos d’Amboise, where our search for a castle led us to Leonardo da Vinci instead. After saying goodbye to the girls in Germany, my husband had flown in and we were headed to Czechia next, for the second part of my back-to-back trip. Since I was doing all the planning for this leg too, the castle was still on my mind with nobody around to talk me out of it. I had a hunch a castle stay in Czechia would cost a fraction of what it would have in France. I went looking. I found Hotel Štekl. And I didn't say a word to my husband about it. I wanted it to be a surprise. What I didn't realize when I booked it was that Hotel Štekl sits within actual metres of Hluboká Castle itself, close enough that the hill up from the town's one main street takes you past the hotel and straight to the castle gates, almost like the two were never meant to be separate buildings at all. And no, I still can't tell you how to pronounce Hluboká nad Vltavou correctly. Go ahead, give it a try. I dare you. Why We Stayed in Hluboká Instead of Český Krumlov This was our second trip to Czechia, and this time we had a car. We also knew something we hadn't known the first time: Český Krumlov had firmly found its way onto the tourist trail in the years between our visits, and the prices had climbed right along with the crowds. With a rental car and a short drive between the two towns, staying in Český Krumlov itself stopped making sense. Hluboká did. If you're planning to self-drive this route, here's everything you need to know before you pick up the keys. What Hluboká nad Vltavou Is Actually Like The town itself is tiny, really just one main street with a steep hill at the end of it leading up to the hotel and the castle. I half suspect the shops along that street were built generations ago purely to serve castle staff and their families, because by today's standards this is not a major tourist draw on its own merits, it's a draw because of what sits at the top of the hill. Tour buses come through during the day. By evening, the shops mostly close, the day-trippers clear out, and what's left are the restaurants dotted along the street and a town that goes quiet in a way that big-name destinations almost never do anymore. Staying at Hotel Štekl Walking into Hotel Štekl, I wasn't prepared for how much of the original character they'd kept. Heavy wooden doors. Arched stone hallways. It felt less like a hotel corridor and more like walking through the set of Game of Thrones on the way to your room. Then we opened the door to our actual room, and that was the moment it became real. It was massive. Antique, authentic furniture throughout. And the view from the window, straight out over the valley below, was the kind of thing you don't have words for. We both just stood there for a second, gobsmacked, then started giggling like a couple of teenagers with crushes, saying out loud that we weren't worthy of it. This is the kind of thing you need to experience once in a travel lifetime, at least once. The hotel itself has a full spa, an indoor pool and hot tubs, and, randomly and wonderfully, an indoor bowling alley. There's also a central courtyard for dinner and drinks that's so fully enclosed I told my husband if the castle ever came under siege, they could shut the gates and we'd be perfectly safe to finish our tortellini and beer without missing a beat. The Castle Gardens at Sunset The first evening, we wandered up into the castle grounds just to look around, and realized the gardens were basically ours. The grounds are large enough that even with other guests presumably somewhere around, we didn't see a single one. Nobody asked us to leave either. State Chateau of Hluboká So the second night, we went back with an actual bottle of wine and two glasses, deliberately this time, and had the gardens to ourselves all over again. Standing there with the castle in front of us and the gardens stretching out in every direction, I felt like I'd wandered straight into an episode of Bridgerton. Both sunsets that trip, whether watched from the room window, the courtyard, or the gardens, came in brilliant orange and sank into the landscape with the unhurried confidence of something that's had several hundred years of practice and wasn't about to speed up for two tourists from Vancouver Island. Touring Hluboká Castle We did take the tour of the castle next door, officially the State Chateau of Hluboká, tickets bought right at the gate the same day for about $12 CAD each, no advance booking needed, and the history is stranger and better than I expected. The Schwarzenberg family bought Hluboká in 1661 for 200,000 guldens, money the previous Spanish owner needed to cover war debts, and he had it inscribed on the building afterward as Fructus Belli, fruits of war. The castle's current fairytale look, the one that makes it look like it was lifted straight out of Windsor, is thanks to Princess Eleonora Schwarzenberg, who travelled to England in 1838 for Queen Victoria's coronation and came home utterly enraptured with Windsor Castle. Her husband had the whole place rebuilt to match. There are 140 rooms, 11 towers, a library holding more than 10,000 books, and, my favourite detail from the tour, a door handle shaped like a bird pecking a man directly in the head. The history isn't all storybook charm. The last private owner, Adolph Schwarzenberg, was known for standing against the Nazis well before the war began, and the castle was taken from his family during the occupation. It never made its way back to them afterward either, a new law in the postwar years made sure of that. The same family also owned Český Krumlov Castle, so the fairytale you're standing in and the famous one down the road both trace back to the same family's long history. Is Hluboká nad Vltavou Worth a Castle Stay? The Honest Answer Yes, completely, and I'd book it again tomorrow. It's not the famous one. Český Krumlov gets the postcards and the crowds. But Hluboká gave us something Český Krumlov couldn't have: a castle stay that actually felt like staying in one, gardens we had to ourselves at sunset, and a price that, even with all of that, came in well under what the same fantasy would have cost us in France. Prague and Český Krumlov are stunning, there's no debating that. But there's real value in going looking for the towns just off that main track, Karlovy Vary, which we'd stopped at right before this, and Hluboká nad Vltavou, right here. That's where you actually get to beat the tourist crush instead of just complaining about it, and where the magical moments end up belonging almost entirely to you, the way those two sunsets did. You won't get that standing on Charles Bridge at noon in July. If you've ever wanted to feel a little bit like Bridgerton for forty-eight hours, this is where I'd send you. And if you want the full story of what Český Krumlov actually gave us the first time we went, before it got this busy, the lanterns, the Joe Cocker, and the iPod are all here. Want a hand building a route that fits your own version of this, castle nights included? I'd love to help you put one together. And if you want to catch the next post in this series the moment it's live, the TMT newsletter is where that happens first.

