While I really like being on holiday I have decided that I really don't like going on holiday. There is a massive difference.
As I write this I am deep in relaxation mode: sitting at a table in a tree house next to a swimming pool at a cheap and cheerful resort in Langkawi. I have a pot of freshly brewed coffee, my tummy is full from a buffet breakfast and the children and Lexi are doing stuff, quietly without arguing. Lexi is reading. All is well. I am only thinking about Ideas for Drama lessons eight times a day so, taken all together, I clearly must be on holiday. Splendid.
Going on holiday is a different beast completely.
The hassle started when Lexi and I first came up with the idea of going on this holiday. Her Mum was visiting us and having a week away in Langkawi for her final week sounded like just the thing. We agreed on staying in the same place we had been to several times before and so set about booking. Having previously tried to book directly with the resort and failed spectacularly (people might remember my attempts to arrange a TV package without going through an agent and the weeks of delays) we decided to use Expedia.com (other websites are available). We pressed all the right buttons, inserted all the right dates, put in the right credit card details and, already starting to feel relaxed, hit the 'confirm' button. Nothing happened. When nothing had finished happening a message came up saying that our booking had not been successful and we should try again. We did and helpfully the price went up by RM1000 (quite a lot). We gave up.
Next day, Lexi phoned Expedia.com and after much waiting, explaining, reciting of details as well as two more phone calls we got our booking for RM200 cheaper than the first on-line price. We started to relax again. Booking a holiday had been so stressful that we needed a holiday to recover from booking a holiday.
The last week of term 3 is always nutty and this year was no different with all of those usual things that have to be done before the end of term 3 still having to be done. The last day was finally upon us. We celebrated by eating in a Syrian restaurant in Chinatown, doing all the Saturday stuff that we have to do and then setting about packing on Sunday. Our Sunday packing was delayed by the need to have lunch with some friends who were departing KL for Wisbech but when packing could no longer be put off we tackled it and beat it.
However life continues and stuff needed doing. Before leaving I had to arrange for the car to be serviced, buy new sandals, sort out Edwin's birthday presents, forget to bring some of his birthday cards, check the air ticket bookings several times, lose the lock for my suitcase, do that last minute load of washing, ensure that the children had packed, go to bed too late and then forget all the waterproofs.
We got up at normal school time on Monday morning and as Lexi drive off to work (to join us on Wednesday) our ever reliable taxi driver arrived at exactly 0645 to chauffeur us to the airport. All looked well.
Checking in was predictably difficult. I presented my credentials to the specified Air Asia counter and was told that I had to "self check in first." (Air Asia's self check-in is a wonderfully designed system that successfully creates more work for the would-be flyer and is really good at annoying the slightly hassled father with kids and mother in law. It involves you typing in your booking code into a machine, swearing at the machine when it tells you that the code is not recognised, typing in the code again, more swearing, getting cross at an elderly Chinese couple who have walked off and left a luggage trolley in the way, looking confused when the machine, contrary to expectations works on the third go, watching as four of the required five boarding cards are printed and then returning to the check-in counter to finish the process.). I presented the boarding cards to the hassled looking lady behind the counter and explained that one was missing. Having previously refused to print off our boarding cards she then pressed a few buttons and printed off Pat's boarding pass without question. Why the hell she couldn't do it in the first place for all of us was beyond me. Having dealt with all that it was a relief to get on the plane and land in Langkawi. Haggling with car hire people, nursing the car with vapours of petrol in it to the petrol station and debating with the resort manager about being allocated the wrong rooms were easy challenges to deal with compared to the earlier hassles. All of this must take its toll.
Help was at hand though in the form of a visit to the Mahsuri Museum. Mahsuri was reputed to be a beautiful Langkawi lovely who was married to a local Prince. So far so good. Mrs M was later seen talking to a local lad, news spread and rumours were circulated. She was then accused of adultery and put to death. The story goes that as she was completely innocent she bled white blood while dying and cursed Langkawi for seven generations, just for good measure. Salvation is always at hand for the weary traveler in these stories and so while exploring the place we found a well that contained water with just the healing powers that the hassled holiday booking father needed. It promised to enhance one's natural and outstanding beauty. We took plenty of it and the kids, Grandma and I can now be easily recognised thanks to even more stunning good looks. Edwin took great pains to make sure that he washed his feet thoroughly and now is very proud of their enhanced outstanding natural beauty. They still smell of course.