Help... The Algorithm Ate My Itinerary

I don’t have a photo of the best croissant I had in Paris. It came from a nondescript corner boulangerie in the 20th arrondissement—no queue, no fanfare. I ate it standing on a quiet pavement as the spring sun bounced off café windows. The layers crumbled on my fingers, butter pooled in the corners of my mouth, and for a moment, I felt deeply, selfishly present. This was in early 2025, a trip that reminded me what it meant to truly experience a place.

And I didn’t reach for my phone.

It’s a strange sensation, that presence. Unedited. Unshared. I’ve since tried to describe the taste of that croissant to friends, and each time, I fail. But I remember how it felt. And maybe that’s the point.

 We travel differently now. Not worse, necessarily, but certainly more performatively. We arrive at destinations not just with passports and playlists, but with Pinterest boards and preset filters. The goal is no longer to get lost but to broadcast content. We travel, it seems, not to escape our routines but to package them for Instagram.

No More Stumble And Find

A recent study by Skift Research confirms what most of us already suspect: social media is the new travel agent. Over 60% of Millennials and Gen Z travellers say they choose destinations based on recommendations they’ve seen on Instagram. The same report found that reels and Pinterest now rival traditional guidebooks in shaping vacation plans, nudging users toward ‘aesthetic’ hotels, viral cafés, and photo-friendly landmarks.

Suddenly, Amalfi isn’t about lemon groves or coastal winds. It’s about being that girl on a Vespa. Paris isn’t the romance of Montmartre, it’s a slideshow of curated café outfits. We’re all caught in a loop of shooting, editing, uploading, and somehow forgetting to actually see.

And while that may sound dramatic, the effects are insidious. You pack more than you need because one outfit per day won’t cut it. You spend your mornings scouting ‘sunset photo spots and your evenings looking for WiFi. Travel becomes theatre. The destination? Just a set. 

Overpacked Over- Consumed, Overshared

Let’s talk luggage. On my first few international trips, minimal packing was a priority: one carry-on, three shirts, and a universal charger. On my last one to Jaisalmer, though, I took three handbags. A backup charger for my backup charger. And a heatless curler that never saw the light of day.

I’m not alone. A 2024 survey by Upgraded Points revealed that 45% of travellers admit to intentionally overpacking for their trips. Additionally, 40% often return home with clothes they never wore, and 19% have faced extra fees for overweight luggage. Our suitcases have become mobile wardrobes, and our trips have become extended brand campaigns.

But it’s not just the baggage we carry. It’s the relentless need to post. There’s a kind of anxiety that creeps in when you haven’t uploaded in 24 hours on a trip. Did the trip even happen if no one saw it? A thought-provoking piece in ELLE Canada recently asked whether we’ve lost the art of vacationing altogether. It noted that while we document every corner of our trips, we’ve started outsourcing memory to the camera roll—and in the process, perhaps lost a bit of soul. I felt that deeply. 

Intimacy In The Unposted

We’ve been taught that joy is meant to be witnessed, proven, and repackaged. We upload sunsets as if they’re for sale, meals as if they’re brand deals, relationships as if they need audience validation. But what happens when you keep a moment entirely to yourself?

Not sharing something doesn’t make it less real. In fact, the opposite might be true. The memory lives in your body rather than on a screen. It lingers longer. It’s yours alone.

In a world obsessed with visibility, privacy becomes its own form of luxury. We once travelled to see the world. Now we travel to be seen in it. But perhaps the most radical act in 2025 is to return from a holiday with no evidence, only memory. 

Paris, Privately

Earlier this year, I decided to do something radical. I put my phone away. Not for the whole trip, but for chunks of it—the good bits. I didn’t photograph the first time I saw the Eiffel Tower shimmer. I didn’t film the old man playing accordion outside the Métro. I didn’t even post the beauty products I picked up at Citypharma onto my stories (a beauty editor crime, I know).

Instead, I walked. I spoke broken French. I got lost on purpose. I smiled at strangers. I read on benches. No ‘POV: you’re in Paris’ captions, no tagged lo - cations. What I came home with wasn’t a perfect carousel, but something rich - er—an internal highlight reel no one else can access. And it felt private. Sacred, even.

There were moments I almost reached for my phone. Out of habit, not intention. But when I didn’t, when I simply stayed present, it was like something recalibrated. I remembered why I loved to travel in the first place. Not because it looks good. But because it feels good. 

Reclaiming The Journey

I’m not saying we abandon our cameras or cancel our Instagram accounts. I love a good reel as much as the next person. But maybe it’s time to re-evaluate why we travel. Is it to say I was here or to actually be there?

What if the best souvenir isn’t the Instagram highlight, but the unposted moment: the half-eaten pastry, the wrong turn that led to the best dinner, the sound of birds in a park you can’t name?

I can’t show you everything I saw in Paris. But I remember how it smelled after the rain. How the croissant flaked in my palm. How I felt—not as a content creator, but as a woman quietly in love with the world again. Maybe that’s enough.

Try This: Different Kind Of A Travel Challenge

1. Take one photo per day. That’s it. 
2. Keep one special moment entire - ly to yourself. 
3. At the end of the trip, write down three things you’ll never post but want to remember.

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