Some thoughts on guided tours

We all love to think of ourselves as different - better! - than other travellers, and I do not buck this trend. You're invited to indulge me as I complain about one particular traveller...

I attended a karaoke meet-up for Childfree Women (in Sydney), where I encountered a good-looking, curvy person with a lot of confidence. I decided to contact them via facebook afterwards, to see if we connected well. 

We established some shared interests, such as Human Rights activism and reading. So far, so good... it then turned out that we were part of the same facebook group, 'Backpacking Europe', so naturally we began to discuss that. 

It turned out that Simone (not their real name) had taken a Top Deck guided tour of Europe while they were still under the age of 40, and referred to it as "the trip of a lifetime." They was interested in taking another guided tour, this time to Croatia and some surrounding Balkan countries, in the near future. They cited a wonderful experience while sailing the Croatian coast, and had had positive experiences with the locals: '"Eat, eat!" they say.'

I looked up the itinerary of their tour to find a 6-week, fast-paced hop around Europe, starting in London ("I don't remember much"), encompassing major tourist centres like Paris and Berlin, but also some lesser known destinations such as Carcassonne, Dresden and Zadar. Could I learn anything about Zadar from them, a city barely on my radar, but which obviously had something going for it? "I don't really remember [what it was like]," they admitted. 

Simone seemed to recollect some of the basics on Carcassonne ("The castle city!"), and when I shared that I was planning to go to Berlin next (omitting to mention I'd spent considerable time there) declared "Berlin is essential." They had had 2 days there, taking in a museum called 'The Topography of Terror' and another sight, quite possibly the Berlin Wall. Very well, but how much can you learn about the spirit of a place in such a short time period? Something was very off here. 

Clearly, I will not be going on an organised tour of Europe, or anywhere in the Global North, anytime soon. Personally, it seems tiring, expensive and mostly a waste of time. When all the information you need for independent travel is instantly accessible on the internet, transport (both intercity and intra-city) is easy to navigate, and anything you don't know you can ask a local about (because most people speak English), what could possibly be the point?

I do see the use of an organised tour to India or some places in South America - places where solo women and non-binary travellers could attract unwanted attention or even outright violence. Some women and non-binary people do travel to these places by themselves anyway, finding that the benefits of exploring freely (and on their own terms) outweigh the risks, which are often hyped up by the Anglosphere's media. But even if I were to take one of these in the future, I would miss the feeling of having the whole day to spend to myself, the opportunity to get into a memorable conversation with a local, or get lost in an alluring environment. 

 

A lesson to take into 2026

In 2025 I had the privilege of being proven wrong on something important. Paradigm shifts were required, and some of them are still ongoing. Ultimately it's changed my life for the better, but it was a difficult journey, and the change in values it led to is something I'm still managing. 

What was I wrong about? Living like a local in Northern Europe. 

I always imagined it would be an incomparable improvement on living in Sydney, Australia. (I spent most of my 30s yearning to live in Sweden. And if it wasn't Sweden, it was somewhere nearby.) 

When I actually had the great luck to live in Hannover, Germany, for 6 weeks this year, I went through a process of discovering that, no, actually, I'm better off staying in Australia and making the most of it. People always warned me that "the grass is greener on the other side" and that I was taking Sydney for granted. But I refused to believe it.  

Well, I'm now taking comfort in my surroundings, knowing that immigrating to Germany wouldn't solve my problems... it would simply give me new ones. 

At the end of my 6-week stay, I had developed a new conflictual relationship with a Global North culture. I felt stifled by the rules and conformity, but I tried to persist with the German way of doing things to the best of my ability. This meant using my German language skills, observing verbal and non-verbal codes of conduct, and navigating the city with as much goodwill as possible. Put simply, I tried.

Sure, the people were more feminist. But they were also more racist, which meant that the people who shared my values around antiracism were few and far in between. This led to me feeling lonely, and that the wider society not only had unrelatable views on People of Colour, but also me, specifically, as a Slavic person and as a "foreigner." 

