When I was in my late teens, early twenties, I used to come over to Germany every year to visit my ballet friend, Nerida. During the first few years, Nerida was dancing at a state theatre in southern Germany. Then she moved to the German/Swiss border, on the Bodensee, to live with some actors in a farmhouse commune. (The actors performed renaissance comedy as street performers throughout the region.)
On numerous occasions, Nerida and I travelled around on Eurail passes. We travelled up-an-down Germany, uo to Norway, Sweden, over to England, and Whales: if my memory serves right. These trips were always done on a shoestring budget. There was no room for financial error. We didn’t have credit cards, nest eggs, or a disaster fund. What we had, was what we had.
But, of course, we were constantly making mistakes and landing in tight situations. Such as, arriving in London with a long list of “open invitations”, only to discover everyone was off on vacation at the time. Thus we had to forego meals to rent the sleaziest of hotel rooms in the northern outskirts of London. There were no locks on the hotel room doors. Our friendship survived this and many such situations.
There can be no two personalities more different than Nerida and mine. Where she enjoys rigorous immersion in all art and cultural events, I prefer to spend my days on a park bench, watching people walk by. She is industrious. I am lazy. She is meticulous. I am sloppy. But, we are friends. We are best friends.
These journeys taught me a very lesson in life: it is best to travel with a very close friend, or a total stranger. Anything in between is a recipe for disaster.
You have to love your travel companion dearly, so that you can (try to) overlook all their personality quirks. Or, as second choice, travel with a stranger and spend the trip getting to know them. A half-friend, a passing acquaintance, isn’t going to cut the grade.
Nerida and I witnessed other fellow travellers’ bitching, complaining, and whining with a sense of superiority. We shouldn’t have been so sanctimonious, for we were just lucky to get along so well with each other.
Having a travel pal who is also your best friend is one of those chicken/egg dilemmas. Are you best friends because you are travel pals? Or, is it the other way around?
What do you think?
The only person I ever have enjoyed traveling with is my husband. When we travel we always get along just perfectly. Better than at home even. With everybody else I felt constricted and just bowed to their plans. I was so afraid of traveling alone that I put up with everything.
ReplyDeleteI think traveling with somebody can be a good way to test a relationship. Just like doing renovation together.