As I walked down the steps of our Airbus A320 upon arrival at Ioannis Kapodistrias International Airport in the summer of 2022, I thought to myself, “I love to travel“. More accurate, I suppose, would be to say that I love to travel to exactly the same place every single year, having descended those same steps on no less than 24 occasions since I first landed in Corfu in 1985. My partner, who is much wiser than me (how could she be any less?), pointed out that the bulk of these visits took place while our children were growing up. Corfu, back then, was affordable to visit in the school holidays, so we kept going back time after time, year after year. It took a lot for me to break the habit, not least because Corfu is a very nice island indeed, but the argument that we should really be visiting other places was powerful and compelling. In the end it won. But does it really matter where you go on holiday as long as you enjoy it?
Since we broke the habit, we have been to Paxos (via Corfu), Formentera, Croatia, Skiathos, Canada, Lanzarote, the Netherlands and Portugal. I can honestly say that I don’t regret breaking the habit – because that’s what it was – although I would be lying if I was to say that I don’t, from time-to-time, miss the friends and acquaintances I made along the way. Time waits for no man, or woman, and there was definitely an element of feeling the need to do and go somewhere different.
Certainly for me, a holiday is a totally selfish thing. It’s about my partner and I feeling good. That can be by loafing about by a pool or on a beach, sight-seeing or simply rambling around. I want to take in the view, I want to read books, listen to music and generally do the things I do at home, but mainly, for most holidays, under a hot sun. For many years, with the odd exception, Corfu was our go to island. Now, it is maybe that week long second holiday, later in the season.
I want to go to other places now because my partner was right. While she never tired of Corfu, she saw the world as being bigger than I did, that actually we could have just as good, if not better, time by branching out. Well into branching out now, I can only conclude she was right.
I don’t know whether my partner ever used the argument, “Look, do you really want to go to exactly the same place, every year for the rest of your life? You are a stroke or cancer diagnosis away from not being able to go anywhere at all. Don’t you even want to see if there is another world out there?” but if she had, she’d have been right. I won’t say I was brow-beaten to eventually reply that actually I did want to see if there was another world out there, but if I was, then it was justified. Mine was the “if it ain’t broken, then don’t fix it” argument but it was also an argument of someone wearing blinkers, utterly set in their (my) ways; fingers in my ears shouting “nah nah nah” to drown out common sense.
However, there is no reason why the way I now feel should apply to anyone else. Surely the place where you are happiest is where you want to be, whether it’s at home, that caravan site in Cornwall, that hotel in Benidorm, that apartment on a Greek island? Just because I am more aware of my mortality than I was when I was young, indestructible and certain to live forever, doesn’t mean I will be happier seeing more of the world than someone who prefers familiarity. No. Because that person was me and in some ways still is.
If I live as long as my mum, I’ve got around nine years left and I have already long outlived her father, who shuffled off his mortal coil long before I came along. And my longevity, or possible lack of it, is something I am very aware of. Even if I live to be old – and the odds aren’t great given my family tree – it is likely that infirmity will end soon enough my inclination and ability to travel.
My choice, then, is to branch out and see more of the world. I’ve barely touched mainland Europe, never been Down Under (ooh er, missus) and while I have flown over, been on a train that passed through and sailed in American waters, I have never yet set foot in the USA. I suspect the USA and Down Under will remain unexplored by me but I have concluded that stepping out into the wider world – well, the slightly wider world – is what I want to do. Christ – there are vast swaths of the UK and Ireland I have never seen.
The old expression home is where the heart is always comes to mind and according to Quora, so it must be true, means this: “The phrase “home is where the heart is” means that the place where you feel the most love, comfort, and sense of belonging is your true home, regardless of its physical location. It emphasizes (sic) the importance of emotional connections and the feeling of being at home rather than the physical structure or geographical location.” When stepping off that plane in Corfu I do feel I am home again, something that was an even more profound feeling when I arrived in the Hook of Holland in September to visit the land of my mother’s. And to me, the feeling is everything. Why, I even felt that when we stayed in Croatia for the second time, not least because in almost every way it felt like a big step up from Greece (just my opinion).
It’s partly because there are so many places to see and so little time to see them, essentially a desire to live my best life while I still can. Of course, I’ll go back to the places I love, even those I’ve visited scores of times, but – and here we go back to a familiar theme – the worst words in the world are “what if“. I don’t want to lie in a care home, wondering what it would have been like to stay on a tiny, untouristy Greek island, a cottage in Highlands of Scotland, an all inclusive stay on a small island off Madeira – oh wait, that’s this year.
A small part of me is Billy Connolly’s Rambling Man, who he describes thus: “Being a Rambling Man is about more than just travelling – it’s a state of mind. Rambling Men and Women are free spirits who live on their wits, are interested in people and endlessly curious about the world. They love to play music, make art or tell stories along the way but, above all, they have a longing in their heart for the open road.”
Only a small part, for sure, but I totally get it. And while it’s still possible, I want to be that person. In my mind, I already am.
