I like my vacations unstructured and relatively inactive. Apparently, this is abnormal.

Feb 15, 2001

Why is it that vacations are usually more stratified and planned out than a standard work week? It would seem, logically, that a vacation should be a restful time of leisure and calm. So why is it that vacations often cause as much stress as filing your federal taxes? People seem to have this concept that on a vacation, you need to be constantly Going Somewhere and Doing Something. It’s just wrong to sit still and be quiet for longer than three hours — then, by Mum And Apple Pie, you’d better be off to your next event, or you’ll waste your vacation time! But isn’t that the point of vacation time? To be still if you want? To go places if you want? To do nothing if you want? To waste it if you want? Or are we all so structured and strictured that we can’t function without some kind of externally imposed routine?

In the modern age of automation when people might work ten or twenty hours a week,
man for the first time will be forced to confront himself with the true spiritual problems of living!

I remember vacationing in Panama for Christmas 1991, during the time when the Panama Canal had been given to the Panamanians but the Canal was still being managed and run by American personnel. My then-boyfriend and I flew down, stayed with his parents for ten days, spent three days at the San Blas Islands (I recommend that anyone who visits Central America go scuba diving off the San Blas Islands - it’s gorgeous), and then flew home. I didn’t really care about seeing the native market, or buying gold jewelry, or heading into the mountains to browse at a craft fair. I just wanted to walk around, relax, and spend time with my boyfriend and finally see the place where he grew up. I vividly remember looking out the bathroom window every morning and seeing the blue-black clouds from the morning rains, and the bright green hills in front. I remember the flight to the San Blas Islands, and how small the island looked when we came in for a landing. I remember meeting his aunt and cousins at a family dinner. I remember meeting the marmalade cat from the next yard over, who came into their back yard every afternoon and purred like he was trying to loosen his skeleton. I loved my time there. Apparently, though, many of them thought that I was unhappy because I didn’t express any interest in doing these various things. My mother was hit by some bug — I believe it is commonly called "competition with the sister". Every Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving, as well as a few other days each year, the two families would gather at one house or the other for a family evening. I dubbed these "Happy Family Memories": Thou Shalt Be Happy Or Else, God Dammit. My cousins heard about my term, and called these little get-togethers "Hideous Family Memories". There was inevitably tension at these get-togethers, but it was the weeks of planning that preceded the events that were the true hell. Mum would gradually become more tightly wound (as would everyone in our house, and probably in theirs, too), and she’d start getting snappish. Then came The Day Of Reckoning. Get a decoration theme ready. Dress nicely. Set the table with the nice dishes. Clean the whole house. Clean it again. Okay now, this is family. They’ve seen us ill. We’ve seen them ill. The kids have seen each other bruised and banged up from playing. Why are we acting as if they’ve never seen the house with a tiny bit of clutter before?!?? Eventually Mom outgrew this phase. I had moved out of the house by then. Funny how life works out like that… Let me say how much I love my family. Really, I do. But sometimes they drive me so crazy. Then I get out into the Real World (™) and find that other people aren’t much better. Don’t misunderstand me. Sometimes I like running about and doing things. But that’s usually when I’ve planned for that type of vacation. When I met up with the Lexxians in Halifax, the group of us walked all over the place. We went to local plays, we walked up and down the wharf, we checked out the last days of the Busker’s Festival (this in addition to the convention-like stuff). But I didn’t tour the Citadel. I never visited Peggy’s Cove, nor do I particularly care to. To paraphrase what many said when James Cameron’s "Titanic" hit the theatres: "It’s a cove. Get over it." If I were a Nova Scotian, I might feel differently. As it is, I don’t really much care. The beaches on the west coast of the continent are nicer anyway (snark). And we don’t have to worry about freezing to death after four minutes in the water (snark snark). I’d rather spend time talking with the people, or sleeping in, or loafing about — all things I can’t do when I’m at home and in the middle of a work week. Stop for a minute and think. When was the last time you just…did…nothing? And I’m not talking the kind of nothing that people often do at large corporations when someone further up the decision-chain is stopping things. I’m talking about just sitting and being quiet. Relaxing. Having yourself a little Zen moment. (Sleeping when you’re ill doesn’t count.) Or pretty soon, you’ll start needing vacations from your vacations.

Keywords: | stress | relaxing | free time | family |
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