The Unspoken Rule of Group Travel

I have travelled on quite a few group tours, and over the years I have noticed something rather lovely.

There seems to be an unspoken rule.

We look after one another.

You may arrive at the airport knowing absolutely nobody. You may spend the first day wondering who you will sit with at meals, who you will talk to on the bus, and whether you will be able to keep up with everyone.

But somewhere along the way, something changes.

People start noticing things.

Someone remembers that you have anxiety issues. Someone notices that you are limping. Someone has a medicine you need. Someone waits for you. Someone carries something for you.

And sometimes, you find yourself doing exactly the same thing for someone else.

It has happened to me on tour after tour.

The Clinic Nurse

On one trip to Switzerland, I tripped and fell.

Fortunately, one of our fellow travellers was a clinic nurse. She gave me what she called her “snake oil” — some sort of topical remedy — and, amazingly, my ankle improved after a couple of days. Turned out, it really was snake oil!

It was such a small thing, but when you are travelling and suddenly find yourself with a painful ankle, having someone who knows what to do is enormously reassuring.

And the kindness goes both ways.

On that same trip, Gary had a cold, and I happened to have antihistamines with me.

That is how it works on group tours.

You don't necessarily know who will need what.

You just happen to have something useful when somebody else needs it.

Food, Medicine and Friendship

On another tour in Italy, there was a younger group who were particularly kind to Hubby and me.

There was one couple who repeatedly ordered extra food and insisted that we join them.

“Come and eat with us.”

They didn't have to do that. We weren't family. We had only just met.

But they kept doing it.

Later, when I started showing signs of flu, the woman gave me some Chinese medicine.

She also repeatedly asked for my contact number and invited me to visit her in Sarawak.

A few days earlier, we had been strangers.

By the end of the trip, there was already talk of keeping in touch.

Lina's Little System

In Spain, Lina knew that I had anxiety.

Whenever we were standing in a queue, she would make sure that I stood in front of her.

It was her little system.

I would be ahead of her, so I wouldn't worry about being left behind.

She didn't make a big deal of it. She simply understood what made me nervous and quietly adjusted things so that I felt safer.

And we did the same for her.

Whenever Hubby, Son#1 or I saw Lina going into a toilet or somewhere else by herself, we would wait for her.

Nobody had to ask.

It was just what you did.

 Alex at the Escalator

In Toledo, Alex knew that I had fallen twice before, so he was particularly watchful.

He reminded me to hold the rails.

There were some very long escalators, and when I reached the top, Alex would already be waiting for me with wet wipes so I could wipe my hands.

And, very patiently, he took photographs for me.

Again, nothing dramatic.

Just someone paying attention.

The Neck Pillow Incident

On a Balkan tour, one of the women noticed me getting off the bus while holding my neck pillow.

She asked me why I was taking it with me.

I looked down and realised that I hadn't even noticed I was carrying it.

I was going to put it back on the bus.

She simply said:

“Here, let me do it for you.”

And she ran to the bus with the pillow.

It was such a tiny gesture but it would have been a great effort for me to hurry back to the bus. And it saved me from becoming that tourist — the one wandering the streets of Omiš, climbing medieval forts, all while accessorising with a neck pillow.

And that's exactly the point.

People notice.

Rose and the Emergency Toilet

On that same Balkan trip, Rose heard about my sleep problems and gave me some apricot seeds because she believed they might help with insomnia.

Later, during a long bus ride, Rose desperately needed a toilet.

Unfortunately, the bus wasn't stopping.

I happened to have an emergency female urination device with me — the kind that turns urine into gel.

I suggested that Rose could use it at the back of the bus, while all the women formed a little barricade around her to give her some privacy.

Rose decided not to use it.

But I gave it to her anyway, just in case.

I could see that she was genuinely moved.

It wasn't really about the device.

It was about knowing that someone had thought ahead and was willing to help you when you were in an embarrassing and uncomfortable situation.

The World's Darkest Toilet

And then there was the toilet that was completely dark.

I went in, came out again and warned everyone:

“Get your phone torches ready!”

One of the ladies didn't know how to turn hers on.

So I showed her.

