the turtle diaries: downtime on holiday

The word 'holiday' in its wider definition, has several meanings.  Today it is generally used to mean rest and recreation.  Does one necessarily equate to the other?  No.

I have skied with people who, left to their own devices, would be on the slopes at 9 am, prepared to break the ice for we lazier skiers who arrive nearer lunchtime. I remember a walking holiday in Braemar, Scotland,  where six of us would assemble in the kitchen to prepare lunch, a conveyer belt of dispensing bread, buttering it, filling it, wrapping the sandwich in tinfoil etc.  It had the discipline of an army exercise.



A friend who accompanied five others to Malta,  'raked' around, getting to know the island, while the others spent their days on the lounge chairs by the pool.  In Thailand, another friend frustratedly told me that we must rush to get more sightseeing done that day, as it was already five o'clock, before I pointed out that if he adjusted his watch to local time - four hours behind - he might feel more relaxed.



When on holiday in Lake Garda with other singles, very quickly I acquired the reputation of having a pioneering spirit because I'd stroll down to the harbour every morning to take the boat to another town/village on the lake, where I'd wander around, have a leisurely lunch and return to base.  I grew up with my aunt's story of begging off from a game of golf in the highlands of Scotland, to be told - and only partially jokingly - that one doesn't have 'rest days' on holiday.  The learning point?  Choose your holiday companions carefully.

Seriously, there must be a balance.  On holiday in Vancouver, my partner sadly having had to leave after three weeks to return to work, my son in his last few days before returning to uni, this question of how much to attempt to do is very much an issue.

We'd planned the final days:  kayaking at Deep Cove;  kayaking at Cable Beach on Bowen Island,  ferry to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island,  kayaking at Lion's Bay on Howe Sound,  cable car up Grouse Mountain,  cycling in Stanley Park.   Fantastic itinerary, full of action and beautiful scenery and sunshine and sunsets.  The fact that every journey would take a minimum of an hour to get there and another one to return,  some taking more like two hours each way, was discounted.  Our enthusiasm would be sufficient to manage this.

Days 1 and 2 were achieved.  But on our return from Bowen Island, I discovered that I'd lost our house key.  I assumed it had fallen out of my jeans when I changed into kayaking and swimming gear - I know, stupid, stupid place to put it  - and suddenly I began to feel tired.  When we got home there would be several options, people to try, but the uncertainly was wearying.  The neighbours we hoped could help us weren't in.  The nearby relative of the house owners whose number we had didn't have a spare key.  The story ended well and we got back into our house, exhausted.







By now, we realised that we didn't want to get up at 7.30 the following morning to take the ferry to Vancouver Island.  We'd run out of food, there was an embarrassingly large pile of dishes to do.  Etc. Etc.  My son, with enviable amounts of energy kept saying 'I'm so tired'.

And of course being in another country where you're never quite sure how things are done, does eat into energy reserves.  Where to buy books of bus tickets to save money,  do buses give change, do they accept notes?  Will there be somewhere to buy sandwiches before catching the ferry?  Not to mention the perplexity of chip and pin machines, where you should click that your debit card is a credit card or else your card won't work resulting in a panic that you've either grossly miscalculated your finances or someone has hacked into your account.  These things by no means detract significantly from the pleasure of being away.  But they can wear you down.

When returning from a trip, I look forward to doing some editing or reading, a game of chess.  Only having time to eat, dry out the kayak, put the clothes in the wash, download photos onto computer, recharge camera batteries and assemble the necessaries for the next day's outing doesn't feel like downtime.

And so, last night, we decided to have a break, a holiday from our holiday.  Today we wouldn't go to Vancouver Island.  What we'd do instead was:  one of us would walk the dog while the other did the dishes.  Then we'd do a food shop.  Then we'd play tennis.  Then we'd go to the Capilano Suspension Bridge (an hour and a half's journey away) and watch the sunset, then come home for dinner.  Does this count as a rest day?  Hmm....

 Jane