Welcome to my travel blog. This blog is not necessarily – or not only – about where to go and what to do where; it is rather intended to reflect upon how we perceive travel in order to create lasting memories and positive take-aways for our daily lives.
Through my blog, I want to share tips and my experiences on how to travel more comfortably. Mainly, I want to share thoughts, impressions, and reflections on my travels as a solo-traveller. That does not mean that this blog is exclusively meant for people who travel on their own; to the contrary, I would love to reach a wider community of people who simply enjoy exploring new things and perspectives.
I will publish a new blog every other Sunday. If you like, you can subscribe for free to get each new post hand-delivered to your Email inbox.
I would be lying if I said it was easy to find the courage to start a blog. I had been motivated to so for a while, but that is the thing with motivation: It doesn’t actually do anything unless you move, unless you take the first step. It can help you get going on the days you don’t feel inspired, but that is about it. At the end of the day, it is courage that pushes you to start something new, something you were afraid of. Just as travelling alone. It takes courage. It takes resilience and the will not to give up, and to keep trying to figure out better ways.
Last year, on 1 June, I started this blog. It wasn’t easy to figure out the web design side of things all by myself, so initially, I did not even tell my friends and family that the blog had gone live. Slowly but surely, I gained a bit a confidence, put in a lot of work and dedication and made it look okay for starters. I still think the design can be improved, but we will get there slowly. More important to me is that I keep my promise of posting regularly.
When I first started, I had so much to write about! I initially posted every Sunday. Although I never missed an upload, I soon realized that this pace was not sustainable. I would run out of trips to talk about. With a full-time job and a dedicated workout routine, there was neither going to be enough material nor time to write quality pieces for my blog on a weekly basis. This is why I switched to fortnightly blogs instead.
Looking back, I am so happy I started this endeavour. I enjoy my one-man show very much. I get inspired, I write, I edit without anyone’s interference (I apologize for the occasionally overlooked typographical errors) – a complete luxury for all of us who work a desk job in which they write for other people and lack that kind of editorial freedom in their daily lives.
I truly hope my blogs have made you smile, laugh, think and reflect, or even encouraged you to do or see something new. Maybe you found the courage to go dining on your own or visited a museum by yourself. This is my goal. I want to reach people, maybe even ‘influence’ them in a positive way and offer some insights into what it is like to be travelling alone as a woman. My greatest compliment would be that someone who was afraid to travel on their own finds the courage to try it. Or for couples to look kinder on that lady sitting by herself on the breakfast or dinner table in the hotel. Because maybe she isn’t weird. Maybe she just had enough of cancelling plans because of others cancelling on her.
Some people asked me why they cannot comment on my blogs. I thought about this for a while when I set it up and it was a conscious choice to disable commenting. Sure, tutorials on ‘how to grow your audience’ would tell me that interaction with your readers is key. But I am not really about that. Those of you who are old enough to remember newspaper articles printed on paper might understand where I am coming from. In a world full of paid subscriptions, constant notifications, reviews and comments, hyping, copying, ghosting and cancelling people, I want to be plain, simple, uncomplicated and accessible for free. I only want to be about my content and nothing else. You can read it. You can like it. You can talk to your friends about it or even share it with them. You can dislike it and never visit my site again. All of it is great, and valid and amazing.
Back in the day, when we read paper newspapers or magazines, we couldn’t comment either. And it was fine.
At least I think that way. Because we were able to think about what we read and form our own opinions about it before scrolling down to the comments to check whether our own opinion was validated by others. When we read books, we cannot comment about them to the author either. Does that take away from what we read? I don’t believe so. Either the book or article resonates with you, or it doesn’t.
Of course, I hope that my content resonates with a lot of people, gets talked about and shared, but even if I reach just one person who takes something away from my blogs, I am happy because my work is done.
And if you are truly interested in finding out more about me or tell me something nice, I invite you to follow me on Instagram (link in my ‘about’ page). There, I share more pictures and stories about me, my travels, my gym routine or my slightly unhealthy coffee obsession and a like, comment or ‘follow’ are much appreciated.
In closing this reflective piece, I would like to thank all of you who have made this journey so very enjoyable. Even if I don’t know you. For as long as I will find joy in writing my travel diary, I will keep posting blogs in this space. And while you are reading this, I am already on my next travel adventure. So, stay tuned, healthy, and curious. And I hope to see you back here in a fortnight!
After my recent rant about public transport, I thought I needed to make up for it with a positive experience. And what better example than a picturesque Italian escape? It is no secret that Milan is one of my favourite city destinations, and from there, Lake Como is just a stone throw away – even with public transport. I have done the day trip to the world-famous lake twice. Once in autumn and once in spring. Both times, it was amazing, relaxing and absolutely worth it.
If you are staying centrally in Milan, you can easily reach Lake Como and Como town by train from both Milan Central station arriving at Como San Giovanni or Cardona station arriving at Como Nord Lago. The journey from either only takes little over an hour and is extremely affordable. From either, you’ll arrive close to the shore of the lake, just outside of Como town; a pleasant 5-minute walk will take you right into the centre and to the shore, where you can take a ferry to get to other towns located around the lake or simply tour it for pleasure as I did.
When I went to Como last, I left Milan sometime in the late morning after a slow and relaxed start (or probably a gym session…?) and an extensive breakfast at the hotel I was at. I had absolutely no rush, took the metro to Cardona station where I waited for the next available train to Como. There’s no point stressing over departure times as the trains are a regular service and you’ll never have to wait long for the next one. When I arrived, I bought my ticket for the ferry that tours the southern part of the lake from Como up to Torno and Moltrasio, returning on the western shore via Cernobbio.
You can buy your ticket at a kiosk sort of place right in front of the different piers facing the lake and you can choose your departure time. I decided to first have lunch and take the boat later on. And just to be clear, it is a relatively small boat; maybe ferry isn’t even the right word to use, but it is still more of a public transport-getting from A to B kind of situation rather than a yacht where you chill with a glass of bubbly while admiring the view of your room at the Mandarin Oriental from the lakeside.
