I like to think of vacations—especially those that take me abroad—as more than a chance to check out new museums, sleep late, and struggle through whatever language is spoken in the country I’ve chosen to visit. Rather, I see them as fundamental to helping me work through “life issues” I’m wrestling with at the time.
I like to spend the hours on long overseas flights—whether to South America or someplace in Europe—in the company of my trusty, well-worn journals. I absolutely cherish the time spent hurtling through the sky at hundreds of miles an hour. FINALLY—I’m not under pressure to immediately return e-mails or answer a mobile phone call I’d rather not take, anyway. So instead of mindlessly wasting time on some second-rate film, I pontificate. About WHO I want to be when I grow up. WHERE I want to live. And WHAT I want to do when I get there.
Then, once I arrive at my destination, I make it a point to spend at least SOME of my “holiday time” contemplating ME….