Grenada - Part II

There's something about calling a resort "home" for more than a week that just feels... unreal? Unfair? Amazing? Correct?

I mean, being able to eat and drink whatever and whenever? Not having to think about all the minutiae that just grinds against your everyday life?

Vacation is a gift we give ourselves.

At my core, I'm an experience-seeker. I don't want to say no to opportunities that will bring something new to my life.

Sure, I present myself as living a lifestyle akin to Jabba the Hutt, but when it comes down to it, my favorite thing to tell people (other than, "I told you!") is: "I'm down."

And as they say: the downer the foo, the higher the socks. Even though most of mine are ankle socks. I have a few crew socks... You get my drift though, right?

So when I say "a vacation is a gift we give ourselves", I mean... a vacation provides the opportunity to experience something unique in our lives, something novel; to add some pizzazz to your life.

Being home is great. But coming home? That's its own kind of sweetness, yeah?

I like my little trinkets, sure.

Obviously I love spending way too much money on books. And the odd impulse buy.

Oh, and running gear. There's always featherweight shirts and shorts with zipper pockets and hats that won't trap the heat on my head and electrolyte powders and energizing gummies and shoes to buy. Right? RIGHT?!

But I want to see this world. This beautiful country I live in. This wondrous planet we inhabit.

And the more things I stuff into my home, the less I potentially get to do and see. Just because I'm saying "yes" to something doesn't mean I'm also saying "no" to everything else, but... I'm normal human. It's easy to think that way at times.

By saying "yes" to this trip, what did I say "no" to? I'm not sure. But what did I say "yes" to?

Traveling with my best friend and life partner
Walking the streets of a foreign country at night when maybe we shouldn't have.
Getting rides from absolute strangers with no guarantee I'm hailing an actual taxi service.
Not having to think about what's for dinner (a point of true contention in my home, believe it or not). Or breakfast. Or lunch. Or snacks.
Becoming untethered from the routine.
Living la vida loca

Getting the mile in everyday wasn't too fun.

And now as I sit here reviewing what I've written and the pictures I've chosen, a thought occurs to me: I don't have to get all philosophical about fucking vacation. It's a trip to have fun and let loose and forget I have a job and normal responsibilities and there's no everyday bullshit looming over my head.

Everything else is a perk.