Holiday vs Sightseeing

Why Slowing Down Creates Better Experiences (And Why I'm About to Tell You to See Less)

You've finally decided to tour Africa. You've been dreaming about this trip for years, maybe decades. You've watched every David Attenborough documentary ever made. You've read books about Africa many times over. You can name all of the Big Five in your sleep. And now that you're actually booking this thing, your brain is screaming: "WE MUST SEE EVERYTHING. ALL OF IT. RIGHT NOW."

So you come to me with an itinerary that looks like it was designed by someone having a panic attack in a travel agency. Kenya, Tanzania, Botswana, Zimbabwe, South Africa all in twelve days. Maybe throw in Rwanda for the gorillas if we can squeeze it in. After all, you've come all this way, and who knows if you'll ever be back?

Here's where I'm supposed to smile enthusiastically and start booking your flights. Instead, I'm going to do something that probably seems counterintuitive for someone running a safari business: I'm going to tell you that you're thinking about this all wrong. Because what you're describing isn't a holiday, it's a sightseeing scavenger hunt.

The Sightseeing Speed Run

Let me paint you a picture of the typical "see everything" safari itinerary. Day one: Arrive in Nairobi, catch a connecting flight to the Maasai Mara. Day two: Game drive (hopefully you're awake despite the jet lag). Day three: Quick morning drive, fly to Tanzania. Day four: Serengeti (which lion was this again?). Day five: Pack up, head to Botswana...

You see where this is going. And honestly? On paper, it looks amazing. Your friends back home are going to be SO jealous when you casually mention you did four countries in two weeks. Your Instagram grid will be absolutely fire. You'll have approximately four thousand photos of different sunsets that, let's be honest, all kind of look the same after day six.

But here's what doesn't make it into those Instagram captions: You'll be so jet-lagged by day three that you'll sleep through the wake-up call for the morning game drive. You'll forget which camp you saw the cheetah at because they've all blurred together into one vaguely beige memory labeled "Africa." You'll spend more time in airports than you will actually watching wildlife. And somewhere around day eight, while packing your bag for the fifth time, you'll realize you need a vacation to recover from your vacation.

The sightseeing tour treats Africa like a theme park where you're trying to hit all the rides before closing time. Except the rides are countries, and closing time is your flight home, and instead of being exhilarated, you're exhausted.

 

What a Real Holiday Actually Looks Like (It Involves Doing Less)

Now let me tell you about a different kind of experience. Imagine arriving at a beautiful lodge in the Okavango Delta. You're tired from your journey, sure, but instead of repacking tomorrow, you're here for five nights. You can breathe.

Day one: Settle in. Maybe a short afternoon drive. Early dinner because you're knackered. Day two: You're still adjusting, but the morning drive is lovely even if you're not quite firing on all cylinders. Day three: Ah, here we go. This is when the magic happens. Your body has finally figured out what time zone it's in. Your guide, now knows you're obsessed with birds and couldn't care less about another impala (sorry, impalas). And you've started to recognize the individual elephants that visit the waterhole.

By day four, you're not just visiting Africa, you're living in it. You know which chair at breakfast has the best view. You've learned that the barman makes the best gin and tonic you've ever had. You've named the hippos that grunt outside your tent at night. You're on first-name terms with everyone on staff, and they know exactly how you like your coffee.

This is what a holiday feels like. Not rushing. Not ticking off boxes. Just... being somewhere beautiful long enough to actually feel it.

Why Wildlife Encounters Get Better the Longer You Stay (It's Not Just About Finding the Animals)

Here's something that surprises a lot of first-timers: the best wildlife moments don't come from seeing the most animals. They come from seeing the same animals multiple times and watching their stories unfold.

When you stay in one place for several days, you don't just see a leopard, you meet THE leopard. She's got two cubs, and the lodge guide tells you she's been hunting unsuccessfully for two days. The next morning, you find her again, and this time she's successful. Her cubs are feeding. You've witnessed a complete story arc, not just a random snapshot.

Compare that to the sightseeing approach where you see a leopard on day two (tick!), race off to the next country on day three, and never find out what happened to her or her cubs. It's like reading the first chapter of ten different books instead of finishing one really good novel.

Also, and I cannot stress this enough, when you stay longer, your guide learns what actually interests you. Maybe you don't need to see another lion. Maybe you're fascinated by the smaller stuff, like the dung beetles, the lilac-breasted rollers, the whole complicated drama of a weaver bird trying to build a nest that meets his potential mate's impossibly high standards.

A good guide with time to get to know you will tailor every drive to your interests. But they need more than two days to figure out that you're secretly more excited about meerkats than leopards.

The Cultural Connection That Only Happens When You Stop Running

Quick cultural experience: Drive to a village. Watch a traditional dance. Take photos. Buy a wooden giraffe. Leave. Tick box marked "authentic cultural experience."

Real cultural experience: You've been at the lodge for four days. Your guide, mentions his daughter is performing in a school play. Would you like to come? You spend an afternoon at the local school, watching kids perform an absolutely delightful production of... something. You're not entirely sure what the plot is, but it doesn't matter because you're crying with laughter and the teachers are thrilled you came.

Later, you end up having tea with your guide’s family. His wife makes you try a local dish you can't pronounce but is delicious.

This is not on any itinerary. It's not scheduled. It can't be rushed. It only happens when you stay long enough and build enough trust for genuine human connection to occur. And I promise you, five years from now, you'll remember that afternoon far more vividly than you'll remember which park had more zebras.