There’s a strange thrill in telling people you’re heading to Naples. Watch their expressions shift from polite curiosity to thinly veiled panic, as if you’ve just said you’re holidaying in a live volcano. “Oh, Naples,” they say, in the same tone you'd use for a friend who’s just announced they’re dating a known heartbreaker. “Are you... sure?” The warnings come thick and fast: It’s dangerous! It’s dirty! The traffic is apocalyptic! You’ll be robbed blind! The garbage situation is... well, let’s just say no one’s winning any municipal awards. By the time everyone’s finished painting Naples as a post-war wasteland, you half expect tumbleweeds to roll down Via dei Tribunali. Forget the headlines. Naples isn’t dangerous; it’s just misunderstood. Here’s why this gritty, glorious city belongs on your itinerary. (This post contains affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you make a purchase through them, at no extra cost to you. Thanks for supporting Tailor Made Travels!) The Great Naples Anxiety I’ll admit it: by the time my girlfriends and I stepped off the train in Naples during our 2023 Italian adventure, I was bracing for impact. We’d heard it all: tales of pickpockets with PhD-level skills, traffic that looks more like an adrenaline sport than a transportation system, and a general atmosphere of barely contained chaos. What we found instead was a city that seemed to wink at us, as if it knew exactly what we’d been told and was having a quiet laugh about it. First Impressions What hit me first wasn’t the dirt or danger; it was the unfiltered authenticity of Naples. Yes, there’s graffiti. A lot of it. But what the doom-and-gloom brigade doesn’t mention is that much of it is surprisingly beautiful. Naples doesn’t hide its rough edges; it shows them off like battle scars that tell a story worth listening to. Naples: Late afternoon in the Spanish Quarter — gritty, alive, and buzzing with local life. The traffic? Absolutely nuts! But not without a strange rhythm. Neapolitan drivers have elevated the art of “making it work” to a level that feels almost choreographed. They flow around each other like water around rocks, honking not in anger but in a kind of automotive jazz. The Francesca Factor Our accommodation choice turned out to be a happy accident. Unico Relais, a boutique hotel tucked into the historic centre, became our peaceful retreat from the Neapolitan buzz. But the real highlight? Francesca. She didn’t just run the place; she hosted us in the truest sense of the word. Need dinner recommendations? She had three, colour-coded by vibe. Confused about getting to Pompeii? She wrote out instructions about which train to get and where to get off. Worried about safety? She smiled gently, the way you would at someone asking if Italy really has pizza. If you're planning a trip to Naples and want a stay that’s central, welcoming, and effortlessly stylish, I highly recommend booking Unico Relais. Why Every Back Alley is a Restaurant Here’s a travel tip Rick Steves would definitely back: in Naples, if you see a tiny spot packed with locals, don’t walk past. Walk in. We developed a foolproof system: Spot a restaurant with no empty tables. Wait casually nearby. Politely pounce when someone leaves. This led us to some of the most unforgettable meals of our entire Italy trip. Not because the places were fancy (they weren’t), and not because of Michelin stars (none in sight), but because of the pride in every dish. It felt like someone’s nonna was quietly judging the chef in the back. The pizza alone justified the trip. Naples doesn’t just claim it invented pizza; it acts like it, then proves it with every charred, gloriously floppy slice. Naples, where you'll find authentic Neapolitan pizza with charred crust and fresh toppings on a plate with no regrets The Myth of Danger Let’s address the elephant: is Naples dangerous? Well... it’s a city. And cities come with caveats. But the melodramatic warnings we’d heard were mostly rooted in outdated info and exaggerated stereotypes. We walked around the historic centre, camera in hand, and felt safe. The biggest danger? A gelato-induced existential crisis when faced with 17 flavours and only one stomach. The Practical Bits If you’re considering a visit, here are a few tips to help plan your trip to Naples: Where to Stay We loved Unico Relais for its unbeatable location, charming room, and Francesca’s insider knowledge. Stay somewhere central. Naples is best explored on foot. Getting Around The train to Pompeii is crowded, chaotic, and slightly sweaty, but it’s part of the experience. Buy tickets in advance, keep your belongings close, and prepare to get super cozy with your fellow passengers. What to Do Besides the obvious (pizza, gelato, more pizza, and the archaeological sites), give yourself time to just wander. Naples doesn’t reveal itself in guidebook bullet points. It shows up in side streets, handwritten menus, and the rhythm of daily life. The Real Naples Naples isn’t trying to win you over. It doesn’t tidy