There we were, a group of tourists travelling around Spain, teaching one another how to survive the world's darkest bathroom.

Sometimes group travel is like that.

 When We Looked After the Guide

And sometimes, the person who needs looking after is the guide.

In Greece, our guide developed a terrible scratchy throat.

I happened to have lozenges with me, so I gave her some.

Again, nothing dramatic.

Just a little something to make her day easier.

But the Porto trip was even more memorable.

Our dinner arrangements in Porto went rather spectacularly wrong.

The restaurant we were supposed to go to was closed, and suddenly our guide had a problem on her hands.

She was trying to sort everything out while the rest of us stood around wondering what was happening.

And then there was the bag.

Our guide had bought some bottles of Port wine earlier, and in the middle of all the confusion, she had left the bag behind at the closed restaurant.

Unfortunately, a random stranger noticed it too.

He seemed interested in simply walking off with the wine.

That was when we stopped being a group of tourists waiting for our guide to solve a problem.

We became her backup team.

We made sure the stranger couldn't simply walk away with her belongings.

And while our guide was running around trying to sort out the dinner disaster, someone had to look after the precious bag of Port.

So we did.

We carried it around with us and kept an eye on it until our guide finally managed to get everything organised.

It was a small thing, really.

Nobody was rescuing anyone from a burning building.

We were simply making sure that a bag of Port wine belonging to our guide didn't mysteriously disappear while she was busy dealing with a completely different problem.

But I remember it because of how instinctive it was.

Nobody said, “The guide is responsible for us, so this is her problem.”

Quite the opposite.

For once, we were responsible for her.

And perhaps that is what happens on a good group tour.

The guide looks after you when you are lost, anxious, tired, late, confused or simply don't know what is going on.

And sometimes, when the guide is the one having a bad day, you look after her.

Even if what you're protecting happens to be a bag of Port wine.

Especially if it's a bag of Port wine. 😂

And Then There Is the Driver

Every morning, our driver greeted us with a cheerful “Bom dia!” or “Buenos días,” depending on where we were. His smile became part of the rhythm of our days.

He drove us safely across countries, through unfamiliar roads and landscapes. And whenever I hesitated on the steep coach steps, he was there with a steady hand.

He didn’t chat much, but his quiet presence was constant — right in front of us, behind the wheel.

And then, suddenly, the tour ends. He unloads our luggage, we say our goodbyes, and he drives away. It always feels a little sad. Someone you may not have spoken to much has still become part of your travelling family.

We Are Strangers — But Not Quite

Looking back, I think this is one of the nicest things about travelling with a group.

You arrive as strangers.

You don't know who will be sitting beside you on the bus.

You don't know who will be at your breakfast table.

You don't know who will be the person you end up talking to every day.

And yet, very quickly, a strange little community forms.

There seems to be an unwritten understanding:

Someone remembers that you are nervous.

Someone notices that you are struggling.

Someone has medicine.

Someone has an extra lock.

Someone has spare shoes.

Someone has a neck pillow.

Someone knows how to work the phone torch.

Someone waits at the top of the escalator.

Someone makes sure you are ahead in the queue.

Someone orders extra food and says, “Come and eat with us.”

Someone keeps your passport safely when you absent-mindedly leave it behind.

Someone greets you "Buongiorno" cheerfully every morning and lends a steady hand on the steep coach steps.

And sometimes, unexpectedly, you become the person doing the helping.

You give someone medicine.

You lend them something.

You show them how to use their phone.

You wait for them.

You carry something for them.

You look after their precious bag of Port wine.

Perhaps that is the real secret of travelling with strangers.

You don't have to know someone for years before caring about them.

Sometimes all it takes is a long bus ride, a broken shoe, a desperate need for a toilet, a dark bathroom, a bad ankle, a forgotten passport, a scratchy throat, a bag of Port wine — or a shared meal.

You arrive as strangers.

And somewhere along the way, without anybody announcing it, you start looking after one another.

Maybe that's the best souvenir any tour can give you.

Silent Stories#10

The Statue of Gregory of Nin (Grgur Ninski) is one of the most recognisable landmarks in Split, Croatia, standing just outside the Golden Gate of Diocletian’s Palace. Created by Croatia’s celebrated sculptor Ivan Meštrović, the enormous bronze figure depicts the medieval bishop with a stern, almost angry expression — an appearance that seems fitting for a man known for challenging the religious establishment of his time.

