“The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins…”
There’s thrill, sure. And blood pumping through my veins. But there’s no chase. At least not the kind Sherlock meant. I’m chasing time instead.
Let’s start over.
We’re planning a trip to one of my favourite parts of India: Kerala. And I can’t sleep thinking about what to do, what to eat, and how to make it more than just another holiday.
There’s so much joy and excitement in planning for a trip. I’ve never fancied myself as a person sticking to plans and schedules. I like to just go with the flow. But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy making plans.
Every morning when I pick out the day’s clothes, my eyes land on that one pair of jeans, or that shirt that would be great to wear on the trip. Or when I’m munching on a new flavour of fries, I make a mental note to buy it for the ride. “Ma would enjoy it,” I’d tell myself. I browse through cakes online to get “an idea” of the kind of cake we should order.
I take a virtual tour of the route we would take, look for decent rest stops, snack shops, sweet stalls, and memento stores. I zoom in and “search nearby” on Google maps, looking for fancy restaurants and coffee shops.
I go on trip planning sites to read through reviews of speciality food, and I scroll through menus and imagine myself ordering steamed fish and savouring how well it goes with the fried rice.
And I plan my work around my trip. I’ve become extra productive this week, so I could be at peace when I leave. I beg my colleagues to finish tasks soon because I wouldn’t be at work to check them out next week. I’ll go around bragging to every tea lover that I’m off to holiday amidst tea estates.
And all the while, I pretend like I don’t even have a plan. But every night, as I twist and turn in bed, sleepless, I’m glad I’m a day closer to the trip.