Let me tell you something: I never thought I’d be standing in a Croatian parking lot at 7 a.m., clutching a coffee and a phone map, trying to find a stone bench from a Game of Thrones scene. But there I was, reenacting a moment I’d watched on my couch six times. And you know what? I wasn’t alone. The woman next to me was doing the exact same thing, except she’d flown in from Japan.
That’s the thing about travel in 2025. We’re caught in a tug-of-war between two very different impulses: the slow, intentional wanderlust that begs us to feel a place, and the shiny, binge-worthy pull of set-jetting—where the destination is basically a backdrop for your favorite show. And honestly? The lines are blurrier than you think.
The Rise of Set-Jetting: When Streaming Rewrites Your Bucket List
Let’s be honest: before The White Lotus aired, how many of us could point to Taormina, Sicily, on a map? Now? It’s basically a pilgrimage site for people who want to recreate that poolside shot with a spritz in hand. Set-jetting isn’t new—The Sound of Music tours have existed for decades—but the scale has exploded. Streaming platforms have turned entire countries into Instagram-ready sets.
Here’s what most people miss: it’s not just about the destination. It’s about the story. You’re not visiting a hotel in Hawaii; you’re stepping into the tension of The White Lotus season one. You’re not hiking the Scottish Highlands; you’re walking the same route as Claire Fraser in Outlander. The show becomes a lens through which you see the world, and that lens is incredibly sticky.
I’ve found that set-jetting travelers often plan their entire itinerary around filming locations. They’ll spend three hours waiting for a photo at the exact spot where a character had a breakdown. And I get it—it feels like you’re inside the story. But here’s the catch: you’re also looking at the world through a screen, even when you’re standing right in front of it.
Slow Travel: The Antidote to the Scrolling Vacation
On the flip side, slow travel is having its own renaissance. And honestly? It’s kind of a rebellion. Slow travel isn’t about checking boxes—it’s about sinking into a place. It’s renting an apartment in a quiet neighborhood in Lisbon and learning to cook bacalhau from the elderly woman upstairs. It’s spending a week in a tiny village in Tuscany where the only agenda is the afternoon siesta.
I’ll be real with you: I used to think slow travel was code for “boring.” I wanted to see everything. But after a few trips where I spent more time on trains than actually experiencing a place, I realized the magic is in the not-doing. You don’t need a show to tell you what’s worth seeing. You just need to be present.
Here are three things slow travel has taught me that set-jetting never could:
- You start to notice the details. The way light hits a cobblestone street at 4 p.m. The sound of a local market waking up. The feeling of being unknown.
- You build real connections. I once spent an entire afternoon talking to a bookstore owner in Paris because I had nowhere to be. She recommended a novel I still think about.
- You stop performing. There’s no pressure to recreate a scene. You’re just in it.
The Secret: Set-Jetting Can Actually Be Slow
Here’s where I’m going to surprise you. I’ve found that set-jetting and slow travel don’t have to be enemies. In fact, they can be weirdly compatible.
Think about it: a TV show often takes you to places you’d never discover on your own. Fleabag made me want to wander London’s less touristy neighborhoods. Midnight Diner made me obsessed with small Tokyo eateries. The show is a gateway, not a cage.
The trick is to use the show as a starting point, not a script. Instead of rushing through a list of filming locations, pick one and linger. Sit at the café where a scene was shot—but don’t just take a photo. Order something. Talk to the barista. Notice the cracks in the ceiling. Let the place become yours, not just a backdrop for a story someone else wrote.
I’ve started doing this myself. When I visited Dubrovnik after Game of Thrones, I didn’t just stand on the Jesuit Staircase. I walked the alleys behind it, found a quiet courtyard, and ate a pomegranate while reading a book. The show brought me there, but the slow part is what I remember.
Why TV Shows Are Secretly Teaching Us to Travel Differently
Let’s be honest: TV shows are rewriting the rules of wanderlust. But not in the way you think.
They’re not just making us want to go places—they’re teaching us how to look at them. A show like Somebody Feed Phil doesn’t just show you food; it shows you the joy of being curious. Chef’s Table makes you want to sit with farmers and listen to their stories. Even Emily in Paris (yes, I’m going there) accidentally teaches you that travel is about awkward moments and cultural collisions, not just perfect outfits.
The shows that resonate most aren’t just destination porn. They’re about presence. They slow down time. They make you feel the texture of a place. And that’s exactly what slow travel is trying to do.
Here’s what most people miss: the best travel shows aren’t selling you a location. They’re selling you a way of seeing. And once you recognize that, you can watch any show and turn it into a slow travel guide.
How to Rewrite Your Own Rules
So what do you actually do with this tension? Do you pick a side? Do you feel guilty for wanting both?
I say: don’t.
Here’s my personal rule now: let the show be the spark, but let your curiosity be the flame.
- Watch a show that makes you fall in love with a place. Write down the moments that feel alive.
- But when you get there, put the phone down. Walk without a map. Get lost on purpose.
- If you find the exact bench from episode three, sit on it—but don’t leave until you’ve noticed something the camera never showed.
The Bottom Line: Stop Choosing, Start Blending
Look, I’m not here to tell you that set-jetting is shallow or that slow travel is the only way. I’ve done both, and I’ll do both again. The goal isn’t purity—it’s meaning.
The next time you book a trip because a show made you obsessed, ask yourself: What would I do here if the cameras weren’t rolling? That’s the golden question. Because the show can bring you to the door, but only you can decide to walk through it and stay a while.
So go ahead. Book the White Lotus hotel. Walk the Outlander hills. But when you get there, put down the phone for an hour. Sit in silence. Let the place speak on its own terms.
Because here’s the secret no show will tell you: the best scenes aren’t the ones you’ve already seen. They’re the ones you’re about to write yourself.