Dear Lonely Planet,

While I meant to write to you immediately after I returned from my latest trip about a week and a half ago, I unfortunately failed to stick to this resolution. Not only was there the post-travel obligation to return to work two days after I landed into daily life, but there was also this thing that made me decide to address some words to my all-time favourite travel guide in the first place. Namely: the post-travel exhaustion that I’ve been experiencing ever since I first got acquinted to Lonely Planet, and that hit me harder than ever this time.

Firstly, I can’t thank you enough for your existence. Being who you are, you’ve been one of my most important companions during the trips I’ve been fortunate enough to make. I purchased my first Lonely Planet edition to help me find my way in the city in which I was going to spend six month, working as an intern for Amnesty International: Sydney. The Sydney LP helped me make sense of this huge city, not only of the main tourist attractions but especially the off-the-beaten-track beaches, cafés, national parks, shops and bars. From then on, I was hooked. The tone of voice, the inspiring ‘about the authors’-bits that immediately made me long to be one myself (never having had the guts to become a professional traveller, unfortunately), the amazing restaurants I would never have found without that wonderful blue book, the facts and figures about my travel destinations, and most of all: the authors’ ability to turn even the dullest place in a country into a ‘must-see’ and an obligatory part of a trip.

And that specific quality, Lonely Planet, has yet again turned out to be not only the characteristic that makes me keep coming back to you, but also the one that gets me down each time I let your lovely authors guide my travels. Your have a gift to describe each museum, church, park, café, tiny village, uninspiring town or out-of-the-way national park in such a tone of voice that I cannot help but concluding that my trip has not been complete without visiting that museum or without having had coffee in that specific bar. Your list of things to see, activities, where to eat & drink and nightlife is so extensive and so enthusiastically written about that I find it almost impossible to chose. According to your amazing authors, everything they write about is beautiful and and shouldn’t be missed. I admire their capacity to look beneath the surface of a town that is not as attractive at first sight; thanks to this ability I have enjoyed cities I never even thought I’d visit.

But the unfortunate truth is that one cannot see it all in three weeks. Therefore, one has to make choices. Your offered itineries and ‘Ljubljana in 2 days’ do certainly point out the highlights and are definitely helpful in that difficult proces. But whenever I have tailored my trip, I always happen to stumble upon your description of that one national park that is supposedly simply THE most quiet, natural, easy to reach or extraordinary the country has to offer. Whenever I have picked the cities I will visit and, as a consequence, the ones I’ll give a miss, I happen to read about the amazing café culture in exactly that city I will not be visiting or that walking tour that must be the one of the most scenic of that part of the world, and regret my decision straight away. Because what if that other one is even nicer…?

I find myself whining to my husband about the places we will not be seeing, shouting how unfortunate it will be to miss the island that is apparently the most picturesque of all of Croatia. He on the other hand gets frustrated with my willing to squeeze as many Lonely Planet highlights into our 3 week journey. Halfway through our trip I realize I won’t have time to while away an afternoon in the most comfortable bar in Ljubljana, simply because our program is already packed – and complain to him about it. And by the way, how come we didn’t stop at the oldest church in Slovenia?

When I got home, I was tired. Tired of only having stayed one or two nights in one places because I really needed to visit this cute fishing village as well. Tired of having awarded myself only one lazy afternoon, which I spent frantically scanning the LP to see if we really couldn’t fit in that one national park on the way. Tired of deciding which island to go, where to have lunch, coffee and dinner, which beach to visit, what museum to pick – and what not. Tired of keeping myself from reading that page about that great cycling path we were not able to make. I felt I needed a holiday, someting I of course could not tell anyone having just been away for 3 weeks.
I know you mean no harm at all, on the contrary: I know you only want to make life easier and more exciting for adventurous travellers. But the truth is: you are just too good. And I am just too bad at making decisions and sticking to them, and too easy a victim of your enthusiasm, your thorough knowledge and your advice that makes me frantically travel those extra miles to see….well, you get the idea.

And that’s why, dear Lonely Planet, I decided not bring you on my next travel adventure. I am in need of a vacation without knowing all there is to see in the area I go to. I need to not want to get as much out of my time in my travel destination as possible. I need only one beach, three nice cities – tops, a few restaurants and bars and lots and lots of afternoons to while away, in the guesthouse or camping of whatever accommodation I chose before heading off. I need a very non-Lonely Planet trip, before I will be able to join you across the world again.

Because one thing is certain. I might not be able to live with you at this particular moment, but I certainly would be lost without you.

Until we meet again,

With love,

Suzanne