up for tourists or tone down its personality. It’s a bit wild, a bit worn-in, and absolutely itself. Walking through the heart of Naples feels like entering someone’s open-air living room, laundry, scooters, saints, and all. In a world of polished, pre-packaged travel experiences, Naples is real, graffiti and all. The graffiti? It’s not vandalism. It’s urban storytelling. The traffic? Not chaos, but choreography. The danger? Mostly reputation, not reality. The Verdict Would I return to Naples? Absolutely. In fact, next time I might base myself in Sorrento and day-trip into the city, but that’s a plan for another post. Sometimes, the best travel advice is to ignore the travel advice. The places everyone warns you about? Those might be the ones that surprise you most. The destinations that seem to have nothing to offer? They might give you everything you didn’t know you were looking for. Naples reminded me that travel isn’t about box-ticking; it’s about being open to the idea that what you think you know might be completely wrong... in the best possible way. So if you’ve been hesitating, wondering whether Naples is “too much,” I hope this nudges you toward yes. You might just fall in love with the chaos, too. And if that’s not worth the price of a train ticket, I don’t know what is. Have you ever ignored travel warnings and discovered something amazing? Share your story in the comments. I’d love to hear about the destinations that surprised you most.

The first time I saw Venice, I was eager to get there. I rushed my family out of the city we were in. My husband still jokes, “Let’s go! We gotta get to Venice!” whenever he tries to get me to hurry up. But honestly, can you blame me? Over three visits—a summer family trip, an autumn getaway with my mum, and a spring girls’ trip—I’ve learned how to do Venice well. This isn’t a list of “top 10 must-see sights”; you can Google that. This is more of a practical, slightly chaotic love letter to the most unusual city I’ve ever stepped into. First Lesson: Just Because the Bus Driver Yells "Venezia" Doesn’t Mean You’re There (This post contains affiliate links. That means if you click and book or buy something, I may earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you. I only recommend things I’ve used myself or would genuinely recommend to a friend.) Spoiler: You probably want the version with canals, not parking lots and chain hotels. Venezia Mestre = chain hotels, concrete, commuter life Venezia Santa Lucia = postcard-perfect canals, faded grandeur, and a whiff of sea air. We made that mistake on our first trip. After a long haul from Czechia, our bus driver barked out “Venezia!” and everyone scrambled off. But we weren’t in Venice—not the one with canals, anyway. The driver, clearly fed up with tourists who couldn’t read minds, started flinging bags out of the undercarriage. He yelled at us to get back on if we wanted “actual” Venice. Apparently, there’s a mainland stop and an island stop. Who knew? We scrambled back on with backpacks half-zipped and finally crossed the bridge into the version of Venice I’d been dreaming about: glittering water, boats bobbing at every turn, and buildings in every state of faded glamour. It was magical. And humid. But mostly magical. A gondolier navigates a narrow canal in Venice, with colourful buildings lining the waterways Where to Stay in Venice: Lessons From Three Trips Each trip gave us a wildly different kind of “home.” Trip 1 (2010 - Family Trip) We stayed at a small family-run boutique hotel tucked just a few hundred feet from the Rialto Bridge. It's been a while, but I believe it was called Residenza Ca San Marco. We had one king bed between the three of us—me, my husband, and our son. There was barely enough room to turn around. But the charm? Unreal. Breakfast was served across a tiny covered bridge that connected the buildings. It felt like a mini Bridge of Sighs, especially when we waddled across it full of pastries. The food was fantastic, and the owners gave us real-deal local advice over coffee. Trip 2 (2019 - Trip with Mum) We stayed at Ca’ San Polo, tucked into the quieter San Polo district. It had faded elegance, creaky floors, and warm light. It felt like we were visiting someone’s eccentric Venetian aunt. Trip 3 (2023 - Girls' Trip) We went apartment-style and stayed at Appartamento San Marco. It was perfect for mid-afternoon prosecco breaks and spontaneous evening cicchetti runs (more on that later). Where to Eat in Venice (Without Getting Ripped Off) Lesson 2: Avoid Tourist Traps Near St. Mark’s Instead, get gloriously lost in search of cicchetti, Tortino, and surprise wine quests. Venetian Food: Wander Until Something Smells Amazing Here’s what I’ve learned: Venice rewards those who wander, especially when it comes to food. Avoid anything on or near St. Mark’s Square unless you like paying €15 for a lukewarm cappuccino plus a sitting fee. Instead, follow your nose down alleyways. Get a little lost. The best meals we had were often total surprises, places