I am in search of a warm destination for a family holiday where I can relax without any worries about transportation or meals. I crave a dedicated time and place for pure relaxation. Picture this: I want to feel a sense of liberation as I check-in and slowly glide away on a conveyer belt, adorned in a beautiful sarong. I yearn to be pampered to the fullest on a luxurious cruise, much like the protagonist in David Foster Wallace’s story, “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again.” At this point, I am so exhausted that any existential despair would likely be lost on me. The idea of spending five to seven days with fresh towels and organized fun sounds like absolute paradise.
My last true vacation with my partner, Sam, was back in 2015, before we had kids. We explored Mexico City on bicycles and indulged in pig’s head soup from small stalls on street corners. We stayed in a hotel where smoking in elevators was allowed, and the pool had a thrilling unsupervised diving board. To top it off, we spent the last leg of our trip in a cliffside hut in Mazunte. We blissfully slept for eight days in beds, on beaches, and in hammocks, only waking up for mid-morning micheladas and huevos rancheros. In the evenings, we ventured down the cliff to a peaceful town, where we savored mouthwatering Argentinian barbecue from an outdoor kitchen, accompanied by an audience of stray dogs, while witnessing the breathtaking sunset. We slept like we had never slept before, serenaded by the soothing sounds of the Pacific Ocean.
During that vacation, there were no kids clubs, chicken nuggets, or inflatable pool toys. As we sat on the sand, watching a child carry a squid from the sea, we dreamily proclaimed that we would return with our future children. We envisioned ourselves as adventurous parents, potentially staying for months to immerse ourselves in the culture and language. However, life took its course, and we welcomed our first child in 2016, followed by our second a year later. Initially, we vocalized our plans to revisit Mexico, relishing in the envy of our childless friends. It reassured us that parenthood wouldn’t completely change our lives. However, as the demands of parenting consumed our souls, the idea of a carefree vacation became a twisted paradox. Our beach bags became filled with diapers, wipes, bottles, and various baby essentials, as I anxiously researched every item to ensure it was safe for our baby’s sensitive skin.
Nevertheless, we persisted in our plans to go to Mexico, if only to prove a point about being adventurous parents. At the time, our children were two and three years old, and a sense of dread loomed as we organized our trip, like horses being led into a bullring. Then, the arrival of Covid-19 brought about a subtle relief. International travel restrictions meant we could cancel our Mexico plans and never mention them again.
Now, our kids are of school-age, capable of taking care of basic tasks like brushing their teeth and putting on their shoes. They can even entertain each other, often filling the house with joyful screams during bath time. We are finally ready for a holiday. However, my desire to prove anything has vanished, and my sense of pride has completely dissolved. What I long for now is a family resort complete with chicken nuggets and the option to join a conga line around the pool.
Desperate for a solution, I reached out to a travel agent and expressed my need for a vacation that will provide a kind of mental escape. Suzette, the travel agent, suggested an eight-day all-inclusive international resort franchise with trapeze lessons for the kids. It sounded perfect, until she mentioned the steep price tag of $11,936, which included flights.
Feeling slightly deflated, I responded, “I made porridge for lunch today.”
Understanding my predicament, Suzette offered an alternative, “What about a cruise?”
“A cruise?” I questioned.
“Yes, you could embark on an all-inclusive cruise for around $3,000, excluding flights to and from Sydney,” she explained.
I pondered the idea, thinking back to the luxurious cruise experience portrayed in the beginning of the novel, “Triangle of Sadness”.
“Not quite like the one in the novel,” Suzette clarified.
It’s no secret that international mega-cruises are popular among the older crowd and parents of young children. We seek budget-friendly options and desperately yearn for rest. Unfortunately, the online reviews of Suzette’s suggested cruise were less than stellar. Complaints ranged from cold showers and persistent sewage smells to overcrowded swimming pools resembling human soup. And let’s not forget about the environmental impact that the cruise industry carries. If marine life could speak, the reviews would be even more scathing.
At this point, we are considering a week-long staycation, complete with margaritas and unlimited cozy time by the heater.
Our family holiday is still pending, but we hope to find the perfect balance between relaxation and fun. Ashe Davenport, Writer and Author
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