The Rhythm of Safari Life (AKA The Schedule You Didn't Know You Needed)

Up before dawn. Morning game drive during the golden hours when animals are most active and the light is magic. Back to camp for a massive breakfast and I mean MASSIVE. We're talking eggs, bacon, pastries, fruit, pancakes, the works. You'll eat like you've just run a marathon despite spending the morning sitting in a vehicle.

Then comes the best part: absolutely nothing. Midday heat means animals rest in shade, and so do you. Read a book on your deck. Watch elephants at the waterhole from your bed. Have a massage. Nap. Stare at the ceiling and think about nothing. This is the luxury no one tells you about, the luxury of having nowhere to be.

Late afternoon, you head out again. Sundowner drinks in the bush while watching the sky turn impossible colours. Dinner under the stars. Stories around the fire. Bed.

Repeat.

It sounds simple, right? Almost boring? But this rhythm is so deeply restorative that by day four, you'll feel like a different person. Your shoulders will have dropped about three inches from where they normally live up around your ears. You'll discover you can actually sleep past 6 AM without an alarm (miracle). You'll realize you haven't checked your work email in two days and the world hasn't ended.

But here's the thing: you can't experience this rhythm if you're moving every two days. Just as you're settling into it! Time to pack up and start over somewhere new.

The Memory Problem (Or Why You'll Forget Most of Your Rushed Trip)

Here's a weird psychological fact: rapid travel creates surprisingly few lasting memories. When everything blurs together, too many places, too many faces, too little sleep, your brain basically gives up trying to file everything properly. Six months later, someone asks about your trip and you're like, "Uh... Africa was amazing! There were... animals? And... sunsets?"

Not exactly the rich, detailed stories you were hoping to tell people at dinner parties.

Compare that to staying longer in fewer places. You remember EVERYTHING. The particular way the light hit the water that one morning. The joke your guide made about the mating lions. The name of the elephant matriarch and her whole family drama. The taste of that gin and tonic (still thinking about it). These memories have context, characters, and narrative arcs. They're stories, not just scattered images.

I've had guests tell me, years later, specific stories from their five-night stay at one lodge.

What You're Actually Looking For

So here's what I ask people when they come to me with their ambitious twelve-day, five-country extravaganza: What are you actually trying to get from this trip?

Are you trying to win some kind of travel competition with your friends?

Or are you hoping to come back genuinely restored? Changed, even? Are you looking for stories that will stay with you? Connections that matter? A proper break from the madness of daily life?

Because if it's the latter, then the sightseeing approach is actively working against you. You can't restore yourself while running a marathon. You can't form meaningful connections while rushing past people. You can't find peace while constantly stressed about the next flight, the next packing session, the next location.

The guests who leave absolutely glowing, the ones who email me years later to tell me their safari changed their life, they're never the ones who tried to see everything. They're the ones who stayed put, went deep and gave themselves permission to truly experience rather than frantically collect.

My Unpopular Opinion

I'd rather you spend a week in one incredible location than race through four countries in two weeks. I'd rather you have three profound wildlife encounters than thirty rushed ones. I'd rather you make genuine friends with your guide than exchange pleasantries with a dozen different people whose names you'll forget.

This isn't because I'm lazy. It's because I've seen what actually makes people happy. And it's never the people who tried to do too much. Those people arrive at their final lodge looking like they've been put through a blender. They're exhausted, stressed, and vaguely disappointed because they've been too busy to actually enjoy anything.

The happy guests? They're the ones who spent five nights in the Okavango. Who spent a week in one private conservancy in Kenya. Who stayed put long enough to actually relax, to connect, to be present for the incredible experiences happening around them.

The Africa That's Always Here Waiting

Here's the beautiful thing about Africa: it's not going anywhere. I know you're worried you'll never come back, but once you've been here properly, really been here, not just rushed through, you'll come back. Everyone does. It gets in your blood.

So those other countries you're not seeing this time? They'll wait. Botswana will still have elephants next year. Rwanda's gorillas aren't going anywhere, Victoria Falls will continue falling quite dramatically with or without you.

But this opportunity, right now, to slow down, to do less and experience more, to have the kind of restorative holiday that actually changes you? That's time-sensitive. Because once you've filled your itinerary with constant movement, there's no going back. You're committed to the sightseeing speed run.

The Invitation (Last Chance to Reconsider Your Life Choices)

So here's my pitch: Trust me. I know it's weird to trust someone who's essentially telling you to spend your money on less, but that's exactly why you should trust me. I'm trying to maximize your experience.

Let go of the sightseeing mentality. Stop trying to win the travel Olympics. Resist the urge to tick off every African country like you're completing a checklist. Instead, pick one beautiful place and actually be there. Be present. Be still. Be restored.

This is what separates a holiday from a sightseeing tour. One leaves you with a camera full of photos and a body full of exhaustion. The other leaves you with stories that make people lean in closer, friendships that last beyond your trip, and a deep, soul-level restoration that stays with you long after you've unpacked that mysteriously missing sock (it's still in Africa somewhere, I'm convinced).

I promise you, the courage to do less and experience more will reward you in ways that rushing through five countries never could. And when you do inevitably come back, because you will, we'll explore those other countries you missed this time. Africa's not going anywhere. But the opportunity to truly slow down and holiday properly? That's now.

So what do you say? Ready to stop sightseeing and start living?

I hope the above has been helpful. If you have any specific questions please write to us. 

-Duncan Udawatta-