we stumbled into when we were just hungry enough to take a risk. On our 2023 trip, we discovered cicchetti: little bites of local goodness, served up at stand-up bars with a glass of wine in hand. Think Venetian tapas, but no fuss. We made dinner out of hopping from one tiny place to another: Tortino, seafood, tramezzini, bruschetta, and lots of laughter. Cantina do Mori, a traditional cicchetti shop During my 2019 trip, my mum got on a mission to find Barolo wine. I kid you not, she turned into a full-on detective. Every wine shop, every menu, she was determined. Next time, I’ll pair her wine quest with a cicchetti crawl and call it dinner and a show. Breakfast? Skip the hotel buffet. Do what the locals do: pop into a coffee bar, stand at the counter, knock back an espresso like it’s a shot of tequila, and grab a pastry. You’ll be done in five minutes and fueled for hours. The Best Things to Do in Venice? The Ones You Don’t Plan My Venetian Travel Mantra: You’re Not Lost, You’re Exactly Where You’re Supposed to Be Venice is not a city that rewards schedules. Every time I tried to stick to one, I got distracted by something better: a hidden church, a mask shop, a leather maker, or a quaint piazza with locals hanging out their laundry. A vibrant display of colourful blooms brightens the corner of a Venetian piazza Getting lost in Venice is like being given permission to be aimless, and somehow, it always works out. Even the locals get lost, and they live there. On every trip, I found myself turning corners I didn’t mean to and discovering little slices of peace and beauty. Hot Tip: Don't bother with Google Maps. It will weep openly in Venice. If you truly lose your bearings, find your way back to the Rialto Bridge and start again. Venice is small. You’re never too far from a landmark, or at least a gelato stand. A Water Taxi at 4 A.M? Surprisingly Worth It Lesson 3: The Best Way to Leave Venice? By Boat at 4 A.M. It’s Not Just Transportation; It's a Cinematic Exit! My most unforgettable moment? Easily the early-morning water taxi with my mum in 2019. We had a ridiculously early flight, and my mum said, “Let’s go out in style.” So we booked a private water taxi. At 4 a.m., we wandered through silent alleys lit by warm street lamps until we found our unmarked dock. The city was still—eerie and stunning. Then, a beautiful mahogany boat glided around the corner off the Grand Canal like something out of a Bond movie. The captain welcomed us aboard, wrapped us in blankets, and led us into the soft warmth of the cabin. With barely a ripple, we glided off into the quiet Venetian night. The canals were nearly empty, the moon a burnt orange low in the sky, and the water perfectly still. In just 30 magical minutes, we pulled right up to the airport dock at Marco Polo Airport, took an escalator up, and checked in for our flight like nothing had happened. But something had. We’d ended our trip like movie stars. If you get the chance, take the boat. Bridge of Sighs, Venice Venice Travel Tips From Someone Who Learned the Hard Way Buy the vaporetto pass (aka water shuttles). You’ll use it constantly, and it’s cheaper than buying single rides. Hot tip: Don’t forget to validate it each time to ride. Don’t buy masks or souvenirs near the Rialto. Head into the alleyways and look for artisan workshops. The real deal has a tag showing it was made in Venice. Skip sit-down breakfast. Stand at a bar, order an espresso and pastry, and eat like a local. Get lost. It’s not a mistake in Venice; it’s the whole point. Watch where you’re walking near canals. I once saw a tourist fall in while getting her picture taken by her boyfriend. He froze, and someone else jumped in to get her out. I’m still not sure if that relationship survived. Local artist painting along a hidden corner in Venice My Venice Do-Over Fantasy… If I had one more day in Venice, I’d time it for Carnival (February), mask on, camera ready. I’d let the morning unravel with no plan, just wandering until I found a courtyard that felt like it belonged in a painting. By afternoon, I’d be elbow-deep in a food tour, taste-testing my way through the city’s edible cicchetti secrets. Then I’d find some lavish Carnival soiree, ideally one where Barolo and prosecco flow and no one minds if my costume is from Amazon. And the next morning? You’d find me on a water taxi at first light. Because there is no finer way to leave Venice than slicing through its silent canals like you’re in the final scene of a movie. Venice doesn’t ask you to conquer it; it asks you to let go a little. So my advice: take the wrong turn, sit on the steps, order the house wine with your cicchetti, and when someone tells you to hurry up, smile and ask, “Gotta get to Venice?” Want the full scoop on where to stay, how to get around, and what not to waste your euros on? My *Venice Travel Guide has all the details I wish I'd had before my first visit Have you been to Venice during Carnival season? If you have, share below. I’m always looking for an excuse to go back.

