Reflections of Vienna, reflections on travel companions

“I hate when the rain stops”, said an irked Jules. A passer-by looked at her quizzically as he folded away his umbrella, but I knew what she meant. While it was raining, I was forced to keep my camera tucked away, and our progress was only hindered by Gabriel’s insistence of jumping into every single rain puddle. However, when the rain stopped, Jules had to contend with not one but two toddlers: the smaller one with wet feet, and the larger one with the camera and the obsession to photograph reflections.

Minor annoyances, of course, but these reflections of Vienna prompted us to reflect on a broader question: what makes a great travel companion?

The requisites seem both slacker and stricter than those we expect from a lifelong friend or companion. On the one hand, trips rarely last for more than a couple of weeks. On the other hand, you’re likely to spend the entirety of those couple of weeks on the exclusive company of one another.

My grandparents, for instance, got along splendidly but refused to go on holidays together. Instead, my grandmother would travel to some remote country and my grandfather would spend all of his summers on the same small coastal town, renting the same old beach hut, next to the same old neighbours.

We discussed this conundrum on our long walk back to our rented apartment, halfway between Vienna’s downtown and its outskirts. Like most of our travelling decisions, choosing this particular apartment had been a compromise between my cheapskate attitude towards accommodation, and Jule’s more level-headed requirements of staying clear of bed bugs and muggers (in my defence, both types are exceptionally rare in Vienna).

Accommodation is one of several areas where Jules and I need to compromise when it comes to travel, alongside with what to visit (going inside places vs. wandering outside) and how to interact (chatting up people vs. being an observer).

Gabriel, rather than siding with one of his parents, further complicates matters by bringing in an odd obsession with excavation equipment. The following day, while he marvelled at yet another construction site, we continued our discussion.

“So, good travel companions shouldn’t have too dissonant tastes, but perhaps some discordance is useful?” shouted Jules over the construction cacophony. I looked up sceptically, taking my eyes away from the phone where Gabriel and I were learning about the subtle differences between a backhoe and a bulldozer.

“Granted, Gabriel’s fixation with heavy machinery is too off-key for you and me, but there’s plenty of other areas where we ended up enjoying the compromises”. Indeed, I could recall several instances where one of us had influenced the other two, for the benefit of all three.

Gabriel and I learned to interact more often with strangers, rather than running away to play. Jules and Gabriel now complain less about hiking and other forms of physical exertion. And Jules and I realised that interesting places are not necessarily beautiful nor out of the ordinary. Indeed, a manhole, a twig or – yes – even a dump truck can be worthy of contemplation.

Albeit, looking back at our photographs from Vienna, I doubt Jules and I fully appreciate Gabriel’s perspective of the world. Hopefully, he will soon be able to keep a camera in his hands – rather than chucking it away at the first sight of an interesting rock – and teach us that interesting pictures can come out of seemingly uninteresting things.

Later that day, we got into the wrong tram and ended up on an unfamiliar part of Vienna.  Up to that point, our hypothesis of what made a good travel companion was grounded on the assumption that you need to know each other well.

Our unknown yet beautiful surroundings made us remember something we had already experienced in Budapest: one doesn’t need to know something to enjoy it.

What is true for places is not necessarily so for people, but we had a hunch it might. Back in our round-the-world trip, Jules and I explored Thailand and Cambodia together with one João, another João, and Alexandra. The first João was a long-time friend, but Alexandra and the second João were complete strangers up to that point. Despite the initial unfamiliarity, we spent some of our trip’s best moments with them.

“So a good travel companion is someone that is a bit different from us, but not too different” I said, while settling down for our flight from Vienna to Lisbon. “Right, but different in which areas, exactly? And by how much?”, added Jules.

No strangers to using questionable logic and dubious arithmetic, we took out our notebook. Shortly before reaching cruising altitude, we finished sketching our sketchy theory:

It seems then that the ideal travel companion should be one level away on each criterion, or willing to compromise to get there. The formula certainly fits our trio: Jules and I get along fine while travelling, while Gabriel is less willing to compromise. When questioned on the matter, he declined to comment and asked instead for a drawing of a tractor.

 

Verne*

37 thoughts on “Reflections of Vienna, reflections on travel companions

  1. Great post! Lovely to see photos of Vienna which I visited for the first time a couple of years ago with my daughter – a great travelling companion and we’ve had many holidays together. But I travel a lot by myself. As a single person now, I’ve discovered that even travelling with old friends doesn’t work sometimes because being on holiday together isn’t the same as meeting up for an evening. Holidays are precious and people often have set ways (when you get to my age anyway!) of what they want to do. Some compromise is essential but you basically need to be with someone who ‘does’ holidays in much the same way. I don’t want every minute timetabled and love to just wander sometimes; food is important to me so I always spend a reasonable amount eating (though not Michelin* spends!), which isn’t everyone’s priority. Happy travels!!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Kay! Very good point on meals, we could have made an additional criterion out of that. On our pack of three, Jules is again the levelheaded one, standing between my temptation to skip meals and Gabriel’s attempts to spend the entire day munching away.

      – Verne

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh….love those reflections…and dump trucks (philosophically speaking they do give one much to consider)…and those church images…and, as far as the cosmic, mysterious question that has made the face of every human being, since the dawn of time, contort into a puzzled, confused stare, a good travel companion is someone who is willing to journey with you…side by side…together…to the end…

    Liked by 1 person

  3. At the end of the day, moderation is the thing; a bit of everything, a capacity to have a laugh, to enjoy something, to be game for something else… it’s what makes it for me in terms of travel companions.

