When Slow Travel Wins: Our 2025 Family Journey Through Aruba and Spain

This year, we chased two very different dreams—and both delivered in ways I didn't expect.

In June, three generations of women touched down in Aruba for my birthday week. My mother, my six-year-old daughter, and me. No husbands. No distractions. Just sand, sun, and the kind of slowness that only island time can gift you.

Two months later in August, we traded Caribbean breezes for European charm, spending ten days exploring Spain—Barcelona and Valencia. My daughter had been to Portugal before, but this was her first deep dive into Spanish culture and architecture.

But here's what I didn't expect: the trip that felt most authentic wasn't the one I'd been to before.

The Overtourism Reality

Let me be honest. Barcelona broke my heart a little.

I first visited roughly ten years ago, before motherhood reshaped everything. Back then, it was magical—Gaudí's mosaics sparkled with wonder, La Boqueria hummed with genuine energy, and the city felt like it was inviting you in, not tolerating you.

This time? The crowds were suffocating. Every corner felt staged. The locals seemed weary. My daughter couldn't even pause to admire Park Güell without being swept along by waves of tour groups. The magic I remembered had been buried under the weight of millions doing the exact same Instagram tour.

That's overtourism. And it's real. And it's exhausting.

Barcelona still has beauty—Sagrada Familia at sunset took our breath away, and Ciutadella Park gave us moments of play and rest. But the city no longer feels like it belongs to the people who live there. And when a place loses that, it loses something essential.

Valencia: The Revelation

Then we took the train to Valencia. And everything shifted.

Valencia was never on my "must-see" list. It didn't have the name recognition. It wasn't plastered all over social media. But that's precisely why it worked.

Spain's third-largest city, Valencia somehow manages to feel both cosmopolitan and welcoming—a rare combination. And here's what surprised me most: it's incredibly kid-friendly. Not in a forced, theme-park way, but in a thoughtful, "we actually want families here" way.

We spent our mornings at the City of Arts and Sciences, where the futuristic architecture looked like something out of a dream. My daughter stood in awe beneath the skeletal curves of L'Hemisfèric, asking questions I didn't have answers to—the best kind.

Bioparc Valencia was another highlight. Unlike traditional zoos, this one immerses you in the habitats—African savannas, Madagascar forests—with barriers so subtle you almost forget they're there. My daughter watched giraffes move across open plains and talked about it for days.

The Oceanogràfic? Massive. Stunning. The largest aquarium in Europe, and we had space to breathe, to linger, to let her press her face against the glass without elbows nudging us forward.

We wandered Russafa, the bohemian neighborhood with street art, vintage shops, and a creative pulse that felt alive, not performed.

And then there's Turia Gardens—this incredible 9-kilometer green ribbon that runs through the city, a former riverbed transformed into parks, playgrounds, and bike paths. We stayed nearby, and I'm kicking myself that we didn't carve out time to bike through it or let my daughter loose at Gulliver Park, where a giant sculpture becomes a climbable playground.

Next time, that's non-negotiable. We had time. We had room. We had authenticity.

My other regret? We didn't make it to Valencia's beaches. We were so absorbed in the city itself—the architecture, the parks, the culture—that we ran out of days. Next time.

Aruba: The Beginning

But let me rewind to where 2025 really started—Aruba in June.

This was my first time on the island. My mother's too. And my daughter's.

Three generations of women, moving at the pace that felt right for all of us—which, honestly, was slow.

Eagle Beach with its iconic fofoti trees. Baby Beach, where the water is so calm it feels like a giant bathtub—perfect for a six-year-old and a seventy-year-old alike. De Palm Island, where we met flamingos and my daughter snorkeled for the first time, her face lighting up underwater.

We visited Casibari Rock Formation, where you can stand among ancient boulders and feel the island's geological history beneath your feet. We toured the Aloe Factory and learned why Aruba's aloe is world-renowned. We watched sunsets that painted the sky in shades I don't have names for.

And we ate. Oh, we ate. Fresh fish at Zeerovers. Tacos at Lola Taqueria on Taco Tuesday, where $1 tacos tasted like a love letter to simplicity.

Aruba gave us what we needed most: connection. To each other. To nature. To the kind of travel that doesn't demand you keep up, but invites you to slow down.

The Ranking (And Why It Matters)

If I had to rank these destinations for family travel, here's my truth:

1. Valencia – Spain's third-largest city that doesn't feel overcrowded. Authenticity, space, incredible options for kids, and zero overwhelm. This is where we felt most welcomed, most curious, most present.

2. Aruba – Pure ease. Multigenerational magic. Nature that heals. The perfect place to just be.

3. Barcelona – Still beautiful, but buried. If you go, go early. Go off-season. Go with patience. But know that the city is struggling under its own popularity.

This isn't about shaming Barcelona. It's about acknowledging what overtourism does—to cities, to travelers, to the experience of discovery itself.

What This Taught Me

Travel isn't just about where you go. It's about how a place makes you feel.

We started 2025 in Aruba, where slowing down became our rhythm. Then Valencia reminded us that the best destinations aren't always the most famous—and that a city can be large and still make families feel genuinely welcome. Barcelona reminded us that sometimes, loving a place means visiting it less—or differently.

As a Black family traveling the world, we're not just collecting passport stamps. I’m teaching my daughter that the world is hers to explore thoughtfully. That beauty exists beyond the highlight reel. That the best memories often happen in places you didn't know you needed to visit.

So here's to 2025—a year of two trips, three cities, and one clear lesson: chase authenticity, not algorithms.

Where the crowds aren't might just be where the magic is.

Have you experienced overtourism? Or found a hidden gem that stole your heart? Drop a comment—I'd love to hear your stories.