The Unexpected Joy of Travelling With My Dad in My 30s

There’s something oddly emotional about travelling with a parent once you’re both adults. 

Not because anything dramatic happens, but because one day you suddenly realise the dynamic has quietly changed without either of you acknowledging it. 

This isn’t the first time I’ve travelled with my dad. 

When my twin sister and I were younger, he took us on a long weekend to Cadbury World and an old steam train somewhere in the English countryside. To this day, I still remember the smug satisfaction of bringing a backpack to Cadbury World because every new section of the chocolate tour came with another free chocolate bar. We were stuffing them into our backpacks and coat pockets - honestly, a child’s dream. 

Later that evening, we sat in the hotel room watching Charlie's Angels while Dad let us order room service. At the time it felt outrageously glamorous. The tiny glass bottles of Coke. The little trays. Being allowed ice cream in bed. 

Looking back now, I think that was one of the first moments I realised travelling could feel magical. Like stepping briefly into another version of life. 

As we got older, the trips changed too. 

There was Australia, Hong Kong, and Rome. Then years later, when I was around 20 or 21, I invited him to Paris for a long weekend because a friend of mine was hosting a party there. Very boujee, I know. Truthfully, Paris is still not a city I feel completely confident navigating, so having Dad there made me feel calmer. It also helped that he studied French at school and will still confidently attempt to speak it. 

Then during my three-month sabbatical in 2023, I was heading back to Rome to visit one of my best friends and decided I wanted to see Naples too. Naturally, I asked Dad if he wanted to join. And he did. 

Naples 2023

It was the comfortable silence after walking nearly 20,000 steps a day. 

The unspoken agreement that neither of us needed to constantly fill the quiet. 

Before we left, I asked Dad why he likes travelling with me. His answer was probably the most Dad response imaginable: 

“You’re efficient with route planning, you walk at a decent speed, you don’t complain about walking, and you understand public transport abroad.” 

Not exactly emotional poetry, but honestly, I knew what he meant. 

I think travel strips people back a little. You see each other differently when you’re navigating delayed trains, tiredness, unfamiliar streets, or trying to decide where to eat when you’re both hungry. There’s less performance in it. 

Travelling together now feels different than it did when I was younger. Somewhere along the way, the dynamic shifted. 

It’s no longer parent and child. It’s two adults figuring out a city together, taking turns leading the way. 

Sometimes he navigates. Sometimes I do. 

Sometimes I book the restaurant. Sometimes he does. 

At the end of each day, we’d compare highlights and lowlights, then try to guess how many steps we’d done before checking our phones. Usually, the answer was somewhere between “far too many” and “why are our feet still functioning?” 

And strangely, I think that’s one of my favourite parts.  Not just seeing new places, but realising your relationship can evolve too.  Because one of the weirdest things about growing up is discovering your parents beyond just being your parents. You start noticing their habits. Their humour. Their anxieties. The things they enjoy. The pace they walk at. The way they interact with strangers abroad. The routines they create while travelling. And somewhere between childhood trips, airport coffees, aggressive Google Maps checking, and navigating foreign metro systems together, you realise you actually like who they are as people too. 

I don’t think I appreciated that when I was younger. But I do now.