It's funny how we always seem to yawn at the end of our work day and yearn for a holiday- a short escape, just a moment of reprieve from the endless cycle of labour and life. Yet I write this from a hotel room on one such'holiday and all I can seem to think is this- how can people be happy doing nothing? Regardless of whether it is meant to be relaxing or not, I need to have something to do with my hands or brain; ordering from the endless pepperoni pizza options from room service and watching pay tv is just not my ideal cup of tea. To cut a long story short; my mom and I had hired a car and had planned to do a random, bumbling exploration of the Californian coast. Champagne, cheese, smoked meats and farmer's market freshness made our first night by the sea a joy and delight. Complete with distant sounds of barking seals and violently colored yet peaceful sunsets. And after that it was the next day. What then? Breakfast, more aimless wandering till we could fit in another meal? The views are gorgeous but after stopping at the fifth beachfront and trying to avoid all of the other tourists that you are desperately pretending not to be, it becomes, well, a little trying. To be somewhere working makes the free moments still special and somehow more deserved, whereas if you are sitting on a hotel bed all the time and discussing where to find breakfast over the third G&T you begin to realize that maybe your real, purposeful life is not something that you want an escape from.