Standing in yet another line as tourists fished for change in their purses and local kids weaved through metal dividers, I felt the familiar sense of heat-inflicted impatience. I tapped my foot as the women in front of us blocked an open kiosk while their friend used the next one over. At last, they walked away and I got a pair of tickets to enter the Royal Botanical Gardens, a rather regal name.

I was not entirely sure what to expect, and I can’t say I was especially excited to enter. Walking through the complex’s golden gate, nothing in particular stood out. The well kept flower beds and wood-carved signs were pleasant enough, and I enjoyed the smell of herbs and the sound of monkeys scampering across the canopy overhead.

The crunching of leaves under our feet must have distracted me, because when I glanced up it was as though we had entered an entirely new realm. An expanse of rolling green and pastel flower gardens dotted the lush landscape as far as the eye could see, and gardeners clad in white toiled in the distance. A pointillist scene out of La Grande Jatte.

“It feels like we’re in Oz,” I said, short of breath.

The bright sun shone down on the grass, and honeybees buzzed past as though late for something important. Colonial style buildings, opulent and painted a blinding shade of white, invited visitors to wander through and check out their potted herbs and flowers. It was a nice day and their windows were opened as a breeze flowed through the airy hallways. On the greens outside, schoolboys in their white uniforms played cricket as the girls sat in the shade, deep in conversation. We spent a couple hours at the gardens, taking plenty of time to enjoy our conversation, as well as to regularly stop and soak it all in.

I have learned that, in an ideal situation, I am a slow traveler — one who meanders, both on a day to day basis and in a general sense. The first time I traveled to Europe, during spring break of my freshman year with my roommate, we planned an itinerary that exhausts me just thinking about it. In the spirit of wanting to see everything, we began in Madeira, an island off the coast of Portugal, and completed a head-spinning tour over the next week and a half that included the United Kingdom, southern and northern Italy, and Ireland, staying an average of two nights in each location before taking a plane or train to the next.

In the time since, I have intentionally taken it much slower. As is often said, travel is an introspective experience — that is, if you let it. Despite the temptation to spend every other morning on a bus to cover all the sites I’d like to visit in Sri Lanka, I decided to curate an experience to gain a better sense of the places in which I find myself. Perhaps Sievalee put it best in saying that “getting a vibe” is integral to creating an immersive trip.