I hope the start of October is treating you well, and I come with personal news to share: What began as a “test” newsletter two summers ago has now evolved into a fully fledged LLC. That’s right, you’re looking at Departure LLC—with its own EIN, business bank account, and CPA. We’re official, baby!
Departure will earn five figures in revenue this year, both a spectacle and an honor, but that also means it was time to take the next step (tax purposes, you see). I could wax poetic about how much this newsletter and community mean to me, but I’ll spare you. Just know that, with this new milestone and momentum, I am incredibly grateful for every single reader here. Thank you, thank you.
I was discussing this evolution with a colleague-turned-friend, Annie, and we organically stumbled upon the topic of editing. Writing this weekly can be a lonely effort, as I click-clack away on the couch, and sometimes, it’s easy to miss typos, redundancies, or grammatical mistakes. Annie then offered to become a weekly editor for me, a gracious gesture given her day job also as an editor and the author of her own newsletter, and I immediately said yes. And of course, I will be compensating her. It’s a write-off, right? (Kidding.)
Additionally, Annie had an upcoming trip, and she pitched me an essay idea (shared below), but it ultimately left me thinking: Can six cities in less than two weeks qualify as slow travel? When travel isn’t as straightforward as choosing your own schedule or destination, how do you make a trip your own? I deeply appreciated her part-guide (should you end up in Europe any time soon), part-reflection, and I hope you do, too.
PS: My inbox is open to pitches for guest guides or personal essays. Have a place you want to tell the world about? An adventure that changed your life? DM me—let’s talk!
When I was in my 20s, an ex put the Billy Joel classic “Vienna” on a mixtape for me. I loved the song, and I took it literally, figuring there would come a time when I could set aside my hustle, my ambition, my drive, the need to get every last thing done right here right now. Someday I’d be able to “take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while.” Vienna would wait for me.
So I went ahead with the predictable eldest-daughter playbook: I got married at 25, changed jobs, ran a marathon, bought a house, had a kid. I’d always wanted to travel, but I only left the United States twice before I turned 35.
Then, by the middle of a global pandemic, I was caring for my toddler son and saying yes to too many freelance gigs while searching for an exit from a rapidly deteriorating marriage. I was overwhelmed, anxious, and burned out. Oh, and I couldn’t feel my legs. (Stay with me.)
Fast-forward: I got a divorce, met a kind bassist on Hinge, moved to the same neighborhood as my best friend of 30 years, and landed a great job that offers unlimited PTO. The catch? It’s the legs—five years ago, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.
MS affects everyone differently, and my symptoms are invisible to others but ever-present to me. My legs always feel weak and almost like they’re fading out of focus: not numb, not tingly, just not…right. In general, moving my body makes me feel better, but it’s possible to overdo it, and if any one thing goes awry—I don’t get enough sleep, or I’m undernourished, or I have one too many glasses of Grüner Veltliner (easy to do! It’s so quaffable!)—the fatigue can become insurmountable.
I’m now 40, and I’ve taken seven international trips in six years—all with a chronic illness. Two of those trips have been on tour with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, where my husband, Brandon, plays the bass.
Rather than be crabby that I missed out on extensive travel when I was the sort of person who ran pretty routine half marathons, I’ve instead accepted that these European tours come with a kind of freedom: My itinerary is set by my spouse’s employer, and my activities are limited by my body’s willingness to cooperate. There’s no fear of missing out. Missing out is just part of the package. My only responsibility is making the most of it.
In early September, I joined the latest tour—12 days across six European cities. My hope in sharing our itinerary is that this guide proves useful to two types of travelers: Those with chronic illnesses or disabilities, and those who find themselves with basically zero say over when and where they’re traveling. Here’s how I relished every moment, and took care of myself.
Days 1–3, Hamburg
I arrived in Hamburg after nearly 24 hours of travel including two layovers, and I was wrecked. My dear friend Katelyn, who was in Europe for a wedding and therefore already over the jet lag, met me there and supported my self-care: dinner at the hotel bar, a collagen mask, and 10 hours of sleep.
At my husband’s suggestion, Katelyn and I decamped to Miniatur Wunderland after breakfast the next morning. It is, ostensibly, a model train museum. But it is actually a massive warehouse of tiny worlds, a marvel of human ingenuity and creativity. It took us three hours to walk through it, and by the time we reached the under-construction diminutive rainforest, I was ready for a sit. We had a leisurely lunch and then passed by St. Nikolai on the way back to the hotel before a (predictably, given the name) boozy dinner at Whiskyplaza.
A boozy dinner is…not something my body loves anymore. The following afternoon, self-care advocate Katelyn suggested massages—a no-brainer—before the first of many classical concerts. I try to get a massage routinely in my regular life and always aim for at least one when I travel. It helps to refocus my legs and relax my muscles after long walks. (Editor’s note from Henah: See what I said about massages being a worthwhile travel ritual?)
On my third day in Hamburg, now over the jet lag and reinvigorated by the massage, Brandon and I walked six miles all over the city, on a sunny, breezy day with temperatures in the 60s, which was gorgeous after a hot sticky summer in Pittsburgh. We had dinner before a concert at the same restaurant a second night in a row.
We’d encountered a block full of Portuguese restaurants earlier in the day, and we never ventured farther than our feet could carry us. I’m sure Hamburg has more to offer from a culinary standpoint. So did I maybe miss out on a stellar dinner somewhere else? Yes. Did I have two great dinners anyway? Also yes. Zero FOMO.
