The geography of love

One of the best parts about traveling is the people you meet along the way. Here in Guatemala, where I'm spending four weeks studying Spanish and eating my weight in tortillas, I've met some fascinating characters, among them my Canadian housemate, Jack.

In the mornings, when the air is still cool and damp and a layer of clouds blankets Antigua's surrounding mountains, I stand at the bathroom sink and shiver. Jack's dentures rest in a cup on the counter. At breakfast, the señora serves eggs and frijoles, and Jack and I drink cups of hot tea and swap stories from our travels. He rests his hands on the table, the knuckles large and swollen, and his damp eyes roam the room. Later, when we walk the streets of this colonial town, he shakes hands with the street vendors and gives folded bills to the grey-haired women who beg in front of the church. One morning, he tells me he's an alcoholic and asks if I'd like to attend an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting with him.

That night, Jack and I sat inside a fluorescent-lit prayer hall where the stone walls gave off a chill colder than the night air. While we waited for the other members to arrive, he told me about what AA calls a "geographic fugue."

"It's when alcoholics think they can fix their problems by changing locations," he said. "That if they travel, they will be able to stop drinking."

I sat on the hard bench of that cold church and wondered if many of us — not just travelers, but all those looking for love — aren't guilty of our own geographic fugues. How many people move to a new town hoping a change in scenery will lead to a change in their love life? And don't we feel luckiest in love on vacation?

It certainly seems easier to launch a new romance while away from home. At a surf camp retreat last weekend, nearly everyone paired off. Discarded T-shirts and cut-offs littered the black sand beach as we swam in the moonlit waters of the Pacific. Afterward, couples crowded around a bonfire before disappearing into bunks covered with mosquito netting. By Sunday morning, though, the trysts had ended and we packed our bags and headed home.

Which is perhaps why romance blossoms so readily when we travel: It's easy to fall in love when a shared experience can be measured in hours. Yes, there's no time for the profundity of an extended relationship, but there's also no time for the disappointments and compromises that cloud the foundations of many partnerships. The result is a fleeting romance, distilled into a few euphoric hours.

While these types of affairs are ultimately unsustainable, they nevertheless contain a kernel of wisdom. In order to find love (or for love to find us), we need to step out of the routine of our daily lives. Traveling is one extreme way of doing this, but there are other ways closer to home. For those living the discontented single life, I encourage you to try something bold. Not forever, as they say in AA, but for just one day.

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