Marguerite has room for eight guests, which happens to be just enough for grandparents, siblings, cousins and at least one person who said they were “only coming for a few days.” Privately chartered, Belmond’s floating home drifts through Burgundy’s canals at cycling speed. Literally. Life on deck settles naturally between sun-dappled waters, a dip in the pool and leisurely walks along the canal.

The Voie des Vignes cycling route winds gently from Beaune to Santenay through vineyards, and villages where bakeries appear exactly when morale begins to drop. Younger legs race ahead, others stop in Meursault for coffee or in Puligny-Montrachet for wine. Everyone somehow arrives together eventually.

In eastern France, Burgundy stretches between vineyards, medieval villages and countryside shaped by centuries of wine culture. More than 1,000 kilometres of canals and waterways weave through the region, making slower journeys on the water feel remarkably natural here. Cistercian monks spent years mapping Burgundy’s vineyards with remarkable precision, which in retrospect feels like a very reasonable use of time. Burgundy appears to have kept the habit ever since.

Treat the Britannic Explorer not as your hotel, but as a moving theatre. Adding a stretch along these historic rails brings a little golden-age romance to any Cornish itinerary. Watch dramatic coastline slowly settle into green valleys from the comfort of a private suite. It provides a magnificent, rolling contrast to days spent exploring fishing villages.

Cornwall and surfing have a long-standing relationship. Perranporth remains one of its more committed addresses: long stretches of sand, Atlantic swells and people discussing wave conditions with impressive precision. Even if surfing itself feels slightly adventurous, the beach still understands slower activities remarkably well: long walks, sea air and watching everyone else do the difficult part.

At Britain’s southwestern tip, Cornwall sits between rugged Atlantic coastline and villages shaped by centuries of fishing, mining and maritime trade. Once part of the ancient Kingdom of Dumnonia, Cornwall even comes with its own language, because it has long preferred doing things slightly differently. Start with Dedh da (“hello”). Home to some of Europe’s most unexpectedly turquoise beaches, it also has enough coastline to keep surfers occupied indefinitely. Between train conversations, Cornish pasties and local pubs, life here unfolds a little closer to the tides.

Tucked into a fold of the coastline, Cadaqués feels gently removed from the rest of the world. Whitewashed houses catch the light, narrow lanes wind without much direction, and the sea is never far. Salvador Dalí lived here, which explains a certain artistic character. Allow at least one decision to be made purely based on where it looks good for lunch.

Leave the coast for Empordà, where vineyards and wild herbs set the tone. Walk it with perfumer Ernesto Collado, who treats wild herbs, dry grasses and sun-warmed leaves as something with a story to tell. By sunset, you’re distilling your own perfume, just as wine finds its way in. You leave faintly scented and quietly pleased.

Running along Catalonia’s 200-kilometre coastline from Blanes to the French border, the Costa Brava wastes little time making you forget where you came from. Catalan leads conversations while Spanish politely follows. What began as a working coast of stone villages and trade routes now moves at its own pace. Lunch starts late, ends later, and plans tend to dissolve somewhere in between. Distances are short, decisions stay flexible, and the so-called wild coast reveals itself to be surprisingly calm.

There’s surreal – and then there’s Cono de Arita. At over 3,400 metres above sea level, the Salar de Arizaro stretches across more than 1,600 square kilometres, making it one of Argentina’s largest salt flats. From its vast, mineral-white surface rises a near-perfect 200-metre cone that shifts with the light, and quietly plays with your sense of depth.

Welcome to nature’s sculpture park, somewhere between desert and moon. The Piedra Pómez landscape is all wind-carved forms, pale volcanic rock and soft, shifting sands. It’s quiet, almost theatrically so, with shapes rising like frozen waves or abstract installations. Here, getting a little lost is part of the aesthetic.

Argentina and Chile may share its edges, but the Puna de Atacama feels like a world of its own. High above 3,200 metres, this remote volcanic plateau stretches across borders in striking layers of colour. Distances run long, air runs thin, and everything feels pared back to the essentials. Life here follows both landscape and belief: Pachamama, Mother Earth, is quietly honoured in everyday rituals, like a simple yoki bracelet worn for protection. Give it time, and the place reveals itself, slowly, and entirely on its own terms.

The UNESCO-listed Ilulissat Icefjord offers front-row views of calving glaciers at its most impressive while the nearby Icefjord Centre reveals the story behind the ice.

Visit in the darker season and the sky puts on a neon show. Aurora borealis are most common from the end of September to early April.

Greenland is gloriously simple on the map and gloriously not-simple on the ground. Many places connect by boat or small aircraft, and weather gets a vote in every plan. Allow Cosa to choreograph the logistics, guides and timing, leaving you free to focus on the experience. Pack layers (yes, even in summer), embrace flexible timing, drink some of the world’s cleanest tap water and accept invitations to a kaffemik (coffee, cake and conversation). Here, nature – not the clock – sets the schedule.