Whereas the society of Sydney feels largely unrelatable due to what feels like a lower status for women (and non-binary people) cultivated there (in comparison with Germany), I have found people here who are either feminists or share my main values on women's rights to befriend, which makes Sydney feel workable. 

In Germany, I would estimate that 95%+ of the population has anti-immigrant sentiment. I'm not just thinking of the neo-Nazi Alternative für Deutschland, but almost everyone to the left of them, including the Greens ("We're sorry about this, but we have to concur that there is too much immigration," they would say) and even a few socialists. That is strongly off-putting. 

It hurts, when you're trying to communicate with customer service staff in a language you are not fluent in, and you're trying to stay friendly and polite, but you are given the outsider treatment. I have felt people casually bonding over excluding me in bakeries and supermarkets. I couldn't understand all of the words they used to affirm their xenophobic values, but I felt it in the way they turned towards each other and away from me.  

I see, in the eyes of Black, brown and other People of Colour, suspicion and fear when they meet my gaze. Am I going to be as white supremacist as the rest?, I imagine they are thinking. It saddens me to see immigrants and people who don't have the typical German features be treated with aggression and dehumanisation. That is a reality I encountered in Hannover every day, because I experienced it first-hand, but I also witness it happening to certain people who are classed as different. 

As an immigrant from Bulgaria to Australia, there are far fewer barriers to "Australianness" for me. There are more immigrants and more PoC here than in Northern Europe, and exposure to each other brings more of the good things: cohesion, harmony, belonging. Curiosity, openness, sharing. Learning. The tendency towards greater equalising of human worth. Inclusion of more people into more social circles. "Celebrating Diversity," that oft-seen Australian phrase. The safety and resilience of the community. Participating in such a society is something I can be proud of. Is it perfect? No, it has a long way to go to reach full racial equality. In the bigger picture, though, only Canada can say they do it better than us (out of all the rich, democratic, multicultural countries of the world), and that is a remarkable achievement.

This post has become lengthier than usual, so I may be back to write about this issue.

For now, I have found a way to "be" as a Sydneysider. I focus on the city's strengths. My values have been shaped by Australia, more than any other country, and, with this lesson from 2025, I can better appreciate the quality of my education, the free and easy access to the best healthcare in the Global North, all the people who are fighting for my rights as a woman, a member of the LGBTIQ community, an immigrant, a Slav, and the other minority groups I am part of. I value and respect the multitude of people who have reached out to me over the years (since 1990), to offer me kindness, empathy and build mutual understanding. 

I am a global citizen: not despite living in Sydney, but because of living in Sydney. It has been my gateway into the world, and I thank it for all the opportunities it has given me. When I come back, I feel comfortable, and that familiarity is a privilege. I find 'home' in my friends, family, and various kindly acquaintances across the community. 'Home' may notoriously be a tricky, unresolvable concept for an immigrant (if you know, you know), so this lesson brings an element of peace and resolution. 

 

In pursuit of meaning

A wise soul, Jeffrey Marsh, once wrote that it's alright if you don't have a purpose in life. I think that I live life well without a purpose. I just 'am', and that's enough. In my life I've mostly just found things interesting, moving from one meaningful moment to another.  

The things that I find meaningful today are in some ways quite different from what they were in the past. I no longer turn to astrology to give shape to my personality and manage my interpersonal relationships. Where I once sought to discuss postmodernism early on in conversations, I now rarely bring it up. My interest in science is stronger than it has ever been. If you had told me I would be paying attention to personal finance ten years ago, I would have considered that off-putting. Yet here I am. 

So I suppose you could say that it's fine to have a sense of purpose which shifts over time, sometimes pivoting to meet new life stages. That's fine, and if it's working for you, great. But I don't need a purpose to motivate me. There is something at my core which makes meaning just from being alive. I get fulfilment from the people I pay attention to. I am driven by being interconnected with the world, having my small sphere of influence, and trying to share my knowledge with the people who are interested. 

Poem

Dust me off with your mere presence

I've been languishing, my stories untold.

Search for me in your daily adventures

Let the joy of connection unfold.

