It's interesting how memory works. All day today I was seeing people I hadn't seen for two weeks and going through the whole, 'hey, how are you, how was your vacation' thing. And I told them all: Fantastic! Amazing! Berlin is awesome! And Poland is, too!
And I remember it really positively. I mean, it was a totally cool trip.
But if I think back on it, a lot of the minutes were really kind of crappy. My feet hurt almost all of the time. Despite being very good at languages, I have a total complex about speaking them, specifically about having someone get fed up and switch to English, so I tend to avoid contexts where this might happen - which includes restaurants. So I kept a terrible eating schedule and was often under-energized. I instantly disliked the only German person I met in a social context. And one of the operas I saw was *terrible.* (Ok, but it was so hilariously awful that it's becoming part of the vacation narrative.)
Still, though - this vacation was so great! I totally want to go back.
My essay questions for you: Do your vacations suck in the same ways, or different ways, or are you incredibly cool, well-adjusted, and pain-free? And do you focus on the good parts? I mean, I'm not just trying to convince people that it was good so I can feel better about myself. It really was awesome.
2 comments:
I think people are just really good at remembering the good stuff. Take OAM - I lurved it! I can't stop talking about how awesome it was! But then I think about it, and I was kind of miserable for a lot of it. Same thing with that trip J.Po and I took to visit you in Japan - such fond memories! Unless I start thinking about how I realized I didn't like Japanese food and subsisted on food from AM/PM, and how I didn't have the core strength to carry that damn backpack, and how unpleasant it was when J.Po and I tried to find our hostel the first night, and how I kept getting inappropriate attention from men (which has turned into an amusing little tale)...
Oh, I vividly remember the crappy parts, which often involve being lost and not speaking the language. Or not knowing what I'm doing, and being lost, and not speaking the language. Or feeling conspicuous and having people keep trying to sell me stuff. And my feet often hurt. But I love traveling.
This may sound masochistic, but I think of the inconveniences as part of the adventure. They make the cool parts seem that much cooler--well-earned, even. Sure, I could get someone to ferry me around to sites and hotels on a climate-controlled bus full of other English-speakers, but I would hate that.
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