Days 4–6, Lucerne
We flew from Hamburg to Zurich, then hopped on a bus to get from Zurich to Lucerne, both chartered by the symphony, and we only had the time and energy for a stroll and a quick lunch before Brandon’s next concert.
The following morning, I walked to a laundromat to knock out a few loads of wash while Brandon rehearsed. (He often jokes that it’s cheaper to fly me across the Atlantic than to pay for a hotel to handle mid-tour laundry, and I will totally take that deal!) By the time he got out of rehearsal, it was hot, nearing 90 degrees Fahrenheit, and heat can exacerbate my MS symptoms.
So we did the only thing we could do to protect my health: We rode a gondola up to Pilatus and had an Aperol Spritz on a mountaintop, where it was in the mid-60s and downright chilly in the shade. One of my favorite things about Europe is the broad availability of spritzes. A fortress that’s stood since the 1500s? Aperol Spritz. Museum? Aperol Spritz. Literally the most beautiful vista you’ve seen in your life? Aperol Spritz! Not only was it a memorable way to spend an afternoon, but the altitude also spared me from enduring the only hot day in the forecast.
When I awoke the next day, I felt like the pace of the trip was starting to wear on me a bit, but it was one of my husband’s few days off, and there’s nothing he loves more than a walking tour, so I decided to power through. I knew I could take a beat when we got to Cologne, so we bought way too much expensive Swiss chocolate for the child, had two lovely meals, and logged 17,000 steps.
Days 7-9, Cologne, Amsterdam, Essen
The schedule called for just one day in each of these cities, and we traveled between them by symphony-chartered plane and/or bus, save for a train to Amsterdam.
We arrived in Cologne on a Sunday, and many of the attractions we’d hoped to hit were closed, so I spent the evening holed up in the hotel bar, catching up on writing and emails. We only had time to take in a small slice of Essen on foot, but I was charmed by what I saw. Next time, I hope to visit the Zollverein Coal Mine Industrial Complex, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Brandon and I opted to go our own way to travel to Amsterdam because it gave us more time on the ground, and I can earnestly recommend a single day there.
Having less than 24 hours in a city allows you to let go. FOMO is simply not a consideration; you cannot hit all the museums and points of interest and historical sites and restaurants your friends recommended…but you can get a real sense of the place.
You can stumble out of the train station and immediately commence an audio-guided walking tour. You can get a nourishing lunch at a restaurant in Chinatown, which you wandered into thanks to the walking tour. You can enjoy serendipitous gelato. You can dine solo in a cafe before a concert at your new favorite European concert hall. It’s a pretty stellar 24 hours, yeah?
Days 10–12, Vienna
Vienna was the only city I’d previously visited; it was also a stop on the symphony’s tour in 2024. Two years ago, I was terrified that Vienna wouldn’t live up to the romantic city that I’d been imagining for nearly 15 years.
It is better.
I’ve now spent two multiday stints there, bopping around with my husband, touring palaces, detouring for tortes and coffees, pondering paintings, and never once encountering a disappointing white wine. Every meal was special, from an early dinner the day we arrived to small sandwiches and smaller beers—a pfiff!—before taking an elevator to the top of St. Stephan.
“Vienna”—the song—contains lots of nuggets of wisdom that I largely failed to heed in my youth: “And you know that when the truth is told that you can get what you want, or you can just get old.”
And it took more than one red flag for me to shift gears so I could finally get to Vienna (the place). It required (at least) four: This essay, this album, a worldwide calamity, and my body sending unceasing signals that something was terribly wrong.
In my invincible 20s, it never occurred to me to add “remain free of debilitating neurological disorders” to my list of dreams, and I didn’t need to. It turns out seeing the world at a slower pace on someone else’s itinerary is my favorite way to do it.
👀 Similar to Sky Key—which monitors your booked flights and rebooks/refunds you the difference if the price drops—the team at Going just announced the Price Drop feature for Premium and Elite members, and Thrifty Traveler just did the same with “FareTracker” which is free. While not as automated as Sky Key, it’s a nod to how “all-in-one” Going can be for travelers, so it may be worth checking out if you’re already an avid user of either. Should I run a comparison? 🤔
✈️ Speaking of flights, Google just released trends for holiday travel. If you’re planning to fly between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, check out the optimal dates to book. (Hint: It’s likely earlier than last year.)
📕 If you’ve ever thought about the tightrope of your career and capitalism with parenthood, you might be interested in reading Fallow, a new release from Sarah Anderson. I’m about two-thirds in and it’s taken a dizzying turn, but I’m curious to see how this ends. Here’s the brief: “A young woman signs up to be the world’s first in-house corporate surrogate, then finds herself caught up in a social experiment of another kind.”
🚗 A horror movie road trip? Say less. (Yahoo!)
🔕 A bit of an oldie but a goodie: chamidae ford shares the power of traveling for silence (and, by proxy, the benefits of slow, quiet travel). (Get Lost with Lonely Planet)
See you next week! —Henah x
Love that Essen made it on your list, not a city people usually have on their radar when visiting Germany!
Fellow Pittsburgher here! Loved this guest essay. As much as I would love to have weeks to explore every new-to-me city, sometimes we just have to make the best of a short time. This was a refreshing perspective!