Victoria may be British Columbia’s capital of charm by day, but by night, it belongs to its ghosts. A City That Whispers Between Sips By daylight, Victoria is all about teacups, coastal walks, and tidy manners. But when dusk slides over the harbour, the polite façades loosen. The stories begin to breathe again. Over the past weeks, I’ve wandered through the city’s most haunted cafés, pubs, and landmarks for my Haunted Sips of Victoria series. I listened, sipped, and occasionally questioned whether that chill was from the draft or something more deliberate. Now, for those curious or courageous enough, here is how to spend one unforgettable day tracing their footsteps. Morning Start: Where Secrets Still Steam 📍Union Pacific Coffee (via Fan Tan Alley) Begin your morning by slipping through the narrow shadows of Fan Tan Alley. This alley was once home to gambling dens and hidden doors. Follow the scent of espresso to Union Pacific Coffee, where brick walls hold stories far stronger than the brew. Order something bold; you will need it. The rest of the day only gets stranger. Late Morning History and Haunts 📍Garrick’s Head Pub, Canada’s Oldest Pub (est. 1867) Pull up a stool at Garrick’s Head Pub, where miners once celebrated their luck and occasionally mourned it. It is Canada’s oldest pub, and regulars claim a few loyal spirits never canceled their tabs. If your pint ripples when no one is near, that is just Garrick’s hospitality. Afternoon Reflections in Oil and Echoes 📍James Bay Inn, The Ghost of Emily Carr Once a hospital and later the final home of artist Emily Carr, the James Bay Inn carries a quieter kind of unease. Have lunch or a drink in the pub below; locals swear Emily still lingers, perhaps pausing to admire her old haunt one more time. It is haunted, yes, but tastefully so. Twilight Drama in Stained Glass 📍Craigdarroch Castle If ever a house deserved its own séance, it is this one. Built by coal baron Robert Dunsmuir in the 1890s, Craigdarroch Castle is all wood-paneled staircases, scandal, and whispers in the wallpaper. Visit near sunset, when the stained-glass windows cast fractured light across the rooms. The light is soft, beautiful, and just eerie enough to make you wonder who else might be admiring the view. Evening Toast to the Departed 📍Bard & Banker Pub Once a bustling bank, now a Victorian-era pub where the vaults that once guarded gold now guard Guinness. Order a pint, toast to the city’s lingering souls, and mind your balance in more ways than one. Nightcap with a Nod to the Past 📍The Bent Mast Restaurant & Pub Few places in Victoria feel as genuinely haunted as the Bent Mast. The creak of its old staircase, the flicker of lamplight, and the feeling that someone might be listening from the landing make every sip feel slightly shared. If the chandelier sways, do not panic. It is probably just the building breathing. Final Stop: Grand Dreams and Ghostly Company 📍The Fairmont Empress Hotel, 6th Floor if You Dare End your night in Victoria’s most iconic hotel. The Fairmont Empress has played host to royals, writers, and at least one resident who never checked out. Guests have reported flickering lights, phantom footsteps, and a kindly spirit who still tends to the corridors. Sleep well, if you can. Before turning in, wander out for Victoria’s Haunted Ghost Walking Tour. Let a lantern-carrying guide reveal the stories that still roam after dark. Plan Your Own Haunted Date in Victoria Whether you are planning a date, a girls’ getaway, or a solo adventure in good company, alive or otherwise, this itinerary blends Victoria’s charm and chills perfectly. Just remember, ghosts prefer respectful visitors and a toast now and then. Watch the Full Haunted Sips Series Experience every stop before you go: TikTok: Watch the Series on TikTok Instagram Reels: See the Highlights on Instagram YouTube Shorts: Watch the Full Series on YouTube Shorts Plan, Sip & Stay Curious If Victoria’s haunted charm has you curious for more, I have gathered everything you need to plan your own spirited getaway. This includes ghost walks and guided history tours. Head to my Day Trips, Food Tours & More page and scroll down to find my hand-picked Haunted Victoria experiences. This includes the city’s best ghost walking tours, historic pub stops, and after-dark adventures. Each one has been carefully chosen for travelers who love a good story served with a side of goosebumps. Whether you are planning a date, a girls’ night, or just testing your courage, it is all waiting for you there. Plan boldly. Sip slowly. Stay curious.

