There is a certain kind of nostalgia that doesn’t hit you until years later. For instance, while catching up on the news or hearing a friend discuss their upcoming trip, you may suddenly recall a time when you were familiar with a place before it became well-known to others.
Not in a way that makes you look bad. It’s more like the quiet ache of remembering someone from your childhood who grew up, changed, and got busier, louder, and shinier, and you still miss the way they were when you were a kid.
This feeling can often arise during your travels.
Especially the places you didn’t know were only for a short time.
Let me tell you a few of mine. Perhaps you can recall some of your own experiences as well.
1. Mykonos Before the Tourists
If all you know about Mykonos is that it has DJs, infinity pools, and beach clubs that charge the same amount for drinks as a small bike, let me take you back a bit.
When I first went to Mykonos, the island seemed shy. Not very loud. The whitewashed walls shone in the sun as if someone had carefully polished the whole town. The sea smelled fresh. Not fancy, just clean. Truthful.
And then there was Petros.
Petros the pelican was pretty much the island’s unofficial mayor. You could see him waddling down the harbor like he was late for a meeting of the council. People followed him like they would a famous person, keeping a polite distance as if he might sign autographs.
One morning, I sat outside a bakery and ate a cheese pie that was so good that I’ll never be able to eat the ones from the store again. Petros walked over, looked at my pastry, looked at me, and made a small grunt that very clearly meant, “Let’s not pretend you’re going to finish that by yourself.”
We all had a piece.
When I say “shared,” I mean that he ate half of it in one bite without any trouble.
People say things like, “I saw Mykonos last summer,” when I tell them this story now.
“I didn’t even know they had a pelican.”
“Was it really that quiet?”
Yes.
Before the clubs. Before the cruise ships came. Before Mykonos was Mykonos™.
Someone once sent me a message after I wrote about Petros: “I met him too.” He took my croissant. That bird had a lot of character.
Knowing that your memories of a place are from a time that can’t be recreated is a little sad.
2. Iceland’s Blue Lagoons and Raw Lava
Iceland today is a dream. The kind that spreads quickly. The kind that has drone footage and ads for skin care products with glowing people bathing in milky-blue water.
But when I first saw Iceland, it felt like the world was still getting colder.
Everything was raw.
Wild.
Like a planet that is only halfway built.
I remember walking through a lava field near Grindavík. The rocks were black and sharp, and they were steaming a little, as if they didn’t want to be touched. It looked like the planet was covered in green velvet because the moss grew so thick.
Back then, the Blue Lagoon wasn’t a spa. It was more like finding a secret. A geothermal puddle with mist rising from it like smoke from an old kettle. There are no crowds. No need to book ahead. No lines for pictures. A few people are just floating around, letting the heat loosen their bones.
And Icelandic horses, those tough little animals with bangs that look like they were cut by a toddler with scissors, roamed freely across open fields without any fences to block the view.
I went back years later. Still lovely. Even beautiful.
But in a different way.
More polished. More carefully chosen. Less wildness, more planning.
Someone said about a travel story I wrote about Iceland, “You saw the island before Instagram did.”
It made me stop.
That was how it felt.
3. Riding Through Chile Before It Became Popular
Chile is in style right now, with wine tours, hikes in Patagonia, rooftop bars in Santiago, and more. But when I first saw it, Chile seemed like a secret that only the mountains knew about.
There was this old, creaky cable car ride in Valparaíso that I thought would be fine, even though it looked like it only had one screw holding it together. Every crank and groan that was questionable was worth it to see the views from the top.
Mountains piled on top of each other like different colors of watercolor.
Vineyards spread out with the surety of land that knew exactly what it was doing.
Dogs sleeping on warm rocks in the afternoon sun, with no idea what tourism is.
I took a bus ride through the Andes once. It was one of those routes where the road is so close to the cliffs that you start to question all of your life goals. The people on the bus clapped when we got there safely. I also clapped. The driver didn’t even look up; he just lit a cigarette like it was Tuesday.
At that time, people weren’t “discovering” Chile. They were just living in it. And you, if you were lucky, were able to get through.
Years later, a reader from Chile wrote to me: “You saw my country when it was still itself.” Thank you for cherishing those memories.
Some compliments just stay with you.
4. Seeing the World When It Still Seemed Big
I know this might sound dramatic, but hear me out: the world once felt much larger.
Not better. Not worse. Just bigger.
Distances felt like they were far away.
Cultures felt different.
Borders meant something.
The unknown really did feel unknown.
You couldn’t Google a place to death.
You couldn’t watch ten vlogs and feel like you had already been there.
You couldn’t get eSIMs, SIM cards, or translation apps.
You just left.
Put your bag on your shoulder.
The maps didn’t fold well.
Questions you would ask anyone who looked friendly enough to talk to.
I miss that kind of travel sometimes. The one that needed a little faith, a little risk, and a little interaction with other people.
One time, a man replied to one of my stories by saying, “Travel now feels like reading a book after someone told you the plot.”
He wasn’t upset. He was sad about something he couldn’t name.
You might know how that feels too.
5. What do we lose when life gets too easy?
Having things conveniently available is wonderful, of course.
Helpful.
Reassuring.
However, too much ease can strip away the depth and richness of our experiences.
You start to forget why you wanted to travel in the first place when every city has the same coffee chain, the same influencer hotspots, and the same “must-do” experiences that are more about taking pictures than having fun.
We don’t feel awkward anymore.
The unplanned part.
The part of us that comes out when we don’t know what’s going to happen next.
I’m not saying that the past was better.
But it was not the same.
And sometimes it’s good to remember things that are different.
The places we went before we knew they would change us in ways we don’t realize until later. These places become silent time capsules that transport us back to our past selves and a world that moved at a slower pace.
If stories like this make you feel good inside, you’ll probably like more of the soft ones, the nostalgic ones, the kind that travel through memory instead of miles.
If you want to keep going back with me, subscribe.
Or tell me about the place you were before.
I’d like to know what part of the world had an early effect on you.
