Like Movedalot my first foray abroad was our honeymoon - an early (1966) version of a package holiday when the travel was a bit of a marathon. Taxi from reception to station, train to Glasgow, o'night in hotel, next day night coach to London, then coach to Manston airport for o'night flight to Basle, coach over the Alps in the dawn, tour of Milan and arrived after dark in Rimini on the Tuesday. Had a quick paddle in the sea but the following morning when we saw and felt the sun we were astonished, amazed, went out in a pedalo and both got badly burned. 7 wonderful days in Rimini, marvelling at the tiny children who were fluent in Italian, hole in the floor toilets, the price of Moscato (3xbottles for £1), a trip to San Marino and a night out to a vinyard turned restaurant half way up a mountain, where the flowers, vines, view were all real not plastic.
Then we had to endure the journey back home, with an impromtu o'night in Basle airport because an engine had fallen off our plane. The airport duty free and cafe were closed and re-opened just as we were boarding. So we spent the night demolishing our supplies of Moscato and the 2.5 lbs of cherries I had bought thinking by the price that I was buying a quarter pound.
Totally memorable but we were exhausted when we got home - everyone remarked 'that must have been some honeymoon' but it took us 25 years, until our silver wedding to make the, much more civilized, return trip