Vacation from what?

I think it may be time for a getaway. “Get away from what?” you might say. “You’re retired. You are taking a six month vacation twice a year.”

Well, not really. Here I am writing to you, my generous reader.

Vacation comes from the Latin, vacationem or vacatio meaning leisure, freedom, exemption from military service, being free from duty. The root verb is vacare to be empty, free, or at leisure.

In the nineteenth century, middle and upper class Americans began vacating their homes, leaving them vacant while they moved to “cottages,” by the shore, or at the lake, or in the mountains. Today some of those “cottages” are museums in Newport or Saratoga.

The British seem to prefer the word “holiday,” or “hols.” I admit being confused when I went to the London Business School and heard “Off to hols,” which I misheard as “halls,” and thought it was some version of “down the hall,” “spend a penny,” or “pop off to the loo.”

Regular readers will know of my retirement, now eight years passed, after being a change consultant for thirty-seven years. As a consultant I traveled a lot, some years earning many “miles” and hotel “points.” I gave a lot of those away, because after traveling for work the idea of another flight or hotel stay really didn’t seem much like a “getaway.”

“Maybe I could have another grilled chicken Caesar salad at 10:00 p.m. just to keep the routine?”

Since we retired, and I recovered from neck surgery, and we got through Covid, most of our travel has been to see our far-flung family, Seattle, Pittsburgh, San Francisco, Richmond, and Boston.

Now I’m ready for adventure, but my back doesn’t like long road trips or plane flights, and I’ve forgotten how to pack.

Travel

When I worked as a consultant, I went to some very exciting places, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Tokyo, Stockholm, Bangkok, Baku, London, Munich, Calgary, Toronto, Montreal, Melbourne, Singapore and more. Sometimes I would take a tour. Rarely, I would tack some pleasure travel on at the end of work meetings, a safari in South Africa, a Scottish Highlands trip, and the best ski season of my life spread across Switzerland, Canada, and the Western US Rockies and Wasatch ranges.

Mostly though, I just wanted to get home after working for a week or two in a foreign land.

I do love to travel, though. I come from a traveling family.

My late sister Constance, and her husband Ian arranged their entire life around travel and traveled to some 172 countries, many of which are no longer countries. My sister Lynne, has been on multiple safaris in Africa, and traveled to all the places where her family food importing business has growers.

My parents, Raymond and Nan, went on a six month freighter cruise in 1973, which turned into nine months as their freighter picked up more cargo contracts while they were out.  They sailed with six other couples to ports all over Africa, the Middle East, and Asia. Taking passengers aboard a freighter helped defray the costs of shipping cargo. The freighter would arrive in a port, and unloading and reloading cargo took a week or two, during which time the passengers were free to explore and sightsee. These freighter cruises don’t exist today because most cargo goes on huge container ships.

I guess I come by my love of travel honestly. I love to meet people from other cultures. I have found it a broadening experience. As American humorist Mark Twain said,

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts.”

Americans are traveling more than they used to. In 1990 only 5% of the US population had a passport; now the number is about 50%. The distribution varies widely by age (under 30 is almost 60%, 45-64 30%, over 65 less than 20%). It also varies by income (over $100k/year is 64%) and region (urbanites are 65%,  the rural South is below 20%).

The Ugly American

Americans have always been a bit insular as a culture, and so they don’t always make the best tourists. The novel The Ugly American by Lederer and Burdick was written about clueless American diplomats in Southeast Asia in the period leading up to the Vietnam War. The title was picked up by the media as a description of the typical boorish American tourist.

I’ve forgotten the comedian who did this bit, (Rodney Dangerfield? Robert Klein?):

“I was in Greece, on the Acropolis standing by the Parthenon watching the tourists come up the hill, and I realized you can immediately tell their nationality. The French come up arm in arm, lovingly embracing. The Germans are always eating. The Americans say something like “Hey Martha, there’s another one up here.”

That’s an old bit. I have no idea how Americans are received abroad these days. I do read that some US passport holders are wearing red maple leaf patches and claiming to be Canadian.

Now, with Airbnb etc., lowering the cost of travel, some cities like Barcelona, and Paris, have had it with not just rude Americans but tourists of all nationalities.

Bucket Lists and such

So maybe my traveling days are past? I hope not.

My mother saw a picture of the Taj Mahal when she was a little girl and said to herself, “I’m going to see that!” My parents chose the freighter because it was going to  Bombay (now Mumbai). At the last minute the freighter route changed. As my parents sat at breakfast in Singapore, my mother was despondent. My father said, “Honey, the boat’s going to be here for two weeks, and we’re never going to be this close again,” and they flew to Agra so she could fulfill her girlhood dream.

In my life, I have canoed into a moose’s legs on Moosehead Lake, and flushed a loon who flew across a full moon. I have hiked through deserts, and rainforests, sometimes on the same hike. I have “eaten Thai food with every meal”, gotten Thai massage on a beach, and stared at a purple lotus till I drew a crowd at a wat in Bangkok. I have seen the Eifel Tower and Montmartre, the Coliseum and Forum, and Crazy King Ludwigs castles in Bavaria. I have seen the Pieta, the Dying Gaul, the Winged Victory, the Mona Lisa,  seen Monet’s water lilies in the Orangery, and impressionists in the Orsay (among other places).

I have seen St. Peter’s, St. Paul’s, St. Patrick’s, St. John the Divine, Notre Dame and Sainte-Chapelle, the Duomo in Milan, St. Mark’s in Venice, and far too many other churches and cathedrals for an agnostic like me. I have seen more Frank Lloyd Wright houses than you could shake a Stickley at.

I have viewed many sunsets from end-of-the-world west-facing beaches and far fewer sunrises from anywhere, though I’ll always remember the sunrise over “the rooftops of London,” when my youngest daughter was born.

I have snorkeled, sky-dived, sailed, and whitewater rafted. I have climbed mountains to almost 15,000 feet. I have driven a 1972 Opal Ascona with four people and luggage over the Hochtor Pass in Austria and survived. I have flown in one engine, two engine and four engine prop planes, several helicopters, and jets from Gulfstream and Lear, to 777.

I don’t know that I have too many bucket list travel dreams left that my body will accommodate, but I’m thinking on it. Everest? – probably not.

And now “a little traveling music, Sammy.”

I’m taking next week off. Yep, that’s right, I won’t write a post for your enjoyment on April 21^st. I’m traveling to celebrate my sister Lynne’s 90^th birthday. But, never fear, I’ll be back in this space on the 28^th, unless I decide to see the David, or the Taj Mahal.

In the meantime, scan the archives and talk among yourselves.