Catalina Dreaming

It is wonderful to go on vacation and have a fantastic time.

But coming home to regular life after that amazing time?

Not so fun.

It still makes sense to get away. I just need to remember that there is a relationship between how great a vacation is and how difficult it is to settle back into my ordinary days once I’m home again. If my time away was “meh,” then coming home is welcome because many things are easier at home: cooking, showering, sleeping. My favorite food, pillow, and body wash all live at home and don’t go on vacation with me. But if a vacation is wonderful, especially if it includes spending time with someone I love who I don’t see very often, then coming home is not so great.

My son and I are just back from three nights on Catalina Island, where my daughter has been working this summer as a zip line operator. It’s her second summer helping resort guests enjoy zip line rides—last summer up in Tahoe and this summer on Catalina. Reentry for us, after three nights on that beautiful island? Rough, I tell you. I’m missing her already.

I am also fairly certain that we will never again experience Catalina like we did these last days—mostly because we were fortunate enough to enjoy all the activities her company offers for free. Which meant that we could go on the dolphin tour, the flying fish tour, the bison expedition, the underwater submarine tour, the VIP tour of the Catalina Casino, play mini-golf, go on the zip line, borrow kayaks, and enjoy a speed boat ride to Two Harbors, a sleepier town on the other side of the island from Avalon—at no cost. We kept an unofficial tally of the money we saved because my daughter was able to bring us along on tours without paying. It was at least $1,000.

I do not think of myself as poor, but realistically there are things we do not do very often these days, things we probably would do more if there was extra room in my budget. We don’t eat out much anymore—like almost never. I keep track of how much I spend on groceries and look at the Wednesday store ads to see where the bargains are. If we would have had to pay for the activities we enjoyed on Catalina, we would have picked just one—the dolphin tour or the flying fish tour, the bison expedition or the zip line. It never would have been both. It never would have been all of them. Also, we most likely would not have been able to stay on the island for more than one night (if that). We were able to stay at a lovely hotel, also owned by the company that employs my daughter because of her employee discount, which made it $99 a night instead of closer to $400.

I’d saved money to help us go on the trip. Even though all our activities were free, the trip still had a cost. We had to pay for ferry tickets (mine was a little cheaper than my son’s, because for the first time in my life, I qualified for a senior discount—helpful but also a little depressing), meals, hotel, and Uber fees to get from the airport to the boat dock and back again.

No, we are not poor, but also, I’m certain we are not in the same income bracket as many of the folks we saw in Catalina—certainly not those who arrived on their personal yachts—there were beautiful ones in the harbor. Or the people who paid full price for their activities and also ate every meal out at the beautiful restaurants that lined the harbor. We saved money by going to Vons, the island’s only grocery store, and bought deli sandwiches for $11.99 that were already conveniently cut into sections that we could share on the beach. We also bought breakfast food there: donuts and yogurt, bananas and hardboiled eggs.

My daughter and most of her zip line cohorts are seasonal workers; they stay in employee housing and are there for a time. Many of them will leave and transition to winter jobs at ski resorts soon. One of her friends will be leaving for a job as a kayak guide in Florida. But there are workers who live on the island permanently; many of these folks clean the hotel rooms and public bathrooms. They prep and cook the food.  Without them, the service industry on the island might very well fall apart.

So that’s something I’m thinking about, as I settle back into my everyday life—how lovely it was to be a VIP for a few days, to enjoy so many activities without worrying about the cost, and also that it’s unlikely that I will ever repeat a vacation like that. But the fact that I could do it at all? I’m grateful for that, grateful for my daughter and the chance to spend time with her. I’m also grateful for the people who live there year round, who show up every day and clean and stock grocery shelves, do maintenance, and work at jobs that are not so easy to do. They take care of the people with yachts—they make yachting life possible.  They also took care of us.