Travel has taught me a lot about adaptability. I pride myself on a travel style that leans into discomfort, taking joy in pushing through challenges, or just learning to accept that most uncomfortable things aren’t that bad. A 15-hour flight in a middle economy seat when they run out of meals? Not the end of the world, and I love snacks. A 5-story walkup apartment with a big rolling suitcase in 95 degree heat? Real sweaty, but sweat dries. Sleeping on an overnight train with a man’s phone cord rubbing up on my legs all night? Just go sleep on the dining car bench for a few hours. Tomorrow is another day, the challenge builds resilience, and it’s worth it to experience the joys of travel – all that.
So when I found myself traveling a different way in France last summer, my struggle wasn’t about overcoming discomfort, it was about leaning into luxury and learning to accept that I can have nice things.
I spent two weeks on my own, gallivanting on a carefully-curated itinerary through Provence and the South of France. I went to fancy places on a budget, splurging just a little on group tours and experiences – the normal way I tend to travel. I’ll never forget the joy of stumbling upon an endless lavender field on the side of the road, and spending over an hour just strolling and smelling and taking an embarrassingly high number of photos and videos that I still haven’t done anything with. There was more, and so much joy – the lavender festival in Valensole, the storybook cliffside town of Eze, discovering an artsy alleyway to watch the Olympics opening ceremony with opinionated locals, the almost-love-affair with my tour guide in Aix-en-Provence – it was pure magic. And I did it the way I like to travel, staying at hostels and shared apartments, taking transit and walking as much as possible, and following my intuition while sticking to the rough plan I developed for myself.
That anecdote about the 5-story apartment climb? That was in Marseille, and I did it while the older woman who lived in the apartment watched me from the top of the spiral staircase without even offering to help. But then she was friendly and made me breakfast in the mornings, and I only paid like $60 a night for a private room. And when I didn’t want to hang out in the hot apartment, I wandered the streets and found a funky, muraled neighborhood that wasn’t on my itinerary; and that’s where I spent hours sitting in an alleyway tapas bar watching the opening ceremony and experiencing one of the most local and joyful nights of my trip.
Then I met my two girlfriends and we went to the Olympics in Paris, and that was a whole epic amazing memorable life-affirming global unity thing that I’ll never forget. But that’s a story for another day.
For one of my friends, it was her first time in Europe, and as a champagne lover we were not going to miss a chance to visit that region, about an hour away on a fast train. And that’s where the luxury travel really clicked into gear for me. We were still saving money where we could – the apartment we stayed in was one of the cheaper options – but it was nice enough (despite some arguing about who would sleep on the pullout couch). I instinctively stuck to my adventurous and money-saving guns, choosing the 10-minute walk from the train station while the other friend took a cab (I took some comfort in the third friend being on my side and walking – we all just accepted we would do things differently sometimes).
So, the transportation and lodging were familiar travel experiences for me, in which there was a little challenge but rather than let it rattle me I embraced it. What made this trip different were the experiences, all anchored by learning about and indulging in the magical, delicate beverage itself: champagne.
Over the few days we were in Reims (confoundingly pronounced RAS), we visited three large champagne houses and toured several smaller wineries and vineyards in the countryside. I’ve never tasted so much champagne in my life (and great wines when we needed a break during meals), and all the walking and active traveling meant I was never drunk, just happily tipsy almost all the time. We dressed up for our day trips, and it felt weird for me to be wearing a dress and cute sandals rather than my normal travel uniform of the most comfortable and grungy clothes I can get away with while still blending into my surroundings. We learned so much about champagne production, satisfying the curious nerds in all of us, like how Madame Clicquot invented champagne in the early 19th Century, the double fermenting that makes the bubbles just right, and hand riddling process that is still used today. Wine houses sold vintage champagnes from decades ago for hundreds of dollars, and we bought some (well, I didn’t). We gorged on Sancerre, skipped through lush vineyards, found delicious local restaurants that also catered to vegans, and marveled at stunning architecture that was incredible for such a small city. Our tour guide was genuinely confused when we asked if the outdoor picnic wine we shared was legal. Why wouldn’t it be legal?? The American culture of binge drinking is foreign to the French, and in my opinion, they’ve got it right. Indulge. I came home with stories to tell and the new skill of knowing how to open a champagne bottle the proper way (without a pop).
What made it luxurious wasn’t the standard idea of a 5-star resort and spending a lot of money to relax well. It was about going so in depth into a specific place and culture, learning a ton, and indulging in the luxurious atmosphere – having endless fun and finding joy. It’s a definition of luxury that I’ll carry with me in my future travels, and in my life as a reminder that doing things a little differently can be incredibly rewarding.
France took my money, but it gave me a little bit more of a soul. I never fancied myself a champagne snob, and I’m still not really, but at least now I can pretend a little bit.
travels.of.tara 