Despite living 1,800 miles apart, my 81-year-old grandma and I have always been close. We share a love for “Downton Abbey,” cross-stitch, and strong coffee, and I couldn’t imagine spending weeks in the summer anywhere but her sunny kitchen table in central Minnesota.
Of course, I’d be naive to assume my time with her is unlimited. That’s one reason my grandma, mom, sister, and I decided to embark on a trip to Montreal together last summer.
Although I’m grateful we were able to take this trip, it could have gone a lot smoother had I known these three things about traveling with an older relative.
The itinerary should have reflected everyone’s physical needs, not just my own
I’m the most frequent traveler in my family, so I took on all the planning myself and approached the task the same way I do for solo travel: leaving no stone unturned.
I thought my grandma would be well-prepared for the long days, given that she walks 3 miles a day and eats a far more balanced diet than I do.
What I failed to consider, though, was how difficult it would be for her to walk on the uneven cobblestone streets. On our first day in the city, we nearly missed an afternoon tea reservation since I didn’t factor in the slower pace we’d have to take to accommodate my grandma’s careful steps.
I also didn’t realize just how exhausting a full-day Three Pines tour would be. Although fantastic — with stops at a monastery, local museum, and five-star resort for lunch — our visit to the villages that inspired the fictional location of my grandma’s favorite mystery series was nine hours long.
As the day progressed, we took turns snoozing in the back seat of our tour guide’s van. Upon arriving back at the bed and breakfast, my grandma exclaimed how long of a day it was; and I didn’t disagree.
Similarly, I didn’t consider my grandma’s physical limitations when choosing restaurants. Although they weren’t lacking in ambiance — picture patios swallowed in bougainvillea and cool, brutalist interiors overlooking Lake Saint Louis — the dim lighting and small font sizes made it challenging for her to read the menu.
My mom, sister, and I mitigated my grandma’s vision issues by taking turns reading the menu aloud, line by line, but that got old fast.
In retrospect, I wish I’d shown up equipped with solutions, such as finding the menu online so she could zoom in on my phone or reminding her to bring her readers, to improve everyone’s dining experience.
A long trip means extended time away from routines
Everyone gets to a point on vacation when they’re ready to return home, but I would argue that the feeling is stronger for older adults like my grandma, who travel once or twice a year and may be used to a strict daily routine.
Although my grandma never expressed this feeling to me outright, I noticed as the days went on, she became less game for her granddaughters’ plans.
For example, on our last evening, my sister and I wanted to check out the shops lining Saint-Laurent Boulevard, but my grandma preferred to have takeout in the hotel.
We compromised, and my sister and I walked to the boulevard to pick up dinner, but we ditched our shopping plan since we felt bad keeping my mom and grandma waiting.
I wish we’d had more downtime together
Instead of jam-packing every day with new experiences, I wish I’d taken my foot off the gas as the trip progressed — for my grandma’s sake as well as my own.
As we reached days five and six of the trip, my excitement for the activities I planned dwindled, and I found myself wishing I hadn’t planned them at all.
Besides, the memories I cherish most from the trip weren’t the museums or guided tours, they were the unplanned ones: a shared bottle of wine with our bed and breakfast hosts, a visit to an outdoor antique market, and a nightcap at a speakeasy.
Despite the challenges, I’d love to travel with my grandma again
To anyone contemplating a multigenerational trip, I say do it, but be more considerate than I was. Take time to plan the trip together, think of everyone’s needs, and be content with slowing down.
Strolling through the city hand-in-hand with my grandma, I learned that it’s OK to leave some stones unturned, because the real joy comes from who you’re turning them with.
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