Vacation: Documenting v. Experiencing

Unaware of Husband's documentation.

                    "But it was more than that,

More even than her voice, and ours, among
The meaningless plungings of water and the wind,
Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped
On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres
Of sky and sea.

It was her voice that made

The sky acutest at its vanishing."

Wallace Stevens, from "The Idea of Order at Key West"

  

A handful of sea shells, some from the Atlantic and some from the Pacific.

Husband's shrewd eye for pictures, my selective pocketing of sea shells and ticket stubs--innocuous documentation of time well-lived.  A certain amount of capturing and collecting optimizes memory keeping, but I'm skeptical of the frenzied photographer and, especially, the fanatical videographer.  Too much time behind the lens shifts the focus from reveling in the moment into an abstract editorial mode.  If extreme, this disconnect blushes inauthenticity over everyone else's experience.  Still, a little proactive documenting makes for scrapbook pages to savor when vacations are distant, for a pocket full of sea shells to discover while running errands.  

How do you balance experiencing your travels with documenting them?

Vacation: Plotting v. Exploring

While I preemptively tackled my primary vacation inhibitor, achieving instead of playing, I easily escaped the snare of the second vacation squelcher.  Over-planning.

Let me clarify.  First, I'm not your backpack-it type of vacationer, but I do like investing extra time into packing--striking the balance between thorough and light.  Secondly, preparing travel food and securing overnight housing seems vital to a comfortable trip.  Some planning makes vacations more relaxing.  Over-planning takes organizational preparations to the extreme.  Perhaps it would be better defined as plotting.

Not getting lost in Cardiff, Wales a few years back.

Plotting.  Like that time before I visited to Chicago.  I read three travel books, photocopied pertinent sections, created my own information packet, and developed a personalized must-see list of attractions.  I hustled around the city while Husband attended a conference.  Each night over dinner I rambled about my sightseeing until exhaustion seeped into my veins like an invisible sedative IV-drip.  

Since our recent mini-vacation took place in an familiar location, I'm more of a "seasonal" than a "tourist."  Without thinking, I know where to go and what to do, come sunshine or storm.  (In case of hurricane: go home.)  I navigate the town without a map.  I even know the areas I don't know.

And this is where exploring begins.  Besides leaving ample time to relax, vacations ideally flaunt a touch of adventure.  Like randomly choosing a restaurant, perhaps ordering an unusual menu offering.  Or, wandering down a quiet side street only to be amazed at the vibrant, fully-restored Victorian Era houses.  Or, eating lunch on a boardwalk bench so you can watch tourists parade by in garish--in stunning--beach attire while catching hints of accents.

A random street.

Sometimes adventures turn into the travel stories we love to retell--the hidden cathedral in a nondescript English village, the hung-over Scotsman who entertained us with his life story for hours on a train, the public art too new to be documented by the travel guide.  Sometimes adventures are a quieter type of discovery, something stories and photographs can't convey.  Both are worth leaving plotting behind and exploring.

Do plot your vacations? Or, do you explore--ready or not?

Vacation: Achieving v. Playing

And it all fit an a small blue library tote bag.

Once again I violated my "Year of No Travel" policy when Husband & I snuck away for a mini-vacation the other weekend.  Four days in borrowed accommodations, down the shore, somewhere we've frequented almost annually.  Even though we moved earlier this same week, we quickly dove into the bliss of no agenda.

Except I nearly strangled this relaxation before we even left our new apartment.  Well, technically, my over-stuffed activities bag almost ruined the leisure true vacations imply.


I like a variety of engaging activities to dabble in when there's no "To Do" list.  So for this vacation I piled on books (2 memoirs, 3 nonfictions, and 1 escapist YA novel), 1 cooking magazine, 2 writing projects, and some drawing supplies (a small sketchbook and a pencil box).  I even considered throwing in a new crocheting project ....  Then, at some point, a sense of needing to use all of these items snuck itself into the tote.

Proving pregnancy isn't an impediment for SkeeBall.

Husband's laughter, as he lugged my heavy bag to the car, cued me in.  I often struggle with validating my day-to-day existence by how much I've created or completed.  Sometimes this mentality of achievement tags along for my vacation.  This, I realized as Husband took another load down to the car, is the opposite intent of a beach trip.  Nothing in the tote needed immediate attention; I needed to play and relax.  Instead of repacking the bag with a more reasonable entertainment selection (because that's the real purpose of an activities bag), I decided to use things when inspired and not worry about taking a few extras.

Spontaneity and playing trumped my false sense of achievement.

What's your approach to a vacation?  Achieving or playing?

Vacation, Minus Travel Time

With less traveling this year, I'm appreciating drop-by guests and overnight hosting much more.  A few weeks ago Mom came down for the weekend, somewhat unexpectedly.  Between her announcement and arrival, I barely had time to neaten up the apartment, finish a few tasks I'd already started, and develop a vague idea of what we would eat.

No Parking, Reserved for Irises.

Our unstructured weekend brimmed with adventures.  Friday night we viewed a MICA exhibt and shared a tapas dinner with a friend.  Saturday morning found us on a rainy walk to the Waverly Farm Market where we sampled Hen-of-the-Woods mushrooms and sorrel.  Sunday afternoon we braved the humidity to go window shopping in quirky Hampden.

Since a love of flowers and gardens runs in the family, we revisited the Vibrant Pocket Garden in its early summer glory.

Red roses, purple irises, and pink peonies.

Of course we talked, talked, talked ... over afternoon tea, making roast chicken dinner, and re-teaching Mom how to crochet.

Mom's visit felt like a stay-at-home vacation despite cooking and even packing a few boxes for the up-coming move.  Perhaps because Mom insisted on doing most of the dishes ....

Flowers v. Taxi: A competition in color.

I'm curious if anyone has ever deliberately tried a "Staycation"?

The Year of No Travel

Last year my partner and I spent too many nights on the road.  He mostly traveled for work while I scampered about the country visiting family and attending a writing conference.  Last November I calculated via my journal that we'd traveled together, or more often separately, at least once every three weeks almost all year.  

Our previous car turns 100,000.

I began to joke that 2011 would be "The Year of No Travel."  

Then I started taking myself seriously.  What would it be like, I wondered, to not pack my bags every major holiday.  Could we, a no-longer-newly-wed couple, invent our our own holiday traditions?  Take our own "family" vacations?  

Our luggage remained under the bed until this past weekend.  I wanted to be with family for Easter and as part of my birthday month.  Result: I had such a good time  I didn't want to leave when it was time to load up the car!

To make them stay or take me with them?  The cat's quandary.

It seems my "Year of No Travel" resolve weakened a bit in between ping-pong games, laughter, and too much good food.  I've planned a girl's weekend with an out of state friend.  I've also begun coordinating my family for a beach vacation.  Yet, I still want to maintain a day-trips-only attitude for holiday season 2011.  Any suggestions?

How do you balance the desire to travel (and to see loved ones) with creating your own traditions?