There was a weekend about a year ago, right at the end of April, when I hadn’t planned anything.
Which, for someone like me, is almost an event.
I woke up later than usual, made myself a coffee, and opened the cupboard with the idea of grabbing something quick to eat. And that’s when I saw it. A jar of honey that had been sitting there for who knows how long. The kind someone gives you and says, “This one’s from the Rhodope Mountains. It’s really good.”
I opened it simply because it was there.
And what was supposed to be a five-minute breakfast turned into something else.
EAT
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but honey has nothing to do with sugar.
Sugar arrives with a bang.
Honey settles in.
I spread a little on a slice of bread with butter. Nothing special. But the taste was… different. Not just sweet. There was an aftertaste that lingered. Something herbal. Slightly wild.
I sat down at the table without my phone. Which is also not very typical for me.
And for the first time in a while, I wasn’t in a hurry to finish.
Honey has this strange effect. It drips slowly and somehow makes you stay in the moment. You can only really enjoy it.
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A few days later, I consciously started looking things up and came across something that initially sounded like a bit of an exaggeration, but turned out to be completely true.
In ancient times, honey wasn’t just food.
It was a resource. A serious one.
In Ancient Egypt, for example, honey was used as a form of exchange. Not exactly currency in the modern sense, but valuable enough to pay with. Archaeological discoveries show that jars of honey were placed in tombs. And the most fascinating part? Some of that honey has been found preserved and still edible thousands of years later.
Yes. Honey literally doesn’t spoil.
It’s eternal.
In Mesopotamia and Ancient Greece, it was equally valued. It was used not only as food but also as medicine. Hippocrates recommended it for wounds and infections. The Romans used it as a base for ointments. Soldiers carried it with them as a quick source of energy.
But what intrigued me the most was its connection to love.
In Greek mythology, honey often appears in relation to youth, beauty, and attraction. It was believed to nourish not only the body but also… desire.
And this is where Aphrodite comes in.
According to some mythological interpretations and later cultural beliefs, honey was part of rituals associated with her. Not because it’s sweet in the literal sense, but because it is tied to pleasure, sensuality, and that slightly intoxicating feeling you can’t quite explain, but instantly recognize.
There’s even a theory that the term “honeymoon” isn’t just a romantic metaphor. In various ancient cultures, newlyweds drank mead, a fermented honey drink, for a full lunar month after their wedding. The idea was that honey would support fertility and create harmony at the beginning of a relationship.
It almost sounds like an ancient marketing trick.
But it also makes sense.
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TRAVEL
A week after all this, I left.
Not far. Just outside the city. A guesthouse that looked exactly like you’d imagine. Stone walls, wooden beams, that kind of charm you already recognize, maybe even expect.
But there was something that quietly explained my choice. There were beehives in the area.
One just behind the house. Not as an attraction. It was simply there. The owner mentioned it casually while showing me where breakfast was.
The next morning, I went to see it.
I don’t know what I expected. Maybe something more arranged. More controlled.
But bees don’t look like something you can control.
There was a sound. Constant, but not irritating. More like… calming. I sat on a bench nearby and just stayed there.
And this is where it gets strange.
Because at some point, you realize that nothing is happening. And at the same time, everything is happening.
There’s no schedule. No “next stop.” Just time.
Later, I had breakfast with yogurt and honey from that very same beehive. And the taste was different. Not because I had suddenly become an expert. But because I knew where it came from.
And that changes things.
By the way, I also learned something that stayed with me. In some cultures, it was believed that if you carried honey with you while traveling, you would always find your way back home.
Since then, I’ve started looking for trips like that. Not necessarily with a beehive in the backyard.
No.
I look for places that don’t come with a strict itinerary. Just a few moments, but the kind you remember.
Weekends that don’t sell you a schedule, but give you a reason to slow down. And honestly, that’s far more valuable.
LOVE
On my way back, I remembered what I had read.
That a “honeymoon” isn’t just a name. After the wedding, couples used to drink mead. Every day, for a month. The idea was simple. To begin a relationship with sweetness.
I don’t know if it actually works.
But I like the idea.
Because love, at least in my opinion, isn’t in the grand gestures. They’re nice. But they don’t last.
What stays are the small things.
Like someone making you tea and adding honey because they know that’s how you like it.
Or remembering which jar was “the really good one.”
Or simply not rushing when you’re together.
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The same goes for self-love.
It sounds like a cliché, I know. But it’s actually very practical.
Recently, I gave myself a spa experience. Not for a special occasion. Just because I needed to switch off for a few hours.
And I realized it was the first moment in weeks when I wasn’t thinking about anything.
Not work. Not plans. Not lists.
Just how I felt.
And honestly, that was enough.
The jar of honey is still there. In the same place.
Only now it’s no longer just something sitting in the cupboard.
It’s a reminder.
That not everything has to be complicated to be good.
That flavor comes when you give it time.
And that sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is to slow down.
And take another spoonful.
If you have to start somewhere, let it be small.
Not a new plan. Not a new goal. Just something with a distinct taste.
It might be honey. It might be a weekend. It might be an experience you’ve been postponing for a while.
The rest will fall into place.
Slowly. But beautifully.