They say travel broadens the mind. All the history and culture we are exposed to creeps into the subconscious — and we pick up little lessons in life from each place.
With that in mind, we couldn’t wait to get moving and see lands far away from the borders of our country. ‘At last both of us can join hands and talk things through to decide what we want to see,’ I thought before our travels began less than a decade ago. The spouse and I now actually had something to discuss without the dialogue quickly turning into an argument.
“Should we go to Singapore or to Spain?” we asked each other and we listened to each one’s preference, and then solved our differences by going to both places — first one and then the other. There were no hard feelings. There was no rancour over whose choice made it to the top because we knew the next choice was not far ahead of us.
However, so much agreement and goodwill was hard to sustain and slowly the cracks appeared. As our minds widened to take in all the sights, to soak up the history and culture and do as much as possible in the little time we had allotted to ourselves for each holiday, we realised how different our choices were ... and how divisive that could be.
He liked to feel the pulse of the place by lingering in its markets. What thrill he got from the sight and smell of fruit and vegetable and flowers, and very often raw meat and fish as well, was beyond my comprehension.
For me, it was museums and art galleries and historical sites with details of this battle and that attempt to bring down the walls of a fort/castle that was enthralling. Markets were of no interest whatsoever — though I was willing to compromise for a half-hour or so and scour those stalls for souvenirs and maybe some fruit for the times when hunger struck.
He, who is so restless in our quiet retired life that he makes at least a dozen trips to the garage on various flimsy grounds just to feel that he is going out, likes nothing better than to sit with a nice long drink at a cafe on a foreign street and watch the world go by.
I, who can remain as still as the Sphinx at home, with my laptop or a book keeping me happily imprisoned, cannot bear to sit around gazing into space when abroad. I want to keep moving, admire every building, every cobblestone, every fountain, every statue — and listen to and note down the stories behind them. If I have a nice long cold coffee or an even longer hot chocolate, I opt to carry it around as I move.
As for food, there is no way we can ever agree — despite sharing the same staid meals at home for more than three decades! There he goes, inspecting the menus in at least a dozen restaurants before he decides on what he wants, convinced that it is the only way he can get a true taste of the local cuisine (and thereby a better ‘feel’ of the place); while I dash into the nearest supermarket, pick up a sandwich or a salad and I’m off again, digging happily into my meal and wandering through at least another dozen streets while doing so.
Naturally, all those cracks, those different choices, now no longer stay in foreign lands. Instead, they come back with us — and as we plan our next trip, and our next — they slowly broaden into chasms too wide for us to span.
I guess it’s only a matter of time before we set out on separate holidays ...
Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.
