The first time I travelled with my partner, I wasn’t sure how it would go. We'd been together for five years, long enough to know each other well—but not long enough to have navigated the full, unfiltered chaos of travel together. Until then, all of our getaways had been with family, exes, or solo. This was the first time it was just us. No buffer. No fallbacks. Just two people, their luggage choices, and a boarding pass to see how travel compatible we really were.
Spoiler: I had a suitcase. He had a backpack, that alone felt like a red flag at the time.
He was all about flexibility, wanting to book things as we went and follow the vibe of the road. I, on the other hand, liked a little structure—okay, maybe a spreadsheet or two. I’d researched the cities, had a rough itinerary, and a list of must-try restaurants. In theory, we were opposites. In practice? We turned out to be the perfect travel yin and yang.
Where I saw structure, he brought spontaneity. He made sure we didn't over plan. I made sure we had somewhere to sleep. He slowed me down, reminded me to savour the moment. I reminded him that sometimes you do need to book the ferry before it sells out.
But the real magic? Seeing what lit him up. Wandering through open-air food markets and watching his eyes light up over strange smelling fruit or sizzling skewers. Getting lost in backstreets and stumbling on a tiny bar playing live music while the sun dipped low. It didn’t take long to realise that the things I loved—local food, vibrant markets, drinks at golden hour—were the same things he gravitated toward too. Without even trying, we fell into our rhythm. And we discovered something big: neither of us really loved ticking off tourist sites. What we loved was being somewhere, not just seeing it.
We found joy in the everyday—the casual moments. Finding a great run early in the morning, a long lunch with too much wine, an unexpected local festival or savouring street food and interacting with a local vendor. Sunsets became our ritual, no matter where we were. It was less about the photo and more about the pause. The exhale.
Now when I think about travelling as a couple, I know compatibility isn't about matching luggage styles or identical planning habits. It's about curiosity. Flexibility. The ability to laugh when plans fall apart, and find joy in the detours. It’s about wanting to experience the world together, not just side by side.
Our first trip didn’t just prove we were good travel mates—it made us better partners. And I wouldn’t swap that suitcase verses a backpack beginning for anything.