The problem with holidays

Of all the things sacrificed to public health in the last eighteen months, I think the one I regret the least is the default poolside Summer holiday. I first began to understand something about it, and the counter intuitive aspects of human happiness, on holiday in Cozumel, off the coast of Mexico, in 1999.

I was staying at an all-inclusive hotel, not the sort of thing I would normally have done, being more of a self-identified ‘traveller’ at the time, happier with ad-hoc hostels and thumbing from town to town. I immediately resented the little coloured wristband that alerted the staff to the level of service and the range of free cocktails I was entitled to. But this was the cheapest and easiest way to spend a week scuba diving, which I was eager to try.

So perhaps I was already inclined to despise many of the other residents, who seemed more at home, and on whom I projected a completely different set of motives to those which had brought me there.