I stood before a tray of sand – blue, green, pink, purple, white – and chose one, aware the decision mattered more than it should. Blowpipe in hand, I edged towards the furnace, the 1,000°C heat hitting like a physical wave. The glassblower guided every step – gather, roll, blow – as the molten glass took shape. My paperweight, marked by breath and heat, may have turned out lopsided, but it made real Vienna’s centuries-old culture.
This was no static demonstration. The hands-on encounter at Studio Comploj, founded in 2017 by Austrian artist Robert Comploj, invited me and other travellers to participate, not just observe, the exacting rhythm of glassmaking.
The experience, part of a curated programme by Anantara Palais Hansen Vienna Hotel, connects guests with the city beyond its imperial facades. The hotel, housed in a 19th century building designed by Theophil Hansen, has repositioned itself not just as a place to stay, but as a cultural conduit.
Vedad Bakovic, director of sales and marketing at Anantara Palais Hansen Vienna Hotel, says the idea is to move past conventional sightseeing. “We aim to open doors usually closed to the public, giving guests access to the cultural, artistic and historical soul of Vienna,” he says. The collaboration with Comploj, one of Austria’s most celebrated contemporary glass artists, reflects that ethos. “The glassblowing masterclass is a rare and intimate experience; it’s about immersion, not observation.”
This approach reflects a broader rethinking of what luxury travel means today. Daria Triolo, director of PR luxury hotels at Minor Europe & Americas, believes the shift is already well under way. “Luxury travel is no longer defined by opulence alone; it’s about connection, authenticity and stories that stay with you long after the journey ends,” she says. “That’s why our hotels function as gateways to experiences that immerse guests in the soul of the region.”
Triolo points to the Anantara Grand Tour of Europe, which links the brand’s flagship properties through place-specific encounters: learning about wine production in Austria, walking through Amalfi with an ordained monk, or uncovering hidden layers of the Vatican in Rome. “The sense and quality of time, along with unique experiences, will be essential for the future of travel,” she adds.
That emphasis on time – slowing down, staying longer, learning deliberately – sits at the heart of what is increasingly being called maker travel, or "skillcation" travel. Travellers are seeking participation rather than passive consumption.
For Dubai resident and marketing consultant Devangi Dixit, learning has become the point of travel. “I don’t want to come back with things anymore; I want to come back changed,” she says. “When you spend a few hours learning pottery or cooking with someone who does it every day, you remember the place differently.” For Dixit, the appeal lies in focus. “When you’re working with your hands, you stop scrolling, stop rushing. That’s the luxury now.”
The sentiment resonates with Rajesh Patil, an architect from Pune, who now plans holidays around photography workshops rather than landmarks. “I used to race from museum to museum,” he says. “Now I’m happy spending half a day learning one thing properly. Even if I’m terrible at it, the time feels well spent.”
Months after Vienna, I find myself blowing glass again – this time at Canberra Glassworks, the largest facility in the Southern Hemisphere dedicated to studio glass. Under different skies and a different cadence, I shape a stemless wine glass, repeating familiar gestures, making new mistakes. The muscle memory returns faster than expected, as does the quiet satisfaction of learning slowly.
Across continents, this appetite for making is reshaping travel experiences. In Engelberg, Switzerland, a Benedictine monastery founded more than 1,000 years ago now houses Chas im Kloster (Cheese in the Monastery). Visitors arrive for snacks and regional produce, but many stay to make cheese themselves: coagulating milk, cutting curds and moulding fresh cheese, while learning about Swiss cheese culture and traditions.
Elsewhere, craft becomes a means of storytelling and cultural continuity rather than production. Indigenous Australian artist and storyteller Gail Neuss, from Ngarigo Country, Australia, offers interactive workshops where participants learn through symbols, narrative and land. Her sessions take place outdoors, away from classrooms, allowing stories to be experienced. “When people make something with their hands while listening to story, they don’t just remember what they’ve learned; they feel where it belongs,” Neuss says.
In India, the shift is particularly visible in destinations long associated with leisure rather than learning. “A few years ago, guests came to Goa for beaches and parties. Now they come to learn,” says Richa Sharma, founder of Wildflower Villas. “Traditional poi-making with local bakers, permaculture from regenerative farms, Goan Saraswat cooking from families who’ve made it for generations…the state has quietly become a skillcation hotspot.”
Sharma says curiosity has deepened in myriad ways. “Guests ask us to connect them with our bakers, show them how to forage estate herbs and teach them family recipes. They want saplings, tirphal [Indian spice], curry leaves to grow at home. They photograph vegetable beds and quiz our estate team about composting.”
Screen exhaustion has played a decisive role. “After years of Zoom calls, people crave analogue experiences like kneading dough and smelling spices. These offer what digital life can’t.”
Skill-based travel also helps solve the multi-generational holiday puzzle. “Grandparents, parents, and teenagers making poi together find a shared purpose beyond forced family time," says Sharma.
The pandemic normalised working from anywhere, further blurring boundaries between productivity and presence. For achievement-oriented travellers uncomfortable with passive tourism, learning offers structure without pressure.
Amit Damani, co-founder of StayVista, agrees that more people are planning vacations to “learn or sharpen a skill because travellers increasingly see holidays as a way to invest in themselves, not just escape routine”. The desire for purpose alongside rest has intensified as life becomes faster and more screen-dependent.
“Learning something new adds gentle structure to a holiday without making it feel rushed,” Damani explains. Private villas and resorts, with their flexibility and space, support this shift. “Travellers want to return home not just rested, but refreshed and enriched.”
Beyond glass, cheese and textiles, maker travel now spans a wide range. In Mexico City, travellers begin cooking classes at dawn, sourcing chillies and masa before grinding, fermenting and cooking alongside home cooks. In Bhutan, guests spend days weaving with artisans, learning how looms encode family histories and Buddhist symbolism. In Havana, small-group cocktail workshops focus on balance, ice and rum rather than performance. Elsewhere, urban sketching walks in Lisbon slow travellers into observation, while perfume blending in Grasse and Kannauj offer entry points into living traditions.
For Avijit Singh, managing director of House of Rohet in Rajasthan, the idea of a skillcation is less trend than ethos. “Increasingly, guests are seeking experiences that are immersive, purposeful and leave them with a sense of growth,” he says. Skill-based engagement has long been embedded at House of Rohet, from equestrian programmes centred on the Marwari horse to embroidery workshops with the Jeengar community.
“These are not souvenirs to be consumed, but skills to be respected,” Singh says. Whether cooking alongside chefs using slow, regional methods, or working at traditional pottery wheels, the emphasis is on patience, lineage and understanding. “Learning directly from practitioners, in their own environment, adds authenticity that no classroom or online tutorial can replicate.”
Back home, the glass paperweight I made in Vienna sits on my desk, catching the light. It bears no logo, no certificate, only memory: of heat, focus and hands learning something unfamiliar. It’s a daily reminder that travel today isn’t about what we bring back, but about what we learn to carry forward.
