URBAN HOMO

#travelhumbug Every New Year one of my resolutions is to travel more. It’s not that I haven’t done much travel. I have done a bit. But I’d like to do more (although some conditions prevail). I have visited every continent other than Africa and Antarctica. And I am sure I will get to see both of those one day. Even though the Antarctic climate does bring with it a whole set of sartorial challenges that I am not quite ready for. Nor does the risk of being eaten by a ravenous leopard seal bring with it much appeal. In fact, wild animals in their natural habitat are generally not something I’m keen to experience. Nor are extreme weather conditions. Or indeed anything extreme. For me, camping is an extreme sport. So no, I am not the adventurous traveller. I do not have a thousand image Pinterest board of bucket-list destinations. Nor even a mental list. Holiday destinations are usually very casually presented to me: “Do you want to go to Sri Lanka next February?” “Sure,” I respond. And my very next thought is “I wonder what people will be wearing in Sri Lanka in February 2014. Are there tanning opportunities?” I also tend to be all about the one destination per journey. So just Sri Lanka is enough for me. Stopovers permitted. I also don’t like to be away for more than three weeks at a time. And towards the end of that three weeks I experience a contradictory sensation of growing bored with a place that is not familiar enough. But schlepping your luggage all around the world to different destinations on a rigorous schedule I find very stressful. The “Oh, it’s Tuesday, this must be Brussels” style of travel is just not my thing. So when I’m done with Destination One I’m ready to go home. It’s not that I get homesick per se. It’s just that the novelty wears off. I don’t miss any people (perhaps I need to look at that). But I do miss my surrounds (fair enough). And I really miss my own things (yeah, I really need to look at that). Which may explain why I have adopted the maxim of @OTT_fabulous_cousin, who once declared “Trying to travel light puts an unnecessary strain on any holiday, so I take the lot!” Which clearly places a necessary strain on my luggage. Although it removes all pressure of not having the right outfit for all possible eventualities. “I know we’re in Ibiza and it’s summertime, but you never know, the weather may turn and I’ll be really pleased I brought my cashmere overcoat.” This, however, is the extent of my holiday planning. I somehow have ‘never found the time’ to do that extensive research before setting sail. The last time I prepared for my journeys was reading ‘Europe on $30 a Day’ during my gap year. In 1989. These days I just leave everything to chance. Happy to wake up every day and think “what should we do today?” Luckily those same friends who have suggested the locale in the first place have thoroughly investigated it and have usually created a comprehensive and compelling itinerary. And much in the same way as I easily accepted the invitation to join them on the holiday in the first place, I just as easily fall in line with their daily activity suggestions. Sex and travel: the only occasions in my life when I am amenable to the point of totally compliant. And just to clarify, although I do stand by this declaration, there are a few things I like to see included on each day’s list. While visiting any major metropolis my ideal day involves the following: Late breakfast One hour in gallery/museum/iconic landmark. Lunch One hour in gallery/ museum/iconic landmark. Drinks Shopping Dinner Show Clubbing Although a former student of art history, and having always earned my living as a purveyor of fine things, I am in fact a complete Philistine, so my attention span for all things cultural is quite limited. However, my continuing need to assert (both to myself and to others) that I am in fact high brow, compels me to include at least two exhibitions per day, despite spending most of the time tweeting and texting while listening to the audio tour. Ignoring the No Photography warnings and Instagramming the exhibits. To prove that I was there. If only for 8 per cent of the day. I actually prefer it if the things that are on show are for sale. Because then at least I can buy something. Which, sadly, seems to be from whence I derive all my sense of purpose and validation. (there’s another one for the therapist). But I digress. It’s not about the shopping. It’s about the experience. So when not experiencing a cultural centre, I like to experience a tropical retreat. And while on tropical retreat I like to experience a few things. A sun lounge. Direct sunlight. SPF 0. Free pouring booze. All you can eat breakfast buffet. Daily sheet and towel change. Basically that’s it. Although, just to be clear, that sun lounge is not on the beach. It’s by the pool. The private pool. Because I don’t like sharing. And I don’t like sand. It’s not that I’m precious. It’s just that at this stage in life I simply like things the way I like them. And at this stage in life it’s just generally expected that I will have my own bathroom. Ideally seeing a floorplan of the accommodation before I commit. Ensuring that there is adequate separation between the bedrooms. And that if I must suffer the indignity of a shared bathroom, it is in a remote enough location to provide complete privacy. While still, of course, being indoors. Now this may sound like it’s all about 5 star for me. It’s not, I assure you. Sometimes I even fly economy. I told you, I’m not precious. Like I said, I’m very easy-going. But I do I like things to be a certain way. It’s essential for a relaxing holiday.

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