In search of a cute little restaurant, I strolled around town, found a place where I could sit outside despite the season of the year and had risotto al funghi. The food was good, but nothing I particularly need to recommend to you here. I partly opted for sitting outside because my lunchtime would have made any Spaniard proud, and most restaurants were pretty much empty by the time. And if there is one thing I really do not enjoy, it is eating in an empty restaurant.
After rounding off my lunch with a delicious espresso, I walked back to the pier to take the boat. Although it was only at the end of March and not even cherry blossom season yet, it was not too cold to sit on the open deck of the ferry, which made the experience all the more special and enjoyable since I had unobstructed views. I took so many videos of the beautiful shoreline that I ended up running out of battery on my phone. It was lucky that the train back to Milan had power outlets to recharge.
I think that lake Como is such a beautiful destination that is so easy to reach and so different from the bustling city of Milan, that it would almost be a crime not to go when you have come to this iconic fashion city. For me, the little town of Como isn’t really a place I would come to specifically shop or do things. I just found it very pretty to walk through, grab coffee and recharge the soul with wonderfully Italian, slightly Alpine aesthetics.
Como town is just very pleasing and comforting. Small and slightly uneventful, which make it a perfect destination for a chill and scenic day trip. And because it can be reached so effortlessly by train, it makes it a perfect last-minute destination, too. You don’t need to plan ahead; just board the train. So, if you are shopped out in Milan and long for something quiet, you have a most beautiful alternative.
If you are no stranger to public transport, maybe live in a world capital, such as New York, London, or Paris, you are most likely able to relate to my germaphobia when it comes to trains and subways. And aside from the germs, sticky handles and manky floors there is the issue of punctuality or reliability of services.
Some trains can, of course, be nice and punctual (I would love to travel through Switzerland once I win the lottery) but, at any rate, in some of the places I frequently travel to and where I am used to taking buses, trains, metros or long-distance trains, there are only different levels of delays, cancellations and grime. I don’t know about you, but for me, the ‘next level’ is the kind where I come home and put all of my clothes into the wash right away.
Having gone through life as a visually impaired person, I have always been entirely dependent on public transport whether I liked it or not. When all my classmates got their driving licences, I was already wasting my time on drafty platforms and sat on grimy bus seats. The trip I am writing about today is a perfect example of the colossal waste of time and discomfort travelling on public transport often is. It would ordinarily be a 2-to-3-hour drive at your own leisure with a boot full of stuff if you so desired. Instead, it takes me 6 to 7 hours door to door and anything larger than a small carry-on trolley will prove to be a handicap. Even on the expensive high-speed trains that link several European capitals, I have experienced my far share of traveller’s grief; starting from out of order loos to train breakdowns in the middle of nowhere, and staff threatening to simply offload luggage because people dared to bring more suitcases than the tiny shelves could hold. To this day, I have not understood why there is next to no space for suitcase storage on a long-distance train linking capitals and airports.
Sometimes, I just wish I was born in the olden days when trains had luggage carriages and people would take care of guarding your suitcase. Now, the rail companies resort to cutting staff to the bare minimum and advising you that there are pickpockets on the train, which basically means that it will be tough luck if your seat is far down the other end of the carriage and your suitcase goes missing while you try to enjoy your journey. Stay anxious, and God forbid you might fall asleep.
I have probably been spoiled lately when most of my trips were by plane, a fact I was rudely reminded of when I recently travelled to Germany to spent orthodox Easter with family. While I did splash out on a first-class high-speed train ticket for the first leg of my trip, the comfort if bought me was rather limited. For some reason these trains do not make seating compulsory (a reason why I avoid those high-speed trains around the Christmas holidays like the plague) and anyone can get on it, no limits. Literally.
Frequently, this means having to argue with a person who has occupied the seat you have reserved for a fee they were not willing to pay. Corridors are full of people standing or sitting on the floor like bored teenagers during school recess. I have also once been on a train that was so overcrowded that the entire corridor was full of people standing, with a lady literally standing over me breathing down my neck for two and a half hours. It was highly uncomfortable to say the least. This time, I had a noisy family of six crashing the first-class carriage for a portion of the way with heaps of plastic bags, kids running all over the place, music blaring from phones or tablets and a number of fellow passengers getting agitated and confrontational, and – no surprise – no train staff to be seen to deal with the situation. It remains doubtful whether these people had a ticket, let alone one for first class. I, however, pretty much regretted paying the extra fee for that part of my trip, as already on the prior intercity train the first-class compartment was adorned with spilled food and trash on the floor and the only tangible difference to the second-class carriages was the colour of the faux leather seats.
WC fees in the station where I switch trains are up 60% within two years – an increase that is directly proportional to the decrease in service and cleanliness, with the only ‘cleaning’ being a half-hazard mopping of the floor; no towels, no soap, the usual. Great value for money. But it can always be worse I suppose. At least toilet paper was still stocked. The ‘voucher’ you get in exchange for the exorbitant toilet fee gets you a 50-cent discount on a 3.80 EUR espresso at Starbucks served by a grumpy, lost-looking student wearing a ‘save the planet’ T-shirt and a random array of tattoos all over her arms. This waitress/barista couldn’t care less about your customer experience, which is apparent from the blank look on her face when you tell her what you’d like to order. These days, you are not even asked for a fake name to be attached to your order anymore. Default solution: paper cup, no questions asked. It is also your own problem if you first need to clear the trash of other customers off the table should you wish to enjoy your beverage sur place to kill your waiting time. Having the table wiped down? A daring luxury. I recommend a stash of anti-bacterial wipes. They always come in handy. Sitting at my freshly disinfected table, I wonder what these employees answer when they are asked in their job interviews what it is that motivates them and why they want to do this job as opposed to any other.
Upon arrival at my destination’s central station, I am greeted by people pushing into the train before I can get off, the escalators don’t work, and the general vibe is pissoir and ‘just make sure you don’t touch anything’. I am left wondering, once again, why nothing changed for the better in the 35 years I have been arriving at this station. I feel the urgent need to disinfect my hands ASAP but cannot. I first need to use the sticky touch screen machine to buy my 4 Euro ticket for 2 stops on the tram. At some point, they obviously discontinued the ‘short distance’ ticket that was available in my youth. Granted, that’s a while ago. But most seem to be free riding anyway; no checks, no tapping in with a transport card, no barriers, nothing. Getting off at the underground station – this one was surprisingly clean but always has been since it is in the poshest area of town, I am stopped by an elderly Japanese lady who asks me why the lift isn’t working. I am afraid I have no answer for her. I smile politely and walk on. Only to find that the escalator isn’t working either. Luckily, I go to the gym and suitcase carries are part of my full body workout routine. From there, I drag my little carry-on down a number of blocks, attentively watching out to avoid the dog poo on the sidewalks.
