My parents have always adored the French Riviera — that radiant stretch of coastline where the Mediterranean glimmers in endless shades of blue — and they recently extended an invitation for me to join them in revisiting their most beloved haunts. Although our relationship is warm and affectionate, I found myself surprisingly anxious about the prospect of traveling together. My hesitation had nothing to do with vanity or the misguided notion that, at forty, journeying with one’s parents in their seventies is unrefined. Rather, I worried that my realities — a camera that constantly demands my attention and a chronic illness that sometimes dictates my mood — might make me a less-than-perfect travel companion.
As someone who earns a living as a travel photographer and writer, I often depend on solitude to nourish my creative process. The idea of being immersed in family time from morning to night sparked concerns that I might struggle to find those quiet, observant moments essential for inspiration — or worse, that my habit of incessantly stopping to capture details might test my parents’ patience. Adding complexity, my chronic pain and unpredictable digestive health require a degree of planning and stability that travel often disrupts. The thought of sharing accommodation, managing dietary needs, and navigating unfamiliar restaurant menus made me hesitate. Despite those doubts, I ultimately said yes. My longing for the vibrant hues of the Côte d’Azur — the sea’s dazzling brilliance, pastel-toned villages, sun-dappled markets bustling with life, and air steeped in the sharp sweetness of lemon blossoms — far outweighed my trepidation. We decided to make Nice our base, with plans to explore Menton, Èze, Saint Paul de Vence, Antibes, Cannes, and, of course, Monaco.
Looking back, I consider our trip an undeniable success, though a few adjustments could have enhanced the experience. One of our wisest decisions was choosing accommodation that accommodated the distinct preferences of all three travelers. My parents favor well-situated hotels offering comfort and a lavish breakfast spread, while my preference leans toward living as locals do — embracing a slower, less centralized rhythm. As a thoughtful compromise, we selected an Airbnb mere steps from the Promenade des Anglais, with proximity to bakeries where I could dash out each morning for fresh croissants and baguettes. The apartment’s layout included a cozy mezzanine suite with its own bathroom, allowing me privacy for late-night editing sessions without disturbing my parents or monopolizing shared spaces.
Another key to our enjoyment was consciously adopting a gentler, more measured pace. On our first day, excitement got the better of us, and we ambitiously attempted to conquer every vista — from ascending the Colline du Château to wandering endlessly through the port and town. By dusk, our energy had evaporated, and the next morning’s soreness was an unmistakable reminder that both their aging bodies and my own health constraints deserved greater reverence. We quickly adjusted, embracing a slower rhythm that celebrated lingering rather than conquering. Because Nice was already familiar terrain for my parents, we felt no compulsion to rush. Mornings were devoted to a single neighborhood or attraction, and afternoons often unfolded with our feet propped up near the sea, the sound of waves softening every remnant of fatigue.
Equally vital to our harmony was maintaining moments of independence. As a lifelong advocate of solo travel, I sustain myself on occasional solitude. While my parents delighted in leisurely café sittings, I would slip away to wander the labyrinthine alleys of Old Nice, climb the terraced gardens overlooking Èze, browse Antibes’ markets, or trace the stone ramparts encircling Saint Paul de Vence. These mini adventures apart ensured that we each had space to recharge, making our shared meals and evenings all the more enjoyable. Travel, particularly with family, requires acknowledging that no group moves entirely in sync — and that accepting divergent interests often keeps everyone content.
At one point, we opted for a structured excursion: a small guided car tour through Monaco and Cannes. Though I normally relish the autonomy of unplanned wandering, surrendering to someone else’s itinerary was a refreshing change. Freed from map-checking and navigation worries, we could relax, listen to the guide’s stories, and absorb the shimmering landscape without logistical distractions.
Another lesson revolved around the delicate topic of food. Managing a chronic condition demands mindfulness about what and when I eat, a challenge intensified in social travel. Transparent communication became essential: if hunger struck my parents first, they’d pause for a quick bite; if I needed to avoid gluten, I’d suggest seafood restaurants — provided the menu included alternatives for my fish-averse mother. Our adaptability prevented tension and physical discomfort, allowing every meal to end on a sweet note — typically in the form of shared ice cream.
However, there were facets we could have approached with greater forethought. One regret involved transportation for our day trips. We underestimated the importance of identifying exact bus stops and schedules, leading to unnecessary pacing along unfamiliar streets, particularly on our attempt to reach Menton. Similarly, determining dinner spots proved unexpectedly stressful. While spontaneous choices based on ambiance or local buzz have their charm, wandering in circles with growing hunger rarely yields the best culinary discoveries. Researching a few reliable restaurants in advance — complete with menus and reviews — would have spared us those moments of indecision.
Finally, I realized how valuable it would be to allocate specific trip-planning responsibilities. Although I’m generally the seasoned traveler and my parents the Riviera veterans, our mutual hesitation to take charge occasionally created indecision. Next time, I’d like to assign each of us clear tasks — one person planning a day’s itinerary, another selecting restaurants — so that satisfaction doesn’t hinge on a single decision-maker.
Despite these minor missteps, the journey remains a treasure in my memory. We laughed, adapted, compromised, and built experiences that continue to warm my heart. Traveling together, with grace and mutual understanding, became not just about seeing the South of France but about rediscovering one another in a new setting. There is a profound privilege in being able to wander with my parents while we are still well and capable — a reminder that such shared moments are fleeting, fragile, and absolutely worth cherishing.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/travel-with-older-parents-as-adult-mistakes-tips-france-trip-2025-11
