In January, Matt and I are heading to the Far-East; four
nights in Kuala Lumpur, three nights at a luxury tented camp in a national park
(with elephants!!!) in southern Thailand, and six nights on the west coast, north
of Phuket. Although we’ve managed our
fair share of holidays whilst I’ve been ill, and had some unforgettable experiences
(three Michelin-starred restaurants in Florence to name just one) we have restricted
ourselves due to my physical limitations.
Whilst I am more mobile than I was, this is still very much a factor,
but we are trying to work around them rather than restrict plans because of
them. This mental shift, and probably
the longhaul helps, makes it feel like we’ll finally be travellers again.
Whilst a lot of the time, I am very much a home-body (fortunate
as I spend so much of my time here), I love curling up with Matt, the dog and
the cats (not all together), there is a huge part of me that yearns for new
experiences, new places. Given that I
was born abroad, and lived on three continents by the time I was ten, it’s not
surprising that I have been utterly gripped by the travel bug which has carried
me all over the world. My identity, more
specifically how it’s been changed by my health problems, is something I’ve
been exploring recently, and I’ve realised that my love of travel is not an inconsequential
part of who I am. Every university
summer, or week off work, was an opportunity to see somewhere new. In Matt I found someone who shares my love of
adventure (or is willing to go along with it at least) and we’ve had some
amazing trips backpacking around Thailand and Laos, Argentina, Egypt, road-trips
in California, exploring parts of Italy, amongst other amazing holidays in the
UK and abroad.
Back in the summer I started thinking about holiday ideas
for this autumn/early next year – I’m never not thinking about plans for the
next trip, and I started hatching bigger ideas.
Maybe it was the psychological impact of going through a flare up in my
condition and needing something to look forward to, or perhaps just the need
for some foreign sun, I’m not sure.
Having tossed the idea around for a while, I mentioned to Matt that I
had a yearning for a ‘proper’ holiday, exploring rather than ‘just’ a nice
sunny beach somewhere, although that would do nicely thank you very much as I’m
looking out on a shivery cold, grey, December morning. His response?
“You mean something that would make us feel like we’re actually living
again?” In those words, he managed to
express what I’d been feeling for months, if not years, but not quite
consciously enough to say. It also hit
me how easy it is to forget the extent to which Matt’s life has been turned
upside down as well. It’s his weekends,
his leisure time, his holiday plans that have been disrupted too. This is something I’ve written about a lot in
recent posts, but it feels like our life has been on hold for three years and
it is time to move forwards with it. So
that was our brief, to come up with a holiday that made us feel alive again,
but within the constraints of my physical abilities and energy levels.
No comments:
Post a Comment