Vacation Friends

The unlikely intimacy of people you meet on vacation

Every vacation has its cast of characters. But I’m not talking about the crew you carefully coordinated flights and dinner reservations with. I’m talking about the others; the ones you didn’t plan for. The people you meet by chance and leave with stories about. The ones who remind you that some of the most interesting connections in life don’t need to be planned, pursued, or even prolonged.

I call them vacation friends.

There’s something oddly romantic about the whole idea, not in the love story sense (though sometimes, sure), but in the way that only temporary intimacy can feel. You're both far from home, unburdened by titles, routines, or the subtle performances of your day-to-day life. You're in swimwear, ordering another Aperol spritz at noon, and you strike up a conversation with someone you might otherwise pass by without a second thought. And suddenly: you’re in it. You’re talking about their divorce or their dog or their thoughts on American politics or the best wine to drink with anchovies. And it all just works.

Last summer, in Italy, we met a couple while vacationing on the Amalfi coast. Robin and her husband: empty nesters in their fifties, tanned and radiant in that way that people only are when they’ve learned how to truly relax. She was magnetic. The kind of chic that isn’t about labels but about presence. We started with polite small talk between beach chairs, graduated to shared laughs over the state of travel parenting (they were out of the game, I was in the trenches), and ended up with post-dinner drinks under the stars. She felt like a glimpse into a future version of myself I’d love to become - unbothered, open, thoughtful, curious. We still keep in touch, loosely. A few texts and IG DMs here and there. Enough to remind each other that it was real.

The thing about vacation friends is that they’re rarely people you'd meet in your “real life.” Not because they're better or worse, just because your paths wouldn’t naturally cross. But vacation bends the rules of proximity. It lowers the volume on all the noise. The status markers, the job descriptions, the school drop-offs, the meetings, the to-do lists. You’re left with vibes. With energy. With curiosity. And it turns out that’s more than enough.

I think that’s part of what makes these encounters feel so rich. There’s no long-term maintenance required. No pressure to follow up or "grab coffee next week." And paradoxically, that freedom can make you more generous. More present. You listen better. You ask real questions. You share more than you normally would with someone you just met. You’re not networking. You’re not climbing. You’re just there. And they are too.

Which maybe explains why so many people are obsessed with White Lotus. Sure, it’s the satire, the aesthetics, the unraveling. But underneath all that is a fascination with the way strangers collide in these hotel petri dishes; suspended from real life, unsure how much of themselves to reveal. It’s the anthropology of vacationing. The social soup of shared spaces. And the chaotic beauty of finding out who you are when you’re unmoored from your context.

It’s funny, when I think about the most lasting impressions from trips I’ve taken, it’s rarely the museums or the five-star meals that stick with me. It’s the people. The couple who shared an afternoon Mai Tai with us in Kauai. The man at a music bar in Tokyo who helped us navigate a Japanese wine list. The honeymooners we met in Ravello who reminded us to take more photos as a couple. The group at a round dinner table in Austin who insisted we join for dessert. None of them remain in my daily life, but all of them exist in the highlight reel.

So here’s to vacation friends. The fleeting soulmates. The honorary aunts and uncles. The mystery novel writers, retired sommeliers, second-marriage couples, and solo travelers who make you believe that the world is still full of surprises.

Maybe I’ll turn this into a series. A little journal of the characters I encounter on each trip as reminders of the magic that lives just outside the itinerary. The next time you travel, keep an eye out. The best part of your trip might not be the view or the food, it might be the person two seats down, ordering the same drink as you.