Key Details of the Statue

• Location: The statue stands just outside the Golden Gate (Zlatna vrata), the northern entrance to Diocletian’s Palace in Split.

• The Subject: Gregory of Nin (Grgur Ninski) was a 10th-century Croatian bishop and an important figure in Croatia’s cultural and religious history. He strongly advocated the use of Old Slavonic, rather than Latin, in church services, allowing worshippers to hear the liturgy in a language they could understand.

• The Sculptor: The statue was created by Ivan Meštrović, one of Croatia’s most important sculptors. He portrayed Gregory as an imposing, powerful and determined figure rather than a gentle-looking bishop.

• The Expression: Gregory's stern face, furrowed brow and commanding pose give him an almost perpetually angry appearance. Our guide jokingly told us that Gregory was "always angry" — and judging from his expression, he certainly looks like a man who was not easily pleased!

• The Size: The bronze statue stands approximately 7.5 metres tall, making Gregory appear particularly imposing as he towers over visitors approaching the Golden Gate.

• The Original Location: The statue was unveiled in 1929 in the Peristyle, the central square within Diocletian’s Palace. During World War II, it was removed by the Italian occupying forces. In 1954, it was relocated to its present position outside the Golden Gate.

The Famous Toe

• The Good-Luck Tradition: Visitors traditionally rub Gregory’s big left toe for good luck. Some believe that touching the toe will also ensure that they return to Split one day.

• The Shiny Toe: After countless visitors have rubbed it over the years, the bronze toe has become noticeably smooth and golden-looking, standing out against the dark bronze of the rest of the statue.

• A Popular Photo Stop: It has become almost impossible to visit the statue without seeing tourists lining up to touch the famous toe — turning a serious monument to a medieval bishop into one of Split's most entertaining tourist traditions.

An Interesting Contrast

The statue was created to commemorate a significant figure in Croatian religious and cultural history, particularly his advocacy of the Croatian/Slavic language in church worship. Yet today, many visitors may know Gregory less for his historical importance than for his enormous statue, perpetually angry expression and extraordinarily shiny toe.

And perhaps that is the most amusing part of the story: a monument representing a bishop who challenged the establishment has become famous for something much simpler — tourists rubbing his toe for luck!

The Day My Sister Ate a Garden

We checked into Marvie Hotel & Health in Split, expecting the usual—fluffy pillows, a decent breakfast, and maybe those complimentary chocolates that make you feel slightly fancier than you actually are.

Instead, we got… three mysterious brown balls.

Naturally, we assumed they were artisanal chocolate. I mean, what else could they be? Rustic-looking? Yes. Slightly dusty? Maybe it’s cocoa powder! Organic! Sustainable! Very on-brand for a health hotel.

Before anyone could question it, my sister—brave, impulsive, and clearly too trusting—popped one into her mouth.

And then… her face.

I wish I had recorded it.

She just froze. Didn’t even speak. Just slowly turned and looked at me like I had personally set her up.

That was when we realised something was very wrong.

So we actually read the card (which we should have done earlier), and it turns out they were seed balls.

Not food.

You’re supposed to throw them into parks or soil so plants can grow. Something called “guerrilla gardening.”

Meanwhile, my sister had just taken a full bite out of one.

Honestly, I still don’t know what she tasted — soil? regret? both?

Anyway, lesson learnt:
If a hotel gives you something that looks like chocolate… maybe read the instructions first.

Silent Stories#9

Angels Unawares is a bronze sculpture by Canadian artist Timothy Schmalz installed in St. Peter's Square in Vatican City

Key Details

• Location: St. Peter's Square, Vatican City (near the southern colonnade/fountain) 

• Inauguration Date: September 29, 2019, by Pope Francis for the 105th World Day of Migrants and Refugees 

• Dimensions & Weight: 6 meters long (about 20 feet) and weighs 3 tons 

• Subject Matter: Depicts 140 diverse migrants and refugees from different eras, cultures, and races huddled tightly together on a boat. 

