How Strangers Become Friends in Group Tours
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New friends enjoy gondola ride in the “Floating City.” (Photo by Cherie Querol Moreno)
Her puzzlement was understandable.
More often than not, “Thad” was posted in war-torn countries, and Tina would take leave from her work at the Canadian Ministry of Justice for quality time with him. Just listening to them relate their roller-coaster tours of duty gave me PTSD.
Particularly harrowing was the attack on their Rwanda home by a band of Tutsis suspecting them of harboring Hutus in the 1994 genocide.
The Anglins crouched in their bedroom closet and began mumbling the Act of Contrition should their meeting their Maker was up. Luckily, the raiders shifted gears and high-tailed it to the next village, leaving the couple shaken but very much alive.
By comparison their next posting was an extended holiday, for it was Brindisi on the coast of southern Italy. Why there is probably classified, but each assignment was determined by exigency requiring Anglin’s supervision and expertise.
Fil-French couple Alex and Andrea de Leon-Berganzo bistro-hop with visiting family. (Photo by Cherie Querol Moreno)
Mickey and my travels, on the other hand, are pure R ‘n’ R: On our dime, no hazard pay. Hence, we take no chances. When we fall in love with a destination, we visit again and again to experience the spirit of place.
Lifeline
We like group tours, everything managed for us with quick trips to multiple sites. After the tour ends, we stay and explore, playing local on our own.
Since the start of this century, we’ve entrusted our trips to one and the same company referred by a friend in the travel industry. After the passing of Travel Wizards founder Magda Johnson, her daughter Melissa Kulhanjian has inherited us and, oh, is she worth every charge.
We learned this for the record when Mickey caught COVID in the fall of 2022 in our attempt at a Southern Italy and Sicily redux, unforgettable on our maiden tour in 2010.
Imagine waking up to a 101 temperature and severe body ache at 1 a.m. In the secluded hills of Sorrento after four days in super crowded, nobody-masks Rome. Good thing we had packed a thermometer and a couple of self-testers, but not enough Tylenol to reduce Mickey’s fever.
Panic City came to town.
We were forced to bid an abrupt arrivederci to our tour (“Obviously, I can’t take you on the coach,” the tour director spewed) and stay put in the tour-contracted hotel under the gaze of Mt. Vesuvius. With the tour “Wellness Director” making sure we complied with country emergency protocols.
Managed tours provide more than safety and convenience. These kindle friendships from the shared experience of seeing a world wonder for the first time or meeting a stranger and finding a friend.
Count ‘em: Fees all around for both of us to get officially tested and documented at an authorized pharmacy or hospital; surcharges to reroute our return flight from Palermo to Naples, to register with the Ministry of Health, for mandatory minimum five-day isolation in our hotel room, therefore, room service three meals a day.
We graduated to first-name basis with the hotel crew. Since I tested negative for days, I masked up all 24 hours; silly me thinking it would help. We opened all windows for cross-ventilation hoping one of us would be spared to care for the other.
The spellbinding view from our balcony did offer consolation.
From there we watched a procession complete with a band and life-size statue of the Virgin Mary march solemnly from the top of a hill into our hotel grounds for a reception with the pastor and local officials.
Looking on the bright side, we got more local color than on a tour. Plus, each meal while sheltered in place was delizioso–this was Italy after all. And though we appreciated the silver lining, we scratched the Boot off our calendar for at least five years. Yeah, right.
Had Melissa and colleague Jim Rodondi not been there to guide our son, Juan Miguel, in California through calls with the US consulate in Rome and the tour provider in the UK, we might have simply given up, worn down by the cross-Atlantic back-and-forth. Instead we got our tour refund a few weeks after we got back home.
That scenario reinforced the wisdom of our travel philosophy.
It might have been different if we’d backpacked and roughed it up back in the day, but having acquired little survival skills and tolerance for bureaucracy, we assign the job to the pros. For good.
So, the following year we snapped up “European Highlights,” which we had enjoyed in 2007. This one skips Italy, begins in Amsterdam, courses through Germany and Switzerland to conclude in Paris. Always Paris. So much so that Tina, who nixes our “monotonous” itineraries, gifted me with an accent pillow pronouncing “My other house is in France.” Wishful thinking, that. Somewhat apropos, though, having family in France, home of my little sister Michelle de Leon’s daughter Andrea and her French husband Alexis Berganzo, make Paris our perennial vacation finale.
Before the pandemic, group tours offered perks galore, especially for repeat customers. The 5 percent discount remains, so do cute souvenirs, maybe a group picture, but no more grand farewell dinner.
Not with global economic jitters in 2025.
Last month we joined 45 adventurers on the “European Dream,” a tour we took in 2004. It ends in Paris (perfect), stops in Lucerne (Mickey wanted a third Alpine ascent) after Florence and Venice (too brief the last time). But yikes, it starts in Rome. Didn’t we say basta cosí less than three years ago?
Somehow the mind obscures past adversity when the heart pumps in joyful anticipation.
We heeded our ticker.
