Before becoming the slow traveler I aspire to be more and more, I used to be the kind who planned every trip down to the last detail. Color-coded spreadsheets, saved Google Maps pins, backup options for my backup options—it wasn’t just about being organized, it was how I kept my travel anxiety in check. If I knew what was coming next, I could breathe.

So when a long-haul trip I’d been preparing for got canceled just days before takeoff, I freaked out. There wasn’t time to rebuild a new plan! And every time someone asked, “So where are you going now?” I’d force a laugh, increasingly stressed, “I still don’t know!”

I just knew I had to go somewhere. Far. Different. Out of my routine.

A few days before my now-unplanned vacation, I was wandering through my favorite section in a local bookstore—the travel guides (Back when we still used those). My brain was too tired to think, so I let instinct take over. I pulled the smallest guidebook I could find. It was for Hong Kong.

Without thinking too much, I bought it and booked a flight the same day. I thought I’d figure things out along the way. The flight wasn’t too expensive—thank you, low season—but I didn’t stop to think why it was affordable. Turns out, it was also rainy season. Thick humidity, fog, and cloudy skies.

Once I had the ticket locked in, I threw together a simple capsule wardrobe for a weeklong trip, packed everything into one backpack, and tried to convince myself I was being spontaneous in a good way. I wasn’t. I was just overwhelmed and desperate to not cancel my time off entirely.

After two nine-hour flights and an eight-hour jet lag kicking in hard, I landed in Hong Kong late at night. The airport was quiet, the guidebook was still unread. I took a bus into the city and found myself wandering the streets of Tsim Sha Tsui around midnight, hoping I’d stumble on a guesthouse for the night.

That first day set the tone. No plan, no sleep, no clue what I was doing. Every night from there, I stayed up in my hotel room, googling ideas for the next day. And when it rained (which it did, most days), all that work felt wasted. I’d rush to patch together new plans in the morning, telling myself this was “adventure,” but mostly, I was just feeling tired and behind.

I had fun, sure. There were moments that still live in my memory. But something was missing: that grounded joy of a trip well-prepared. The kind that gives you space to actually enjoy the place you’re in, especially when it’s somewhere as rich and layered as Hong Kong—a place I might never return to.

That trip taught me something big: not having a plan doesn’t automatically mean freedom. Sometimes it just means stress. Sometimes it means you’re too busy figuring things out to notice what’s right in front of you.

(The full Hong Kong story is for another blog post—it deserves its own spotlight.)

But I’m curious—have you ever been in that kind of travel limbo? No clear plan, just going with the flow… and feeling more anxious than free? Or maybe it turned out better than expected? I’d love to hear how it went for you.