• Central Symbol: A pair of angel wings rises from the center of the crowd, including a depiction of the Holy Family (Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus). 

• Biblical Inspiration: Based on Hebrews 13:2: "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." 

• Significance: It is the first new sculpture installed in St. Peter's Square in centuries. A smaller bronze version is also housed at the Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls in Rome. 

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Spotted in Ljubljana

 

 Frida Kahlo‑inspired planters in Ljubljana

Silent Stories #8

Statues have a way of finding me. I don't set out to photograph them, yet they appear—in plazas, gardens, and street corners—each with its own silent story. Some are famous, others almost forgotten, but all of them invite a pause. Perhaps they fascinate me because public statues are relatively uncommon back home in Malaysia, so every encounter feels like discovering a small piece of another culture. What began as a simple fascination has become a journey of discovering the stories hidden within these silent works of art. 

Here’s another encounter in my Silent Stories series —  statues that found me.

Perseus with the Head of Medusa

This famous bronze masterpiece was created by Benvenuto Cellini between 1545 and 1554.

• Location: It stands in the Loggia dei Lanzi in Piazza della Signoria, Florence, Italy.
• Commission: Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici commissioned the work as a powerful symbol of Medici authority over Florence.
• Design: The statue depicts the Greek hero Perseus standing triumphantly over the body of Medusa, holding her severed, snake-crowned head aloft.
• Hidden Feature: Look closely at the back of Perseus’s helmet and you’ll discover a self-portrait of Cellini cleverly incorporated into the sculpture.

Perseus with the Head of Medusa is not only a Renaissance masterpiece but also a fascinating mixture of mythology, politics and Cellini’s own larger-than-life personality.

Here are some fun and fascinating facts about it:

🎭 The Artist & His Drama

• Benvenuto Cellini (1500–1571) was primarily a goldsmith and metalworker, rather than a sculptor. Perseus became his most famous sculptural achievement.
• Cellini was notorious for his volatile personality and turbulent life. He was accused of crimes including theft, assault, sodomy and murder. His famously colourful autobiography, La Vita, is filled with extraordinary—and sometimes difficult to verify—claims about his life and encounters with other artists.

🗡️ The Statue’s Creation

• Commissioned by Cosimo I de’ Medici in 1545 and completed in 1554, the statue was unveiled in Piazza della Signoria, where it joined an impressive collection of monumental sculptures.
• Cellini spent almost a decade working on the project, pushing the technical possibilities of large-scale bronze casting. The dramatic streams of blood flowing from Medusa’s severed neck add to its theatrical effect.

🪞 Hidden Details

• On the back of Perseus’s helmet, Cellini incorporated a small self-portrait, giving himself a permanent place within his masterpiece.
• The pedestal reliefs beneath the statue depict scenes from the story of Perseus and Medusa, providing an elaborate bronze retelling of the myth.

🏛️ Political Symbolism

• Perseus’s victory over Medusa was intended to convey a political message: the triumph of Medici authority over their enemies and opponents.
• Its prominent position in Piazza della Signoria, surrounded by other monumental works, helped create a powerful visual statement about Medici strength and control over Florence.

📍 Fun Visitor Notes

• The statue still stands outdoors in the Loggia dei Lanzi, where it can be viewed free of charge.
• Despite being one of the great masterpieces of Renaissance sculpture, it can sometimes be overshadowed by the more famous sculptures nearby—including the replica of Michelangelo’s David.
• And if you walk around to the back, don’t forget to look up at Perseus’s helmet. That little face staring back at you is Cellini himself.

Image credit: Wikimedia Commons / Wikipedia (Portraits of Benvenuto Cellini)

A Four-Legged Landmark

This calm, watchful dog rested quietly on the steps beside Ljubljana's iconic Robba Fountain.

As visitors came and went with their chatter and cameras, it seemed perfectly content to simply watch the world pass by.

Sometimes the most memorable sight isn't the monument—but the peaceful soul keeping it company.

Silent Stories#7

Statues have a way of finding me. I don't set out to photograph them, yet they appear—in plazas, gardens, and street corners—each with its own silent story. Some are famous, others almost forgotten, but all of them invite a pause. Perhaps they fascinate me because public statues are relatively uncommon back home in Malaysia, so every encounter feels like discovering a small piece of another culture. What began as a simple fascination has become a journey of discovering the stories hidden within these silent works of art. 