Taking the tram and bus to church the next evening, I can’t help but wonder why everyone just gets on through whatever door, including those displaying the ‘no entry’ sign. God only knows who of these people actually held a valid ticket, but the driver, who keeps the front door closed, appears unbothered. Yet again, I could have just gotten on without paying. After church at night, the driver lets us in at the front, visibly confused when I ask for a ticket and give him cash for it. Does anyone ever pay I wonder? Then again, it shows.
Making my way back home on the high-speed train on Sunday afternoon (second class this time) I am boxed into my assigned window seat (because why would we be able to choose a seat when we are already paying for it!) by a grouchy lady doing crosswords on the tray-table in front of her. She is visibly inconvenienced by the fact that I want to get to my seat and have luggage to hoist up to the rack made for people 6 feet tall. Sighing with impatience, she also gives me the annoyed side-eye when I dare to ask her to let me use the bathroom after a while. Since I want to silence those hostile vibes, I take my headphones out. And just like that they have run out of battery and a power outlet is apparently also too much to ask for on a long-distance highs-peed train. However, I must be fair and recognize that the newer trains display seat numbers right by the aisle in a rather large font. At least this saves me from being aggressed by fellow passengers yelling at me as it used to be common practice before when I could not find my seat and no one was willing to help me ‘because I wore glasses’. It is the little wins we need to celebrate, right? And I am indeed very grateful for this huge improvement.
Various delays (nothing new here) make me miss my connection and I am waiting for the intercity train to get home. Dirty would be an understatement for that one and somehow, I have no idea why trains are just so gross all the time. I swear the floor hasn’t been mopped in a month, and I am not even talking about the fabric on the seats. All I can think of is to not lean back and touch that seat with my hair.
Dehydrated as usual when I take public transport to avoid having to use the loo, I arrive home. I throw all my clothes into the laundry and take a long shower. I am really done with trains for a while and there’s no way I want to wear those jeans again before I haven’t washed them.
And at the end of the day, I wonder whether those people advocating for train travel instead of taking a plane have actually ever been travelling on trains for real. Or maybe it is just me and I am spoiled and suffering from an OCD more serious than I think.
For obvious reasons, this blog does not contain any pretty pictures. I apologise for that. As usual, I have paid all tickets, coffees and toilet fees myself. I would welcome being sponsored by Swiss or Japanese railways or the fancy Orient Express from Paris to Venice in the future. Just kidding!
Many years ago, I watched a German documentary about the almond blossom season in Mallorca in which the orange express, also known as the tren de Sóller was prominently featured. While I am personally less fascinated by train mechanics than I am by traditional almond sweets, beautiful landscapes, and glorious beaches, this documentary somehow lingered in my mind to the day I came to visit the island myself – a decade or more later. Before I set out to this little mediterranean paradise, the image of the train rushed back into my conscious memory. I sought to plan the trip in those few days in September I had at my disposal for touristic excursions before attending to the real reason for my travel to Spain.
Skeptical as I am, however, I did – not so diplomatically – ask my local friend whether this train trip to Sóller was ‘just a tourist trap or actually nice’. He was borderline offended by my question and assured me that, while it was definitely touristic, it was a very nice trip on which he had even taken his in-laws a few years ago. Since this sort of resembled an approval of the whole endeavour, I put the tren de Sóller firmly on my travel itinerary for Mallorca in 2025.
It was a beautiful day in late September, the weather was perfect, and the views did not disappoint. While the first part of the journey leads through the fertile plains of the island’s interior, the Serra de Tramuntana is not far from the island’s capital.
Soon, the train takes its route through tunnels and across narrow bridges nestled between the valleys and towns of this northern mountainous region. Lush vegetation and shadows of increasingly higher mountains feel so far removed from the yachts and urban buzz of the capital. Arriving in Sóller, one already sees the spires of its large Gothic-style church of Sant Bartomeu, which appears as grand an opulent in this little town – and is very similar in style – to that of Palma, from afar.
Sóller, unfortunately quite overrun by tourists, is charming and grand in architecture; a clear reminder of its bygone days when almonds and fruit made for precious commodities and lucrative trade. As with all touristic and Instagram-hyped ‘bucket list’ places, simply taking a side road will let you enjoy it in peace and quiet as most people are less interested in seeing them than in being seen in them.
To this day, Sóller remains famous for its citrus fruit and the train used to be a means of transporting the fruit to the capital and elsewhere. It dates back to 1912 and shares many of the characteristics of the iconic trams of Lisbon or Milan. The glazed caramel-coloured wooden seats and up-sliding windows exude the same glory of the olden days that I personally love very much, probably because they evoke happy childhood memories of summers spent in Lisbon with my grandmother and walking around its Baixa and Chiado as a student. As a Serb, I however feel compelled to warn you of the near certain potential of promaja (draft) created by scantily clothed Northerners opening windows on all possible sides of the wagons to let in the cold mountain air because their iPhones told them it was warm in Palma.
Not being able to hire a car and explore the natural beauty of any place to which I travel on a more individual basis, I am always looking for ways alternative transport options can help me get around and see as much as possible. The tren de Sóller lets you get off in Sóller, walk around and then rejoin it for the last stretch of the journey to the Port.
The Port has a long promenade framed by beautiful sandy beaches and a marina at the end; many cafés and restaurants line its beachfront with stunning views on turquoise waters. I highly recommend a piece of almond cake while savouring the landscape.
You can buy your tickets for the tren de Sóller at the designated station called the Ferrocarril de Sóller just across the Plaça de Espanya in Palma, adjacent to the Estació Intermodal and central coach station. While you can also get to both Sóller and Port de Sóller by coach No. 203 from the Estació Intermodal, I would recommend the train for several reasons. First, it is simply very nice and unique. Second, you are able to book your return for a specific time when buying your ticket, which leads me to my third reason: enforced limited seating that prevents all sorts of unpleasantries you may very well experience when queuing for the coach according to the principles of touristic Darwinism and self-centred foreigners not believing in queues.
