Bring back a beach holiday
I NEED a holiday, not a minibreak, or a weekend away, a proper holiday.
Me and my dry skin are well and truly over winter and we want sun, sand and a drink that comes with a little umbrella in it.
I’m a Queenslander, so I need it to be at least 24C for me to have a good day. Anything less means I have to wear an itchy jumper and be slightly too hot in the morning and boiling in the afternoon.
I’ve been dreaming of a tropical getaway, it’s got to the point where I’ve found on YouTube that some angel has filmed their morning beach walk in Maui, so the rest of us can dream that we, too, are feeling the soft crunch of Hawaiian sand underfoot.
I know it’s time for a break when I start compulsively licking my lips to get a wee taste of my coconut lip balm, because it reminds me of the fresh juices in Bali. Weren’t those the days? A Denpasar return for $199. I’ve spent more on a pair of shoes.
I’ve tried that thing where you just have a break at home but it’s not the same, it’s just me watching a whole lot more daytime TV and eating potato gems for breakfast.
I need to go somewhere by the beach where it’s hot, somewhere I can swim up to a Mojito and a nice young man in white shorts and a polo shirt brings me some nachos to my sun lounge by the pool.
Am I the only one who loads up flights and hotels online, adds them to my cart and then almost pulls the trigger each night before I fall asleep?
Maybe one day soon I will say, “oh money’s just money, who cares”, and be on my way to Port Douglas in a straw hat and elasticwaisted, floral pants.
Never-mind the gaping hole in my bank account and who’ll mind the dogs.
Maybe it’s just the winter blues, but I have been very busy lately. I’ve had a lot of those days where you don’t eat lunch until 3pm and get by on coffee, adrenaline and stuffing olives in your face with the fridge door open when you get home that night.
I don’t think I’m good at being on holiday though.
The first day I waste by Googling where to eat during the trip, and getting my bearings.
Day two is a massive sleep-in followed by some afternoon drinks, day three is another massive sleep-in, followed by pulling out of whatever activity I pre-booked when I was on a two coffee high back home.
Day four is a depressing day as we’re getting near the end and it’s time to start thinking about packing up.
Day five is going back to eat at my two favourite restaurants I found on day one.
Day six is a write-off, as I have to get up early to make the flight home and I’m super grumpy.
I think an indicator of how good the holiday was, is how long my suitcase sits open on the spare room bed waiting to be washed or put away.
When I got back from New York a few years ago my suitcase was there for weeks, and I’d shove my face in it, to breathe in that
New York smell again just one more time. Yes, I’m a weirdo.
A weirdo who needs a holiday.