There and Back Again

The two bad parts of a vacation, in my opinion, are the flights to and from your destination. I wish one day, someone will invent a device where you can beam up and immediately land where you want to land – no hassles of flying and waiting at airports. You know, kind of like Star Trek? That would be so cool.

Well like all good things, my vacation to Playa del Carmen, Mexico has ended. I’m on board Jet Blue to San Francisco from Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I am miserable, as you can tell. The five-hour flight seems to last forever, and I’m only on the first hour. The captain’s announcement that we are 25 minutes ahead of schedule is hardly comforting news. I’m tired and hungry and just wilting away. I might need another vacation after this.

It’s probably best to think happy thoughts and divert my mind away from the remaining four hours. I should probably think about the Caribbean Sea and all its glory. For the last seven days, it has been the thing that greets me in the morning and wishes me goodnight in the evening. While there, we got into a routine, my sister and I. We would wake up early to walk a mile or two along the beach before the sun gets too menacing. We’d get back to the resort in time for the buffet breakfast to be served. We’d eat the usual toast, fresh fruit, fresh juice and yogurt and then walk back to our cabana, change into our suits, find a quiet spot by the beach and sit for hours on end just listening to the ocean waves or to music, people watching, or reading a book. Around lunchtime, when the sun is at its highest, we’d pack our towels and sunscreen and head back to our cabana, to decide on lunch. To dine in the restaurant or order to go – that was the question. After lunch, we would shower and sit on our hammocks to continue pretty much what we did in the morning - read, listen to music or watch people go about their business.

At six thirty we would get ready for dinner at the La Loma, where our server Jose would always say, “tonight, we have only one soup. (Insert name of soup here.) Do you want soup?” To which, my sister and I would always say yes in unison and he would scribble on his notepad. Then he’d name the entrée choices, ask us if we want anything to drink and then leave us to enjoy a nice quiet dinner, without interruptions other than the other servers delivering food and taking away empty plates. A few nights they had a mariachi band to liven up the atmosphere. Another night they offered free tequila shots. That same night, I dropped my spoon on the floor twice, which embarrassed the hell out of my sister. It wasn’t the tequila though because the next night, I dropped a spoon again. At that point, even I was embarrassed. Slippery little suckers…

After dinner, we would take the short walk back to our cabana, the sound of the ocean getting louder with each step. We walk past the empty bar, the turn off for the reception desk and the turn off for the Aventura where breakfast is served in the morning, until we get to cabana number 14, where we rest for the night only to start over again the next day with pretty much the same routine.

I loved every minute of this vacation. I’m not one to get very active during vacations – it is after all a time to unwind – so this was perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing, except maybe the part about stopping over Fort Lauderdale on the way back to home. Let’s just say I’d rather be stuck at JFK where the choices for things to do while waiting is more varied. That and the bug bites, I could have prepared for the bug bites better. Well there’s always a next time.

Time check – two hours have elapsed. Three more long hours to go before touching down and return to what’s usual and familiar. The thought of retiring in my good old bed tonight and watching TV until I fall asleep is a happy thought after being away for a week, with no access to TV or the Internet but I’m still sad that vacation is over. I always do. It’s not that familiar and usual is a disappointment, it’s just that vacations are a change of phase that we don’t experience as often as we want to so that when it ends, you are always left wanting more.

If only the beam-me-up machine I was referring to earlier could be invented – or if only port-a-holes like those used in Harry Potter were real -then I can go on vacations more often and never left feeling wanting more nor feeling miserable onboard a long flight home.