A Vacation from a Vacation

August was our vacation month for some time.  We took off for most or all of the month and traveled.  Then we spent the rest of the year swimming in memories of where we had visited, anticipating our next trip.

But one of my best vacations was when, for a variety of reasons, we decided to take a vacation from vacationing and stayed home.  We took short trips to various places near the Bay area:  Monterey, Carmel, Big Sur, Mendocino.  I anticipated this vacation as much as I have the others, and perhaps more so.  I got a real vacation, meaning I  truly rested from my travails.  Not that a vacation spent traveling can’t be restful.  But there’s usually so much preparation needed—making reservations, finding reliable people to care for the yard and pets, enduring the final press of packing and getting away, not to mention the physical wear and tear of the actual traveling, whether by plane, train, or car.  Just thinking about it makes me tired.

A writer and teacher, I looked  forward to just plotzing.  Instead of frantically trying to fit in my hour or more a day of writing while my husband drove us to our destinations, or while we traveled by plane from city to city, I devoted more than that time to my work.  I also reacquainted myself with my garden and the Bay area, discovering what I’d missed each August while I was biking in the Maritimes, or strolling along Prince George Street in Edinburgh, or cruising down the Rhine.  The flowers gave their best show in August.  We also had warmer weather, something to treasure when you live in a coastal region as we do, so we spent more evenings eating outside in our yard.

While nothing can replace experiencing new cultures and the unpredictable  rewards of travel, a vacation from a vacation offers its own pleasures.

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