Over the past few years, social media has exploded in popularity and importance, and has worked its way into virtually every aspect of our lives. It even (and perhaps especially) affects how we travel.
And lately, there seems to be a growing backlash movement against the record-every-second, constantly-upload-photos-from-your-iphone mentality that has gripped so many travelers. More and more, people are stepping back and re-evaluating whether everything we see and do really needs to be documented, or whether it’s more valuable to live in the moment and collect experiences rather than Instagram photos.
I like photos. I like Facebook and Instagram, and sometimes twitter. But lately, I’ve been making a conscious effort to be online less and present in the moment more, realizing the value in making this effort to appreciate life as it’s happening, rather than frantically scrambling to record it while it whizzes by.
This new attitude is really important to me, and I think I’ve made a lot of progress towards “living in the moment.” But that raises the question: what does living in the moment really mean? Is it even possible to always be in the moment, or do some moments simply not quite happen in the way we imagine, or rush by us too fast for us to really take them in?
A Traveler’s Conundrum
I find that this dilemma especially applies to us travelers. We are always driven to seek out a new place, a new sight, a new memory to carry with us as we move from one part of the globe to another. It’s part of who we are. So surely we, of all people, should be slowing down and doing our very best to “be present” and savor the moments we worked so hard and journeyed so far to experience?
I thought a lot about this during my recent trip to Iceland. As much as I adored Reykavik, where I spent two days, the highlights of the trip for me were getting out and seeing the country beyond its charming capital. My two favorite sights, without question, were Gullfoss waterfall and the legendary Blue Lagoon. Both were incredible, but I experienced them in very different ways.
Gullfoss was one of the marquee sights I saw on my day-long excursion into the Golden Circle surrounding Reykavik. A waterfall enormous almost beyond imagining, it crashed and thundered and roared, dazzling its audience with mist and rainbows (two at once!) It was stunning, and I felt I could look at it forever, just trying to take it all in.
But unfortunately, I didn’t have forever. I had approximately half an hour before I had to head back to the tour bus. I needed to squeeze in my experience pretty damn fast. And frankly, that sucked.
I walked around Gullfoss, taking in its majesty from all possible angles, and kept telling myself to savor this. Experience this. Feel it now, because in ten minutes you need to leave.
That’s a lot of pressure.
I really did love Gullfoss: it was stunning and one of my very favorite sights in Iceland. But as I gazed out at it, feeling the spray of the water on my face and trying to make the most of my limited time, I kept waiting for a big moment, a connection with this stunning place. And it didn’t quite come. There just wasn’t enough time, and I was too aware of how quickly the time was passing to be able to fully enjoy Gullfoss the way I wanted. I left impressed, but at the same time, a little disappointed, and feeling almost like a failure as a traveler. I hadn’t experienced! I hadn’t been in the moment enough! Damn it.
A More Leisurely Experience
The next day, I was up at the crack of dawn to see the place in Iceland I’d been most eager to experience: the Blue Lagoon. I awoke ridiculously early, took a shuttle bus from Reykavik to the lagoon, figured out the logistics of showering and changing and storing my suitcase, and by nine o’clock I was wading into the milky blue water I’d seen on a million postcards and Instagram photos.
The day was cloudy and grey. The water was warm, soothing, and enveloped me immediately, relaxing me. I moved slowly, parting the water in a cross between swimming and walking, and found a niche over in the corner, where few people had yet arrived. It was almost empty. It was perfect.
I leaned back against the edge of the lagoon, feeling the warmth of the water and watching the steam rise up from it, creating a virtual fairy-tale land. I realized I was falling for this place, as it’s meant to be done when we travel; slowly, without haste, without undue pressure. I didn’t need to remind myself to be in the moment. I had two whole hours, which was more than enough time to take it all in, float around the entire lagoon to explore every corner, and then return to my favorite spot to lean back, breathe in the steamy mist, and marvel at the beauty of this place.
I didn’t bring my camera with me (mostly because I couldn’t figure out the logistics of how to hold it and keep it dry while swimming) so I didn’t get the obligatory “Iook at me I’m in the Blue Lagoon” selfie so many other people were taking. And that was absolutely fine. I didn’t need it. I didn’t even want it. Not being able to take photos gave me more freedom to take in what I was seeing and, as we travelers love to say, “be in the moment.”
Now, when I see a photo of the Blue Lagoon, I can actually pinpoint the place I spent the most time, the little tucked away corner on the right side of that enormous milky teal pool. I remember being there, what it looked like, how I felt. And I will have that memory forever.
Lessons Learned
What’s the moral of the story? For me, it’s the importance of slowing down, traveling at a more leisurely pace, giving myself time to really absorb a place before I have to move on. I’ve done a lot of rapid-fire travel in my life (the world is so big and there’s so much to see!) but I think I’m done with that now. I want to travel more slowly, explore more deeply, and give myself time to enjoy experiences rather than race through them in hopes that something will somehow stick.
This is how I’m going to approach travel from now on, and I think I’ll be a much happier and more fulfilled traveler as a result. Because while there’s much to see in the world, there’s just as much that’s worth slowing down for.
Have you been to Gulfloss or the Blue Lagoon? What was your experience like? How do you feel about slower-paced travel?