Last Saturday, I boarded a catamaran to visit the island of Vis, the first stop on what was supposed to be a 10-day vacation, hopping to Hvar, Korcula, and Dubrovnik. The very next day, I returned home to Split, tired and sweaty and annoyed.
I haven’t made a secret of the fact that Croatia is not my favorite. I’m not really an ocean person in general—I enjoy the occasional beach vacation, but more of the “stay in a hotel that’s two steps to the beach and go to that beach every day and read a book while a waiter brings drinks” variety, rather than the Croatian “hike to this random rocky outcrop or take a scooter halfway across the island and walk across some pebbles to swim in the sea.” I think I’d like Croatia okay in June, but in August (particularly this August), it’s just not my idea of a good time.
So I got to Vis, and it’s cute and all, but it didn’t take my breath away. Then I met my (very sweet) Airbnb host who took me to the apartment…where I realized that I had royally fucked up.
I made my reservation both too early and too late. Too early because I was still in Berlin, where it was rainy and chilly, and the importance of air conditioning was not at the forefront of my mind. Too late because by the time I had booked, there were approximately two apartments to choose from in this little town.
And the apartment was stifling. By the time my host finished describing tours and telling me where the best beaches were (on the other side of the island…and the closest beach was a 40 minute walk away), sweat dripped down her face. I left all the windows and the balcony door open and left for dinner, hoping it would be cooler when I came home.
It was not. And I was in a foul mood because I’d dropped my knife and spattered gravy all over my favorite shirt, and it took a literal hour to get the bill. So I waited and watched Felicity on my laptop, hoping it would cool down as the night progressed. Around 3 AM, I finally dozed off, and I think I slept for a solid 15 minutes or so as I lay there, hot and miserable.
At 10 AM, I dragged my sticky, sweat-coated, unrefreshed self out of bed and decided I’d had enough. Vacations are supposed to be fun, and I wasn’t having any. I re-packed my stuff and got on the noon ferry back to Split.
Hi, Vis! Bye, Vis.
As frustrating as it was to waste time and money like that, I did learn a few lessons from the experience that I hope I can keep in mind as I travel:
1. I can’t do everything.
I’ve always said that I want to travel (almost) everywhere. Now I’m on this adventure, and I’m getting to experience so many different places. But I’ve felt such pressure to do more. If I’m in Croatia, I must do all the things there are to do in Croatia. Islands! Waterfalls! Go go go go go! And if in addition to seeing Croatia, I can fit in a side trip to a neighboring country, too, so much the better.
But, in month four of my trip, I’m realizing just how unfeasible this is. I’m tired. I don’t have time to prepare for all these adventures, either practically or psychologically, so I’m not enjoying it when I get there. Instead…
2. I need to prioritize what I really want.
The night before I was set to leave on the trip, my roommate for the month noted how unexcited I seemed about it. She wasn’t wrong—I haven’t really dreamed of seeing these islands; it’s just the thing you do in Croatia, so I was doing it.
The thing about joining We Roam is that while I can choose my itinerary, the individual countries are set. The upside is that sometimes I discover a place like Berlin that I had no idea I would love so much. The downside is that sometimes I spend a month in a country I don’t like.
But I do have control over my side trips, so it’s silly to plan those based on some external idea of what I *should* be doing. Instead I need to look at a map and figure out where I can go that excites me and ignites my sense of adventure. If I do that and still find myself in a spot I don’t really want to be, though…
3. It’s okay to bail.
I don’t like quitting things. Even if it’s just a vacation, quitting feels like failure. And it sucks to lose money. But I think what sucks more is sitting alone on an island (or wherever), miserably holding fast to your principles.
I tweeted something last month that still resonates with me:
I’ve regretted quitting things because I was lazy but never because I was unhappy.
That’s particularly true when it comes to something like vacation, where pleasure is the sole purpose. And the best thing about it is…
4. Bailing makes room for things I enjoy more.
You’ll get the full story in another blog post soon, but since my island hop was a bust, I decided to accept an offer to visit the little town of Tisno, where I wound up having the best two days I’ve had since I joined the trip. And that never would have happened if I’d stayed, sweaty and sad, on the island of Vis.
I recently listed to the audiobook of The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a Fuck, by Sarah Knight, and I highly recommend it. It’s all about not giving a fuck about things you don’t actually care about so you have more fucks to give on the things that you do. This whole post is very much in line with that philosophy: when it comes to side trips, I need to do a better job going forward of allocating my fucks.
