Traveling with Someone Who Doesn’t Speak Your Language

I said yes to a trip with a woman I barely knew.We didn’t speak the same language, but I trusted her and the friendship we were creating.The conversations aren’t smooth, but the silence becomes part of the dialogue. A few months before leaving Korea, I met 강미향 or Angela (her Christian name). She was a photographer, like me. We didn’t share a language, but we shared a love for light, composition, and the stillness that describes a good photo. We became friends the only way we could—through shared experiences, curiosity, and the unspoken trust that builds when you travel together without a safety net. Traveling with Angela reminded me that connection doesn’t always speak the same language.

Table of Contents

• Traveling with Someone Who Doesn’t Speak Your Language
• Translation Apps and Other Ways to Communicate
• First of the Lost in Translation Moments
• Budget Shock
• The Challenge of Planning Without Clear Communication
• Some Things Need No Words
• The Moment That Made Us Cry-Laugh
• Why I Love Living Abroad
• Are You Planning a Trip with a Friend Who Doesn’t Speak Your Language?
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Angela, Kynug Suk, and Me

I met Angela through another friend, Kyung Suk. She was an artist—warm, creative, and my absolute favorite cafe buddy—but photography wasn’t really her thing. Still, she saw something in both of us and decided to bring us together over lunch. Angela and I clicked right away. We spoke the same visual language, even when we couldn’t always find the right words. Within minutes, we were swapping stories about our cameras and comparing favorite light conditions like we’d known each other for years.

And here’s the funny part—it didn’t take long for Kyung Suk to get a little jealous. She started tagging along on our outings, sometimes with no interest in the location or subject, just to make sure she wasn’t being left behind. Honestly, the dynamics of friendship in South Korea can be a little confusing. That’s a story for another day.

Translation Apps and Other Ways to Communicate

Traveling doesn’t get easier when you don’t speak the same language, but it teaches you to adapt. Over time, we figured out how to talk. Angela and I used Google Translate for quick questions and KakaoTalk when we needed to explain something more complicated. We pointed at things, made sound effects, and smiled a lot. What started as confusion became its own rhythm we often just laughed at– sometimes not knowing if we truly understood each other. We explored places like Pohang and Gyeongju with confidence built on trial and error. We enjoyed taking each others pictures, scouting out beautiful landscapes, and flying our drones together.

Then, Angela invited me to Jeju for a three-day photography trip. Sge had a small home on the island just big enough for her and her husband. I wanted to go, but I hesitated. Could we really manage a whole trip without speaking the same language? I imagined the chaos—traveling with someone I barely knew, trying to jeep up conversations, and long, awkward meals. When I told Steven, he didn’t hesitate. “Go. You’ll figure it out.” So I packed my camera and my doubts and boarded the plane. Kyung Suk, unsurprisingly, was less enthusiastic. She said go, “but don’t tell me anything about it.”

First of the Lost in Translation Moments

Traveling with a friend who doesn’t speak your language sharpens your instincts. You rely on gestures, expressions, and a good sense of humor.

The first misunderstanding happened before we even left. Angela booked a galaxy photo session with the Jeju photographer. I thought it meant scenic photography. I was wrong. It required special equipment—ND filters to handle the intense light from sunrise to sunset. Angela looked at my camera, then at the sky, then back at me. She tapped on her phone and showed me the message: “You need an ND filter. The light is too bright.” I had left mine at home. Buying new filters on the spot was expensive, but there was no way around it. Lesson learned. We have language apps on our phones for this exact purpose.

Budget Shock

Next came the price shock—or what I thought was a price shock. Angela texted that the photographer, Kim Jaesun, charged 200,000 won per person per day for two days. That felt like too much. But after seeing his work on Instagram, I understood why she hired him. “We could just rent a car,” I suggested. Angela smiled and typed something into her app. The translation didn’t make sense, but her expression was clear. She preferred her plan.