Here’s another encounter in my Silent Stories series — statues that found me.

The "Fame of Industry" (Renommée de l'Industrie) is an iconic gilded bronze statue located on the Pont Alexandre III bridge in Paris, France. It stands atop one of the four monumental 17-meter-tall masonry pylons that anchor each corner of the bridge. 

Key Details of the Statue

• Location: It is positioned on the Left Bank (the south side of the Seine River), facing towards the Les Invalides complex. 

• The Sculptor: The statue was designed by French sculptor Clément Steiner and completed posthumously by Eugène Gantzlin for the 1900 Universal Exhibition. 

• Design: It features a classical allegorical female figure representing "Fame" restraining the mythical winged horse, Pegasus. 

• The Base: At the masonry base of this specific pylon sits a stone statue representing La France de Louis XIV (France of Louis XIV), sculpted by Laurent Marqueste. 

• Functional Purpose: Beyond their incredible Art Nouveau aesthetic, these massive pylons and their heavy statues serve an engineering purpose: they act as stabilizing counterweights to support the bridge’s remarkably flat, low single-span steel arch. 

The Four "Fames" of Pont Alexandre III

The Fame of Industry is part of a matching set of four gilded sculptures that celebrate different cultural and economic achievements of France: 

• Left Bank (South Side): Fame of Industry and Fame of Commerce.

• Right Bank (North Side): Fame of the Arts and Fame of the Sciences. 

Walls That Strum

 🎸 In the winding streets of Toledo, even the walls seem to sing. I stumbled upon this boutique hotel sign crowned with sculpted hands strumming a guitar—an artistic welcome that feels perfectly at home in Spain's land of music, history, and legends.

Amid silence, you can almost hear the rhythm of flamenco echoing from the wall itself.

The hotel's name, Entre Dos Aguas ("Between Two Waters"), will also sound familiar to music lovers. It shares its title with one of the most celebrated compositions by the legendary Spanish guitarist Paco de Lucía. Whether this is a deliberate tribute or simply a poetic coincidence, the guitar sculpture makes the connection feel almost inevitable.

It's one of those delightful travel moments when a simple hotel sign tells a story. It’s a reminder that in Spain, even a hotel sign can carry the soul of a song.

Silent Stories#6

Statues have a way of finding me. I don't set out to photograph them, yet they appear—in plazas, gardens, and street corners—each with its own silent story. Some are famous, others almost forgotten, but all of them invite a pause. Perhaps they fascinate me because public statues are relatively uncommon back home in Malaysia, so every encounter feels like discovering a small piece of another culture. What began as a simple fascination has become a journey of discovering the stories hidden within these silent works of art. 

Here’s another encounter in my Silent Stories series — a statue that found me.

 Statue of Petar Zoranić — Zadar, Croatia 

• Artist: Unknown / Local Croatian Sculptor.
• Artwork: The Statue of Petar Zoranić commemorates the foundational 16th-century Croatian literary figure.
• Medium: A weathered bronze sculpture depicting the writer standing tall in Renaissance-era attire, uniquely characterized by its robust, powerfully sculpted legs.
• Location: Situated prominently in St. Chrysogonus Square (Trg Svetog Krševana) in the historic, old town core of Zadar, Croatia.
• The Figure: The monument depicts Petar Zoranić (1508–1569), a noble-born poet and notary from nearby Nin who went on to define the early identity of Croatian literature.
• Literary Significance: Zoranić penned Planine (The Mountains) in 1536. Published posthumously in Venice in 1569, this pastoral romance is celebrated by historians as the very first novel ever written in the Croatian language.
• Historical Context: The statue represents a triumph of human expression over conflict. Zoranić wrote his poetry during a tumultuous era when Zadar was a heavily fortified enclave under constant threat and siege by Ottoman forces.
• Concept & Setting: Set against the backdrop of ancient stone facades and the medieval Church of St. Chrysogonus, the statue anchors a quiet public crossroad, connecting modern city wanderers to the cultural renaissance of the eastern Adriatic.
• Silent Story: Standing proudly amidst centuries-old fortifications, the statue whispers a story of patriotism and cultural preservation. Zoranić used his fictional 7-day mountain trek to allegorically awaken his countrymen's love for their native tongue and land.

