A Travel Plan for Couples Who Don’t Agree on How to Travel

Forget about household chores and budgets. The biggest source of tension for some couples starts with a plane ticket.

You like to get to the airport early , they like to come in hot. You insist on checking a bag, they preach carry-on only. And then there’s the vacation to-do list: You need down time, they have FOMO if they don’t see everything.

What’s a conflicted couple to do? Instead of complaining about, or showing contempt for, your partner’s travel habits, learn to love each other’s quirks, tastes and temperaments. After all, you could both be right. Getting that advance ticket for a hot museum may be the only way to see it, and you may be surprised how nicely that afternoon nap hits you.

Short of separate vacations , the best way to address travel differences, a therapist and travelers who have (mostly) figured it out told me, is communication and compromise. You don’t have to be in a relationship to benefit from their lessons. The advice also applies to traveling with friends and family.

Learning to do less

When planning his honeymoon a dozen years ago, Chris McEwen drew up a long list of must-sees in Italy. His wife-to-be, who prefers leisurely mornings and wandering, wasn’t having it.

She told him, “Yo, pump the brakes dude. We are not doing all that,” McEwen, a 49-year-old IT professional in North Carolina, says.

In the end, he relented. And today, one of his favorite memories from the trip is spending hours walking around Rome’s Trastevere neighborhood at the end of their trip. He finally understood the joys of not doing much.

In the years since, they have continued to compromise. He still darts out of bed on vacation, but heads out for a walk and brings back coffee.

On a spring break trip to Arizona with their children, ages 5 and 9, this year, she agreed to his bucket-list slot canyon tour in Page, Ariz., despite also planning to see Scottsdale, the Grand Canyon and Zion National Park.

For an upcoming trip to New York City, he’ll go to a Broadway show with her (but not two).

Some travelers find middle ground. Others discover that the opposite approach that their significant other takes can work for them.

Valerie Paxton, a 61-year-old business adviser who lives near Phoenix, rarely takes a trip without creating a spreadsheet or Word document with every little detail. For an upcoming trip to Italy to celebrate her brother’s 60th birthday, the entries include the types of wine that will be served during a nearly $400 wine-pairing luncheon at Antinori winery in Tuscany.

She has travel-planning documents dating back to 2008 and says she will defend her meticulous planning “to my dying day.”

Her engineer husband isn’t convinced all the stressful planning work is necessary. “He’s like, ‘Why don’t you just not do it and we’ll just wing it?’ ” Paxton says. “And that’s where the tension is.”

He likes nothing more than seeing where the day takes them by talking to locals. She used to consider it a waste of time. On a trip to Napa for his 55th birthday last month, they had not a single plan. She didn’t even know the location of the vacation rental. They went on a 24-mile bike ride and then stopped into a local bar the shop owner recommended. At the bar, they got their recommendation for dinner.

“I may be a convert,” she says.

Travel as therapy

Psychologist Joshua Coleman counsels couples in his San Francisco-area practice and says travel issues are no different than many other conflicts in a relationship. Resolving them comes down to mutual, thoughtful conversation, he says.

“If people really feel understood and they emerge feeling like, OK, that person really gets me, they’re just in a much better position to want to compromise,” he says.

No good comes from simply giving in about, say, that weeklong vacation you’re dreading and then stewing about it. The other person will pay a price later, he says.

Coleman and his wife have been married for 35 years and found a workaround to their different vacation tastes. He loves activity and she loves relaxing at the pool or beach with a book. On a recent family trip to Hawaii they made time for lounging and a snorkeling excursion.

“If every vacation was a beach-read vacation, she would be completely happy and I would be completely insane,” he says.

Veteran Wall Street airline analyst Jamie Baker and his wife are travel pros who eloped nearly 30 years ago to take immediate advantage of his flight benefits at Northwest Airlines.

They decided early on to stay in their own lanes, he says. He handles all flight arrangements and his wife, a former chef, handles accommodations and dining reservations.

Baker is the stereotypical airport dad—on steroids. He insists his wife and adult sons are packed 24 hours before the flight in case their flight is significantly delayed or canceled and there’s an opportunity to jump on an earlier flight.

He’s gone so far to book a “chase car” in addition to his regular car service. This second car trails his travel party by about 5 miles, just in case.

The backup ride saved a trip to Japan several years ago after a tractor trailer accident brought traffic to a standstill. That car picked them up on the other side of the freeway and they dashed across the median with their rollaboards.

Baker says his preflight neurosis has gotten worse over the years because he can check air-traffic control, flight status, road conditions and more from his phone. His family has come to accept his flight prep as gospel, he says, and knows not to talk to him until they are at the airport.

“Once we’re at the curb, it’s all smiles and relief,” he says.

In our 20s, my new husband and I took a year off from our fledgling careers to travel in Southeast Asia. Equipped with paper maps, we began in China and improvised each day’s “itinerary” on the go. A gap year for grown-ups, I called it, although I scarcely qualified as one.

Nearly 40 years later, we are new retirees with the same wanderlust. We wondered: Could we recapture the thrill of winging it, enduring rough roads and cheap hotels?

We could and did, but for 2½ months instead of 12. We mapped out a route that would take us up Africa’s east coast and then—who knows where? Here’s how we rolled and five important lessons we learned on a 6,000-mile trip.

Kenya: Live large by day

Our first stop was the tiny, car-free island of Lamu, well-known for its high-profile visitors, from Kate Moss to the Obamas. This low-key getaway offered white-sand beaches, dhows — boats you can rent for day cruises and snorkelling — and lots of donkeys, the main mode of transport.