All in all, I join my friend in telling you that the train trip to Sóller is touristic, but very nice indeed.
All recommendations are my genuine opinions. I have paid all fares and food at full price by myself and I am not sponsored or otherwise affiliated with any company or establishment mentioned in this post.
Magnolia season seems to have become the European equivalent of cherry blossom season in Japan, with tourists making their way to designated magnolia spots. And I am no exception to those tourists because I am the ultimate flower-girl. I love flowers, and especially all flowers that come in pink. In many cultures, including Japan, magnolias symbolize purity, nobility, dignity, perseverance and love for nature. Magnolias are one of the world’s oldest known flowers, mentioned in the Ketuvim and Old Testament of the Bible, for example. In Europe, magnolias are in full bloom around mid to end of March, depending on the country you are in.
Last March, I went on a long weekend to Milan, and seeing magnolias was one of the many benefits of this visit. I had looked up how to get to the Piazza Tommaseo, a famed magnolia-watching spot and I will tell you about it today.
I have been to Milan many times, and the city never disappoints. It is one of my go-to travel destinations if I am very honest with you because I always find exactly what I am looking for at that moment in my life; a good break, food, tradition, shopping if I feel like it, and beauty all around as well as supermarket shelves with a good selection of Taralli. The hotel I stayed at in Santa Sofia was wonderful and perfectly located. I could take the tram or the metro and nothing in the centre of Milan was really far away. After having shopped a bit and had pizza and ice cream on day one, I felt like doing other things and seeing a new part of town on day two. So, I looked up how to get to the small Piazza located in a mainly residential area famous for its magnolia trees.
From the Piazza del Duomo, you would walk around the corner on to Via Tommaso Grossi and its tram 1 stop, which – generously speaking – is conversely just opposite the big Starbucks Coffee Roastery and the enormous Uniqlo shop on Piazza Cardusio, which also has a metro stop of line M1. While you can get to Piazza Tommaseo by taking the metro, I would highly recommend not doing so and taking tram 1 instead, because that way, you actually get to see Milan over ground, which, I suppose is part of the reason you came to visit in the first place.
And before we get onto that tram, let me just give you a warm recommendation for the Starbucks Roastery. While Starbucks or cappuccino after 11 a.m. clearly aren’t part of Italian culture, this place is nevertheless very special and beautiful and, in my opinion, a touristic must visit, not least because you can sit down for a while having your coffee as opposed to standing at a bar for 5 minutes only. That will come in very handy after or before a full day of touristic walking around. Second, if you are into cakes, this café is a feast for the eyes and probably the tastebuds, too. Since I did have my cappuccino before 12 and was hence still full from a fantastically oversized breakfast, I stuck to coffee – probably the fourth of the morning – and very much enjoyed the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans, the chance to sit and people watch for a while as well as the never-to be-discounted access to a clean restroom.
But back to our magnolia-spotting adventure: Via Grossi is the first and last stop of tram 1’s trajectory, thus your chances of getting a seat on the rather small tram is quite high. As the tram winds its way through the city centre, it passes Cadorna station, Piazza Virgilio and then reaches the Via Venti Settembre stop after no more than 20 minutes. This stop is located in a quiet area of town with large boulevard-like streets, framed by plane trees and imposing villas. And if you get off at the wrong stop, it does not even matter, because the next one will be just straight ahead, and I can assure you, you won’t get lost. Now, if you managed to get off at the right stop, you should cross the street to the left, walk on, cross Via Tamburini, continue straight past the beauty salon on your left-hand side and turn left at the corner into Via Petrarca.
You then continue walking straight ahead for about five minutes, crossing one more street, and you will reach the ‘side entrance’ to Piazza Niccolò Tommaseo, where kids will be playing and influencers taking their shots against the beautiful backdrop of the Church of Santa Maria Segreta, just like I did last year.
While I have a soft spot for Milan’s historic trams and always find travelling over ground much more interesting when I am travelling, you also have the option of taking the metro back to the Duomo or wherever you were coming from. M1 stop Conciliazione is just a short walk down Via Gian Battista Bazzoni if you exit Piazza Tommaseo to the left of the church.
I, of course, made my way back to tram 1, which was filled with afternoon travellers, neighbours and chatty old ladies speaking to the driver, as well as tourists from near and far. I love sitting on the same side of the tram I sat on when I arrived, so I can see what the other side of the streets I saw earlier has to offer.
Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t the best when I went. It was a rather grey and misty afternoon, but the old, enormous magnolia trees did not disappoint. It was truly beautiful, and so was that part of the city. And if it had not been for the magnolias, I would never have discovered it.
If you are interested in seeing what else I did that day, have a look at the short reel I put together of day 2 in Milan 2025.
My last blogs have largely been dedicated to my opinionated philosophizing about travel. With the beginning of spring and a more outward looking perspective on how to spend time, however, I am finally able to share a real travel blog with you again. I have been alluding to it before but did not want to spill the beans just yet about where this journey was going to take us.
Day 1
I am blessed to be living in Europe, where many beautiful destinations can easily be reached within a few hours and short weekend breaks to a completely different country are within the realm of the possible. This time, I took advantage of a direct flight connection to the beautiful city of Florence in Tuscany. I have never been to Tuscany before, and I thought it would be a good idea to see it before the summer crowds arrive. In my opinion, it would also be a waste to dedicate precious warm summer days that could be spent on the beach roaming the museums. But who could visit Florence and skip the museums? It would be a sin.
But be aware, if you do not plan this out months in advance, you’ll be disappointed. Nowadays all major museums have online ticket sales and those come with time slots of 15-minute windows. Of course, you can also buy tickets on the spot, but you will wait in line for a very long time. Already now at the end of February, the queues were substantial.
For a change to my usual blogs, I will actually run you through my itinerary in case you would find it useful for your own plans.
