Perfect Vacation
So earlier this week, with one of my friends at work, I was discussion the fact that I need a vacation. Not a visit friends and run around doing stuff vacation. Not a "Look at the 50 million amazing pictures that I took," vacation, not even a "Wow, I've always wanted to go to Japan and now I'm here...I must do x, y, and z" vacation."
But instead, this vacation. Arrive at the island by ferry, there is no airport and this is the only way in. Check in at the bed and breakfast, no tv in your room, no clock in your room, no cell phone service. When you look out of your window you see, ocean and your terrace with a reclined chair. What did you pack? A few pairs of jeans, some tee shirts, 15 books, an i-Pod and wine. For 2 weeks, you have dropped off the face of the planet,you are out of touch with humanity. You can eat breakfast and dinner at the b&b or walk into town for one of a handful of restaurants.
Since our conversation I have had a borderline obsessive fixation on this vacation. This is something that I simply must do. Obviously on a non-for-profit salary, this won't happen this year and probably not next year...but it will happen, I mean it simply has to. My morning and evenings are spend crammed into a metal box surrounded by people, breathing each others' air, invading each others auras, ignoring the commonly held American standard of "personal space." When I walk down the street, I cannot do so unassulted, people are constantly asking something of me; sign up for this! Take a coupon for that! Give me money! Car horns honking, the El screeching, I just crave a little silence, thoughtful, introspective silence.
Maybe this is just some immature escapist fantasy that has no chance of fulfillment in a modern world, but I don't think so. I think that I can, so sweet dreams to me of my of the coast of New England one-day-get-away.
But instead, this vacation. Arrive at the island by ferry, there is no airport and this is the only way in. Check in at the bed and breakfast, no tv in your room, no clock in your room, no cell phone service. When you look out of your window you see, ocean and your terrace with a reclined chair. What did you pack? A few pairs of jeans, some tee shirts, 15 books, an i-Pod and wine. For 2 weeks, you have dropped off the face of the planet,you are out of touch with humanity. You can eat breakfast and dinner at the b&b or walk into town for one of a handful of restaurants.
Since our conversation I have had a borderline obsessive fixation on this vacation. This is something that I simply must do. Obviously on a non-for-profit salary, this won't happen this year and probably not next year...but it will happen, I mean it simply has to. My morning and evenings are spend crammed into a metal box surrounded by people, breathing each others' air, invading each others auras, ignoring the commonly held American standard of "personal space." When I walk down the street, I cannot do so unassulted, people are constantly asking something of me; sign up for this! Take a coupon for that! Give me money! Car horns honking, the El screeching, I just crave a little silence, thoughtful, introspective silence.
Maybe this is just some immature escapist fantasy that has no chance of fulfillment in a modern world, but I don't think so. I think that I can, so sweet dreams to me of my of the coast of New England one-day-get-away.