We considered the beachside Peponi Hotel in Shela, a hot spot since the 1960s (Mick Jagger bunked there). But room rates start at $250, far above our per-night budget of $70 or less. When contemplating almost 100 nights of travel, price matters.

So we chose a villa in the dunes called Amani Lamu, $61 per night for an en suite room with a private terrace and shared plunge pool.

We still had a cool Peponi moment come sunset: On the hotel’s whitewashed veranda, we sipped Pepotinis and plotted our next day’s interlude at the Majlis, Lamu’s fanciest resort (from $580).
With a $20 day pass, we could lounge around its pools and beach bars like proper resort habitués.

Lesson learned: Live like billionaires by day and frugal backpackers by night.
Must-go: Across the bay on Manda Island, bunk a night in a thatched-roof bungalow on stilts at Nyla’s Guest House and Kitchen (from $48 with breakfast).
After a dinner of doro wat, a spicy Ethiopian chicken stew and rice, the sound of waves will lull you asleep.

Egypt: Ask. Politely.

From Lamu, we flew to Aswan in Egypt. Our “plan”: Cruise down the Nile to Luxor, then take a train to Cairo, and venture to Giza’s pyramids.

Turns out it’s the kind of thing one really should book in advance. But at our Aswan hostel, the proprietor, who treated us like guests deserving white-glove service, secured a felucca, a vessel manned by a navigator and captain-cum-cook. Since we’d booked fewer than 24 hours in advance and there were no other takers, we were its sole passengers for the three-day trip.

One day, we stopped to tour ancient temples and visit a bustling camel fair, but otherwise, we remained on board watching the sunbaked desert slide by. We slept on futons on the deck under the stars. The cost: about $100 per night per person, including three meals.

Lesson learned: Ask for help. We found Egyptians kind and unfazed by our haplessness, especially when we greeted them respectfully with assalamu alaikum (“Peace to you”).
Must-go: For buys from carpets to kebabs, don’t miss Cairo’s massive Khan el-Khalili bazaar, in business since 1382. We loved the babouche, cute leather slippers, but resisted as our packs were full.

Turkey: Heed weather reports

Next stop Tunisia, via a cheap flight on EgyptAir. We loved Tunisia, but left after six days because the weather got chilly.

Fair enough, it was January. We hopped continents by plane and landed in Istanbul, where it snowed. Fortunately, two of Istanbul’s main pleasures involve hot water. We indulged in daily hammams, or Turkish baths, ranging from $30 to $60 for services that included, variously, a massage, a scrub-down and a soak.

Beneath soaring ceilings at the temple-like Kılıç Ali Paşa Halamı, brisk workers sternly wielded linen sacks to dowse my body in a cloud of hot foam.
In between visits to Ottoman-era mosques and the city’s spice markets, we staved off the chill by drinking fruity pomegranate tea and sampling Turkish delight and baklava at tea salons.

A favourite salon: Sekerci Cafer Erol in Kadıköy, a ferry-ride away on the “Asian” side of Istanbul, where the city adjoins Asia.

Lesson learned: Pay attention to the weather gods. We foolishly took the concept of travelling off-season too far.
Must-go: Don’t miss the Istanbul Modern, the Renzo Piano-designed art museum in the historic Beyoğlu district.

Cambodia: Chill out

After a long flight from Istanbul, we spent two weeks in Laos and then hopped another plane to Cambodia, specifically Koh Rong Sanloem, another car-free island.

Like vagabonds, we lolled by the warm, super-blue water of Sunset Beach, steps from our bungalow at Sleeping Trees (from $54 per night).
A caveat: You have to sweat to get to this island paradise. We took a bus, a ferry and then hiked for 40 minutes up and down a steep hill and through a jungle. You’ll find only a handful of “resorts”—simple bungalow complexes like ours. There’s nothing much to do. I’ll be back.

Lesson learned: Until our week in Cambodia, we’d been travelling too much and too fast, prioritising exploration over relaxation. This island taught us the pleasures of stasis.
Must-go: Spend one day in Cambodia’s capital city, Phnom Penh, to delve into its sobering history. Tour the Choeung Ek Genocidal Centre, site of a Killing Field, where nearly 9,000 Cambodians died.

Thailand: Be a frugal hedonist

We spent our last two weeks on the island of Ko Samui, where season three of “The White Lotus” was shot.

We went there for its astounding beauty, not the luxury resort experience that comes with too many boisterous lads on vacation, snake farms and traffic jams in town.

Truth be told, we flouted our budget rules to book an Airbnb with a pool (from $300) in the hills of Lipa Noi on the island’s quiet side. We joined the nearby Gravity Movement Gym to work out, but cooked our own meals to keep our final tabulation of expenses within reach.

Lesson learned: Pinching pennies feels restrictive, no matter how lush the surroundings. And it leads to bickering, as partners tally up who squandered how much on what.
With the end in sight, we splurged on the villa and even bought souvenirs, knowing we’d lug them for days, not weeks.
Must-go: Take the 30-minute ferry to sister island Ko Pha Ngan for its peace, love and yoga vibe and, once a month, full-moon parties.
Via Airbnb, we bunked at a Thai house called Baan Nuit, run by the Dear Phangan restaurant proprietors.

We sampled steamed dumplings, white fish in a Thai basil sauce and spicy noodles for a mere $15 apiece.
Hey, indulge in that “White Lotus” moment if you dare!