After a long hiatus from travel, interrupted by work, study, and the quiet negotiations of adult life, I promised myself I would return to it slowly, and on my own terms. No performative urgency, no chasing stamps, Just movement away from home again like before, soaking in the experience and unbothered.
I decided to begin locally, and deliberately outside London. It’s always puzzled me how visitors arrive in the UK and reduce it to a single city, when England alone holds so many places with distinct character. London will always have its moment, but it shouldn’t eclipse everything else.
Nottingham presented itself almost coincidentally as my re-entry point. 
I’ve always liked the city, perhaps unfairly so, given that I completed my postgraduate studies here. Back then, I meant to explore it properly, but adulthood intervened, bills, responsibilities, and a job that pulled me away before curiosity could settle.
This visit felt like a quiet correction.
With only twenty-four hours to spare while attending to what took me originally to Nottingham, I decided to experience Nottingham in a way that suited the trip: unhurried, observant, contained. I arrived the day before, travelling via London Victoria(National Express).
Yes — by coach which cost about 12 pounds sterling from London Victoria coach station.
It wasn’t a grand road trip, nor was it planned far in advance. The trains were impractical with fare, and this alternative offered something unexpected: time and affordable fare. Time to watch the landscape soften as the city thinned, to notice fields, changing light, and the gentle rhythm of movement without urgency.
Sometimes the most unassuming choices give you exactly what you didn’t know you needed. Part of that unassuming choice was trusting Booking.com’s recommendations for accommodation.
With the Genius perks attached to my account, the options were considered rather than extravagant, well located, well reviewed, and refreshingly reasonable without feeling compromised.
A special shout out to those who give honest reviews on something especially on booking.com, you are the real mvp because it helps me stay away from some hotels and accommodations. Gives me a fair idea of what to expect when I book a place and how to pack my bag appropriately.
Alot of bookings suggestion centred around exploring the city on foot. It reminded me of a long-running joke among friends who live outside the UK, that people here walk as though their lives depend on it. Less driving, more walking, a cultural commitment I’ve come to find quietly amusing. Over time, I’ve adjusted without noticing. What once felt excessive, like 10mins walk, now feels instinctive and truthfully I do feel good after walks especially evening walk home from work.
For this trip, I did what Nottingham city seemed to invite, I walked. Past shop windows and into stores I’d bookmarked long before arriving, purchases waiting patiently in my cart, until the right city gave them context. Nottingham doesn’t demand attention; it assumes you’ll notice and I did long before this visit, and again now.
The walking gave way naturally to browsing. Shopping here felt unforced, less about acquisition, more about discovery. The kind of experience where you move without urgency, linger without guilt, and leave with exactly what felt considered.
The Victoria Centre Nottingham surprised me as usual. Expansive, light-filled, and quietly impressive, it houses a broad mix of designers across multiple levels, capped by an unexpected market above. It felt less like a mall and more like a pause, somewhere to spend time rather than escape from it.
From there, I drifted toward the Lace Market Nottingham. While the lace itself now exists more in history than trade, the area still carries a distinct atmosphere. Independent artisans, old pubs, rain-softened streets and people entirely unbothered by the weather. The air felt different here, calmer, assured.
A visit to Nottingham wouldn’t have been complete without returning to my alma mater. Walking those grounds again carried a quiet weight, the kind that reminds you how much of who you are was shaped long before you realised it.
I ended the evening somewhere intentionally indulgent. A fine dining space that leaned confidently into spice, layered, bold, and unapologetic. It was the kind of meal that demanded attention, each course unfolding slowly, best enjoyed without rushing the evening forward. Chopsticks in hand, I realised how much I’d missed the pleasure of sitting with a meal, rather than eating around a schedule.
By the time I retired for the evening, I had crossed ten thousand steps without noticing. In England, walking is almost instinctive and here, it felt like the right way to experience Nottingham city.
Nottingham reminded me why I started travelling in the first place. Not for spectacle, but for moments that feel quietly earned. Cities like this don’t compete for attention; they reward those willing to arrive without urgency. This wasn’t a city consumed through a checklist, but one absorbed in passing and perhaps that’s the point.
This did feel like the beginning of something again. Not everyone shares this sentiment, my travel buddy have their sights set further afield, somewhere unmistakably European, somewhere that required a border crossing. That, too, is understandable.
Different seasons call for different distances. Whether that wish will be granted remains to be seen. For now, it’s enough to know the door is open again. And once it is, it rarely stays closed for long.