The Statue of Petar Zoranić reminds us that behind the stoic bronze of historical figures lies a passionate plea to remember who we are and where we come from.

The Plaka Cat

Back in 2023, I was wandering through Plaka, Athens — narrow streets, painted shutters, and right there on a wooden bench, a white cat with orange patches. Calm as a monk, stretched beside a potted plant, watching the world drift by. I even stopped to pet it, noticing the distinctive mark on its face and coloring that made it unforgettable.

Back home in Malaysia, I watched a few YouTube walking tours of Plaka and smiled when I spotted the very same cat roaming the nearby streets — not just outside the shop where I had met it, but moving through the neighborhood as if it belonged there, a familiar face in a place visited by thousands of strangers.

Recently, while looking through old photos, I was reminded of that cat and decided to Google the shop at Thespidos 2, the very spot where I first saw it. The result? “Permanently closed.” Once a concept store, it has since been replaced by an eyewear boutique. The shelves, the counter, the heart‑shaped ornaments, the bench — gone. But the cat? That’s the part Google can’t tell you.

Maybe it wandered off to another doorway, claimed a new bench, or became a regular at the taverna down the street. Cats in Plaka are like unofficial guardians of the neighborhood — they don’t belong to one shop, they belong to the rhythm of the place.

There’s something poetic about it: businesses open and close, signs fade, shutters lock. Yet the cats remain, padding through centuries of change, curling up wherever life still hums. The shop may have vanished, but the memory of that cat lingers — a reminder that sometimes the soul of a street isn’t in its commerce, but in its creatures.

Silent Stories#5

 Statues have a way of finding me. I don't set out to photograph them, yet they appear—in plazas, gardens, and street corners—each with its own silent story. Some are famous, others almost forgotten, but all of them invite a pause. Perhaps they fascinate me because public statues are relatively uncommon back home in Malaysia, so every encounter feels like discovering a small piece of another culture. What began as a simple fascination has become a journey of discovering the stories hidden within these silent works of art. 

Here’s another encounter in my Silent Stories series — statues that found me.

Sean Henry’s Man with Cup — Salisbury Cathedral

• Artist: Sean Henry (born 1965), a British sculptor known for creating life-sized painted bronze figures that explore identity, human presence, and everyday experiences.
• Artwork: Man with Cup (2008) is a life-sized painted bronze sculpture depicting an anonymous man standing quietly while holding a simple cup.
• Medium: The sculpture is made from bronze and hand-painted, a technique Sean Henry uses to give his figures a strikingly lifelike appearance.
• Exhibition at Salisbury Cathedral: The sculpture was displayed at Salisbury Cathedral as part of Sean Henry’s exhibition “Conflux: A Union of the Sacred and the Anonymous” in 2011.
• Concept of the exhibition: The exhibition placed contemporary human figures within the medieval cathedral, creating a dialogue between the sacred surroundings of the past and the ordinary lives of people today.
• The figure: Unlike traditional cathedral sculptures that often depict saints, kings, or biblical figures, Man with Cup represents an everyday, anonymous person — someone who could be any one of us.
• The cup: The ordinary cup held by the figure contrasts with the grandeur of Salisbury Cathedral, suggesting the importance and dignity of everyday moments.
• Location significance: Salisbury Cathedral, built in the 13th century, provides a dramatic setting for Henry’s modern sculptures, highlighting the connection between centuries-old spiritual spaces and contemporary human experiences.
• Silent story: Standing quietly among ancient stone and stained glass, Man with Cup invites visitors to pause and reflect on the unnoticed stories carried by ordinary people.

Sean Henry’s Man with Cup reminds us that even the most ordinary person can become a subject worthy of contemplation.

And the answer to my previous post’s little mystery? — Athens. Some of you were curious, so I won’t keep you guessing. Yes, the mystery photo was taken in Athens, a city in Greece where yellow taxis are part of the everyday landscape.