Before I ever went to Thailand, the images I saw fell into two very different camps. There were the beaches, with impossibly blue water, long stretches of sand, and hammocks doing their best work. Then, there were the parties. Loud ones. Endless ones. Young ones. The kind that looked less like a holiday and more like an endurance sport. The contrast was hard to reconcile. Beautiful, yes. But also exhausting. Like many people during Covid, I passed the time by watching an impressive amount of travel content on YouTube. Thailand, in particular, seemed to be every creator’s dream destination. Sun-drenched days, spicy food, scooters weaving through traffic, and a kind of bohemian abandon that apparently thrives in hostels. At somewhere north of forty, I can say with confidence that the hostel lifestyle no longer holds much appeal. What did catch my attention were the warnings that often came packaged alongside the glossy footage. Watch out for the parties. Be careful with the street food. Traffic is chaotic. Tuk tuk scams. Dengue zones. Malaria maps. Unsafe driving conditions. The list went on and on. And yet, I was still intrigued. What I didn’t see in all of that content were people who looked like me. Thought like me. Travelled the way I do now. This raised a quieter, more unsettling question. If Thailand was so popular, where were the Gen X travellers? And how were they doing it without broadcasting it to the world? I wanted to go. I just had no idea where to start or whether Thailand would feel overwhelming at this stage of life. Why Thailand Sounds Overwhelming From the Outside I started researching Thailand the way I usually do. YouTube, guidebooks, and a general belief that if I just read enough, clarity would eventually emerge. Bangkok appeared to be a mega city on steroids. Floating markets looked fascinating, though I found myself wondering how safe the boats actually were. Then there were the health warnings. Malaria maps. Dengue zones. Followed closely by traffic horror stories and well-meaning advice about what not to eat. It didn’t stop there. Thailand’s seasons came with footnotes. There wasn’t just a rainy season, but several variations of it, each affecting different regions at different times. Islands needed to be chosen carefully. Beaches, apparently, had schedules. Visit at the wrong moment, and you risked monsoon rains, smoky air in the north, or both. None of this information was necessarily wrong. It was just a lot. What I didn’t realize at first was that I wasn’t actually planning a trip. I was trying to eliminate every possible inconvenience in advance. I was so focused on getting Thailand right that I’d managed to make the planning process feel far heavier than the destination itself. The more I researched, the narrower my thinking became. Instead of curiosity, I felt caution. Instead of excitement, responsibility. Somewhere between party streets, food warnings, and weather charts, I’d lost sight of why I wanted to go in the first place. Thailand hadn’t become overwhelming. The information had. What Thailand Actually Felt Like Once I Arrived In the end, what changed everything wasn’t another round of planning. It was arriving. I’d tried to apply the same itinerary logic I use in Europe. Pick a handful of places, connect the dots, and keep things moving. That approach has served us well before. But Thailand felt different on paper. Distances were harder to judge, transport less familiar, and the climate alone made the idea of constant movement feel unnecessarily exhausting. So we eased back. Not because we were nervous, but because we didn’t need to prove anything. This was our vacation, after all. We decided to start in Phuket rather than dive straight into Bangkok. Almost immediately, the tension I’d built up over months of planning began to dissolve. The airport was large but manageable. Immigration was brisk and efficient. The taxi ride across the island was busy but not chaotic. Just life happening at full volume. What struck me most were the details I hadn’t been warned about. Fresh flowers everywhere. Carefully tended Buddha shrines tucked into roundabouts and perched along hillsides. A sense of pride and order beneath the movement of the island. Ironically, the most stressful moment of that first day was getting a SIM card activated. Everything else—landing, customs, transport, checking into the hotel—was straightforward. Nothing felt unsafe. Nothing felt out of control. Quite the opposite. People were warm, patient, and quietly helpful in a way that doesn’t announce itself. It just is. By the time we reached our hotel, the anxiety I’d carried through the planning phase had all but evaporated. In its place was something far more familiar: curiosity, excitement, and the relief of realizing that this trip didn’t require vigilance. Just presence. The Real Source of Overwhelm (And It’s Not Thailand) Looking back, I can see that most of my anxiety had very little to do with Thailand itself. I was planning the trip using familiar habits, the same