I arrived at the airport at noon (with hand luggage only) and took a taxi to the old town, which took about 30 minutes. I was lucky to chance upon a very nice and kind taxi driver who spoke excellent English and with whom I really had a nice chat; usually, I am not a big fan of chatting with taxi drivers. He asked me – as most of them do: So, you are travelling alone? And when I get the weird vibes, I usually come up with a lie such as I am joiningmy husband who was here on a business trip or something along those lines. But this guy was normal, so I said “Yes, I am travelling alone” and in his opinion that was a great idea because I did not have to compromise on anything – especially food – and just do what I wanted. It really made me smile, because that’s not a response I usually get.
My hotel was located at the Piazza dell’indipendenza, next to a park and a short walking distance from the centre. I was already able to leave my luggage in the room, freshen up a little and walk to my first destination of the day, the Capelle Medicee where I had booked myself a timeslot to see Michelangelo’s secret chamber at 13:30. I made it on time easily (although I had stressed about that a little when the plane was delayed) and even grabbed a focaccia from the supermarket around the corner because I was starving as well as an espresso at the bar across before turning up about five minutes early. And I cannot stress this enough, but if you do book this tour – which I highly recommend – you must be punctual. The museum organizes the tour for a group of no more than four people at a time because the secret chamber is very small.
Our guide was a refreshingly genuine and enthusiastic young lady who explained both the story of the secret chamber as well as the intricacies of the drawings and sketches and answered all our questions in both Italian and English. The guided visit lasted about 20 minutes and all of us had plenty of opportunity to look around and really take in what we were seeing. After the guided tour, you can freely visit the rest of the museum on your own.
After the Medici chapel, I had some time to walk down to the river Arno, take a few beautiful pictures of the bridges and riverbanks, and eat a gelatoat the corner of Ponte Santa Trinita before slowly walking back into the town centre for my next stop of the day, the Galleria dell’Academia museum. My time slot started at 15:30 and I made it comfortably on time without having to rush.
While I would not call myself an art lover per se or connoisseur of any kind, I do have a natural appreciation for everything beautiful, and I get immensely impressed by the mastery of artists so many centuries ago. There were a few paintings from the beginning of the 14th century that really stuck with me due to their immense beauty, detail and vibrancy.
I often find the larger paintings more difficult to appreciate due to my visual impairment, as I cannot see the detail that I would imagine many people with normal eyesight would be able to catch.
The same goes for statutes, such as Michelangelo’s David that is cordoned off for good reason, given the focused interest of most visitors to the museum. I actually found myself more fascinated by the smaller works on the first floor, where I was able to approach the painting at a closer range and really appreciate the detailing.
As impressive as the Galleria was, I suffered my usual art-overload about halfway through and felt a bit depleted at that point in the afternoon. I then decided to look for a Bar-Tabacchi (coffee bar/kiosk)and top up my coffee levels before heading back to the hotel to rest and refresh before my solo dinner appointment.
It was indeed the first time I had made a dinner reservation weeks in advance and to my surprise at the time, it was entirely possible to reserve a table for one, which you cannot do in some countries mind you.
With hindsight, I really think it was a great idea to reserve a table because otherwise I would have just roamed the city aimlessly and probably doubted whether I would even be interested in a dinner for one. But because I had this reservation, it really felt like a fixed appointment, even if it was only with myself. Now, whether I would recommend randomly picking a restaurant off google maps like I did, I don’t know. But in my case, it worked out very well.
I had looked at the pricing and menu beforehand and gotten an idea about the kind of restaurant it was, which proved to be accurate. It was a nice, traditional restaurant with a lot of local charm and at no point did I feel uncomfortable dining alone. The waiting staff was very friendly, the food was great and overall, it was a very nice evening. I can warmly recommend it for those interested.
Day 2
I am not going to lie when I say I was very tired on my first evening and decided to sleep in; that said: for someone who usually rises at 5 a.m. ‘sleeping in’. means 8:30. After quite a disappointing breakfast buffet visit, I made myself another coffee in the room, as it proved to be highly superior to that in the windowless breakfast basement without wifi or telephone reception. I then headed out towards the Duomo to attend Sunday mass at 10:30. While I am not Roman Catholic, living abroad with next to no access to churches of my own confession, I have learned to find a moment of prayer and reflection among congregations of other Christian denominations and focus on the readings. What I found slightly disturbing though was that attendees were encouraged to ‘follow’ the mass on their phone by scanning a QR code with ‘the program’. Thus, for those fortunate enough to be in full possession of their visual senses, you had them glued to their screens.
After mass, I set out on a hike to the Piazzale de Michelangelo from where you have a panoramic view down on the city with the skyline of the dome of the Duomo, its belltower and the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio. I passed the queues of tourists waiting for admission to Arnolfo’s tower, left behind the Ponte Vecchio, horrified at the masses of tourists which caused me a little onset of claustrophobic discomfort and activated my natural flight instinct. Like this, I randomly followed over-packed streets only to find that I was on the wrong track. At the Palazzo Pitti – framed by a sizeable queue of patiently waiting tourists – I made a U-turn and found my way up the hill towards the Piazzale. It was a pleasant but steep walk in the end, so I would only recommend it to those who are reasonably in shape, otherwise just call a taxi.
Having made it to the top, I was greeted by the breathtaking view on one of Europe’s most beautiful skylines, but also by touristy stalls of knick-knacks, trinkets and the usual merchandise made in China. Blasting Latin music from a street performer and girlfriends directing their portrait-taking boyfriends on the various angles of perfect Instagram content did not kindle my desire to further explore the Piazzale itself. I took some of my own soon-to-be Instagram pictures and made my way back down to the river. It was past noon and definitely time for a meal in any event.
For lunch, I came across a very nice Pizzeria named Forneria, not too far from the Ponte Vecchio. A perfect blend of locals and tourists, friendly staff, good food and a clean and modern atmosphere make me really recommend this place to you. In their main sitting area, you also get a stunning view on the river and the old city. I could unashamedly charge up my phone while enjoying my pizza and a tiramisù.
Walking around for the rest of the afternoon, taking in the stunning architecture and blending into the city’s afternoon passeggiata I finally reached a point where I could walk no more. I had yet another coffee and because I needed to drag out that seated break for a little longer, a glass of Prosecco (when in Rome…as they say!). After some people watching and general contemplation, I cancelled my dinner reservation because I was still too full after the lunch I could not even finish.
