Isn't it weird how vacations are like the battleground for two diametrically opposed forces?
On one side, you have a stated goal of rest, relaxation, and replenishment of the soul.
On the other side, you have to orchestrate all the travel, lodging, meals, activities, packing, and reservations to make it happen.
Crushing unrestful unrelaxed defeat ensues almost inevitably, unless you have some superswanky travel agency planning everything for you or it's a staycation or you don't care that you only packed one shoe and forgot to buy plane tickets for the return trip.
I'm a Planner. I need flight confirmations and hotel booking numbers and both shoes packed.
The more I've traveled the more Plann-y I get, right up to the point that it might jump the shark. I had 5 days off last week, and (...potentially-embarrassing confession forthcoming...) there was an Excel spreadsheet involved.
Despite what the Excel spreadsheet might imply, I think I'm getting the hang of being well-planned without being over-planned. It was an awesome trip where all the big stuff went smoothly (hooray for planning), and all the little stuff was left flexible enough to sort itself out (hooray for not planning too much).
But here's the most important thing:
The very best stuff just spontaneously happened on its own, without any plan at all.
The best moments came from random things, like the sign on the 2 hour ferry boat from the US to Vancouver Island, Canada, with its apparent threats to throw you overboard if you went into certain stairwells uninvited:
The best moments came from unexpected human events, like the unannounced-but-exuberant Catholic? Indigenous? Completely mis-scheduled Cinco de Mayo? Christmas? parade that passed right under my window:
The best moments came from spur of the moment ideas, like my travel companion's sudden insistent compulsion to carve a treasure hunt doubloon out of a chocolate chip cookie using only toothpicks and fingernails while sitting on a driftwood stump in Cannon Beach, Oregon, to recreate a rather fantastic scene from a certain awesome movie:
The best moments came from pure serendipity, like the instant when we rounded a corner coming down a one-lane road and the afternoon light erupted through the trees just right:
You can't plan that.
On one side, you have a stated goal of rest, relaxation, and replenishment of the soul.
On the other side, you have to orchestrate all the travel, lodging, meals, activities, packing, and reservations to make it happen.
Crushing unrestful unrelaxed defeat ensues almost inevitably, unless you have some superswanky travel agency planning everything for you or it's a staycation or you don't care that you only packed one shoe and forgot to buy plane tickets for the return trip.
I'm a Planner. I need flight confirmations and hotel booking numbers and both shoes packed.
The more I've traveled the more Plann-y I get, right up to the point that it might jump the shark. I had 5 days off last week, and (...potentially-embarrassing confession forthcoming...) there was an Excel spreadsheet involved.
 |
| It even had contingency plans, website references, color coded events, drive times, and weather forecasts. And that was only the rough draft. It's like I'm auditioning for Type-A Nerd of the Year. |
But here's the most important thing:
The very best stuff just spontaneously happened on its own, without any plan at all.
The best moments came from random things, like the sign on the 2 hour ferry boat from the US to Vancouver Island, Canada, with its apparent threats to throw you overboard if you went into certain stairwells uninvited:
 |
| "Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point. Violators are subject to Expulsion, Arrest, and Prosecution." ...As in expulsion from the boat? Into the Pacific? Is there a plank they get to walk? Does the arrest and prosecution come after they've been thrown overboard? |
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| A float with the Virgin Mary? A cluster of rejoicing mourners? A troupe of Native American Santa Claus dancers? Best (and possibly most confusing) parade ever! |
The best moments came from spur of the moment ideas, like my travel companion's sudden insistent compulsion to carve a treasure hunt doubloon out of a chocolate chip cookie using only toothpicks and fingernails while sitting on a driftwood stump in Cannon Beach, Oregon, to recreate a rather fantastic scene from a certain awesome movie:
 |
| We found the key to One-Eyed Willie! |
You can't plan that.
Gorgeous forest picture! Timed the light perfectly.
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