approach that had worked well for us in Europe. Pick the highlights. Keep moving. Make the most of every day. It’s a system I trust, and for Europe, it makes sense. But Thailand isn’t Europe with better beaches. What I hadn’t recognized at first was that I was so focused on getting Thailand right that I’d started to overpack the itinerary. Too many moves. Too little margin for hiccups. We were trying to experience as much of the country as possible in one go, and in doing so, I’d planned the vacation right out of the vacation. The problem wasn’t the destination. It was the pace. Once I saw that, everything shifted. Slowing down wasn’t about missing out. It was about finally having space to enjoy where we were. Without the self-imposed pressure to keep moving, the days softened. There was time to wander, to sit, and to notice the small, quieter moments that never make it into an itinerary. Thailand didn’t demand a different kind of traveller. It simply rewarded a different rhythm. What Changed When I Let Go of Doing It “Right” Once we gave ourselves permission to slow down, the days began to feel both quieter and more full—a combination I hadn’t quite expected. Without the pressure to move on, there was time for conversation. The kind that happens naturally when you’re not watching the clock or researching your next move. We talked with people at our hotel, shared stories over coffee, and listened to recommendations that weren’t polished or rehearsed. Local spots. A place someone liked for dinner. An island they’d stumbled across by accident. Those conversations led to experiences we never could have planned in advance. Dinners that ran long. Spontaneous boat rides. Small detours that became the highlight of the day. None of it came from a guidebook or a video, and that was precisely the point. Leaving space in our days meant we could decide as we went. Some days were active. Others weren’t. There was no sense that we were falling behind or missing out. Instead, Thailand felt generous, offering more the less we tried to extract from it. By letting go of the need to do everything, we ended up experiencing far more than we’d expected. Why Thailand Works So Well for Gen X Travellers My love of travel hasn’t changed over the years. The curiosity. The pull toward new places. The quiet thrill of arriving somewhere unfamiliar. None of that fades with time. What has changed is my tolerance for discomfort. Not luxury, necessarily. Just comfort in the practical sense. A good bed. Reliable air conditioning. A place where rest doesn’t feel like an afterthought. These things don’t dull the experience. They make it possible to enjoy it. We don’t always travel slowly. Sometimes time, budget, or circumstance gets in the way. But when we can ease back on the pace, the difference is immediate. Experiences have more room to settle. Days feel less transactional. I’m no longer measuring whether the trip is “working.” Thailand, more than many places we’ve travelled, seems to support this shift naturally. Slowing down there didn’t feel like a compromise. It felt like alignment. As though the country itself was quietly giving permission to stop pushing so hard. Not every moment needs to be filled. Not every day needs a plan. Thailand doesn’t reward urgency. It responds to attention. Sitting still. Watching. Letting time stretch a little. That’s the kind of travel I aim for now. Days where spontaneity has as much space as intention, and where doing less often leads to experiencing more. A Calm Way Forward I understand the feeling of being overwhelmed when planning a big trip, especially to a place you’ve never been. The urge to stack an itinerary with all the “must-see” places is real. So is the unease that comes from not quite knowing how things will work once you arrive. Some of that uncertainty fades with preparation, of course. But not all of it needs to be solved in advance. What Thailand taught me is that overwhelm doesn’t come from the destination. It comes from trying to control every variable before you’ve even had a chance to arrive. Once I let go of that pressure, the experience opened up in ways I hadn’t anticipated. For a first trip to Southeast Asia, Thailand offers something rare. A sense of ease that reveals itself once you stop pushing. Since that initial visit, we’ve returned several times, often venturing into quieter islands and lesser-travelled areas. Each trip has only deepened my appreciation, not just for the landscapes or the food, but for the way Thailand allows you to travel at your own pace. It’s a place that doesn’t ask you to keep up. It meets you where you are. And for many Gen X travellers, that makes all the difference. If You’re Short on Time Thailand often feels overwhelming before you arrive, not once you’re there. Too much information creates more anxiety than clarity. Overpacked itineraries are the real source of stress. Slowing the pace allows confidence and ease to replace vigilance. Thailand rewards attention, not urgency, especially for Gen X travellers.

