This week I have the holiday you have when you’re not having a holiday
On Friday, there I am, in Bali, on holiday, having a pedicure. Which is kind of the bourgeois equivalent of getting Bo Derek braids. Two hours and 15 minutes later, there I still(!!) am, having a pedicure. Sujatmi, the all-smiles Balinese girl attending my toes, couldn’t have gone slower without going backwards.
Being the Bourgeois, Uptight Westerner with A Week Off (a BUWWO?) that I am, such a protracted scenario would normally see me commit hari kari. I’d be a mess, fretting about all the nasi gorengs I could be eating and the white beaches I could be strolling. Everyone else is having The Perfect Holiday, is what I’d be thinking, while I’m bloody-well having my calluses scraped at glacial speed.
But on this occasion I remain calm. So much so that three hours later when the polish smears everywhere and sand granules get mooshed into the tacky mix I laugh. Why? Because this holiday I’m having the holiday you have when you stop trying to have a holiday.