I came to France with a checklist: see the Eiffel Tower, visit the Louvre, take a photo with a baguette. You know—the usual. But the thing that stuck with me the most? A croissant. Not the fancy kind, either. Just one from a sleepy corner boulangerie in Bordeaux.

It was early. Locals were lining up, no tourists in sight. I pointed at a golden, still-warm croissant and stepped outside to eat it on the curb. One bite, and I actually stopped walking. It was crispy, buttery, soft in the center—and somehow humbling.

Travel teaches you to slow down in strange ways. That morning, I realized I didn’t need to chase every landmark. I didn’t have to prove I was “doing France right.” Sometimes, the best part of a trip is sitting on a quiet street, letting the day begin with crumbs on your lap.

That croissant taught me that the magic of travel isn’t always in the museums or monuments. It’s in the in-between moments—the small, unplanned pauses where you’re fully present, tasting something new, and realizing you’re far from home… but exactly where you’re meant to be.