Beach

As I get older I appreciate my experiences, my vast (ha!) travels, the exposure I’ve had to different cultures, people, places and foods.  Although I’ve visited several countries, I love my domestic vacations just as much. There’s nothing that drives more excitement for me than planning a trip – even if it’s not to some faraway spot.  A large part of the fun is the preparation AND, in many cases, the getting there. 

Our family has been going to the same beach for over 10 years.  It’s a tradition and a ritual.  Every year, early in the year, we start planning with siblings and cousins and nieces and nephews and their families.  Who will go this year?  When?  Who’s rooming with whom?  Where will we go when we get there?  Where will we stay?  Will we all stay in one place as we did that one time when we had a humongous house and all shared living spaces?  The kids loved it.  The adults?  Not so much.  But it takes a lot to organize kids and adult activities, by the day, so we don’t miss out on doing every single thing we know we want to do when we get there.  We will mostly be at the beach, but there’s the obligatory museums that some of us still do; and the ‘ladies day’ at the little seaside town.  The funky restaurant where they throw the dinner rolls at you.  The mandatory trip to surf shops for funky souvenirs.  The can’t-be-missed drug store for the saltiest hot dogs and cheap ice cream.  As the day gets closer, so grows the excitement in the process.  We have to pack – the very best shorts and tops, sometimes bought expressly for this trip; and the cutest dresses and flip flops.  For me, as everyone knows, my adaptive wear.  When I’m at the beach I’m in ‘I don’t care mode.’   And since we’re sad little city people who can’t truly relax, ensuring that we take every single piece of technology that we can!  Laptops, iPads, iPhones, Xbox, movies, music, it all has to go.  Kids count the days.  Adults count the hours!

Then we pack the cars with all the bags and blankets and pillows because we have to be comfortable – it’s a 10-hour drive.  Then we stuff the beach chairs and umbrellas, fishing rods and buckets and balls and all the beach paraphernalia that didn’t get lost or ruined the summer before.  One, two, three, four vehicles, full of excited adults and kids of all ages.  We drive at night so the kids don’t bother us with the ‘I’m hungries’ or incessant bathroom breaks.  We are prepared; we have drinks and all kinds of snacks and toys; but we know we will stop soon.  Someone is always starving and can’t make do with cookies or chips.  And then the blissful caravan starts.