When Is a Travel Itinerary Too Much?
How I Learned to Let Go and Enjoy the Journey
One of the things I love most about what I do is helping people create the holidays they’ve always dreamed of. Over the years, I’ve taken groups everywhere New Zealand, every corner of Australia, Bali, Lombok, Singapore (more times than I can count), Malaysia, the Philippines, Vietnam and beyond.
These days, my Slow Travel Planner GPT does the heavy lifting. I can design a trip for just about anyone the perfect blend of culture, comfort, and connection.
Well… most of the time.
Because every so often, a trip comes along that reminds me not all travel dreams are created equal.
A client I’d helped plan a Japan tour for last year messaged me again. She wanted to visit Da Nang with her 22-year-old daughter. Since I live here, she asked if I could not only plan it but join them.
“Of course!” I said, far too cheerfully I should’ve known better.
I started with the usual questions: how long, what kind of trip shopping spree, beach escape, or cultural deep dive.
Weeks of silence.
Finally, the phone rang pure panic.
Okay, we’ve booked flights through Flight Centre
Now, I’m not one to criticise (well, not too much), but travel agents these days seem to charge first-class prices for economy service. They’d booked the works flights, transfers, insurance and paid enough to buy the plane, not just sit on it.
They were coming for five days in October right in the middle of wet season. Not ideal, but hey, umbrellas are cheap, and a little rain builds character.
When I asked what she wanted to do, she said, “I don’t want to do the tourist things. I want to see what other tourists don’t see.”
Her daughter, who’s Autistic with ADHD, might find crowds and markets overwhelming, so I created a gentle mix light sightseeing, a dash of culture, massages, beach walks, and café stops (vital for mental health mine, mostly).
I sent it off, feeling quietly smug. Then came the message:
“My daughter wants to go to Ba Na Hills and Han Market.”
Of course she does the two most touristy places in Da Nang.
So, back to the drawing board. Or rather, back to the Slow Travel Planner GPT.
Eventually, we had a plan. I found a lovely hotel one street from the beach for forty dollars a night and hired a private driver because at eight Aussie dollars an hour for an SUV, It was a comfort and peace of mind.
Little did I know, the itinerary itself would turn out to be the biggest adventure of all.
Day of Arrival
I’d been tracking their flight from Perth on Flighty the ultimate stalker app for travellers. They left Singapore half an hour late, which is basically “on time” by travel standards.
Da Nang airport is usually a dream quick, calm, and without the why do I exist energy of Ho Chi Minh immigration. I texted directions to their pre-booked driver and waited at the hotel.
Twenty minutes passed. Then forty. Then came the message:
“We’re here where are you?”
Funny, I was thinking the same thing. Turns out, Flight Centre’s transfer didn’t actually mean to the hotel just in the general neighbourhood. So there I was, trudging through drizzle to collect them from a random lobby down the street.
First Impressions
Their room at The Yen Residences was exactly as I’d hoped spacious, quiet, and peaceful. That lasted about five minutes. Within moments, it looked like a luggage explosion. Clothes on chairs, shoes in windows, and toiletries staging a full territorial takeover.
I asked why they’d brought so much for five days in the tropics. The answer?
Dinner was Bánh Xèo and Quảng noodles pure perfection followed by a blissful leg massage that had everyone human again.
Back at the hotel, I confirmed tomorrow’s plan: sunrise at the Giant Lady Buddha before the crowds and heat hit. Breakfast via Grab Food, ideally while still in pyjamas. From Buddha to Burgers (and a Bit of Drama)
The Buddha, the Bargains, and the Bickering
We were up early to beat the heat and the tour buses to the Giant Lady Buddha because by 9 a.m., it turns into a parade of matching hats and megaphones yelling follow the flag
To their credit, both were ready on time, coffees in hand and spirits high. Our driver was waiting the kind of man who appears the moment you think we should head off.
The visit was perfect peaceful, calm, and genuinely breathtaking. Well, for everyone except the daughter, who was far more impressed by YouTube than the 67-metre-tall Buddha towering over her. You can plan everything but attention spans.
Next stop: the tailor. They’d requested a few custom outfits, and rather than endure a trip to Hoi An I found a brilliant one in Da Nang. They picked fabrics faster than contestants on a reality show done, dusted, delighted. Maybe
Feeling smug, I suggested a stroll through the art alfresco village. Ten minutes in:
“What are we even doing here?”
“And why is the pink church… pink?”
