I am from (near) Rome, and am familiar with the phenomenon of people visiting the city over a weekend, or even worse, on a day trip.
That literally means you cannot experience the city, you can at most put some checkmarks on the 3 most popular sights. In a month you may spend a weekend in Paris, Madrid, Rome and London, but I believe it would be better to spend a few more days in only one of those. This is still different from, say, spending six months in a given city (which is what some people do to really experience it!).
To each their own, some people do prefer broad & shallow to restricted & deep, but I think these days we do tend to over-emphasize the shallow side.
As you mention, there's a good balance, and maybe 20 days could have been spent in 2 cities. But a weekend is very shallow
The contrast reminds me of a fad among 20-something's back in the 90s, spending a year "roughing it" on a grand tour of some third-world country. They'd come back with a tattoo, weighing 60kg, tanned and full of derision for "...your first world addiction to consumerism, man", and laughing at people who take their jobs seriously. Telling stories of dysentry, dangerous situations, psychedelics, corrupt police, bribing border guards, and living on pennies a day. "You get to see the real <wherever>". But while they certainly got closer to 'grit', they never really blended in with the locals for the same reason that they couldn't appreciate poverty. It was because they knew they had an exit strategy. They were fake, like Carla in Fight Club, going to terminal cancer support groups. Like the rich girl in Pulp's song, Common People, hanging out in a rough neighborhood, renting a flat above a shop, getting a shitty job and pretending she never went to school. But she never gets it right because she knows she can call her Daddy any time and he'll rescue her. And true enough, every man-Jack of those 20-something's had a car and a career within months of their return, and they're rightfully embarrassed about the enlightened crap they gave everyone when they first got back. Maybe a 2 week holiday to see the scenery is just as good after all?
Something can be gained by not stripping away boredom, but instead "savouring" the moment to see where it leads (essential for creativity).
Then there is the idea of taking a cold shower as first thing in the morning to tell your subconscious to better not be to comfortable, and prepare "properly" for your day ahead (without "expectation" of comfort). Eating the same supper is a similar spirit and strips away the comfort and thinking that "one has an entitlement to something".
See also the Stoic philosophy etc.
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from the wikipedia link:
> "Slowness" — in German, "Langsamkeit" — had, before Nadolny's novel been primarily associated with mental retardation. In Nadolny's world, however, this seeming disability is in fact a powerful asset; the possessor of "slowness" can afford to wait, because he must wait. As a result, he attains victories unimaginable to the more "hurried" multitude. Nadolny's choice of a hero is apt in this regard; certainly the historical Sir John Franklin was never known for his mental alacrity, but beyond that, his "slowness" is more of a post-modern conceit. In a manner reminiscent of Roland Barthes' "autobiography" of Jules Michelet, Nadolny's Franklin is completely consistent with the known facts, all impeccably researched. Yet interwoven with the truth there is an entirely fictitious construction of Franklin as "slow," ranging from an imaginary ball-game in which the hapless John always arrives several seconds after the ball has departed to a fictitious re-creation of Franklin's efforts, at the height of Admiral Horatio Nelson's naval battles, to find and shoot a sniper from atop the masts of an enemy warship. By waiting, without panic, and carefully noting the angle at which the sniper's shots have been discharged, Franklin pinpoints his location and takes him down with a single shot.