High on Travel. Quite Literally
You plan a trip thinking you’ve got it all figured out — the sights to see, the dishes to try, the people you might bump into. But travel rarely sticks to the script. It sneaks in the unexpected with a hidden street, a change of pace, a quiet detour that makes you forget the checklist altogether.
And sometimes, that detour isn’t about where you go, but how you feel when you get there. Free to wander slower. Free to breathe easier. Free to sit back, sip your coffee — or take a slow drag. and just be.
Because the best trips? They aren’t measured in steps counted or landmarks covered. They’re about the places that hand you stillness, presence, or flow — sometimes when you least expect it, sometimes exactly when you crave it.
One such place was Amsterdam. It had been lingering on my travel radar for years. Not for the reasons most people assume (greens), but for the canals, the bikes, the old-world quiet I imagined drifting through the city. I pictured myself journaling in a tucked-away café, watching raindrops tap the window as life carried on outside.
When I finally landed, the city delivered. It rained. My clothes were damp, but my mood? Calm. After hours wandering the Van Gogh Museum, I stumbled into Jordaan, found a tiny café, and lost track of time over cocoa and scribbles in my notebook.
Later that evening, I ducked into what I assumed was another similar spot. Dim lights, faint jazz, familiar enough. I asked for a cappuccino. The guy behind the counter chuckled, “You mean the coffee kind of café?”
Turns out, Amsterdam’s cafés serve coffee. Coffee shops? They serve greens.
The vibe was gentle, no pressure. I stayed. Ordered a mellow “Dutch Treat” pre-roll. Minutes later, I was by the canal, golden city lights rippling on the water, the whole city
exhaling around me. It wasn’t about being high, it was about being here. Present. At ease. Watching everything soften, slow down, and stretch out.
Amsterdam taught me how to slow down. But some places? They take it a step further, they almost stop time altogether.
This Thai island was supposed to be my workation, good Wi-Fi, coconut shakes cheaper than coffee back home, and a beach close enough to clear my head between deadlines.
Most mornings, I claimed my spot at “Green Dreams Coffee Shop” — wide windows, wooden interiors, floor cushions, and espresso strong enough to keep deadlines in check.
Then one afternoon, I noticed a discreet little menu near the counter. “That’s our Greens menu,” the barista smiled, as if offering me a second kind of break.
Unlike Amsterdam’s easy experiment, this island’s approach was intentional. Hybrids focus, mellow strains to soothe screen fatigue.
It wasn’t about zoning out, it was about carving space to breathe, even between emails.
That evening, I walked the quieter stretch of beach, rolled one slowly, and watched the sky melt from soft pink to deep indigo. The waves hummed, the world hushed.
For the first time in weeks, my mind followed.
Some places just get it. The way they weave a little freedom into their rhythm. A little pause into your plans.
Deadlines, sea breeze, and the freedom to lean out of time, all wrapped into one place.
But not every place that stays with you needs to be ticked off a list. Some cities live in your head first, patiently, quietly, promising presence when the time is right.
For me, that place is Valletta, Malta.
I imagine it often, golden streets glowing under the Mediterranean sun, baroque balconies spilling with flowers, artists tucked away behind ancient stone walls.
I see myself wandering aimlessly, stumbling into an art co-op, maybe striking up a conversation with a local sculptor over coffee… or something softer.
Malta was the first EU country to legalize personal cultivation and use of Greens. No flashy dispensaries.
No neon signs. Just rooftops, sea breeze, stories shared slowly, the kind of freedom that isn’t advertised, only offered.
One day, I’ll be there. No rush. Valletta feels like the kind of city that doesn’t ask for your attention, it quietly earns it, once you’re ready to slow down long enough to notice.
Funny how the best parts of travel are never on the itinerary. You plan the routes, book the stays, maybe even imagine how it’ll all unfold — and then life quietly edits the script.
A little pause you didn’t expect. A slower morning. A quiet rooftop. A moment that makes you forget time, forget plans… maybe even roll one, smile, and just be.
I guess that’s the real high of travelling — not the places you tick off, but the freedom you stumble into along the way.
