How Traveling Can Destroy a Relationship

Some travel destinations look difficult on paper. Others are difficult. Especially for a young couple traveling together.

When I first went to India, I went with my long-term boyfriend at the time. We had lived together for three years and been together since high school. I'm sad to tell you this story because it did not end well.

We were close. In fact, you could say we clung to each other from traveling as much as we could after leaving school. We lived in backpacker hostels in London until we found a studio flat. He bought a record player so he could listen to vinyl from the music shops in Brixton. We worked long hours on our feet and came home and ate in front of the television.

All our time in London was about saving money to go travelling again. The landlord agreed to keep a bag and the record player in his attic. Once we were on the plane to Mumbai, we did not look back.

Once we arrived, we wanted to check out the area around the hotel. The jet lag was like being pulled back into the sea by a strong wave. The aim of the walk was to find a place to have a cold beer after a long flight. Instead, we stumbled into a tourist market brimming with people shouting at us to look at their clothes or jewelry or scarves or cassettes. Mothers begging for a few rupees for the child on their hip. Any hardened market trader or beggar could see we had just landed and "straight off the boat".

The smells, the humidity, the sounds and the completely different rules for traffic, if there were many rules became overwhelming.

Walking back through the market, a tall English man walked up to us and while motioning with his eyes, he gave my boyfriend a big hug. We did not know him.

He whispered in his ear, just pretend you know me, okay?

Hey, mate! Fancy meeting you here! Let's go and have a beer.

We found a bar near our hotel near Elephant Gate, which had a Persian - Western pub feel. The fans overhead languidly kept the tropical air flowing through.

I still remember the coldness of the beer. It felt so cleansing and normal after our experiences. We had already seen a beggar child being run over by a rickshaw on the way to the hotel. Now we had a giant English man telling us about what happened to him in the market.

He told us there was a guy following him for hours around town. I said, was the Indian guy who looked like a body builder? He had slicked-back hair and wearing a singlet top? I said, now you mention it, I did notice him behind you. He looked different than everyone else. It was not something other people were wearing, especially at the time.

He seemed very freaked out. We had just arrived so did not know if this was normal or not. The next day we found a bus to take us out of Mumbai to Goa. We wanted to see if there were any parties. On the way, someone had spat out some red chaat onto my boyfriend's white shirt. Not on purpose, just without thinking of the consequences.

It's karma.

Six months later, we went our separate ways. He went back to London and I stayed on to teach English. I wasn't ready to work in a rubbish job again when I could stay in India and meet so many interesting people. But the truth was, I wanted to travel alone after six months of intensity.

Even though I tried to call him, he was living in a hostel in Brixton without a phone (the days before mobiles). He waited for me at the airport but I didn't arrive off the plane. That night he cried on a shoulder. They end up getting married and having four children together.

It was quick, but was it a surprise looking back? I was devastated at the time. It felt like I had lost everything because I had missed a flight. But what was the real truth?

Traveling exhausted us. Especially India on a shoe-string budget. Even though we experienced so much together, we also wanted to be free to go our separate ways. I couldn't talk about it for many years later. Not until today.