The lower floor of Waterstones, at Piccadilly, offers a whirr of travel opportunities. The Himalayas with Peter Matthiessen's The Snow Leopard, Graham Greene's Journey Without Maps, recounting his 1936 walk through Liberia, and Tim Marshall's Prisoners of Geography, a venture into global politics through a study of 10 maps.
With an eye on the clock on one of my few days in London, I grab The Last Train to Zona Verde, Paul Theroux's almost apocalyptic account of his trip from Cape Town, with Timbuktu as his destination.
Back in the fourth-floor London apartment, I open my new book and forge my way through the pages like an explorer. With legs up to restore the blood flow to my numb feet, which have trudged through kilometres of underground tunnels, I finally catch my breath.Within a few pages, I regret my impatience that morning when the taxi driver took a circuitous route to our accommodation, due to roadworks. That was an opportunity to experience a part of the city I never had before - though our delayed departure from OR Tambo the night before had left me sleep-deprived.
I also could have been more sociable and chatted to the driver.
The next morning, we navigate the maze of traffic out of London. Perhaps next time I will take the train north, in keeping with my newfound determination to travel at a more leisurely pace.
Slow travel, advocated byIn Praise of Slow author Carl Honoré, is not about going at a snail's pace but about living meaningfully in a fast-moving world. One of his main premises is to take time to connect with a place, its culture and people, instead of just giving them a superficial glance.After hours in a foggy car, viewing sheep in emerald fields demarcated by Iron Age dry stone walls, we arrive at a small town in the Yorkshire Dales. The wind almost takes my breath away as we leave the car park, and we're hit by a torrential downpour that blows umbrellas inside out.
We take shelter in a coffee shop, where I am reminded of the debate about whether the jam or cream should be put on the scone first.
In this Yorkshire village, the Cornish are victorious over Devon dwellers, as towers of scone, jam and then cream are steered into expectant mouths.As we take an evening walk through the farmer's fields, plump pheasants catch the light as the sun starts its early winter descent.
Walking around Harrogate the next day, we pass Jamie Oliver's Italian restaurant before seeing an exhibition that examines Yorkshire's impact on art.
Slow Travel is reminiscent of bygone eras. Nostalgically, I recall those Union Castle Line voyages from Southampton to South Africa and back, where the journey was an integral part of the travel experience.
TS Eliot summarised it well: "The journey not the arrival matters."
• Do you have a funny or quirky story about your travels? Send 600 words to travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za and include a recent photograph of yourself for publication with the column.YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE:..