A few days later, a Korean friend called Angela for me to help clarify things. It turned out the fee wasn’t per person—it was 200,000 won total per day. That included airport pickup, driving, photography, a rental car, and gas. We just had to cover his meals. I told him early on that I didn’t eat raw fish. He looked surprised, maybe even disappointed. But if I was paying, I was going to eat what I liked. In the end, the trip cost me 330,000 won, not the 800,000 I had feared. I almost hugged Angela when I figured it out.

The Challenge of Planning Without Clear Communication

Even with the budget cleared up, small details kept slipping through. I thought we were staying in a hotel. Instead, Angela invited me to her home in Jeju. “It’s small,” she warned. I had seen pictures, but the word didn’t hit me until I got there. Her apartment was cozy and traditional. We slept on pads on the floor. The bathroom didn’t have a separate shower stall—just a drain in the floor. Korean towels are more like large washcloths.

I brought my own towel, warm pajamas, and slippers. Sleeping on the floor wasn’t ideal, but it was fine. That part of the trip reminded me to ask more questions—even when I think I understand the answer.

Some Things Need No Words

One afternoon, we wandered into a park and saw what looked like a sculpture in the distance. As we got closer, we realized it wasn’t man-made. It was a tree shaped like a penis. Korea doesn’t shy away from phallic imagery. There are entire parks and museums dedicated to it. Haesindang Park, often called Penis Park, is well known. There’s even a museum on Jeju with phallic art from around the world. Whether it’s tradition, humor, or something else, Korea embraces it in full view.

The Moment That Made Us Cry-Laugh

I looked at the tree and said, “We should take a picture of that. Maybe it’ll bring more of our friends here.” Angela stared at me. Then she burst into laughter. Kim Jaesun, our photographer, laughed too—harder than I expected.

Then he shocjed the hell out of me. He asked if we were missing our husbands in perfectly cadenced English. And that’s the moment I realized he understood more English than he let on. We laughed until we had tears in our eyes.

Koreans, in general, are perfectionist. If they belueve their English is not strong, they will act like they have no idea what you’re talking about. This was a massive problem in my English classes I taught fot the Daegu international Women’s Association where I met Kyung Suk many years ago.

Why I Love Living Abroad

Now that I’m back in the U.S., I think about moments like that more often. My friendship with Angela reminds me why I loved living abroad. It wasn’t just the country; it was the people—people who made room for me in their lives even when we couldn’t speak the same language. That effort to reach across the gap, to connect without the right words, stays with me in a way I didn’t expect.

Sometimes, I miss who I was when I lived overseas—more open, more curious, and a little braver. Living abroad forced me to stop hiding behind explanations. I had to feel my way through awkward silences, misunderstood plans, and days when I just wanted to give up. I often felt like a beginner in my own life. But when someone like Angela looked at me and smiled, I felt seen anyway.

I still want that version of myself—the one who trusted people without needing proof, listened more than she spoke, believed that connection didn’t have to look perfect to be authentic. I travel to find her again. Not to escape but to remember.

Are You Planning a Trip with a Friend Who Doesn’t Speak Your Language?

I’m not going to sugarcoat it—this trip wasn’t easy. Not for me, and not for Angela.
She doesn’t have any foreign friends, and Korea isn’t always an easy place to be one. It’s a country where most people share the same background and often stick close to what’s familiar. There’s a perception—and sometimes a reality—that Koreans keep their distance from outsiders. I’ve felt that. Many foreigners have.

That’s why this experience mattered.
Angela invited me into her home. In Korean culture, that’s a big deal. It’s not something done casually. I never asked why she invited me. I didn’t need to.

We got through the weekend almost entirely on laughter and our shared love of photography. We worked around every misunderstanding. I didn’t eat any raw fish. And I left that island with a better friend and a lot of great photos.

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Before your next trip, check out these helpful tips for visiting a new country: https://duffelbagspouse.com/10-things-we-always-do-travel-new-country.

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