    By the way, love your tram pano. I’m heading off to Budapest and I’ve a day by myself (hopefully). I know what I’ll do.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Fabrizio! Hopefully Jules doesn’t read your comment and doesn’t ask for moderation regarding these panning shots. Would be a very reasonable request, considered the amount of time I spend waiting for trams to whiz by…

      Best of luck for your Budapest trip!

      – Verne

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Looks like you had perfect puddles and lighting for reflections – it’d be hard not to stop. It took my wife a couple years to get used to me taking time to photo this and that, especially when there wasn’t a lot of us in the photos. But still, that was an early sign of success – to be able to be joined at the hip on trips without strangling each other. I think your parameters are true to the mark.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. My usual travel partner is only a degree apart in three categories: Willingness to spend money, Tolerance to physical exertion, and Level of independence. However, when it comes to Need for social interaction we’re two degrees apart, but we always try to compromise by moving a degree closer, and this usually works. I really enjoyed this post, not only because you use my favorite city in Europe as the background, but also because of the framework you created, up in the sky.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Bama! I think that one of the best things about a travel blog is that it can be stretched pretty far to accommodate other interests that go well beyond travelling. In this case, we got to talk about about our penchant to try to cram everything into a framework.

      The unfortunate victim of it all was Vienna, which deserved far better than a background role in this story. But we’ll surely be back and make things right 🙂

      – Verne

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Your obsession to photograph reflections is definitely paying dividends, Verne, as those are fantastic photos. I like your grandparents solution for a happy marriage. I definitely prefer to travel on my own, and as my husband and I have a very different approach to what we enjoy when on holiday our compromise is for me to go somewhere ahead of him, explore and discover, and then when he follows we concentrate on those things we both enjoy. Seems to be working fine for us for now.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Oooh, hello, Vienna! So many sights that I used to see often but not since father returned home after his 6 or so years working and living in Vienna.

    I remember so many things. How my family, the non-believers, were waiting in the Votivkirche forever for the Midnight Mass the night before Christmas, yes, until midnight, but nothing happened and we were cold. Before that we had dinner at the only open restaurant that some Serbians ran.

    How sister and friend and I regularly frequented Voodoo Club, a little bar with a note on the window saying that they only play music up to the year 1970 (or thereabouts. I was born that year so I might have made it up).

    How tram 14 took us home, there was a disco club called U4 where we went to (it went well with the K4 club we had in Ljubljana), and wherever in Vienna I was strolling at night, I was the most dangerous person on the block and people crossed the street so that they didn’t need to meet me. Perfect. (Bus driver’s jacket, short hair, mean walk.) And how they kept saying Entschuldigen Sie bitte, when they touched you lightly in passing. All this sounds so funny now if I compare it to Rome.

    But sorry, this is your post. And a fine one it is. It’s splendid that all three of you made a step forward in your own way. Obviously you have chosen the right travelling partners. Let it last.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. This is great, thanks for showing me Vienna through your eyes!

      Funny how walking down the same exact streets can generate completely different memories. It’s almost like seeing a movie with the sound muted: with no script to follow, you’re free to create your own.

      On a side note: so you speak Slovenian (and probably other South Slavic languages), English, Italian AND German?

      – Verne

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Well, speaking is relative. I know well Slovenian, Croatian (+Serbian, Bosnian – these three are pretty similar) and English, then there is my slowly blossoming Italian, fully forgotten Spanish (four years in high school and zero practical use), and grammatically incorrect German (only two years in high school but some practical use, not for a while though. No Germans around.)

        Like

      2. That’s impressive! I’m stuck at two and a half, the half being Spanish.

        Still, that half was pretty handy to avoid being gringo-taxed while travelling around Latin America. Once, we bunched up with a Brit couple to get a cab in Peru:

        – “How much is it?”, asked the girl with a perfect Eton accent;
        – “10 soles!”, replied the cab driver;
        – “No hombre, es para nosotros, que venimos de Portugal y tenemos poca plata!”, I jumped in with a broken mixture of Spanish and Portuguese;
        – “Ah bueno, 3 soles!”, he said.

        🙂 Verne

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Ha, I see you haven’t forgotten your Spanish at all! 🙂 ‘Dinero’ is the correct term, ‘plata’ literally means silver but is also slang for money.

        Pablo Escobar would take advantage of the double meaning when threatening governmental officials that didn’t want to take his bribes: ‘Plata o plomo?’ i.e. “Silver/money or lead?”

        – Verne

        Liked by 1 person

  8. My best travel companion is politically my opposite, but we are both disillusioned by UK politics. I generally find surrounding myself with like minded people is not the best way to enjoy myself.
    If I look at your question more deeply I’d also say it pays to have a fairly fit friend when walking, and a fairly mellow friend when on a driving trip (one who can share in the driving).

    Liked by 1 person

    1. The connection between travelling and politics is a keen one. Perhaps discussing the former with someone can be a good test before embarking on the latter!

      Personally, I very much enjoy discussing politics with those that hold opposite opinions, but only if we share a common set of discussion rules: 1) interruptions and ad hominem arguments are poor substitutes for facts; 2) it’s good to be wrong, and even better to admit it; and 3) there’s no such thing as a one-size-fits-all solution that will work everywhere.

      – Verne

      Liked by 1 person

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