The Something Else
DEEP THOUGHTS W/ ROOV
I’m not asking you to skip the icons — I’m asking you to leave room for the quieter part of the journey that may ultimately peak the loudest.
Rome, Florence, Tuscany.
Serengeti, Ngorongoro.
Paris, Provence, Côte d’Azur.
It’s been a rainy week in Mallorca — something we rarely get and something I’ve always loved. The island softens a little in the rain. There’s permission to stay inside longer than usual, focus on work projects, reflect, and think more carefully about what I do.
Recently, a client asked me about Tanzania and said she wanted more activity — more walking, more exploration, more movement throughout the trip. My immediate response was Ruaha or the Selous. Places where the experience feels wilder, less structured, and more immersive.
But first trips are emotional. People want the places they’ve imagined for years. And I understand that completely. The highlights are highlights for a reason. Still, what I often find myself thinking about are the places just beyond those anchor points.
The something else. Not hidden gems. Not places no one has heard of. Just the layer slightly beyond the expected route — the place that changes the feeling of the trip entirely. For example with Italy—
Sometimes it’s Lake Orta after Milan.
Sometimes it’s Sanremo instead of another night somewhere more polished along the Riviera.
Sometimes it’s a few slower days in Puglia, where life revolves around masserias, olive groves, long lunches, and the sea quietly existing in the background.
The something else is usually quieter. More grounded. Less overdefined. And often, it becomes the part people remember most. Not because it was the most famous or the most photographed, but because it allowed them to exhale a little. To feel inside a place instead of simply moving through it.
I still believe deeply in the highlights. The Serengeti is iconic. Rome has to be seen. Paris is incredibly romantic. But I also think every great trip needs that something else. A shift in perspective. A place that feels a little more personal.
So when I suggest adding something slightly off route, I’m not asking you to skip the icons — I’m asking you to leave room for the quieter part of the journey that may ultimately speak the loudest.
With love from a very rainy Balearic island,
Jen Johnson