Eventually, it was time to make it back to the hotel and facing the real world at the click of a button switching on the news. I shouldn’t have. Because for those two days that I spent in Italy, I could focus on nothing but a mental break and taking in the beauty life has to offer.
I don’t travel in order to tell you stories or post pictures. It is the other way around.
I like to tell you stories, because I love travelling. When you travel alone, there’s no one to share your impressions with, so they become stories that need to be told. I travel because I seek the tranquillity and peace of mind that I only experience when I am away from the routine and when I am able to slip into a different place and reality.
The next morning, I slept in, drank all the coffee in the room and skipped that unappealing breakfast altogether. A yoghurt and some delicious strawberries I had purchased the day before were a far better choice before heading back to the airport with no rush.
I hope you enjoyed my little itinerary and it would mean the world to me if any of my humble recommendations will help you in planning your own trip to Florence, or anywhere or even just make you dream about it.
As always, all recommendations are my own spontaneous and heartfelt recommendations. I have not been sponsored in any way or obtained any gifts, favours, products or food for free in preparing this blog.
When I think of auntie Catherine’s living room featuring a stationary bike, I would not necessarily call that room a ‘gym’. However, this seems to somehow be okay when you have a hotel. Having that kind of ‘gym’ immediately entitles you to a surcharge of at least 50 EUR on your rooms per night. Better yet: you put up a mirrored wall next to that single stationary bike, so that it photographs as two stationary bikes in a spacious and inviting room, rather than the closet that it really is. It also appears to be mandatory to have that closet somewhere in the basement and an awkward backroom elevator or semi-outdoor staircase leading down to it to move your hotel up the starred ladder.
But not all hotel gyms are let-downs. There are indeed hotels that do have a decently sized, well-equipped fitness room. The hard part is to identify them when you book.
It is almost a science to spot the optical illusion of the mirrored closet in the pictures on the hotel website or booking platform; if you care about your gym time even on a trip, you’ll likely have figured that out a while ago. I can’t say I am nailing that science yet, but I can definitely spot a misnomer in a second these days.
If you are travelling to a city destination and not staying in a five star or chain hotel, very likely, the ‘gym’ won’t be great and not feature more than that single stationary bike, one treadmill (mostly facing a blank wall) and a cross-trainer aka elliptical machine. If it has a rower, you hit the jackpot. It will also help to be short because most of these fitness rooms have extremely low ceilings, and I often wonder whether anyone over 1,80 m tall will hit their head when stepping onto the treadmill. If you are lucky, that basement room may have a few weights, but those would serve most people for a warmup set and, in any event, there won’t be space for doing anything other than a biceps curl with this rather basic set of home workout tools.
In such settings, you are probably better off just getting your 20.000 steps in by doing some robust sightseeing on foot.
There is also the variant of ‘next-door-access’ to a real commercial gym. This can be fabulous or the most traumatizing experience in your gym career as happened to me last time I went to London.
My God. I wouldn’t call myself feeble or overly self-conscious, shy or hesitant, but that gym intimidated me and made me feel uncomfortable to the core. I don’t know about other ladies, but the fact that this testosterone cage was exclusively filled with loudly grunting gym-bros, had not been cleaned in a decade, featured ‘unisex’ toilets/bathrooms/showers or whatever it was (the sign on the door frightened me too much to even have a peek inside) was unbearable.
I have never felt so out of place and unsafe in a gym than there; and the worst part: it is advertised as ‘belonging’ to the hotel. A four-star hotel mind you. Turns out, it was a commercially run place for which the hotel gave you a ‘token’ (attached to a large wooden brick so you wouldn’t steal it!) to enter and made you walk around the building in the freezing cold for access. However, lockers (yes, I wore a puffer jacket on the way there) for where to put your jacket weren’t accessible to the hotel guests because that would have required a padlock. So, great thinking there, Mr. hotel manager, you have really done the research or maybe I just need to improve my skills at reading the fine print.
At the other end of the spectrum, I have been to several very nice ‘next-door gyms’. Spotless, clean, and well-equipped. One of the best next-door gyms has been in my favourite beach destination, where, honestly, going for a run along the promenade was much nicer, but I was curious to try out this gym and found myself walking right into a real-world men’s health magazine. Quite an unforgettable experience! And people were welcoming and nice and even though I did not necessarily ‘fit’ with the crowd, I did not feel looked-at, intimidated or out of place.
The premium option in the world of hotel gyms though are the ones that are so great that even locals have a gym membership at the hotel; often, you’ll find that option in generous spa/wellness areas of larger hotel chains. I have had great experiences in the Middle East. In Dubai, it even came with a stunning Burj Khalifa view.
But rather than giving you a run-down of the different options and kinds of hotel gyms that exist, I wanted to tell you why I find hotel gyms necessary or important. There are several reasons. For one, I love my gym routine and if I am, for instance, travelling for business and the trip lasts an entire week or longer, the thought of skipping the gym is a terrifying one for me. I need my workouts to stay alert and feel good or to relieve the stress of the day or mentally wind down after a long day of meetings and sitting.
Second, hotel gyms are a kind of refuge for me when I don’t necessary feel like solo-dining but don’t also want to exclusively be stuck in the room or sit in the lobby getting hit on by middle-aged creeps. Getting a workout in and then rewarding yourself with a hot shower and in-room dining is so much more fulfilling than just stuffing your face with a club sandwich and watching the news on tv.
Third, and this would go for summer vacations mainly, if I have been lying on the beach all day, I have the urge to move. I cannot just get out of bed, go for breakfast, to the beach, back for dining and back to bed. Plus, most desirable summer destination will have excellent food options and burning a few more calories before enjoying dinner has never hurt anyone. Of course, you can swim and go for long walks in some places, but not everywhere. For example, when I went to Crete, the sea was too rough to swim and the area around the hotel not the most inviting unfortunately. Have a look at that blog post if you are interested. The ‘gym’ in that hotel, however, was a complete joke. It consisted of a few pull-up bars out in the open and to address perceived ‘female’ needs the hotel offered yoga classes in the mornings. Needless to say: I attended neither. But that holiday was also one of those where I missed the gym the most. It could have compensated for a lot and filled an emotional void.
