Balancing Act
You’ve probably heard the joke, “The perfect man, the perfect woman, the Easter Bunny, and Santa Claus are riding in a car when it gets a flat. Who changes the tire?”
Answer: “The perfect women. The other three are just figments of her imagination.”
Ha. Ha.
In truth, there’s no perfect anything. Man, woman, wedding, marriage, job, home, relationship, life. Even vacation.
And when unrealistic expectations enter the picture, all bets are off.
Travel guru Rick Steves has recently become something of a hero of mine. Now before your eyes roll back into your heads so far that you can't get them facing forward again, I too have misjudged Rick in the past for all the obvious reasons. He can come off as a fresh-faced, self promoting, smarty-pants (really, is there no public tv appeal he won't make?), who controls a megajillion dollar empire he built just by telling middle-America what they should have known all along: "Get off the tour bus and go start a conversation with Pedro, or Pietro, or Pierre...he won't bite." And let's face it, we're all a little envious of Rick, in that way that asserts itself with declarations of "What he does is hardly work; I could do his job better than he does!" that are usually reserved for Donovan McNabb after, well, almost any Eagles game these days.
Marcello Mastroianni once said of acting, "They come for you in the morning in a limousine; they take you to the studio; they stick a pretty girl in your arms... They call that a profession? Come on!" And I think that whenever we see someone who makes it all look so easy, we are liable to think the same thing.
But since I've been traveling, I've discovered a few things about Rick Steves. First off, he's a socially active guy, very probably to the detriment of his business, and that goes a long way in my book (http://www.ricksteves.com/about/pressroom/activism/activism_menu.htm). And while his guide books don't cover everything that I'd like to see, they are by his own admission subjective, reflecting his take on what is most worthwhile for the casual visitor to Europe. Where his guides shine are in the practical information department - e.g. where to find an internet point - and helpful tips that I’ve found to be of real value. Plus his website has been an unexpectedly useful resource. I’m not suggesting that Rick and his guides are right for everyone or every trip. For example, if Rick likes a hotel, it’s a safe bet that I should think twice before making it my roost.
But here's what I dig the most about the Rickster - his Travel Philosophy. At risk of a lawsuit, I'm going to quote liberally here from his website (which you'll now find linked on my homepage). Rick writes:
"Travel is intensified living - maximum thrills per minute and one of the last great sources of legal adventure. Travel is freedom. It's recess, and we need it." He goes on to remind us that "travel, like the world, is a series of hills and valleys. Be fanatically positive and miltantly optimistic. If something's not to your liking, change your liking."
(http://www.ricksteves.com/about/pressroom/travphil.htm) .
I couldn't have said it better, and believe me, I wish I had. I encourage you to read his travel philosophy in its entirety. It sums up why I travel, and why I think that we all should devote a lot more time - time that goes well beyond our usual paid vacation - to getting to know other cultures (more on that later).
One of the things I’ve noticed during my time on the road is that no place is perfect. Luzern, for example, is postcard pretty, but buggy near the river (which means half the town). And this in October. I’ve read that in Summer, Luzern is so crowded with tourists that the locals move out. But when I first arrived in town, what I saw was the beautiful frescoed buildings, flower-laden covered bridges criss-crossing the river, and crenellated town walls connecting soaring turrets.
Nor have I ever stayed at the perfect hotel. Now, hotels are important to me. For some people, hotels don’t mean much; they’d rather spend their money on Michelin starred restaurants, or Chanel bags, or their children’s college funds. But I’m particular about where I stay. I research before I book, and I’m not afraid to spend a little extra for what I’m looking for (attractive room, mod cons, central location, good feedback from former guests). Invariably, however, if the room is spectacular, the service is a bit chilly. If the view is stunning, the entire insect population of the city wants to share it with me. Super helpful staff in the hippest hotel in town? Yes, but the lift is broken and I’m on the 5th floor. It may seem as if I’m complaining. On the contrary. I’ve learned to take the bad with the good. I can shrug off most things - even a room with a train going by every few minutes a la My Cousin Vinny. And here’s why.
First off, I’m learning to manage my expectations. I don’t go in expecting everything to be glorious. If it turns out to be far better than I imagined, then I’m delighted. Otherwise, at least I’m not too unpleasantly surprised. Secondly, I have the luxury of time. Because I’m on this journey for more than the usual week or two that most Americans get for a vacation, I can afford to take the bad with the good and not worry that it will “ruin my entire holiday.” We Americans are so impoverished when it comes to time off, that we save all our dreams for a couple of weeks a year. Then if our hotel doesn’t meet every expectation, if each meal isn’t sheer bliss, if the sights we see aren’t as vivid as the technicolor pictures from our guidebooks, then we’ve somehow been gypped. And God forbid it should rain.
I have heard voices raised to shouts at hotel reception desks over "problems" that most likely could have been resolved if expectations (and tempers) had not gotten so out of control. And if you go to any travel website - one of my favorites being www.tripadvisor.com - you will come away not only with many thoughtful reviews, but also some travel horror stories, both real and magnified by the unfortunate duo of expectation and lack of time.
Numerous articles have been written citing the disparity between the number of vacation days per year American workers receive, and their counterparts around the world are legally obliged to take.
(http://itotd.com/articles/351/work-week-and-vacation-variances/)
(http://money.cnn.com/2006/08/03/technology/fbvacations0803.biz2/index.htm)
What you find is that working longer hours, with little time off, doesn't, in fact create the most productive worker in the world, only the most stressed-out. So it remains a mystery why we work so much, to produce so little, and then go on a holiday which ends up being underwhelming.
Once I return from this voyage of self-discovery, I will most likely have to work for the rest of my life. I am somewhat resigned to that, I think. I know only that whatever I end up doing to make a living - and there are comprimises I am prepared to make - I will stand firm on one thing. Time. At my last job, I received only one-week of vacation time per year and was expected to feel grateful for that. That is something I can never do again.
Work and life should be a balance. If you are fortunate, they will complement each other. But you should never be asked to live your life from sundown to sunup and on the weekends that you're not needed at work. And yes, one week per year - but by all means be available by cell phone and email. Those days are over.
Tonight I’m staying at a very nice hotel in Luzern. Not the perfect hotel, mind you, but I have a balcony with a magnificent view of the river, the city, and mountains beyond. The hotel is called Hotel des Balances, which I thought nothing of when I booked it. Stepping off the elevator onto my floor, however, I got it. On a table was a brass balance. Or scale. My Father’s metaphor for the cosmos (see Bliss, September 3, 2006). My point is this. My Dad was right about the balance of life - just perhaps a little extreme in his outlook. When something good happens, you shouldn’t wait for the other shoe to drop. But recognize that everything in life is a combination of good and…not so much. Usually at the same time. When you finally trade in the ideal for the real and give it a little time, you often find reality’s not half bad.
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