Holiday mode

We are away on a much-anticipated holiday this week. A whole week off to relax, recharge our batteries, breathe in some mountain air, drink lots of coffee, read a few books and spend some quality time together. Oh, and ski. (That’s more for my sweetie; I gave it a go and have the bruises to prove it, but that makes for another blog post.)

I can’t help but observe how our behaviour changes as we leave the vicinity of home and take up temporary residence elsewhere.

Random holiday musings:

• Our usual, and comfortable, state of disorganisation evolves into military precision when planning supplies. For example, x number of days away equals x + 1 pairs of socks or underwear and our rations of drinks and snacks is calculated to ensure we could supply a small village should a disaster occur.
• If travelling by car, we’ll practically pack everything except the kitchen sink but still forget ‘essentials’ such as spare keys and snow chains, remembering them just as we are heading out of town but too far away to bother going back home to get them.
• Watching or reading the news might as well be considered researching a different planet, so little relevance do issues of the day have on our temporary state of being.
• A week without a telephone and limited mobile reception is absolute bliss. A week without internet, however, is a different story.
• Time and distance become relaxingly fuzzy. We talk about places being ‘just up the road’ from where we’re staying, when really Turoa is 30 mins away, it’s 45 mins to Whakapapa and the hot pools at Tokaanu are at least an hour’s drive away.
• We refer to our accommodation as a lodge simply because it’s close to where skiing happens, even though it is just an old boarding house with no insulation, fridge, microwave, or tv and you can see your breath in the hallway as a result of the draught coming up through the floorboards.
• The ratio of books in my bag (or downloaded onto my iPod touch) vs books actually read is roughly 1:3.
• Every cat’s meow sounds like the kitten we left at home in the capable hands of a flatmate.
• Whereas I would never venture further than the supermarket in my baggy track pants and non-matching polar fleece (and even then only in an emergency), this becomes my uniform when holidaying in a cold climate.
• No matter how cold it is or how many layers I am wrapped up in, I will always see one of the locals walking around in shorts.
• While we usually need to haul ourselves out of bed for work each morning, and sleep ins are craved and duly savoured, our body clocks can resemble that of birds while on holiday. We’ll be up early to catch the first lifts on the mountain then retreat to the cosiness of home or bed as soon as the sun goes down.
• Even though it takes just 5-10 minutes (3 songs on my iPod) to walk around the boarded up ghost town we’re staying in, I’ll still go out for a walk to ‘have a look around’.
• Whereas I may resent the intrusion of study into my precious hours off at night or during the weekend, I will embrace a day of solitude sans distractions to work on an assignment and complete a course during my ‘time off’. Go figure.
• A fan heater becomes your most essential accessory.
• A caffettiera and fresh beans are my best protection against small town coffee.
• It is impossible to pack too many plastic bags.
• There’s no place (or shower) like home.