Amalfi, slowly

There’s a stretch of the Amalfi coast road where the bus driver slows down without anyone asking — because everyone on board has stopped talking and started looking.

I spent four days there without a real plan: lemon groves that smell like something out of a memory you didn’t know you had, long lunches that turned into long afternoons, and a habit of looking up that I didn’t have before I arrived.

If you go: skip the tour bus schedule and rent a room for at least three nights in one town. The coast rewards staying still.

Paris before nine

Paris after nine is beautiful and busy. Paris before nine belongs to almost no one, which is exactly why I keep going back to the same three corners: a boulangerie that opens at seven, a bench by the river that nobody photographs, and a café where the waiter has stopped asking what I want.

It isn’t a checklist. It’s a rhythm — and the city gives it back to you the moment you stop rushing to see it all.

The courage to go

Booking my first solo trip felt like a bigger decision than it should have. Standing at the railing on the second night, watching the coastline disappear, it stopped feeling like a decision at all and started feeling like exactly where I was supposed to be.

What nobody tells you about travelling alone is how loud your own thoughts get for the first day, and how quiet — in the best way — they become by the third.

If you’re on the fence about going alone: book the smaller trip first. It’s easier to be brave in increments.