Travel woes of a ‘weedy woman’

Are all women feeble travellers compared to their husbands or do I just let the side down? writes blogger Charlie Cashdan.

I’ve just come back from a lovely week-long European city break but feel rather ashamed of how pathetic I was compared to my husband.

He turned into Indiana Jones and I transgressed into Barbie. Normally, I am a fairly intelligent, robust sort of person who works long days and makes lots of important decisions quite capably but on holiday I was a nightmare while my husband simply came alive and years dropped off him. Women, please, write in and tell me I’m not alone on this!

As soon as we stepped of the plane, husband pulled out his Lonely Planet guide, maps and Euros and strode energetically off to find a train to take us to our hotel.

I limped along painfully behind him because my new shoes were agony; I was tired after the flight and needed a wee. Husband sorted out the complicated ticket machine at the station, understood the displays, found the right platform and got us on the train. I just winged about my feet, being hungry and went to find a toilet.

When we got off the train at our destination, husband got out his maps and strode boldly off in the right direction. I couldn’t stand my shoes a moment longer, sat on the station floor, opened my case to take out alternative shoes and swapped there and then sitting on the platform.

The shoe nightmare went on for days; my feet have never hurt so much in my life. We even had to traipse around shoe shops and spend £40 on a new pair for me.

My sense of direction was hopeless, I couldn’t read the map, couldn’t remember the number of our hotel room, couldn’t have a bowel movement, wouldn’t go out unless I had a full face of make-up on and kept needing the toilet all day. I couldn’t sleep because of the city noise, woke up exhausted every morning, slept in late and missed the hotel breakfast most days. I even landed up coming down with a cold!

Husband slept like a baby, woke bright and early every morning, spent the whole day full of energy, no need for food, rest or toilet. He just strode around with his maps navigating all over the city and jumping on and off public transport like a local. He was simply brilliant. I was a nightmare! I had a fantastic time, don’t get me wrong, and tried really hard not to be pathetic but failed in this completely!

Please tell me I’m not the only rubbish traveller out there? Surely there must be other strong, smart women who crumble the minute they step off the plane?