Homing in

 Going on holiday is great; but coming back home is even better

 

They say that you should consider yourself lucky if you have the time, the money, and the energy to go on holiday. That you are fortunate indeed if you can pack up and go forth to explore the world. That there is nothing quite like travel to broaden your horizons and expand your mind. 

 

All of this is true. But, if you ask me, the truly blessed are not those who get to take a vacation but those who are equally excited about the prospect of coming back home. If the comforts of your home rank as high – if not higher – as the attractions of the world then all is right in your universe.

 

Speaking for myself, there is nothing I love more than coming home after spending a week or two away. Don’t get me wrong. I love travelling as much as the next person, exploring sites, experimenting with new cuisines, meeting interesting people. But I suspect I would not enjoy it quite so much if I didn’t have the certainty of coming back home to my own comfort zone.

 

So, what exactly do I like about coming back home after a vacation? Well, here are just a few things that I look forward to:

 

·       After days of sleeping in unfamiliar beds, it is a special treat to slip between the sheets of your own. The pillows are just right (not too soft, not too hard), the duvet has the perfect thickness (so you don’t feel too hot or too cold), and all the stuff you need is well within reach on your nightstand. That is a luxury no hotel – no matter how pricey – can replicate. 

·       Exploring new restaurants, trying out new dishes, experimenting with unknown cuisines, all of this has its own charms. But after a week or so of this, my tastebuds start longing for some ghar ka khaana. And by that I don’t just mean that I miss Indian food (though my first meal when I return is always khichdi with aloo chokha) but that I long for the food I make at home, whether it is a spicy Thai curry, a railway-style omelet, or even just some oven-roasted potatoes. 

·       My husband and I have a rule that we don’t watch any television on our travels. No tuning into CNN or BBC to catch up on the news. No signing into Netflix or Amazon Prime. And no going down the YouTube rabbit hole either. This means that we always have a few good shows to catch up on when we return home. So, we settle down on our well-worn couch after dinner, a tray of tea in front of us, and binge-watch all the stuff we have missed while away – and know that we are finally home. 

·       But, in the end, what I enjoy the most about coming back home is the complete lack of disorientation. I know where all the light switches are, I don’t have to puzzle over how the shower works, I wake up in the morning knowing exactly where I am. And that feeling of being grounded in my surroundings, in my view, is worth more than a dozen holidays in the most exotic of locations. 

Switch on switch off

There is nothing as anxiety inducing for me as going on holiday 

Last week I wrote about my propensity to make lists – and how that took the stress right out of packing. But what I didn’t mention is that no matter how many lists I make – and obediently tick off – nothing makes me more anxious than travelling.

 

I am an anxious person at the best of times. And my anxiety levels are not helped by my propensity to dream up problem scenarios that may come to pass and how I would cope with them. But when it comes to heading out on a trip, my anxiety is centered around the here and now. 

 

Locking up has never been easy for me, even if I am heading out for a local shop. I double check and then triple check doors, windows, cupboards, etc. to make sure that the house is secure. Even before I head to bed I have a ritual of going around the house, making sure the locks are on, the lights are off, and that the balconies are secure. When my anxiety is heightened this can take ages, as I go through each part of the house again and again to make sure I have missed nothing.

 

As you may have realized, I suffer from what has been diagnosed as a form of obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). And though it doesn’t really impact the quality of my life in any meaningful way, it does mean that I have repetitive rituals that help me cope with my OCD. 

 

But it’s when I am leaving town for a while that my anxiety kicks in for real. I obsessively check that the gas and oven are turned off at the mains; I double check each geyser in the house; and I can easily spend 15 minutes in front of each of my cupboards, dementedly checking the locks over and over again. And after I have done all that and am ready to leave for the airport, the anxiety kicks in again, and I have to sternly tell myself that I can’t go through the entire ritual all over again – or I might miss my flight, and then, all of this would have been in vain.

 

The anxiety lasts all through my car ride to the airport. I start obsessively recounting all the things I should have packed, trying to reassure myself that I have, in fact, put them in my suitcase. I have developed some hacks to deal with this. If there is any particular item I am especially anxious about, I place it in the suitcase and take a picture of it. That way if I feel later on that I may have forgotten it, I can look at the picture and feel better.

The other way in which I try to alleviate my anxiety is by taking back-ups of important things as far as is feasible. I pack two separate bags with my essential medicines and place one in the suitcase and the other in my carryon bag. That way, I tell myself, even if I have forgotten a certain item in one, it is bound to turn up in the other. 

 

If all this sounds a bit mad to you, never fear, it seems a bit mad to me too. But if that’s what it takes to travel in (relative) peace, then that’s how it has to be.