Doing It Wrong: What a Two Week, 4-Country European Road Trip Taught Me About Slowing Down
Chasing Passport Stamps and Missing the Point
A wall of options at the Swiss Museum of Transport. Kind of like our itinerary. Beautiful, but too much all at once.
I wanted to do it all.
Austria. Switzerland. And since we’d be nearby—why not Liechtenstein and a quick dip into Germany too?
There’s so much world I want to see and never enough time. I feel that urgency often: to make the most of every trip, to not waste an opportunity, to squeeze in just one more place. So I packed our itinerary tight. Four countries. Fourteen days. A new city almost every night.
And somewhere along the way—from Vienna to Geneva—it became clear: I had done it wrong.
The Trip, on Paper
The plan looked good on paper: ten cities, four countries, two weeks. What could possibly go wrong?
We landed in Vienna on July 4 and spent the next two weeks driving west, ending our trip in Geneva. The full itinerary looked like this:
Day 1-2: Vienna
Day 3: Hallstatt
Day 4-5: Salzburg (with a stop at the Trick Fountains on the way out)
Day 6-7: Innsbruck (plus a detour to the Eagle’s Nest in Germany)
Day 8-9: Lucerne (after a stop to tour Veduz, Lichtenstein)
Day 10-11: Interlaken
Day 12: Bern
Day 13-15: Geneva (with a stop along the Swiss Riviera)
Every day was accounted for. Every hotel booked. Every drive mapped. It was efficient. It was ambitious. And it left very little room to breathe.
What Worked
There were moments of joy and magic that I wouldn't trade.
Hallstatt was a dream when we arrived: traditional Austrian music by the lake, a glowing sky, and quiet, picturesque streets. The next morning brought crowds that sapped much of the magic—but the salt mine tour, with its slides and stories, turned the day around.
Salzburg charmed us with its castle views and walkable old town. On our way to Innsbruck, we stopped at the Trick Fountains in Hellbrunn—an unplanned detour that became a highlight. Our son got drenched and laughed for hours.
One minute we’re sipping beer with live folk music by an alpine lake. The next, we’re in a cave being sprayed by stone animals. Austria was full of delightful surprises.
In Innsbruck, we explored the Hofburg and learned about Empress Elisabeth (Sisi) and her mental health struggles—an unexpectedly moving exhibit. From there, we took the gondola up the mountain, stopping first at the Alpine Zoo and then continuing all the way to the top of the Nordkette.
At the summit, we found everything we didn’t know we needed: a mountaintop playground, a sweeping view of the Alps, and a little restaurant perched just off the trail. While hiking near it, we stumbled upon a small herd of sheep grazing on the side of the mountain. They were calm and curious, and our son was delighted to gently pet one. It felt quiet, wild, and unexpectedly personal—one of those moments no guidebook can promise.
You map out castles and cities, but then there’s a sheep on a mountaintop and a kid crouching beside it like it’s the main attraction.
Stopping to stretch (literally) along the waterfront in Lucerne, with the iconic Kapellbrücke behind him.
We also stopped in Liechtenstein—and while it was a quick visit, I’m glad we went. We took a little train tour of Vaduz, winding past vineyards, castle views, and quirky modern architecture while bopping our heads to traditional folk music.
In Lucerne, rain changed our plans for the better. We spent nearly the whole day at the Swiss Museum of Transport, which ended up being an interactive and fascinating highlight for all of us. The rain gave us a chance to stop and play. We stayed near the iconic covered bridge, with a stunning view from our window, and our son delighted in drinking from the city’s ornate public fountains.
Interlaken gave us a peaceful stay with views of the river, and the easy Grütschalp-to-Mürren hike delivered exactly what we’d hoped for—alpine scenery, paragliders overhead, and an accessible route perfect for our son.
Bern surprised us. The clock tower, the old town, the bears in the park—it was quirky and full of charm. We only stayed one night and instantly regretted it.