Rome never gets old. The empire is long, long gone but the Roman ethos endures. The passion for La Dolce Vita is palpable everywhere. Every year 20 million visit from around the world, including Filipinos from Canada, the United States and the Philippines this spring. No wonder its citizens strut like they still rule the planet.
‘Instant Besties’
Managed tours provide more than safety and convenience. These kindle friendships from the shared experience of seeing a world wonder for the first time or meeting a stranger and finding a friend.
Case in point, an hour into the tour welcome reception, we found ourselves in the company of who would be our tour family: a South Asian couple from Dallas (who requested anonymity here) and Jackie de Guzman, a Filipina American bachelorette from Santa Clarita, LA County. Both were eyeballing Europe for the first time.
Solo traveler Jackie de Guzman feels safe in a group tour. (Photo by Cherie Querol Moreno)
The lovely Dallas pair is retired and indulging their wanderlust. Jackie is a UCLA med tech who became the tour darling, signing up for all excursions, shopping as if there was no tomorrow, and rubbing elbows with everyone like a long-lost classmate–even us, 20 years her senior.
By morning of Day 2, Mrs. Dallas and I were exchanging air kisses. “Tour besties,” she anointed us. We sought each other out at breakfast. We would look out for them at required nature call stops between borders to point out good buys and interesting finds, like the lumpia and pancit somewhere along the mustard fields of Dijon.
Of course, we would encounter more Filipinos along the way.
We have yet to meet a Filipino gondolier while Filipinos proclaim their presence at the restaurants beside Venice canals (and most everywhere in Italy). But don’t be surprised to hear “Kabayan!” and be enticed with “Meron kaming kanin at sinigang dito (We’ve got rice and sour soup here)!” More on that later.
Truly, the Filipino diaspora has magnified our visibility and contributions to society, as vital members of the workforce, as elected officials, entertainers, athletes or visitors feeding the economy.
On this tour, three generations of a family of four flew in from Manila to celebrate the grandson’s graduation from medical school. The matriarch often declined to use the wheelchair they brought along, preferring to power through cobblestones at 87 years of age, shaming me at the Colosseo.
With Fil-Ams she shared that her husband was a general in the first Aquino administration whose service President Cory had extended for his touted honesty. She has a sister living in Santa Clarita, Jackie’s hometown, furthering another Filipina connection.
Venice dog-sitter Norma Martin remotely introduces Ruby to Dallas tourist’s pet. (Photo by Cherie Querol Moreno)
We played guide to more Euro newbies: Susan, also a Filipina and recently retired dental assistant from Edmonton, Canada. With Vancouverite Alma, formerly of Las Piñas, and her partner, we took photos of each other inside the newly restored Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.
Up on Mount Pilatus, Switzerland, Batangas-born Pep Equia has been keeping the view lodge tidy for six years. In Venice, Norma Martin pampers the fur baby of a Chinese restaurateur.
Pep Equia’s smile lights up the lodge at the peak of Mt. Pilatus, Switzerland. (Photo by Cherie Querol Moreno)
Revelations
Social media assures us that we’re fulfilling our aspirations however we can, and our hearts warmed seeing determination bring the best from those who venture out of their comfort zone by choice or by accident.
With our newfound friends, we discovered: Paris is burgeoning with Asian culinary influences with riz (rice) and soy sauce among common ingredients in brasserie menus. Thon au toyo, sil vous plait?
We wish didn’t happen:
Filipino restaurant staff at one Venice restaurant coaxing us in and then handing the service-included tab with a guilt trip by chiding us to leave a tip–“Alam naman niyo tayong Pilipino (After all you’re aware that we send money back home).” We did anyway but wish they’d do a great job, have some pride, and wait forus to show appreciation ourselves, having been through the same road.
We learned:
One week was all the time we shared, but being in the same space bonded us quickly with three fellow travelers. As in every tour, we had vowed not to engage in polarizing conversation but braced ourselves for the possibility these days when many of our country’s leaders eschew filters and decorum.
To our relief, most of us felt the same way, having joined the tour to have fun and not to impose or debate beliefs. Our tour director Andee deftly avoided divisive subjects and did not need to caution us to follow suit.
Where we come from influences our belief system, yes, but each of us is an individual with our own opinions.
Mt. Vesuvius gazes at author in an unplanned extended holiday in Sorrento. (Photo courtesy of Cherie Querol Moreno)
If we had not sat with our Dallas friends at the welcome reception fearing their potentially red-state views would conflict with our left-leaning Bay Area sensibilities, or if we had evaded Jackie not knowing what to talk about with a Gen X’er, we would have missed the pleasure of their company and amity. We have much in common: love of family and respect both for tradition and diversity.
A happy if surprise revelation at our final dinner together: Our political views also aligned.
Even if our political affiliations had clashed we were likely to continue to communicate, as we do now, having displayed in action our true colors.
We promised to stay in touch, reach out when we’re at one another’s city, or when we plan the next group tour.
PF Correspondent Cherie Querol Moreno founded ALLICE in 2003 and serves as executive director. For more information, visit www.allicekumares.com.
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