Right. Culture over. Bring on Vincom Mall Da Nang’s air-conditioned temple of peace, escalators, and food courts. Lunch Apparently, Vietnamese food was “too local.” We ended up with chips, cheese, and diplomacy on a plate.
That night, we had tickets for the Charming Da Nang Show, followed by hotpot and a neon-lit river cruise. It was all perfectly planned until the sky opened up. The kind of rain that laughs at umbrellas.
Still, the show went on, dinner was delicious, and the lights on the Han River shimmered through the drizzle. Sometimes, even the weather joins in the entertainment.
Markets, Mishaps and Managing Expectations
The original plan for the day went out the window before it even started. I decided a slower morning was in everyone’s best interest, so we began at Six on Six Café great coffee, fresh tropical juice, and a calm space to reset. Good decision all round.
It also gave me a chance to regroup with them and make a plan that wasn’t going to feel overwhelming. That worked beautifully until the daughter announced she had to go to Han Market.
I gently explained that Han Market is Da Nang’s busiest tourist market crowded, noisy, a bit pushy, and not exactly known for its pleasant aroma. But of course, why listen to the person who actually lives here and has been through it more times than she can count
So off we went, in a Grab, arriving about ten minutes later along with approximately three thousand enthusiastic tourists from Korea. I knew the first floor full of dried fish, squid and strong-smelling sauces wasn’t for them, so we went straight upstairs.
At first, things went surprisingly well. She found a scarf she liked and had fun learning to bargain, with me quietly standing behind the vendor, whispering a few helpful hints. Then came the change in mood.
“All I can smell is sewerage!”
I reassured her it wasn’t sewerage just dried fish and fish sauce. Somehow, that didn’t help.
If you’ve ever tried to exit Han Market quickly, you’ll know it’s like trying to run uphill in a crowd going the other way. But we made record time and were soon greeted outside by our smiling driver, ready as ever. Panic attack avoided, just.
The plan had included a stop at the Cham Museum, but given the humidity and the morning’s sensory overload, I called a change of direction the Paradise 3D Museum. Calm, air-conditioned, and pleasantly quiet. A win for everyone.
We finished the day perfectly back at the hotel for a massage, a swim, and a bit of downtime before walking the Da Nang boardwalk to Maia Beach Club for a relaxed drink, then dinner at Section 30, and an early night. The next day’s cultural trip was going to require both energy and patience and possibly a second coffee.
Country Charm and Cat Videos
The mum a.k.a. the one funding this adventure wanted to see the real Vietnam. Countryside, villages, maybe a cheeky coconut boat ride, then off to Hoi An for shopping. Lovely idea.
Armed with ponchos and my ever-patient driver, we set off. Rice fields, mat weavers, sesame-cake makers all brilliant. The daughter, meanwhile, was deep in an educational YouTube binge about cats falling off furniture.
We passed buffalo, waving kids, and a local selling his day’s work a perfectly chopped-up pig laid out roadside. True paddock to plate. Then, just when I thought we’d seen it all, we met a local hearse driver and undertaker. Not exactly your usual tourist stop, but it definitely added a whole new layer to authentic experience.
At the coconut boat village, the daughter staged a full protest. Arms crossed, not budging. That’s when my inner tour guide emerged:
You will get out of the car, and you will go.
She went.
Twenty minutes later, she came back grinning like she’d discovered happiness itself. I didn’t say I told you so, but oh, I thought it loudly.
Hoi An – Hunger, Drama and One Very Quiet Car
By the time we were heading toward Hoi An, the chorus from the back seat had hit full volume:
“I’m hungry.”
“When are we eating?”
“I need to eat.”
On repeat. Like a toddler on loop, only taller and with an iPhone.
Now, I’ve handled missed flights, tropical downpours, and a man’s midlife crisis over a lost hat but this was next-level. After the fifteenth “I’m starving,” I cracked.
I turned to the mother the paying client and said, very quietly, I’m going to deal with this. She looked at me the way people look at a ticking bomb.
I told the driver to pull over at the next local café. And I use that term generously. It was a roadside setup with a few plastic chairs, one fan that looked like it had survived three typhoons, and a collection of bubbling pots I wasn’t brave enough to identify.
I turned to the daughter and said sweetly, “If you can’t wait twenty minutes until Hoi An, you can eat here.”
Door flies open. Slam. Marches to the café like she’s about to review it for the Michelin Guide. Stops in the doorway. Turns back to me.
“Well?”
