Monday, February 20.
We’re ready and packed pretty quickly. We’ve almost got the routine down to a science.
Jen drops by our room; we give her our remaining food to take with her on the long trip down to Santa Teresa, where she’ll spend the next week with a mutual friend with ours.
Somehow (and this pretty much convinces me she’s simply blessed in travel-related matters), she’s gotten an arrangement through the hotel, for a shuttle that will take her (and two other women from the States) all the way down to Santa Teresa – avoiding an otherwise long, winding trip to get to the six-hour ferry she’d otherwise have to take.
According to the man at the reception desk, arrangements like that NEVER happen.
(I NEED to know how she does that.)
We part ways, and Jenn, Zoe and I drive the two or so hours back to the car rental place to return our trusty RAV4.
We’re shuttled to the airport, and before we know it, we’re in the air … back to our chilly home, and cold reality.
It’s been exactly six weeks since our trip ended. And man, does it ever feel like a dream.
I did spend another week after Costa Rica puttering around, before returning to work.
But it didn’t take very long for the post-vacation bliss to completely evaporate.
It’s as if my workplace decided to make me pay – nay, overcompensate – for the fun I’ve had, by working it right out of me.
Long shifts. Numerous requests to work overtime. The list goes on.
I even took a long weekend off in mid-March, to visit a friend in Ottawa. But it didn’t really ease the fatigue or the grind of the big, bad work machine.
In fact, I’ve just come off of nine consecutive days of work, had one day off, and have started another six-day stretch.
The only thing keeping me from completely losing my mind, is the prospect of a future trip.
I just submitted my request for summer vacation.
Fingers crossed, I get my first choice. But I already know where I’d like to go.
And I’ve even been speaking with another friend, who’s thinking of going to one of my desired destinations. With any luck, our trip itineraries will overlap.
Even if they don’t and I end up going alone, I’ll be happy just to have the privilege of going places I’ve never been before, and to soak up what I can, for however long I can.
And perhaps in between my big trips, I can find the time to take some day-trips outside Toronto (providing I don’t have to work, that is).
But make no mistake: The travel bug that’s laid dormant for the past few years is awake.
My wanderlust has returned. With a vengeance.