I don’t need a map in Paris. Not anymore. I know how the streets connect, how the neighbourhoods unfold, which direction will eventually lead me back to the Seine.

Still, I don’t begin by walking.

I check in, leave my suitcase unopened, and find a table outside. A glass of wine, a small meal. I sit, letting the city move around me. Cutlery clinks, a chair scrapes stone, voices hum in French, where I understand just enough. For a few minutes, I don’t need to do anything but notice. Only then do I feel it: I’m back.

There was a time when arriving anywhere meant GO! Drop the bags. Start moving. See as much as possible. Every street, every corner, seemed to demand my attention. I think most travellers know that feeling — that irresistible energy and excitement to explore.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped arriving that way. Instead, I started returning.

Paris is where I first felt that pull. It began almost instantly, like falling in love. Those streets, those squares, those sightlines. I couldn’t get enough. But it was the Parisian pace that really resonated with me the most. The lingering— in a garden, in a café, or at a shop window. I love how confidently they choose a slower-paced life.

Each return felt less like planning and more like answering an insistence I didn’t always recognize at first — a city reminding me I belonged, and reminding me of myself.

Returning isn’t just about repeating what you’ve already done. It’s about noticing what changes, what stays the same, and what you bring with you this time. The streets may be familiar, the cafés the same, but you arrive with new eyes and a different place in your own life.

Familiarity allows a different pace. You stop racing to see everything and instead begin to see the details that linger long after you leave — and, in noticing them, you notice yourself.

That is the heart of slow travel for me: the way a place — any place you love — can hold you, and reveal something about yourself you might not notice when you’re rushing. It’s the joy of recognizing — and the quiet recognition of how you move, how you feel, how you notice.

That brings me to this newsletter, A Slow Return, my first of many. So, welcome.

I hope to share reflections like these. Sometimes about cities I’ve known for decades, other times about my favourite travel rituals. Travel, for me, isn’t just about moving from place to place — it’s about shaping the way we see the world, noticing how we’ve changed, and how a place can change us in return.

What place has called you back — and how did returning there show you something new about yourself?

A Slow Afternoon — A Few Places I Love

If you find yourself near the Louvre in the 1st arrondissement, this entire walk fits comfortably into one unhurried afternoon. It’s one of my favourite ways to begin — dining, art, architecture, and a little shopping, all within a few streets.

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