One key at a time

There was a period in my life when I would write here more than once per week, and I'm interested in resurrecting it. 

The habitual practice of writing yields results in the form of working up inspiration which may not have been present at the outset. Write a terrible first draft, writers advise writers. From humble beginnings, good things grow...

*

I will be 42 years old this November, and find myself wondering what sort of educational projects, self-organised or available for a fee, I might undertake to improve my well-being. 

Over the years I have made progress with learning languages. It might be nice to learn to play a musical instrument other than the guitar. I could read more books, or take up painting. I could join a physical activity group, like pilates or yoga or volleyball. Tennis?

I have some choices to make when it comes to where to travel during my 42nd year. Hannover remains very attractive to me, but I find that I'm not saving as much as I used to, and this will limit my other options. I may dream of seeing Bruges and touring Austria, but more realistic is slow travel in Portugal or other parts of southern Europe. 

I long for southern Europe in a different way: I envision passionate self-expression, a greater degree of extraversion, and more willingness to exchange thoughts with a stranger. As such, aiming for Portugal gives me something to genuinely look forward to. 

I don't have a Purpose in life as such - as the meme goes, I just want to wander around, indulging my curiosity about whatever interests me, until I die. Authoritative-sounding thought leaders champion the 'Purpose' idea, to the extent that I'm looking into having purposes with a small 'P', but is it really necessary?

My final paragraph will be about why I don't have plans to travel to Nordic Europe anytime soon: The inflation of 2020 shifted my spectrum of destinations away from there. You could say that I've been priced out of this region, as unfortunate as it may be. Switzerland is another place I'd love to spend more time in, but can't really afford. I will have to be contented with my previous experiences of these highly pleasant, peaceful and prosperous countries. 

Part 2: Fragments of Paris

I decidedly had a better time in Paris than I had in London, but somewhere along the way of writing posts about the experience, I lost sight of multiple displeasures there, and started thinking about spending a week there next year.

I had it all planned out: I was going to visit the Musée Cernuschi for Asian art, the Musée Quai Branly, which would continue my tradition of visiting so-called ethnographic museums in Europe (and show me more Asian cultural objects), the Musée d'Ennery (for a private collection of Chinese and Japanese art), the Musée d'Histoire d'Immigration (again, because an entire floor was closed in 2025), the Musée de la Orangerie (for Monet and other famous fine art), the Musée Jacquemart-André (for more fine art), and the Musée of Jewish Art and Civilisation. I was also interested in The House of Culture of Japan and the Arab World if I had time. 

Then I downloaded Nomadic Matt's guide to Paris, and I had a flashback to my feelings of anxiety through most of those Parisian adventures. The people felt inaccessible to me (even though I opened any interaction with French), and this caused me to feel lonely and like I couldn't rely on anyone to guide me. I felt an unmet need for human connection and the kindness of strangers. 

You may remember that I asked the barista at the 'City of Light' café to recommend a good salad in Le Marais. He dismissed my enquiry by commenting that the area was very touristy, and that no place came to mind. He could have redirected me to another person nearby who might have the knowledge I sought, but didn't. I managed on my own (and found the place with the delicious crêpes that also served salads), but I was disappointed in him. 

Admittedly, there was one chatty receptionist at our hotel who recommended French specialties that the locals were fond of, and that was how I ended up trying foie gras, but apart from her, my experience with Parisians was unfortunately uninviting. 

The pollution of the air and grittiness of the urban surroundings were other sources of displeasure, as were the high prices of hotels and other goods and services. All of a sudden it became clear to me that although visiting Paris repeatedly was lucrative to many Australians and people around the world, it was not, generally speaking, my sweet spot. I will look elsewhere for slow travel in the near future. 

Something curious happened during those four days in and around Le Marais, though. I was reminded of my former influence - French and otherwise - of postmodernism. Reproduced in the Musée d'Histoire d'Immigration is a photograph of Jean-Paul Sartre and Michel Foucault participating in an antiracism protest in the 1970s. Dad and I passed by the Latin Quarter's Café des Deux Magots and Café des Flores, where intellectuals such as Simone de Beauvoir and her long-time partner discussed their ideas. I had memories of a more innocent time, a time of abundant inspiration, jotting down story or non-fiction writing ideas in a journal, the outlines of the book I wanted to write in 2002-2004, words like 'fragments' and 'narrativity', sexual exploration and concepts of revolution (before I knew anything about social democracy and left-wing political culture). 

