When I was on one of my many walks with my father, we were talking about all the places he had traveled to (sans me that is), all the fascinating things he had witnessed - from being in the vicinity of The Sphinx, exploring the streets of Japan, taking in the architectural wonder that is The Acropolis in Athens to witnessing the birth of The Sound of Music in Salzburg along with my mother and the many aspects he had learned of the ways of life in every region that he had been to. Often, after each trip, my father would religiously make his own slideshow using Movie Maker, filled with pictures and videos taken depicting the sights. He’d sit down and patiently explain to us, without leaving out even the tiniest details. I didn’t understand why he would go through all this hassle every single trip, but now I definitely do. Hearing tales of my grandfather battling cold winters in Russia, of my mother describing the Christmas markets at Strasbourg, and looking at pictures of my other grandfather in front of The Eiffel Tower increased my yearn to explore, even more so, right now when we’re all stuck in one place, unable to do anything. So, prior warning - reading any further may lead to yet another spiral of when-will-covid-go-away-so-that-I-can-go-out-and-live-my-life.
According to me, an ideal vacation isn’t one where you relax in a hotel room, wearing that big, fluffy, white towel and get some shut-eye. When you leave your room at dawn and return exhausted, ready to collapse at night, after soaking up as many places and people as possible and having thoroughly enjoyed yourself, then it sounds like a vacation all right!
One thing I’ve always dreamed of is to travel solo with nothing except my own sweet company (Parents if you’re seeing this, give it a thorough read and hopefully this will finally sway you!). There’s just something remarkably appealing to me about landing in a brand new place, embracing its culture and tradition, devouring its food, feeling lucky enough to be one with a breath-taking view and learning tidbits about its language and ways. I would click way too many pictures than needed so that even after coming back home, that feeling of actually being there would never leave me. Long, calming strolls wherein I would just look around and imagine that I was one of its habitants would be on top of the list (this wasn’t a wise thing to do in NYC by the way because no one ever stops over there, for anything). Talking with the locals in their language might pose a challenge, but it’s always enriching to learn a few phrases and add them
to your mind palace. Even though I’m no art connoisseur myself, I’d undoubtedly try and appreciate how all of it came into being. I’d use public transport, like The Tube in London, wherein after three years I can still hear the “mind the gap between the train and the platform” ever so clearly in my head. As I write this, I’m still wondering as to where I’m going with this piece - what even is the point of me typing out all of these words? There doesn’t seem to be a flow, but now I’ve realized that writing has always been one of my primary ways to help me sort out or understand my emotions. Clearly, this is another case of the lockdown blues.
The rays of first light hitting my half-opened eyes from behind Mount Kanchenjunga, the schools of fish darting across me in the coral reefs of Andaman, walking the streets of London, and looking over the cool, turquoise water playing with the light at Pebble Beach are one of the many things I can still see ever so clearly when I close my eyes and flit into my own little haven.