After six visits to Italy over nearly forty years, I thought I had Rome down to a science. My first time? The summer of 1988. I was 18, sweating through Milan and pretending I knew how to drink espresso properly. Since then, there have been family trips with my husband and son (2010–2016), a girls’ escape in May 2023, and a few others sprinkled in for good measure. I always planned for what the guidebooks and glossy magazines insisted was “peak season,” convinced that summer was the time to experience the Eternal City. Then came October 2024, and everything I thought I knew about Rome quietly collapsed, in the best possible way. (This post contains affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you make a purchase through them, at no extra cost to you. Thanks for supporting Tailor Made Travels!) Trevi Fountain in the height of summer The Roman Reality of Summer Let’s be clear: I’ve never not been awed by Rome. The first time I stood inside the Colosseum, I felt like I’d stumbled onto a Ridley Scott set (minus the CGI and plus 40,000 other tourists). The Pantheon still stops me mid-step every time. The layers of history here are like a lasagna baked by time itself. But summer in Rome? That’s a very specific kind of chaos. Picture this: 35°C+ heat bouncing off ancient cobblestones. Gelato melts faster than you can eat it. Lineups snake around monuments like you’re waiting for Taylor Swift tickets. We spent more time darting into air-conditioned cafés than we did at actual landmarks. By mid-afternoon, we were usually too hot, too tired, and too cranky to care whether we were looking at a Bernini or just a badly parked scooter. Even in May 2023, on a girls’ trip that was almost ideal, the traffic was chaotic. We literally watched a car and a Vespa collide directly in front of us. No one was hurt, but it felt like the universe was underlining the phrase: “Rome in peak season is not for the faint of heart.” An old Ford Pickup Truck decorated for Halloween, Rome Italy We Went for Halloween. Seriously. For our October 2024 visit, my husband and I decided to test a theory: Would Rome do anything for Halloween? We didn’t have high hopes, maybe a few pumpkin-shaped pastries or the odd themed gelato. What we found instead was low-key festive and oddly delightful. We stayed at Guesthouse Interno 7 Luxury Rooms, a charming little spot in the Monti district. It was close enough to walk to everything, but just far enough from the madness of Termini Station to feel like we were in on a secret. Guesthouse Inferno 7 Luxury Rooms in the Monti District of Rome, Italy From the moment we arrived, something felt different. The air was crisp but still warm. We enjoyed perfect 22°C afternoons and comfortable evenings. No heat-induced meltdowns (emotional or gelato-related). For the first time, we wandered without checking how close we were to the nearest shady bench. Rome in October feels like the city has finally unclenched its jaw. Some shops leaned into the Halloween season with playful window displays. Local kids were out trick-or-treating in full costume. We even visited the Roman Catacombs during Halloween, which made the experience feel appropriately eerie. It was somewhere between “this is fascinating” and “why does it suddenly feel colder down here?” The Practical Differences That Actually Matter You don’t need me to tell you Rome is beautiful. But here’s what no one seems to emphasize enough: Rome in October is practical. This is what we really care about when we’re deciding whether or not to schlep across the Atlantic. Weather Rome in October means 22°C afternoons and light-jacket evenings. You’ll actually want to be outside. Compare that to July, where every walk feels like a desert trek with nicer architecture. Crowds We visited the Trevi Fountain midday, and there were actual moments of low crowds. No elbows, no pushing, no fight for photo angles. October crowd levels felt human again. For once, we set the pace instead of being herded like caffeinated sheep. Accommodation Monti in October was a dream. Quieter streets, charming trattorias, and walkability that didn’t feel like a sweaty punishment. Guesthouse Interno 7 Luxury Rooms hit the sweet spot: affordable, central, and devoid of screaming tour groups in the lobby. Food We had dinner at Nannarella. They don’t take reservations, but it’s 100% worth the wait. We sat outside and watched local kids trick-or-treating through the charming neighbourhood of Trastevere while sipping wine and tucking into perfect plates of carbonara. If there’s a better combination of food, setting, and seasonal charm, I haven’t found it. What to Pack for Rome in October Packing for October is refreshingly easy: Comfortable walking shoes (you’ll do a lot more of it) Layers (mornings and evenings can surprise you) A light jacket or scarf Curiosity, especially if you're a Halloween fan Bonus Tip Book your accommodation 2–3 months out. You’ll still get shoulder-season pricing, but the best boutique stays fill quickly. The Hidden Charms of October in Rome October is not just about the weather and crowds. It’s about the atmosphere. The city feels alive in a different way. You can stroll through the streets and truly absorb the culture. The locals are more relaxed, and the pace of life slows down. Festivals and Events During October, various festivals take place. From food fairs to art exhibitions, there’s always something happening. You can explore local traditions and enjoy authentic experiences that are often missed in the summer rush. Photography Opportunities The light in October is magical. Golden hour seems to last all day. This is ideal for photography enthusiasts. You can capture stunning images of the city without the harsh summer sun. The soft light enhances the beauty of Rome’s architecture and landscapes. Local Interactions In October, you’re walking alongside locals, not just fellow tourists. This creates opportunities for genuine interactions. You can engage in conversations, learn about their lives, and get insider tips on hidden gems around the city. Verdict: October is the Secret Season I’ve been to Rome half a dozen times, and this was the first trip where the city felt both awe-inspiring and accessible. October offers that rare travel combo: warm but not hot, lively but not chaotic, and atmospheric in a way that’s hard to explain but easy to feel. You're taking in historic sites without the rush. The light in October? Golden hour seems to last all day, ideal if you care about photography or just enjoy feeling like you’re starring in your own indie film. Rome’s Piazza del Popolo on a sunny October day, Rome Italy Ready to Plan Your October Rome Adventure? If you're thinking about Rome but dreading the summer crush, consider October. You'll avoid the heat, enjoy more space to breathe, and (if you time it right) even catch a bit of spooky charm. Want more real-world travel stories and practical planning tips? Subscribe to my blog for thoughtful advice, destination ideas, and inspiration tailored for cultural travellers who like their trips a little bit adventurous (but never chaotic). Have you visited Rome in different seasons? Drop your favourite time to go in the comments; I’d love to hear how it compared.