Dearest Rachel –
I mentioned the other day about how the shower stall in my stateroom would inevitably soak the bathmat, and continue to flood the bathroom, no matter how little water I used. Well, since then, it’s proven me to be something of a liar, as it hasn’t flooded since. In fact, the bathmat has been perfectly dry every morning (and yes, I’m a creature of habit; I’m generally still showering in the morning, regardless of the fact that every day when I go out into the Indian heat and humidity, I sweat enough to render that activity pointless) since. Still, even the fact that I find the need to worry about it is one of those things I’m not going to miss about this place, despite the otherwise luxurious surroundings.
And that’s the thing; for all that this is a really nice place, with great accommodations – including a staff that is attentive to the point of obsequiousness – there are a lot of things about it that I can sincerely say that I’m ready to put behind me. It’s not a criticism of the travel medium; I understand that the place has its limitations through absolutely no fault of its own, as it does its best to accommodate as many whims of as many people as possible, and it manages that very well. But not perfectly, because there are some things that we are comfortable with from home that just can’t be brought here.
For example, there’s the fact that they feed you almost too well here. I’ve been accustomed at home to eating two meals a day with my second one being fairly early in the evening. Here, of course, the main meal of the day is in the evening; and, since it’s the “social hour,” if you want to call that, I’ve been habituated to showing up and ordering the full complement of courses: appetizer, entrée, and dessert. Sure, there have been times where I’ve been able to restrain myself from ordering say, an appetizer or a dessert, and as often as not, I’ve gone upstairs to the gym to work some of that off afterwards. But that actually takes more effort and willpower than you’d think, since you’re still sitting there through each course, wondering if you should’ve had this or that. Meanwhile, making a routine of working out is challenging in its own right ; if nothing else, doing so on a full stomach is not exactly comfortable. As much as I don’t look forward to having to pay for my own meals (although technically, I paid for these meals when I booked the trip in the first place – it’s just not as obvious when you’re not paying for it on the spot), it will be nice to be able to limit myself organically once again, rather than to have to deliberately exercise willpower to turn things (that you’ve essentially already paid for) down.
On a similar subject, it will also be nice not to be ruled so much by the clock. oh, I have my habits back at home; things I do at certain times and such, but I don’t have the need to wake up at a specific time in order to be somewhere, nor eat when a place is open for one specific meal or another. Which is another thing; if I don’t want breakfast food for my first meal of the day, I’ll be able to have what I want as long (as I have it in my fridge). Here, there are specific things that are eaten at specific times; while there’s a great variety of things (as well as a great quantity of them, which is disadvantageous to someone both watching their weight and trying to get value for money) available, it’s surprising how monotonous breakfast, in particular, can get after a while. While I know I’ll be facing a much more limited menu at home, the fact that (as long as I prepare ahead of time) it can be anything I want is actually quite liberating.
I’m not gonna miss this bed, either, honey. While it hasn’t given me anywhere near the back trouble I thought it would (with enough pillows, I can prop myself up the way I’m accustomed to, and avoid that situation, just like in any hotel), there’s the fact that the sheet is too thin – while it covers me up, lying there with just the sheet on is strangely cold, even as we’re going through equatorial climates (which may be due to the air conditioning, which is another thing I’ll get to in a moment. I’m sure) – and the blanket (or do we go straight to a comforter? It’s certainly puffy enough to be one) is too heavy. I can be almost guaranteed to work up a sweat in my sleep. At least with the layers that I use on our bed at home, I can control my body temperature more to my liking.
And for that matter, I can control the ambient temperature better as well. Sure, I sometimes have had trouble heating the room during the winter (and I have no basis of comparison with regards to a state room cabin on that score, not having done the trip to Antarctica), and I know the HVAC doesn’t flow into the bedroom like it does the rest of the house, but there’s the ceiling fan and all that, which is not a thing in the stateroom; I probably should put it down as something I’m looking forward to getting back to, but that will need to be a separate letter at this point.
I’m not going to miss having to walk what feels like the better part of a city block just to get myself breakfast or dinner (or, I must shamefully admit, lunch; sea days in particular are bad for me, when it comes to eating out of a cross between boredom and a recollection that “it’s there, and I paid for it”), not to mention climbing multiple staircases in the process. Oh, I realize that I need the exercise – especially considering how much I consume – and I’ve tried to be really good about that, but it will be nice to be home, where I don’t have to cover that kind of ground for something that otherwise trivial.
Likewise, I won’t miss the daily knock on my door, suggesting that I need to vacate my room (well, I guess that’s why it’s called a ‘vacation,’ eh?) so my attendant can do his job. I Komang somehow always managed to be unobtrusive, working while I was off at breakfast, but Marlon does his best work in the early afternoon, when I’m most likely to want to be at my desk (which, I’ll not lie, isn’t quite to my liking, either, in terms of ergonomics, but honestly, I’ve never found a desk that manages to be comfortable for the entire length of time I find myself at it, so that’s not an item of contention here), and I have to figure out what to do with myself for those couple of hours (because sometimes I leave and come back, only to find a cart still in my room. I don’t know how long it takes to do the job, but the interval can be surprising. Or maybe it’s just to keep the cart out of the way of the hall traffic for an extended period of time). I have yet to really have a proper schedule of work, workout and relaxation; any routine I’ve fallen into gets interrupted by the ports, and when I return, things have changed so that the old one isn’t feasible anymore. I don’t expect to have too many days where I still in my room, or even my house, when I return – Covid has long since gone away; I wish you could have seen it – but I look forward to the day when I can if I want to.
All of which, I’m sure, makes me sound like I’m ‘sour grape’ing the whole experience, now that it’s over, and I have to leave this extraordinary life for the ordinary again. And maybe there is a touch of that embedded in here; I don’t think I could deny what an amazing opportunity I’ve been given to experience, between the three points of life that so rarely converge for most people, and it’s a pity to have to let go of it.
On the other hand, there’s the danger of letting it become the norm, and becoming blasé about it all – which could be a whole different topic, to be honest – and the wisdom of walking away before that attitude takes over. And what better way to embrace the end and walk away than to recall that there are a few things that are less than perfect about this situation as well?
Besides, there’s a lot to look forward to at home. But that’s definitely another story for another time. Until then, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 