Working On A Quirky Graph

Taking a full vacation this fall, which feels especially odd since this wasn’t something I would do normally when I was younger, has been an interesting mix of beautiful landscapes and ironic people watching.

Vacationing always seems to be some version of two different experiences. Either completely at play, thinking of beach vacations or perhaps skiing. Being somewhere where the hardest thing is perhaps determining if you want to mix up the relaxation you are spending that day. For several there is nothing better than an all inclusive vacation apart from your reality where everything is determined for you and the only contribution you need to make is when and how you participate.

The second general type of vacation is the learning vacation. Where you are going to see how other people may have lived and died years before you were a twinkle in your grandfather’s eye. There are battle sites and historical artifacts sites, there are areas where you can pretend you are contributing to a historical dig, or where you can learn about the living and suffering of others while shuffling along a hall with dozens or hundreds of others. You can appreciate their sacrifice while being glad you don’t have to live during those times or experience their pain.

This vacation seems to be leaning more toward the historical than the calming. More guided tours of Beal sites where adversity struck and the people learned to overcome the circumstances to power forward. Studies in resiliency and perseverance with occasional quips of the uniqueness of personalities. And people walk around studying the artifacts of groups long past, marveling in the various levels of trouble the stewards of the land had to endure to propel the next generation forward, thankful for their current level of angst, renewed in their belief that their ancestors survived something they themselves aren’t sure they could survive, taking joy in how far the collective families have come. After the tours of history that are long on impact but short on human touch, the vacationers retreat to trinket shops, purchasing a postcard or magnet to prove their foray into a glimpse of the past while reaffirming their connection to the present. The day ends with a celebratory meal at a local restaurant, continuing to help the economy that is now dependent on these windows to incidents and travesties of the past so they can continue to propel the next generation into the future.

Truthfully when I signed up for this tour I didn’t pay close attention to the details. I was captured by beautiful pictures of the coasts, enticed by the option of food and perhaps a drink or so. I’m content to wander behind the group, half listening to the stories, marveling in the beauty that was created from trauma and injustice, death and imprisonment while I watch the others stand in front of information boards dutifully taking pictures of the information so they can forget about those pictures as soon as they meander home and move to the next chapter in their lives or immediately share to social media to humbly brag that they were able to leave the day to day drudgery and learn about the history of a land they will never return to at their leisure.

Meanwhile I watch the coastline for seagulls and clouds, walk pathways next to the sheep and cows providing nourishment and income to those that occupy the land now. I welcome the sunburn on my nose from reveling in the light and the soreness in my thighs from the hubris of thinking I could climb up a medium sized hill.

And I look a bit jealously at those marching dutifully to the next recounting of perseverance trying to determine exactly when I became slightly bitter and reminding myself that my views of what vacation could be doesn’t translate to everyone. Just because it isn’t my idea of substance doesn’t mean everyone holds my belief.

Perhaps I should be happy for other’s happiness and less concerned about trying to understand what drives it. And then pay into these businesses and the insure the next generations of those that faced those adversities can eat their next meals. Pay for the privilege of being able to see the North Sea while the wind blows by my cold heart and the sun attempts to warm my compassion back up.