The holiday trend nobody saw coming: doing absolutely nothing at all

Last week a friend asked me for a destination recommendation. She's one of life's over-achievers, the sort of galvanised individual whose travels might normally involve peak bagging, hemisphere hopping, building a village or - maybe, in her downtime - discovering a lost civilisation.

I started racking my brains for suitable experiences.

Nose-to-tail-and-back-again culinary immersion? Biohacking in a cryo-nano-nitro chamber? Subterranean mead making masterclass with hermit jungle nuns?

"Um, actually I just want a fly and flop," she said.

Her tone was furtive, as if she'd asked me to score her something illegal.

I'm not surprised. In these days of over-optimised achievement travel, it can be hard to admit that all you want to do is sit by the pool.

I've lied about lazy holidays myself. I can now confess that in Greece last summer, I swapped several important ancient relics for some serious swim-up bar time. Please don't judge. My inner Odysseus just couldn't make it past the pina coladas, and I'm at peace with this.

Post-pandemic, there's been a manic edge to our pursuit of the extraordinary. The lifting of travel restrictions unleashed a deluge of pent-up wanderlust, and instead of holidays we were doing "revenge travel".

Revenge is never relaxing. It is bloated bucket lists, insane itineraries, logistical wrangling and a general sense of everyone hurtling around the globe on a stimulation binge.

You were probably just like me, hitting the apres-Covid road with a furious, the-end-is-nigh intensity. Carpe diem! We'd never take travel for granted again!

But what the homilies don't tell you is that seizing the day non-stop can be exhausting. And when you're also squeezing and shaking all those seized days to force out every single last speck of goodness, the way you do with your most expensive tube of eye cream, something's going to give.

For me, it happened when a missed flight torpedoed one of my ludicrously over-stacked itineraries and I found myself with an extra 48 hours in Singapore.

There's never a shortage of excitement in that city. I could have chalked up at least 10 hot new bars or filled my Insta feed with street food. But my hotel had a peaceful poolside and great room service. I did absolutely nothing, and I told nobody. It was awesome.

This stolen sojourn recalled my favourite childhood pursuit: reclaiming time just to idle it away. Wagging school to wander aimlessly round shops or parks. Hopping on a bus and riding it to the end of the route, just to see where it went. When you're a kid, going off-script and off-grid is the sweetest freedom of all. From this rebellious desire, true travellers are born.

After years of increasingly engineered holidays - transformational, immersive, experiential, hidden-gem-jammed - the tide is turning. And many of us are watching it from a sun lounger.

In Wotif's Unpacked '26 report, half of Australians say they plan to swap stressful over-planned trips for peaceful escapes in quieter places, with 78 per cent seeking a break where everything they need is close by.

Tourism and Transport Australia's latest survey shows a hefty 76 per cent of gen Z Aussies would consider a holiday digital detox or "quietcation", and Airbnb's latest intel reveals a gen Z hunger for "anti-itinerary trips" - leaving room for spontaneity rather than scheduling every waking hour.

The all-inclusive holiday is having a major revival, too, with demand soaring at Expedia and Hotels.com by 70 per cent since 2019.