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.