Last year, on a day not terribly different from today, I was dreaming of spring.
And as I did, I ended up writing an armchair-interactive-travel blog. In it, you all boarded my plane and we jet-set off to the Ice Hotels of Switzerland and Kinkade-esque Christmas towns, before staying at some strange underground aquarium ceilinged bedchamber at the bottom of a luxury resort in god-knows-where. Remember that? That was fun. Also, it didn’t cost us much. #memories
But this year, the more I’m seeing things like this five star getaway in the Alps, the more I’m thinking, “I don’t need all that.” No, I’m not hating or bitter. And don’t get me wrong – I love sitting in the lap of opulence like it’s santa’s knee as much as the next guy. But when these snaps of the Chedi Andermatt popped up in my feed, I kept thinking that what I like most about it is… the pictures themselves. I’m in postcard-love with most of these lovely places. Appealing from afar – but let’s keep this a long distance relache. I can love you better that way.
Sure, you get a ski butler and a hydrothermal bath to relax in after hitting the slopes…
But, really, I wouldn’t even need any of these steamy accomodations if I’d just decided to go to Hawaii instead and sit on a beach with sunshine beaming down on me and natural sand exfoliant smoothing out my feet. Why would I pay so much money to sit inside in the cold – when that’s what I’m doing right now and hating? And why would I do it in summer – when I have to do it for four months outta the year already? Put all that stuff in those photos inside my spaceship when I have to leave Earth (which Hawking says’ll be soon), and I’ll be monumentally more appreciative about it.
But for now, it doesn’t matter how many stars you’ve got.
If I’m going to pay money to go be somewhere I’m not, go through the hassle of bag lugging, take off my shoes in security, and share recycled oxygen with a slew of sentient petri dishes – I’d better feel like someone’s changed the channel on my frequency T.V. by the time I land. And that’s exactly how flying into Hawaii feels when you’re coming from less-than-stellar weather. In fact, with that ocean below that’s so penetratingly blue I get a migraine just thinking about it and those ultra-green palms dotting the shoreline, it feels like entering a psychedelic experience. Compared to where you’ve just been, at least, especially if where you’ve just been was on the East Coast. And seeing this Alps hotel makes me realize that I’ve been a victim to this “stay inside and get served” mentality too – even on my tropical paradise vacations. The times I’ve been in Hawaii before – I really enjoyed it. A lot. But I spent so much more time in a room at the Hale Koa watching T.V. or in its gym using the treadmill, when I could’ve been out exploring the grounds or jogging on the actual sand. What was I thinking? Who comes to heaven to stay in yet another technology lined prison the whole time?
Thus, vacation number next: I’m taking a Hawaiian hotel barely more expensive than our free armchair travel trip was.
That way it’ll be easier to make sure I’m only in it exactly three times during my stay:
When I arrive, when I leave, and when I sleep.
#bringiton