Pulling Out Positivity

So many people love tropical beach vacations. I am not one of them.

I recently talked myself into visiting the Bahamas, thinking that a long-time friend—who happens to be a travel professional—would help me experience the magic others seem to find in such places. And sure, I went, I experienced, I took stunning photos. The colors of the water were unreal, the beaches whiter than white. I had a lovely time… and I also left early, never needing to go back.

When people ask me about my trip, I find myself quiet or repeating the same rehearsed line:
"It’s beautiful, the colors are stunning, I’ve never seen blues like that." All true. And yet, I was expecting more—even when I thought I wasn’t expecting at all! How does that happen? I'm familiar with the phrase, "Humans are meaning-making machines." Are we also expectation-making machines? Because I swear, I did my best to go in open-minded. I wasn’t looking for a “transformational” experience, a spiritual awakening, or even the best vacation ever. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And yet, there I was, wandering the pristine beaches, wondering what I was doing there.

Maybe it’s because I’m naturally more of a cold weather person. Maybe it’s because I burn just thinking about the sun. Maybe it’s because sweating while doing nothing feels like an attack on my personal comfort (unless I'm in a sauna). So here’s my challenge: Can I tell the truth and frame it positively? Can I focus on what I learned, confirmed, or observed?
For example:

• I am so happy I experienced what the Bahamas has to offer—warmth in winter with stunning sun, sand, and surf. Now I know for sure weather in the tropical winter is still to hot for me.
• Walking on the beach, slathered in sunscreen, covered in breezy fabric, is not my idea of fun.
• There aren’t as many shells as there used to be because decades of tourists have taken them home.
• Even 70-75 degrees feels uncomfortably hot to me.
• Drinking at the pool with strangers isn’t my thing. Neither is reading fiction and shifting my chair every ten minutes to chase the shade of the palapa.
• Having uninterrupted time to scroll Facebook or YouTube while getting tan lines is just not my cup of tea.

Not complaining—just clarifying.
I genuinely admire the people who do enjoy this type of vacation. I respect the art of perfecting the beach day, the patience required to lounge, the ability to truly relax and soak it all in. But I also know myself well enough now to say: It’s just not for me. And there’s something freeing about that. Maybe the real value of the trip wasn’t in finding some newfound love for tropical vacations but in confirming what I already suspected! How often do we go through life thinking we should enjoy something just because it’s widely adored? That if we just did it right, we’d have the same experience as everyone else? The trip was beautiful, and I’m grateful for the experience. AND I no longer have to wonder if I’d enjoy the whole tropical island paradise thing. I don’t. And that’s okay.

Isn't it interesting that it feels like a problem to simply not prefer something that most people do. If I said, "I don’t like sushi," no one would think I’m a complaining crazy person. They’d just nod and say, "Oh yeah, not for everyone!" But when I say, "I don’t love tropical vacations," there’s this awkward pause—like I’ve rejected some universal truth about leisure and relaxation. But what if I didn’t feel the need to soften it for other people’s comfort? What if I just owned it?

"I don’t love tropical vacations. Never have. Never will. Some people love the sun and sand, and I prefer the cold. Ain’t it beautiful how we’re all wired differently?"

Boom. No guilt. No second-guessing. No need to justify or prove anything. Just truth—clean, simple, and free. Now that is a vacation mindset worth bringing home. 😉

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