How to travel as a couple or leave your wife in a service area
Choose destination. It is here where It is decided if the thing is going to end in a honeymoon or in The War of the Roses . If the one who wants to go to the beach wins, the heat, the scant clothes and that vague boredom that takes over you on the third day are going to throw you into each other's arms. If you choose anything else, the haggling, the sore feet in the sun and that feeling of who would send me out of the house that takes hold of you while you try to figure out how to get to the museum without asking anyone will end up uniting you. in a comforting mutual hatred. It has no more trick.
Combined trips. Choosing a trip that brings together lying on the beach and doing something else that doesn't just involve getting sand from here and there seems, a priori, the wisest thing to do. And it still might not work. At some point your partner will break the spell and fully inform you that “I clean my &%$% with the great pyramid of Calakmul and its hundred steps What I want is to throw myself on the beach with a cocoloco”.
To pack. “Do you really need a liter of conditioner, the hair straightening tweezers and that industrial dryer?”, “You really only brought a pair of underpants?”. There is a place, not far from your starting point, where you are going to have to drag your girlfriend's suitcase, because she has planned a trip with more wardrobe changes than Mortadelo.
Talk things out. It's an art. If you talk less about them, you feed a dull resentment that accumulates until it manifests itself in uncontrollable tics or a kind of Tourette's syndrome in a low voice that erupts in reproaches that go back a long way. Of the type: “if you hadn't insisted on going to see the donkey that drinks beer, none of this would be happening” or of the type “If my cousin hadn't introduced us, none of this would be happening! I can't wait to go home to smash my cousin's face!" Talking about things too much is another trap. It is a little stressful to hear your partner complaining every 2.5 minutes periodically about the heat and the mosquitoes while ignoring that the sun shines for everyone.
Random brawls. One gets tired on travel. You are far from home, you drag luggage, they don't speak your language, they eat differently and your stomach is a shaker that was not prepared for this ballet of prawns and curry on a slippery spicy background. At that point, nothing soothes more than randomly yelling at your partner for things like "you're just standing there doing nothing".
scams. The setbacks of the trip, especially the various forms of scam, are better coped with if you manage to find a culprit within the couple. A culprit that is never you.
Love. “A battles of love, field of feathers”, which Góngora wrote. The best part of traveling as a couple is that everything can be fixed with a good kiss. Try to have a bed or a lonely beach nearby, because so much accumulated tension only has a natural outlet. It may not be a feather bed, and yet everything tastes better than home.
Shopping. Anything your partner buys is going to add to the hairdryer, laptop, boots, and all that pile of clothes just in case it hurts your sherpa back.
Laugh at other people's customs. Unite a lot.
Foods. Envy over someone else's dish has killed more couples than fights to the death over the remote control on a hangover Sunday. Ask to share and get ready to a distribution of inequalities similar to that of the Treaty of Tordesillas. Console yourself by thinking that that extra steak that has been eaten on average in a 7-day vacation goes directly to his lorza and not to yours. Seeing Serrano ham in a town on the banks of the Amazon and asking for it at all costs is normal, almost a genetic instinct.
Re-know each other. It does not matter if you live together or if you are one of those cloying couples with a Siamese vocation: when you really meet someone it is traveling. Or in jail. That is where you will know how your partner reacts in extreme situations. You can see with your own eyes how he steals a lollipop from a child at four in the afternoon on a day when restaurants are closed. Or how he jumps off a stifling Indian train because he has seen a joint where they sell fresh beer. Or how he shakes his ass like a mixer because the Caribbean woman who runs the hotel's entertainment has asked him to. That's your boy. A trip is also the best environment to discover her pet peeves, which turns out she turns the air conditioner on full blast all night or bites her toenails and you knew nothing. It also serves to perceive that your little hobbies can bother him, such as reading you an entire newspaper with an aperitif or X-raying necklines.
isolate or not The best way to make your vacation in the Tropics a refreshing cold war is to cut yourself off from the world and talk and look exclusively at your partner, communicating with them in whispers and with others in grunts. Don't force claustrophobia and go out into the world. Don't go the other way either and become one of those tiresome couples who form a group with other honeymooners and never separate from them again in life.
Social networks. They are the way in which nature helps us to rest for a while from the couple.
Your first trip. It has been more than anything else an inner journey, so choose a large bed and that's it.
drunkenness His memory will animate your quarrels for years and years. It is almost the most profitable part of a trip, an inexhaustible source of mutual reproaches without which the couple's fights would only be based on arguments and would end immediately.
Beaches. Look at the horizon, look at the sand, look at your partner. Take out the book. It requires karate kid level concentration, but in the end you can manage not to look at other people's bikinis. That's what they told me.
Patience. It doesn't matter that you're lost on the shores of Lake Como in torrential rain and that your girlfriend, who speaks perfect Italian, refuses to ask the only countryman you've seen in three quarters of an hour where he's going. "She is embarrassing me." Everything will be fine, you will even have mild pneumonia if you manage to pronounce in a calm tone the hocus-pocus of relationships: "don't worry, churri, if I understand you".
hand requests. A cogorza in a restaurant facing the sea, with the breeze rocking the palm trees, the full moon reflecting on the water, the waves sounding like the M83 song, the aftersun dulling your senses and she so tanned. That is all that a human being needs before launching himself down the flowery path of eternal promises. . And that's great, but there's a chance that the rest of the relationship isn't going to look exactly like this even if you plant a palm tree in your living room.
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