I smiled. Oh, not me. I’ve lived here long enough to know better. You go ahead I’ll wait for a clean café by the river that serves food I can pronounce.”
After a moment of silent staring, she turned, stomped back, and got in the car. Door slam number two. Harder this time.
The driver kept his eyes on the road, but that grin stayed plastered on his face all the way to Hoi An. And me I sat back, admired the rice fields, and enjoyed the rarest that day peace and quiet.
Hoi An – Shopping, Sighs and Selective Sightseeing
After a good burger and a Sprite, morale in the group was suddenly restored. Amazing what western food can do. Bellies full, smiles returning, we were ready to explore the ancient wonders of Hoi An the Japanese Bridge, temples, old merchants’ houses all those timeless sights people fly across the world to see.
Since Hoi An Ancient Town is pedestrian-only, I had our driver drop us off at one end with instructions to meet us at the other. The plan was simple stroll through the markets, soak up the charm, enjoy the river views.
“Oh look — a silk scarf I need!”
“And those shoes — they’re exactly what I’ve always wanted!”
And just like that, culture was cancelled.
The mother had mentioned earlier she needed a leather laptop bag for work, so I took her to a store I know well good quality, honest pricing. We found a beautiful bag, negotiated the deal, everyone happy.
I want this one.
Same design, double the size and, naturally, double the price.
Because, of course, why settle for sensible when you can spend twice as much on something you’ll never carry?
In reality, we stopped every two steps to buy another absolute essential a fan, a lantern, a trinket, possibly even a coconut shell that was suddenly a must-have. It was like travelling with a personal shopping channel.
By the time we reached the other end, we hadn’t seen a single temple, but we did have six shopping bags, a depleted budget, and one compulsory photo in front of the newly renovated Japanese Bridge because if it’s not on Instagram, did it even happen?
The Final Days – Massages, Medicine and a Bit of Perspective
The final days were a mix of calm and comedy. A few massages, a dash back to Vincom (because apparently there were still “essentials” left unpurchased), and a surprise trip to Vinmec International Hospital after Mum developed a sore throat.
If you ever need reassurance about healthcare abroad, Vinmec is it spotless, efficient, polite staff who make you feel better just by handing you paperwork. Mum left declaring, That was the nicest hospital I’ve ever been in.
And somehow, that summed up the trip. It wasn’t smooth, it wasn’t slow, and it definitely wasn’t what I’d planned but it worked. Everyone survived, smiled, and learned something.
Travel reminds you that people don’t come with itineraries. They come with habits, moods, and unpredictable appetites. You can plan the route, book the driver, and even predict the weather but you can’t schedule personalities.
And maybe that’s the real art of travel (and life). It’s not about sticking to the plan; it’s about adapting with humour, patience, and the occasional firm “You will get out of the car.”
When all was said and done, Mum flew home happy, the daughter had enough souvenirs to start a market stall, and I had one more story to add to the collection of you couldn’t make this up.
And me? I was reminded that every traveller teaches you something sometimes about the world, sometimes about patience and sometimes about when to order that extra coffee before the day begins.
Closing Reflection
The greatest skill I’ve learned in all my years of travel isn’t how to plan the perfect itinerary it’s how to recognise when it’s time to change it. There’s a quiet confidence in knowing when to step in, when to step back, and when to steer the day in a completely different direction.
This trip reminded me that flexibility isn’t weakness it’s awareness. It’s reading the moment, trusting your instincts, and adjusting before things unravel. Anyone can plan a trip; it takes experience to know when to rewrite one.
In the end, that’s what made it work. Not the itinerary, not the sights, but the ability to adapt, to keep everyone moving (and smiling) in their own way. Because travel like people rarely goes to plan. And maybe that’s where the real stories begin.
“A good traveller plans. A great one adapts.”
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About the Author:
Sheridan-Leigh is the passionate voice behind the MyLifestyle Blog, where life is celebrated with vibrant stories and insightful travel tips. With a deep love for slow travel, she believes in truly experiencing each destination, creating connections beyond the surface. Her blog is a blend of personal stories, expert advice, and a philosophy that life is for living to the fullest and is rich with opportunities for growth and adventure. Join Sheridan-Leigh as she shares her journey, inspiring others to embrace life, travel deeply, and live fully.
Below are some recent travels on an interactive map.
Alternatively, view the full interactive travel journey at MyLifestyle Travel Map
Click on a trip line to see images, posts, accommodation and travel information about the destinations.
See her recent travels: Click on the image. https://mylifestyle.travelmap.net
