I’m married to a Kamikaze Tourist. Let me be very clear. He’s a wonderful man. There is none better. In fact, we just celebrated a milestone anniversary, in honor of which we took a 10-day vacation. But traveling with my husband is exhausting and I always need a vacation from my vacation. How could two such compatible people have such differing views of what constitutes a respite from work?
The man, who while home never misses the opportunity to nap on the weekends, is, when traveling, suddenly transformed into the energizer bunny. There isn’t a ruin, a cathedral, a graveyard, that doesn’t require close inspection. Now I have been known to “brake for garage sales,” but I could pass by a pile of rubble and never even feel bad that I had missed, according to my better half, an enormous event in the earth’s history.
Now that’s not to say that I wasn’t dazzled, overwhelmed, struck silent (quite a trick) by the grandeur of the Grand Canyon. Surely, it deserves inclusion on the Seven Wonders of the World List. But in 100+ degree weather, my husband had us criss-crossing the South Rim at a pace that rivaled a Marine platoon, climbing up 84 narrow steps of a watchtower (and then down again, although I suggested that he leave me at the top and save himself), and virtually hang-gliding off precipices that Evil Knievel would have declared unsafe.
If insanity is repeating the same action and expecting a different result – call me crazier than a loon. I keep traveling with this guy – and then wondering why I come back so tired that hibernation is my only option. There is no lolling by any poolside, holding some fruity alcoholic drink decorated with a tiny paper umbrella. There are places to go and historic markers to read.
On the other hand, my guy is willing to keep a nice balance between the history stuff he wants to see, and the schlock and kitsch that I find interesting. For example, we started the trip in Las Vegas, despite the fact that he has zero interest in gambling. The reason we landed there, literally and figuratively, was because of my fear of flying. Don’t try and figure out why Vegas eliminates that phobia – it doesn’t, but in the context of this vacation, it made sense. Anyway, the point is that I wanted to see the Liberace museum, which according to AAA, is a “gem.” And despite the fact that my man neither liked Liberace, listened to him as a child, nor is that crazy about crystals, feathers, and rhinestones, he’s a good guy and drove me to the strip mall where the museum is housed. It actually was a fascinating historic review of the 1950s, the costumes were indeed way over the top, but best of all, my hubby led the cheers when I won the drawing at the end of the tour. I was presented with a CD of Liberace playing the piano and even better, my very own Liberace bear, complete with mirrored mini-capelet. We spent hours in the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest, examining every rock and trail marker for miles…but we also spent hours at the Farmers and Crafts Market in Las Cruces where I could find a dozen different types of chili peppers, as well as gorgeous silverwork and pottery.
We drove more than 1100 miles in 10 days, making multiple stops in Nevada, Arizona, and New Mexico. Is it any wonder that I need him to go back to work so that I can get some rest?
Tell me Stiletto Faithful: Are you taking a vacation this year? Stay-cations count too. If so, what are you doing? And is your traveling companion compatible?
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