Settling back after a vacation is a bit like breaking up with a lover with mutual consent. You are glad to be back on your own bed, but you experience constant nostalgia. Getting back to a humdrum routine is taking some getting used to this time - specially after a marathon getaway like the one I just had.
I took a walk today, reveling in the cold, fresh air and clear morning sky in the streets. But my mind went back to the muddled, muddy and rain-drenched streets of the medina in Marrakesh. And how it was almost impossible to walk uninterrupted - you had to squeeze aside to dodge scooters coming at breakneck speeds. But oh, how much more arresting and full of happen-chance such walks were. I enjoy the return to my full wardrobe and plentiful supply of clean clothes. But I loved my 3 weeks of haphazard layering, fashion be damned! With no schedule to adhere to, our days were strictly guided by pleasure.
And the highs, oh the highs! Watching the rolling countryside of South Portugal at your feet from a remote hilltop house every morning followed by sunny eggs and coffee by the pool and an improvised game of pong! Walking along one of the most photographed beaches in the world clad in your warmest winter wear and trying to not get your boots wet. Discovering Christmas lights at every turn and still walking along in the promise of more in Seville. Watching your dad and husband race down sand dunes in the Sahara like little kids while the camels' jingle fade in the background. Dancing to Berber drums around a camp fire - and having your parents be a part of it too!
I know that, eventually, the memory of the bad flight back home and the trauma of misplaced luggage will fade. And so will this afterglow of a great vacation. I will 're-integrate' into my practical, busy routine. But the next time I need my dose of Zen, I will be able to shut my eyes and spirit myself away to my heaven for that short, precious time.
I took a walk today, reveling in the cold, fresh air and clear morning sky in the streets. But my mind went back to the muddled, muddy and rain-drenched streets of the medina in Marrakesh. And how it was almost impossible to walk uninterrupted - you had to squeeze aside to dodge scooters coming at breakneck speeds. But oh, how much more arresting and full of happen-chance such walks were. I enjoy the return to my full wardrobe and plentiful supply of clean clothes. But I loved my 3 weeks of haphazard layering, fashion be damned! With no schedule to adhere to, our days were strictly guided by pleasure.
And the highs, oh the highs! Watching the rolling countryside of South Portugal at your feet from a remote hilltop house every morning followed by sunny eggs and coffee by the pool and an improvised game of pong! Walking along one of the most photographed beaches in the world clad in your warmest winter wear and trying to not get your boots wet. Discovering Christmas lights at every turn and still walking along in the promise of more in Seville. Watching your dad and husband race down sand dunes in the Sahara like little kids while the camels' jingle fade in the background. Dancing to Berber drums around a camp fire - and having your parents be a part of it too!
I know that, eventually, the memory of the bad flight back home and the trauma of misplaced luggage will fade. And so will this afterglow of a great vacation. I will 're-integrate' into my practical, busy routine. But the next time I need my dose of Zen, I will be able to shut my eyes and spirit myself away to my heaven for that short, precious time.