I wonder whether other people feel like I do or whether you would find it crazy to go to the gym during a holiday or business trip? In my opinion though, it really depends on how long the trip lasts and what your purpose really is. If you just want to recharge your batteries and do absolutely nothing – which we all need once in a while – then, forget about the gym. If all you want to do is walk around Rome, Paris or London, you also likely do not need a treadmill (although you might worry about your upper body gains). But if you travel solo and loathe successive solo-dinners, you may actually appreciate this little sanctuary to re-charge your batteries in a different way. And, more often than not, this is how I feel about a hotel gym, as a sanctuary.
Am I the only one or do other people also admire the art of travelling light? I am always amazed by people who can go on a week-long trip with a carry-on suitcase and still look somewhat put together. I don’t know how they do it. It’s aspirational. I, on the other hand, have no problem bringing a full-sized suitcase and a carry-on on a three-day trip (yes, Milan 2025; it was great). And believe it or not, that amount of luggage doesn’t cater for all options, weather situations or a change of coats. I simply do not manage to pack efficiently; it is as simple as that. While in real life, I am content with little and get overwhelmed by too much stuff and cluttered spaces, packing a suitcase is somehow in a different orbit. I can actually remember the last time I managed to travel with carry-on only, and that was to London in October 2024. Because, you guessed it, the trip was hardly 48 hours and the weather in London in October will always be cold and rainy and all you need is a pair of rainproof shoes, a jumper and not much else.
But currently, I am staring my aspirational choice of a “no check-in baggage” ticket option right in the eye; and I am determined to make it work. We all need to challenge ourselves from time to time and get out of our comfort zone (the comfort of being overly prepared in my case). I tell myself that it will be for only two nights and that I can do it, but somehow, I am still having doubts. In my defence, I need to also let you know that I have a small carry-on trolley and not the maxed-out kind that many other travellers use. I find it sleeker, handier, and in all honesty, I often travel on the smaller planes where the large ones just don’t fit, and the airline makes you check them in at the gate. And then what? Shall I carry my laptop, camera etc. in my hand from that point on? Definitely not. So, even though I find it difficult to pack less, it was a conscious choice to buy this ticket fare.
Not because I am excessively cheap, but because I thought that bringing an actual suitcase on such a short trip would be completely ridiculous. And if there is one thing I hate, it’s to look ridiculous. At the same time, I also hate being inappropriately dressed. It’s a real struggle for a person who likes to make a bella figura at all times.
One of the factors that makes this experiment of hand-luggage only travel somewhat easier is that there is no time for … wait, no; the hotel doesn’t have a gym. That was one of the compromises I had to make when looking for an aesthetically pleasing and affordable hotel option. It’s a shame of course, but what can you do? So, discounting an entire gym outfit, including chunky trainers will definitely come in handy when trying to minimize the number of things I am going to bring. Maybe one of these days I should tell you about my love-hate relationship with hotel gyms. It’ll be a fun blog to read, I promise.
But it is not necessarily the gym that I miss. Sometimes, I would just love to go for a nice morning run to see a place in the silent hours before it will all be flooded with traffic or flocks of tourists. I get jealous at the morning runners in Paris or on beach promenades. There is just something so scenic and calm about running along the river banks; joining the regulars and covering so much more area than you ever could on a walk. Let’s just say that for now, I will put that plan on the back burner and see how and if I have space left in the end. Unlikely, you are probably thinking. And I am sure you are right.
Ever since I booked this trip, got my museum tickets, and chose a hotel, I have been mulling over the question of what a woman actually needs on a weekend trip. Will I take a chance on the hair dryer? Improbable. So that will need to come. What about shoes? That’s a difficult one. Although – unlike what my work colleagues seem to believe – I am not a reincarnation of Emilda Marcos (aka your average luxury fashion influencer). I do, however, strongly believe in dressing for the occasion.
In my case, this will be an urban environment, likely featuring cobble stone streets, and long-distance walking for two days. I don’t believe in wearing trainers out in daily life and Converse seem, well, not elegant enough for the place I am going to. Likely I am looking at three pairs of shoes here: one for walking, one for dinners out, and something comfier to wear on the plane? In any event, I recommend bringing more than one pair of shoes. If ever they turn out to be uncomfortable and you get into a blister situation, you want to be able to change your shoes, believe me. I was once so desperate and in pain that I ended up buying a new pair of moccasins in Paris (as in: the first ones I could find), and that isn’t really a great plan because in the grand scheme of things you probably neither need nor want the ‘first best option’ pair of shoes in your closet later on.
With clothes, I am surprisingly much lower maintenance. I have embraced being the basic girl when it comes to outfits, because I find them more age appropriate ever since I crossed the 35 divide and basic outfits are much easier to combine. The same three or four pieces can go a long way in terms of different outfits. Since I must be extra minimalist here, I’ll content myself with one pair of dark denim – because they are both day and evening appropriate and can be dressed up or down, depending on the context.
Toiletries and makeup are a no-brainer since I have my pre-assembled a ‘travel bag’ in a drawer and I can simply grab my gym kit for makeup. However, there’s always the miscellaneous stuff: a hairbrush, chargers, a journal, my agenda, spare glasses, sunglasses, an umbrella, and a foldable shopping bag because in most European countries, you no longer get a bag in the shops and supermarkets – or they are made of paper, which will be pointless once it starts to rain.
Even though nobody likes to talk about these mundane items, they do take up real space. So, to all those: “Why are you bringing so much stuff” interrogators, please let me know how you deal with these items when you travel. I am genuinely curious and would really appreciate some comments or ideas.
And in the end, I need some space, as in ‘ma’ or empty space, because I might just buy a little something.
I realized it was nearly two weeks since my last post and, I am not going to lie – I have no travel story to tell you this time around. At the same time, I’d hate to not post, because I have made this commitment that I would post something every other week and here we are – earlier than expected somehow.
January and February are not my favourite months. The weather is atrocious and sometimes disabling (when roads are icy and getting around becomes a problem) and I therefore tend to have no plans to go anywhere; this holds true even more so after the recent travel debacle I told you about two weeks ago. If you will, I am in a state of travel hibernation and to go full disclosure: I did not even unpack my carry on until a week after I returned. Yes, you heard that right. I don’t know whether that’s a form of denial or simple laziness. Uninspired I would call it, but only a psychologist would be able to give you an accurate answer to that one.
