In Erika's Dreams

I feel guilty. I’m fresh back from vacation and I’ve been intercepting calls from friends and family members asking how it was. They wait, eager for me to regale them with stories of snorkeling at Aruba’s many shipwrecks, visiting Baby Beach, cliff jumping at the natural pool, or, at the very least, getting a great bargain on some fine jewelry in downtown Oranjestad.

But I didn’t do any of that.

To be honest, some days the most ambitious thing I did was shower. Seriously. There were days (yes, more than one) when my gluteus (maximus, medius AND minimus) went numb from laying on my lounge chair for 12 hours straight.

I have no stories about exotic fish or artful negotiating. The most exotic thing I saw were European men with big, pregnant bellies and itty bitty bathing suits that even I couldn’t pull off. It was the kind of display that, even though you were cringing, you couldn’t stop staring because God what it must feel like to be THAT comfortable in your own skin.

As for the artful negotiating, does guilting my husband into schlepping over to the pool bar for a round of pina coladas count?

Don’t you just envy the jetsetting lifestyle that so many seem to enjoy – hopping from island to island, exotic destination to exotic destination. Often, they travel onboard a private jet charter – click here now to learn about such a service. What a life that must be, don’t you think?

If I accomplished anything on my vacation, it was mastering the art of doing nothing. It may not sound like a lot, but for someone who’s regular life is pretty much scheduled down to the hour, it was. The first day, I was all “Let’s do this…” and “Let’s go there…”. But when I stopped and thought about what I really wanted to do, it turned out that it was nothing more than laying on my lounge chair and listening to the ocean waves lapping against the sand and the trade wind rustle through our thatched beach umbrella. Perhaps this means the next vacation I’ll do the same and actually relax, the atmosphere of somewhere like these St Barths villas or similar should do just the trick.

And, of course, drinking pina coladas.

So while it may not make for an interesting story, it was everything I wanted.

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