Travelling with an ex-partner: I went overseas on a pre-planned holiday with my ex

They had booked a trip of a lifetime, but then a problem eventuated. They broke up. Unable to get their money back, Chanel Zagon and her ex went on holiday anyway. And this is how it panned out.

WHEN I broke up with my ex, it wasn’t your “conventional” breakup. No tears, screaming, hysteria, or objects thrown.

There was no crying in the rain, black mascara-run eyes or packing up belongings. In fact it was one of the calmest 15-minute conversations of my life.

It’s not working out? Agreed.

But can we be good friends? Agreed.

Do you still want to go to Europe? *Pause*

We’d planned a five-week trip through five countries and 15 cities — and we were going in two months’ time.

So I bet you’re now wondering — was it all booked?

Yes, down to every bus and train.

When did we book it? About eight months ago.

But couldn’t we get a refund? No.

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Roaming the streets in Rome, the city of love.

The reactions we got from our friends were priceless.

“You’ve broken up, but you’re still going to Europe?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Then came the torrent of questions about logistics.

Were we just going to fly in together and then go our separate ways? Was someone going to sleep on the couch? On the floor? In the bathroom?

But despite the puzzled expressions and disapproval, we hit the skies, luggage in hand and going ahead as planned.

And yes, it was weird at first. We had gone from seeing each other once a week for coffee — to spending every hour, of every day, together.

But after 30 hours crammed next to each other on a plane, whining about airline food and how the person in front of me couldn’t wait to recline their chair, it was fine.

We arrived in Amsterdam happy and excited. We marvelled at how the daylight lasted until 11:30pm at night and meandered through the Red Light District (no we didn’t knock on any of the doors.)

We ate cheese, wine and stuffed our faces with a ghastly amount of prosciutto. There was no hate, bad blood or hurt feelings — just laughter, fun and friendship.

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But travelling together did come with its fair share of difficulties.

Like what to say to people when they asked ‘What we were’.

We didn’t want to say exes, because then we would have to put up with weird reactions from complete strangers, followed by 20 questions we really did not have the energy or patience to answer.

So that was off the cards.

We agreed to say ‘friends’ but that plan went pear-shaped when a guy from one of our day-tour groups started chatting me up and then plonked himself next to me on the bus.

He was greeted with a death stare. But not from me.

“That’s my girlfriend,” My ex said.

“He’s actually not my boyfriend,” I piped up.

“Move along buddy.”

I tried not to laugh, the guy looked at us like we were a pair of psychos, and he set off in search of a new seat.

I guess we came across as a bit strange. We couldn’t win.

Exes can be the best of friends.

But despite the bumps along the way, it was great.

Being both of European heritage, we bonded over our mutual obsession with meat, and many fabulous meals of steak, gyros, ribs, and yet more prosciutto.

We liked doing the same things — a blend of sightseeing, sleeping-in, chilling at the beach and maybe him dragging me to the occasional museum.

He didn’t judge me for my bursting bathroom bag (it was 5kg — I weighed it.)

When our luggage got lost, he appreciated that I made the numerous phone calls and sorted out all the reimbursements with the airline.

And when our bags finally arrived, I was grateful he carried them.

We were a team — a team which consisted of me handling all the bookings and logistics and him zipping up my oversized suitcase and carrying everything.

And when my suitcase eventually broke, he was the one who bought a bag strap to fix it (I didn’t even know these things existed!)

It just worked.

We could laugh about the crazy cultural differences, whine about having to pay two euros for table water and share moments of exasperation.

Like when I was trying to tell a non-English speaking Italian customer service man that I had left my backpack on the previous train.

“Oh yes, that train is gone … your bag is gone,” he said after what felt like 15 minutes of charades … great.

Not one day was spent apart.

But of course we had our tiffs.

One boiling hot day in Nice we had a heated argument about which supermarket to get fruit from.

Then there was that time I cracked it when he was swiping on Tinder over dinner at a restaurant in Italy. “Do you really have to do that right here, right now?” I said.

“Like you said — we’re not together,” he replied.

Nice.

But other than that and me occasionally throwing a pillow at his head to wake-up before midday for once, we didn’t fight much at all.

We could have gone our separate ways, done our own things or even cancelled altogether — but we genuinely liked each other’s company.

Of course it’s not something everyone could do — but fortunately for us, we managed to.

To this day, he is still one of my best friends.

So yes, I went overseas with my ex and we made it back home alive.

And it just so happens we are bound for Bali at the end of the year.

Bring it on.

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