In defense of the imperfect holiday

What do we give up when we micromanage our vacations? By turning leisure into work, we forget how to be spontaneous

THE COMEDIAN Louis CK has a bit about all the work that goes into being a modern consumer. “It’s like a job,” he says, mocking the research we do before making even the most inconsequential purchases. “You have to make sure you get the best one.” As the joke progresses, CK imitates a person reading online reviews of Blu-ray players. “I don’t know,” he says, his voice ascending with faux anxiety, his hand stroking his chin. “I don’t know which one to get. I don’t know! I gotta get the best one.” Then he interrupts the character he’s been playing: “Why? Who are you, the King of Siam, that you should get the best one ever?”

It may be good to be king, but it sure is a lot of work. In the digital age, everyone’s a critic of the everyday, turning the promise of our best life into a research binge and fetishising the small differences that separate essentially similar experiences. Nowhere is the pursuit of ‘bestness’ as urgent as when it comes to travel. The threat is not just that you might waste money, but precious, priceless time. If you eat crappy pizza tonight, you can eat better pizza tomorrow. But when’s the next time you’ll make it to Jakarta? Travel already involves planning—purchasing tickets, making reservations—and endless choices, big and small. Once you start researching, it can be hard to stop. It’s like we’re all grad students and it’s always exam season. What’s the best beach getaway? The best tapas in Madrid?

It can feel, these days, as if the horizon of perfection is ever receding. Experiences that don’t stack up are worse than disappointing— they’re signs of our failure to have found something better, or of our ignorance, or our lack of savvy. Only a rube doesn’t know where to go for the best mojito in Miami. Some of this has to do with the competition that is fuelled by social media, in which we monitor the fabulous lives of other people. But most of it is internal: an inflated sense of entitlement coupled with the misguided belief that we can buy our way to happiness. Not to mention the pressure of wanting to experience something ‘authentic’ or secret—a desire that gets harder to gratify as global culture absorbs and, subsequently, flattens local specialities. When you can already order up pretty much anything you want from your computer at home, what is there to look for abroad? Whatever it is had better be not only special, but the most special, something that you couldn’t do or find or have at home even if you tried.

The problems with planning one’s vacation in search of ‘the best’ are legion, and barely need spelling out. When we turn leisure into work, we forget how to be spontaneous. We spend our vacations tracking maps of pins dropped with military-grade precision rather than relaxing and appreciating what comes. But sometimes? Sometimes it’s worth it. Seriously: when is the next time you’re going to be in Jakarta? Maybe this is a regular thing for you. Good for you. Take a chance. Live in the moment. But for the rest of us, it’s OK to try. There’s something beautiful and utopian in the belief that the best is out there, if we can only find it.

Because while it’s possible to blunder your way into something great by accident, most treasures are found with the aid of treasure maps. It all comes down to your attitude. It’s stupid to be controlled by the rankings or get carried away with anxiety, but it’s just as stupid not to do your homework at all. The experts have something to offer— it’s called expertise. Sure, some of the Yelpers out there are freaks, obsessives, basement-dwellers. But what’s their real crime? Caring too much? Learn from their labour. Benefit from their wild knowledge. It pays off.

Several years ago, when I was in Tokyo, I arranged an entire morning of sightseeing around visiting one coffee shop to try a beverage that was essentially an espresso milkshake. It had come highly recommended by a coffee blog—one of many coffee blogs I consulted ahead of time—and it was awesome. It was a thick, cold, amphetamine-fuelled dessert dream. It was worth all the effort it took to find it. It was good enough for a king.

Nowhere is the pursuit of ‘bestness’ as urgent as in travel. The threat is not just that you might waste money, but precious, priceless time. Travel already involves planning—purchasing tickets, making reservations—and endless choices, big and small. Once you start researching, it can be hard to stop

(Above) Many people spend vacations tracking maps rather than relaxing and appreciating what comes; and (left) in the digital age, everyone’s a travel critic