A trip between Walla Walla and San Diego revealed that slow, meaningful travel isn’t about the destination, but the moments you allow.
Quick Sip Summary ☕
- I expected slow travel in Walla Walla and a faster pace in San Diego, but both offered the same kind of meaningful connection.
- Through wine tastings, conversations, and unplanned moments, each place encouraged me to slow down in different ways.
- The experience reshaped how I think about travel, showing that slower, more personal moments can exist anywhere.
We decided to fly into Walla Walla despite it being only a four-hour drive from Seattle. The one-hour flight felt worth it, especially given our distaste for long drives. Arriving at the tiny airport, which only has two flights per day to and from Seattle, set the tone for the small-town experience ahead.
San Diego was a different story. I was traveling solo this time, which likely shaped the experience as well. Flying into San Diego meant navigating a much busier airport. Not LAX, but still a journey.
As I drove through downtown in my Uber, past the baseball stadium and skyscrapers, one of which was my oceanfront hotel, everything felt bigger. I expected slow travel in Walla Walla, not here.
Walla Walla
From the start, I felt I was heading somewhere more rural. I noticed familiar details, like baseball caps and barn jackets that reminded me of growing up in a farm town. On the drive to Eritage Resort, we were the only ones on the road. It was a Tuesday afternoon, but still, it was just us and rolling hills of wheat and vibrant fields of green suggesting early spring.
We began our wine tour at Kontos Cellars, which ended up being the perfect introduction. We learned from the winemaker himself, Cameron Kontos, about the deep history of Walla Walla and how his family helped shape the region. That context made each sip feel more meaningful and personal.
The next day, we toured vineyards and unexpectedly crossed into Oregon to visit SJR Vineyard in the Rocks District. What started as a scheduling coincidence turned into one of the most impactful parts of the trip. I began to understand the history of Walla Walla, a town of about 30,000 people with roots dating back to the 1800s, and the distinct geography of the Rocks District of Milton-Freewater.
Steve Robertson, who guided our visit, was the ideal person to explain it all. As a founder in the Rocks District and owner of Delmas, with his daughter Brooke leading the brand, he brought both expertise and personal connection. I could have stayed for hours asking questions. Even within our limited time, I felt genuinely welcomed.
Across the wineries, from low-intervention wines to single varietals to more experimental expressions, what stood out most was the sense of community. Each place encouraged us to visit others, recommending wineries or restaurants that might suit us better. In smaller destinations like this, those conversations feel natural and meaningful, and the recommendations feel trustworthy.
This was the kind of travel I expected in Walla Walla. Slow, curious, and deeply personal.
San Diego
Before arriving in San Diego, I expected a faster pace. I mapped out how to get from place to place and braced myself for a more structured, on the go kind of trip. And in many ways, it was. The city was bigger, busier, and required more navigation.
But what I didn’t expect was how quickly it would slow down.
I had originally come to San Diego for a coffee conference, and my best friend met me there, joining me through her work. What started as a more structured reason for the trip quickly shifted into something else entirely.
We followed a recommendation from hotel staff to a bar called Neighborhood, arriving just as a baseball game let out nearby. The crowd poured in behind us, and somehow, we managed to get a table.
It would have been easy for a place like that to rush us through. People were waiting, the energy was high, and the space was in demand. But we weren’t hurried along. We stayed, lingering over food and cocktails, settling into conversation. That simple act of not being rushed changed the entire experience. It made us appreciate not just the food, but the space itself.
Another afternoon, we stumbled into a champagne and wine bar, drawn in more by instinct than planning. We sat outside in the sunshine, talking with the bartender, trading recommendations, and lingering longer than we expected. Champagne became our shared middle ground. She usually leans toward cocktails, I tend toward wine, but this felt like the perfect in between.
And then there was the time we spent just talking. The kind of long, uninterrupted conversations that do not happen over FaceTime. Sitting across from each other, without distractions, we caught up in a way that felt grounding and overdue.
San Diego may have been bigger and faster on the surface, but in those moments, it felt just as slow and personal as Walla Walla.
What Surprised Me
What surprised me most was not how different these places were, but how similar they felt in the moments that mattered.
The slower moments were not defined by location, but by the people willing to pause, to share something, or to turn a brief interaction into something more meaningful.
It made me realize that slow travel is not tied to a specific kind of destination. It is something you notice when you allow space for it.
You can find the slow and small wherever you go.
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