A few
years ago International Dan of Mystery and I went on a trip to Sint-Maarten,
the southern half of a Caribbean island in the Netherlands Antilles. France owns
the other half of the island, which is just called boring old St.
Martin. We stayed in Sint-Maarten
for a week.
We only visited the French side once, and it happened to be on a day that France was playing in the World Cup. So the main impression I got of St. Martin was this:
It is very difficult to get a seat in a cafe here and my, don't they yell a lot? Also our waitress seems to have vanished. What did Danwich just say? I don't know. I can hear nothing but soccer hooligans.
Whereas back on the Dutch side, our resort was right on the beach, we got ten-dollar vouchers every night to spend in the casino across the street, and everywhere from the tourist shops to the pharmacies seemed to sell the very best rum that has ever existed in this world.
We went to one restaurant where they gave you a complimentary shot of homemade banana rum with your meal. There were tiny bananas in the bottle (are they called something other than tiny bananas? I have no idea) and the rum was by far the most delicious banana-flavored thing I've ever had. It actually tasted like bananas, as opposed to the sickeningly sweet taste of banana-flavored candy.
Danana liked the rum even more than I did and told our waiter so. Our waiter responded by leaving a bottle of this glorious rum on our table for us to imbibe as we wished. I got up to go to the bathroom after two shots. When I came back, there was very little rum left. Also Danardly Dan had bought two more bottles—one for himself and one for his grandfather—and was grinning like a fool.
All in all, it was a pretty great vacation. One aspect I had been dreading beforehand was Arnold Schwarzedanner's insistence that we work out regularly while away. I don't exercise regularly when I'm not on vacation. To exercise during precious relaxing time seemed a terrible waste.
But once we were in Sint-Maarten, I actually got kind of into working out. It was pretty cool to work with Dan the Destroyer, since he teaches people how to exercise for a living. It also helped that the hotel's gym was more or less deserted each time we went.
I get kind of paranoid about working out around other people. I'm always convinced that I'm doing exercises wrong, and that every single other person in the gym knows it. Even All-Spandex-All-the-Time Guy, who fell asleep on the bench and is starting to drool.
Still, I can't entirely understand why I enjoyed working out and challenging myself so much in Sint-Maarten when normally I despise that sort of thing. I think maybe it had something to do with the fact that I knew I didn't have to do this forever—I was just taking advantage of the easy gym access. And considering how much swimming and hiking we did, I was pretty glad we were keeping active.
So in the end, my conclusion is this: I need to be on vacation all of the time. It is the only way I will treat my body properly. The tricky part is that somehow I need to continuously think the vacation might end, so that I appreciate each and every moment. I'll take those dance classes that the former Rockette from Dirty Dancing taught and soon I'll look something like this:
We only visited the French side once, and it happened to be on a day that France was playing in the World Cup. So the main impression I got of St. Martin was this:
It is very difficult to get a seat in a cafe here and my, don't they yell a lot? Also our waitress seems to have vanished. What did Danwich just say? I don't know. I can hear nothing but soccer hooligans.
Whereas back on the Dutch side, our resort was right on the beach, we got ten-dollar vouchers every night to spend in the casino across the street, and everywhere from the tourist shops to the pharmacies seemed to sell the very best rum that has ever existed in this world.
We went to one restaurant where they gave you a complimentary shot of homemade banana rum with your meal. There were tiny bananas in the bottle (are they called something other than tiny bananas? I have no idea) and the rum was by far the most delicious banana-flavored thing I've ever had. It actually tasted like bananas, as opposed to the sickeningly sweet taste of banana-flavored candy.
Danana liked the rum even more than I did and told our waiter so. Our waiter responded by leaving a bottle of this glorious rum on our table for us to imbibe as we wished. I got up to go to the bathroom after two shots. When I came back, there was very little rum left. Also Danardly Dan had bought two more bottles—one for himself and one for his grandfather—and was grinning like a fool.
All in all, it was a pretty great vacation. One aspect I had been dreading beforehand was Arnold Schwarzedanner's insistence that we work out regularly while away. I don't exercise regularly when I'm not on vacation. To exercise during precious relaxing time seemed a terrible waste.
But once we were in Sint-Maarten, I actually got kind of into working out. It was pretty cool to work with Dan the Destroyer, since he teaches people how to exercise for a living. It also helped that the hotel's gym was more or less deserted each time we went.
I get kind of paranoid about working out around other people. I'm always convinced that I'm doing exercises wrong, and that every single other person in the gym knows it. Even All-Spandex-All-the-Time Guy, who fell asleep on the bench and is starting to drool.
Still, I can't entirely understand why I enjoyed working out and challenging myself so much in Sint-Maarten when normally I despise that sort of thing. I think maybe it had something to do with the fact that I knew I didn't have to do this forever—I was just taking advantage of the easy gym access. And considering how much swimming and hiking we did, I was pretty glad we were keeping active.
So in the end, my conclusion is this: I need to be on vacation all of the time. It is the only way I will treat my body properly. The tricky part is that somehow I need to continuously think the vacation might end, so that I appreciate each and every moment. I'll take those dance classes that the former Rockette from Dirty Dancing taught and soon I'll look something like this:
Please, universe. For the
sake of my health, make this happen.
Banana rum sounds amazing.
ReplyDeleteWorking out is less amazing. I've been doing that 2-3 times a week lately (a first for me. I'm seriously amazed). I think it helps that I work with a bunch of pretty girls who all work out. I want to feel pretty too! And now, when I don't work out for a week or so, I feel... less pretty, even though it's all in my head. Funny how that works.
Banana rum > working out, I think we can all agree.
DeleteI go through athletic phases and always feel great during them. Then I decide to skip working out JUST THIS ONCE, and then suddenly it's six months later and I am a disgusting blob-person who can barely even climb stairs.