I remembered peppering my language with Ps, writing my name into narrative existence, and relishing the French connotations of 'Epiphanie'. I remembered efforts to bring the Chinese tones into the English language. I remembered trying to make my writing crisp and economical, and further on, incorporating Scandinavian terseness into English. 

This had the effect of reconnecting me to past versions of myself I had forgotten. Old Epiphanies had a lot of wisdom and talent that today's Epiphanie can be inspired by. There is power in each place to bring out a part of yourself you can't necessarily access anywhere else. Merci alors, Paris.  

The Joy of Smaller Places

Many travellers to Europe are excited by its megacities, London and Paris. Many more still appreciate its pulsating capital cities, such as Berlin, Amsterdam and Madrid. I find that, perhaps because I spend the majority of my time in Sydney, which fits the description of 'pulsating capital city' very well, I prefer the smaller places.

Upon sharing my post 'London and Berlin' with two friends, they both had the same follow-up question: Did you enjoy them? Reader, I must confess, that I felt mostly overwhelmed there. The sights (and some aspects of daily life) were stimulating in a positive way, but, well let's take London:

Two out of three of the attractions I saw, the National Portrait Gallery and the Museum of Natural History, were uncomfortably crowded. Viewing individual displays was a matter of waiting (in the case of the Museum in a hot room), bumping into other sweaty people, and processing a lot of human-generated noise and movement. I left both of these environments earlier than I could have because I ended up overwhelmed. Even though many of the displays were fascinating, the circumstances were such that I knew I would have a better experience if I left before I was totally frayed. 

In addition, travelling from my hotel to these attractions was draining, whether I caught the underground or the bus. On the latter, somebody near me was blasting Dua Lipa interviews on their smartphone. I usually enjoy hearing her voice, but on this occasion it made my eyes water. I tried to overcome irritation and overwhelm by telling myself that I was having an English cultural experience, but it didn't work - only after 30 mins of pain did I get to remove myself from there. 

On the street, I was ever-conscious of keeping a hand draped over my cross-body bag at all times (to prevent theft), while checking out of the impulse to consult my phone, as the place was notorious for phone-snatching. This inserted an element of stress into my pace.

(I will put in a good word for Leighton House, though - the nervy 25 min walk from my hotel was made worthwhile by the rich influences from Morocco, Egypt, Syria and other Arab countries adorning the walls, and incorporated into the interior design.)

So overstimulation was a regular feature of my stay. I can say that I had an interesting experience (one worth writing about), but not much of an enjoyable one. I don't think I'll return in the near future. Perhaps when I was younger and more energetic a month-long stay in London appealed to my inner architecture, but at 41 years of age it seems like a chore or an obligation - and why do it when there are other, more pleasurable options?

And this brings me to places I know I find pleasure in, such as Coimbra and Óbidos in Portugal - a small city and a village, respectively. In Coimbra, a woman went out of her way to help me and my Mum make the most of our stay, approaching us on the street after overhearing us discussing tickets on the bus. She explained that a multi-ticket card was available from a certain kiosk which would cut down on our costs. It was very friendly of her, and the kind of warm regard for your fellow human that is more typical of slower-paced, lesser populated places.  

Meanwhile, in Óbidos, every person I passed greeted me with "Bom Día," a polite custom that applied not only to regular community members but to this foreigner, who was wearing a rainbow image on my hat. Rural homophobia? I didn't see any. (Maybe I would have found some degree of it if I had stayed longer and had deeper interactions with the locals, but on the surface, at least, everything was fine.)

I do not yet have a clear idea of where I might travel next year, but for now I will remember my own hard-earned wisdom: stay off the beaten path as much as possible. This is my personal formula for maximising travel enjoyment.