It’s awful. I just want to go back to sleep and then perhaps later, a lot later, when I wake up, I want to eat something (I’m not sure what just yet) and then move onto a cocktail or two. Instead, I have to go to work. I have only had three hours sleep. My holiday hangover has kicked in.
Yes, it’s a hangover. Of sorts.
The holiday hangover hits hard. My three hours of sleep is not due to partying with friends and dancing into the early hours of a weekend morning. It’s off the back of a 22 hour travel day – awaking on a cruise ship in Southhampton and falling into bed almost a day later, back in Dubai. The hardest thing to face though is heading back into the office after two weeks of freedom. The sun, the sightseeing, the sundowners!
Cruising is a sustained high. Once you have unpacked in your cabin, the only thing left to worry about for the duration is how you wish to spend your time and the opportunity cost of choosing sun baking over sightseeing, steak over seafood or sangria over a Singapore sling.
Our whirlwind two weeks in Spain and Portugal has led us through the cultural delights of Lisbon and Barcelona, a meeting with Gibraltar’s Barbary apes, beach days in Ibiza, castles in Malaga and Palma, historic monuments in Cadiz and Vigo and a long bike ride (resulting in a very sore seat) in Valencia. Not to mention innumerable gelato.
Now as I return home, richer for the experience, carrying souvenir magnets and holiday pounds, the dizzying high of the escape, both physical and mental, comes crashing down around me. The weight of the everyday returning hangs as heavy in the air as holiday rain.
I gaze at my tired face in the mirror and apply my makeup with a sense of duty rather than anticipation, don my suit, rather than a summer dress and head off in the car for a day of meetings rather than adventure.
By mid morning I’m on my third coffee – not a strong European espresso, designed to lift my spirits as well as my game – but some milky concoction from the machine that no amount of sugar can redeem. By 2pm I can barely keep my eyes open. I feel my gaze drift off in an afternoon meeting and wonder if I should really be driving home. Lack of sleep, they say, affects driving as much as alcohol. I wish my cabin was just down the hall, a short snooze would do me the world of good…
…I intend to leave the office early(ier) but the day stretches out to 5:30pm by the time I get away. Dinner is, at least, on the table although perhaps not what I would have liked to order tonight. And it is not accompanied by a sundowner. We are all tired and irritable and I am disappointed at being unable to write off the short fuses to exhaustion from 20,000 steps and nearly as many photographs. After a quick shower I pay Oskar, our cat, some long overdue attention before sinking into my bed. Those, at least, are the redeeming feature of home – my cat, my bed, my sheets, my pillow!
The next morning is slightly easier, the day bringing with it a modicum more focus as I return my gaze to the meeting attendees and my endless influx of emails. A week later I am all but recovered from my holiday hangover and after work I log in to look up cruise destinations, already anticipating my next fix.
Good To Know
Holidays are a tonic for the soul, regardless of the destination and the after effects. And part of what makes them so enjoyable is the fact that I know I have worked hard for the chance to escape.
Would I Return?
Yes. I live for holidays! And my family. And my cat. Despite the inevitable side effect of a holiday hangover.
