The Unexpected Power Of Slowing Down

As a military kid, I got used to starting over—new homes, new schools, new routines. But when I lived in Europe as a teenager, it felt different. Time slowed down. The unfamiliar felt comforting. And somewhere in all that movement, I found a sense of home I had not felt before.

I have been waiting more than a decade to return. The years I spent in Europe as a teenager left a lasting imprint. They taught me what it feels like to belong somewhere unexpected, to slow down and connect with a place in a deeper way. There has not been a single day since returning to the States when I have not missed it. I did not realize just how much I had been craving that feeling again—until I started planning this trip.

Now, just weeks before I turn 30, I am packing my bags again—not to settle, but to slow down and soak it all in. This time, I am bringing with me not just memories, but a list of things I am excited to discover, feel, and become during these ten weeks in Europe. Some small, some big, but all a part of why this trip means so much.

One of the first things I am looking forward to is drinking espresso at the bar like a local in Naples—quick, strong, and standing up like it is second nature. But it is not just the coffee. It is waking up to mornings filled with soft European light filtering through old shutters, that kind of light that makes the day feel full of possibility even before it has started. I want to learn to slow down, to savor mornings as I have never done before. It is easy to get caught in the rush back home, but here, I want to follow my curiosity without a strict plan—letting days unfold naturally, wandering down streets that call my name, and sitting quietly in a café watching the world pass by.

There is a special kind of music in the background too: the buzz of vibrant city life mixing with moments of quiet stillness. Sometimes those sounds exist side by side in the same block, and I want to listen. Really listen. I imagine myself as a quiet observer in crowded cafés, soaking in stories I will never hear but somehow feeling part of their rhythm. It is the kind of anonymity that feels freeing—being present without needing to be the center of attention.

I am eager to shop at fresh markets, grabbing whatever looks good that day and cooking simple, seasonal meals with what I find. I want to feel the texture of the food in my hands, to cook slowly and intentionally, and to eat gelato while walking—because that is just how it is done.

Walking the Camino de Santiago feels like the kind of experience I did not know I needed—part adventure, part quiet reset. I am looking forward to the rhythm of it, the conversations that happen when you are simply walking, and the stillness in between. And then: Paris. Laughing over wine and something buttery with great friends, catching up in the way only good food and familiar company make possible.

I look forward to spontaneous moments that surprise me, to days that stretch on without clocks or schedules—living fully in the present. I want to make friends I never would have crossed paths with at home, fall for places that surprise me, whether grand or quietly tucked away.

This trip is not just a vacation; it is about finding my rhythm as a creator and entrepreneur. Sitting in piazzas doing nothing but watching, joining in local traditions that pull me in unexpectedly. Realizing how little I actually need, wearing out my shoes from walking so much, and feeling lonely sometimes—and knowing I will grow from it.

Most of all, I want to remember how big and beautiful the world is. To turn 30 not with fear or hesitation, but stepping into a completely new chapter—because this is just the beginning of something.