As we drove toward Geneva, we made a stop along the Swiss Riviera to stretch our legs and stroll the lakeside promenade. It was our first real taste of French-speaking Switzerland—a gentle, sunny afternoon by the water that made the shift in culture and language feel magical.
And finally, Geneva. We swam in the lake—marveling at the 1930s-style Bains des Pâquis, with its retro diving boards, floating platforms, and community feel. It was equal parts charming and refreshing, the kind of place where locals linger and time seems to stretch. We rode the ferris wheel, wandered through the parks, and I geeked out seeing where the Geneva Conventions were signed. We walked. We played. We slowed down. It was the kind of curious, unhurried day I wish we’d made space for earlier.
We called it a hike. Switzerland called it showing off. Grütschalp to Mürren delivered the views they put on chocolate boxes.
What Didn't Work
It wasn’t really the places, they were astonishingly beautiful. There were only a couple of stops we would have skipped—
We didn’t like Jungfraujoch—Europe’s highest altitude train station at 11,360 feet. The idea was great, and I do love a UNESCO World Heritage Site, but in reality it was crowded, over-commercialized, and expensive—a tourist trap that felt like a cattle call from the moment we boarded the train.
We didn’t need to cross into Liechtenstein just to say we’d been. Though Veduz was cute, it did really feel like we were doing it for the passport stamp. And while the Eagle’s Nest in Germany held historical interest, it was mostly a restaurant with a view—and an elevator. Although the view was spectacular, the views from our other hikes were every bit as beautiful without the hustle.
But more than any one stop, what didn’t work was the pace. We were always rushing—checking in, checking out, figuring out parking, dragging bags in and out, navigating language and tolls. We were constantly doing. We never gave ourselves time to simply be.
And honestly? We were exhausted.
Hard to feel the majesty when you're dodging tripods and waiting your turn for a glacier selfie.
The Pattern I Finally Saw
This trip wasn’t a one-off mistake. It was a mirror.
I travel the way I often live—trying to do too much, too fast. Fueled by awe, yes, but also by fear: What if this is my only chance?
That mindset shows up in overstuffed itineraries, tight schedules, and the belief that I’ll rest when I get home. But when every moment is accounted for, there’s no room for wonder. For play. For the unplanned.
And those were the moments we ended up loving most.
What I’m Trying to Do Better
I’m trying to let go of the urge to do it all.
To stop measuring the success of a trip by how many cities we visited or borders we crossed. To stop cramming the schedule so full that there's no space to simply be in a place.
I'm working on planning less and playing more. On choosing depth over breadth. On leaving room in our days—for detours, for rest, for whatever joy shows up when we’re not chasing the next thing. I’ve learned that this means staying in one place for long enough to breathe.
This is the pace I’m aiming for.
Because when I look back, my favorite moments weren’t the ones we planned.
They were the soaked shirt at the Trick Fountains.
The mountain sheep beside a quiet restaurant.
The museum we ducked into on a rainy day.
The ice-cold swim in a lake that let us feel the shift into a new language and culture.
The playground on a mountaintop, laughter echoing in the thin air.
We went everywhere. And still, I did it wrong.
And if I’m being honest, I’ll probably get it wrong again. I’ll still want to see too much, to make the most of every moment, to say yes to one more stop.
But I’m trying.
To do less.
To feel more.
To travel slower, and live a little softer.
To keep learning from the moments that didn’t go as planned—and the ones that did.
I may keep doing it wrong.
But I’ll keep going anyway.
Thanks for reading and happy travels
~ We Went Anyway
About Christal
I’m a clinical psychologist, professor, and writer who believes in resisting hustle culture and finding awe through slow, meaningful travel with my family. I’ve explored four continents, often blending work and play through teaching abroad and cultural immersion.
I created We Went Anyway as a space to share stories about choosing presence over perfection and finding joy in a full, connected life through adventure — big and small.
When I’m not writing or hiking, you’ll find me sipping peppermint tea on the porch with friends, building Legos with my son, watching design videos to guide the slow remodel of our 118-year-old home, or planning the next family trip from our home base in Kentucky.