During the hibernation months I am usually on auto pilot: gym, work and not much else. Maybe because I am constantly feeling tired and cold, or maybe it is because it appears that nighttime lasts about 15 hours a day. Everything is slow and full of effort somehow. I tend to prepare and eat the same meals until I get terribly bored of them once March rolls around and I otherwise take great comfort in my routine and hibernation. The only place I am willing to push the boundaries is the gym, really; my highlight of the day.
But of course, I am thinking about travelling at this time of year and taking baby steps towards it. Well, ok, maybe some concrete ones, too, as I did book a flight for a trip as soon as the weather allows and I am currently reviewing my options in terms of hotels, museums etc. Frighteningly enough, I find that these days all museums seem to have time slots and advance ticket sales for three months down the line. That doesn’t sit terribly well with my resolution to be more spontaneous I must say. But at the same time, I also don’t want to find myself in the situation where I go somewhere special and find that I completely failed to prepare, being left without tickets to a museum I really wanted to see. It wouldn’t be the first time, mind you, but in life we learn, or at least, we should learn from our mistakes. In this modern world, being spontaneous has unfortunately become quite a luxury.
I don’t want to give away too much at this point, but the place I am going to is somewhere I have never been before, and I am very excited about. It’s going to be a short weekend trip, as my 9 to 5 doesn’t allow for much more at the moment, but I really hope I will have ‘enough’ time to see and experience some world class art, culture, and food while still soaking in the local atmosphere. The other question is whether I will be able to pack light for a change …
I am hoping it won’t be too touristy at this time of the year and that I’ll be able to find places to eat that aren’t over-hyped tourist traps. Sadly, this is a problem I frequently encounter during my travels. Being somewhat limited in my radius for reasons of travelling alone as a woman and not being overly comfortable to wander the unknown at night, I sometimes find that accessible options are tourist traps, and that’s a real shame. I suppose excessive online reviews and countless repetitive copy-cat style travel vlogs seeking out places ‘because they are viral on TikTok’ don’t help. If I already see thousands of TripAdvisor reviews, I am a lot less likely to want to try a place to be perfectly honest with you. It’s maybe stupid, but it just doesn’t sit right with me because I think no local will ever step foot in such a place and that in itself makes me doubt quality and authenticity. Feel free to call me a snob. I’ll take that as a compliment.
Another thing that makes me very excited about going to this place is that I am trying to retrace a few of my grandma’s steps. She bought me a pair of golden earrings in one of the artisan jewellers in this city. Sadly, they have fallen victim to a burglary, including the little case they came in, but I vividly remember the writing on the small black box and how special this souvenir was for me. I must have been ten years old or maybe twelve. If you have read one of my first blogs back in summer 2025, you will know that my grandma has very much inspired my love and courage for solo-travel.
My main trouble seemed to be to find an aesthetically pleasing hotel. Scrolling through the pictures on the platform I tend to use, I see lots of dated décor and colourful plush options that give me the hives just from imagining the dust mites having the time of their lives. There is an equally shocking abundance of curtains and wallpapers with overladen colourful patterns and colour-schemes that appear to be in a sort of screaming war with each other. It does not seem to be so easy to find calm and clean lines at an affordable price point; but what I find more puzzling is that the pictures I see of nightmare-worthy décor fetches top ratings from former hotel guests. Clearly, we are not on the same wavelength here and I need to just try out something that seems to be more my own vibe. I think I found a place that satisfies what I am looking for, and if it is beautiful and an overall good fit, I will let you know in a forthcoming blog.
So, if you are also feeling the winter blues, just enjoy the downtime. Spring will come soon enough, and travel will be more fun again. I promise.
Over Christmas and New Year, I stayed with family. I had a chill time and the weather was great. By the time I was meant to return, however, the Netherlands were hit with a cold front and lots of snow (for their standards) and the airport more or less came to a halt. My flight was cancelled again and again for days and I even got to spend Serbian Christmas at home as well, which had not been in the plan. I could tell you many details but I won’t. I don’t want my blog to turn into complain-dot-com; the things as they happened are in the past, much time and money was wasted but it’s over now and I do not want to recount it. And besides, many people were much unluckier than me when it comes to flight cancellations and the particular circumstances they found themselves in. I need to be grateful for having dodged the worst, and I truly am.
What I do want to share with you are some lessons learned, and I hope they can be helpful for you, too. Although I call myself a seasoned traveller, I found myself in situations I had badly prepared for and in the future, I will have to make some adjustments, because I won’t always be as lucky as to be at a relative’s home when flights get cancelled for multiple days.
I now understand that I will have to be more alert when packing my hand-luggage and not use it as the ‘just dump what doesn’t fit into the suitcase’ type of bag. No, I now understand what my brother (an experienced business traveller) used to preach about hand luggage: toothbrush, PJs, an essential change of clothes, basic skincare set and basic travel medication. But in addition, I realized I also need a couple of days’ worth supply of prescription medication (and not just the ‘more or less enough’ plus one for the strict number of days I would be away – that really wasn’t smart and caused some serious hassle) and a power bank – because airports and taxis don’t have outlets and airlines think that instead of employing ground personnel, we can all do everything on our own in their unhelpful apps and telephones have endless battery power.
Maybe there is such a thing of being over-prepared, but, honestly, I never thought that I would need to be so prepared ‘just going home for Christmas’. Turns out, it doesn’t matter what the reason of your trip is; whether you go see relatives or would be able to get a toothbrush from the reception desk in the hotel you are heading to. If you are stuck in the airport for hours or days or being driven back and forth, you’ll need it. And in the unlucky event they ‘just’ lose your check-in bag, or it arrives late, you can thank me later when you have made some smart adjustments to the way you pack after reading this blog.
At least I had myinfamous Tupperwareand did not have to eat any of those sad looking pizza slices, greasy croissants or colourful doughnuts for 10 Euros each.
To keep things crisp and catchy, I am going to end this week’s blog here. I first need to recover from the most uncomfy travels ever before I have something beautiful to share with you next time. So, take care and pack well! Hope to see you back here soon xx
