For the past five days I’ve been in northern Wisconsin in Vilas County nearby Manitowish Waters — population: about 700 — taking in the simple pleasures of cabin life: canoeing, fending off lusty mosquitos, making s’mores, and being on 29 secluded acres semi off the grid (which means cell service was spotty, but I still managed to throw up a few Instagrams). As someone who enjoys the great outdoors about as much as she enjoys having a door to shut out the great outdoors, I’m proud to report I acclimated to lumberjack life with markedly more success than Meredith from The Parent Trap.
To be honest, I was pleasantly surprised by how much the trip didn’t suck, and I’m not just saying that because it was my boyfriend’s idea to celebrate our third anniversary up north. When you grow up in a relatively populous city in the suburbs and PacMan your way through a concrete jungle of caffeine addicts and crabby cabbies to get to work every day, it’s hard to imagine life in a small town where the Wi-Fi and restaurant options are scarce. Before this trip, the most time I had spent in a small town was the ten minutes it took to pass through it in the car on the way to somewhere better, but this vacation turned out to be one of my favorite trips. A cabin trip in a small town may not seem like a vacation vacation to everyone, but if my experience is any indication, there are a few things you should expect to learn.
Having A Rustic Cabin Is Better Than A Hotel Room
In past travels, I’ve always been confined to a single hotel room with that faux air smell and those scratchy sheets that make you feel shrink-wrapped to the black light delinquent mattress. Staying in a hotel room feels like being in a fancy time-out away from home, because hotel rooms combine the best and worst parts of a jail cell and a college dorm. You have what you need to survive — along with a few luxuries — but true comfort, cleanliness, and privacy are allocated in moderation.
Staying in an actual home adds a certain je ne sais quoi to the trip. Instead of hearing strangers running down the hall from 10:32 P.M. to 1:06 A.M., you get to have your own space and the added benefit of pretending like you’re breaking and entering into someone else’s house and using all their stuff Goldilocks style. In the scope of hypothetical vacation crimes, pretending to trespass on private property is a lot more satisfying (and respectable) than pocketing a few miniature shampoo bottles.
The Shower Faucet Temperature Is Never Responsive
How is it possible that no matter where you go on vacation adjusting the shower temperature requires a Ph.D.? Is installing a touchy faucet one of the more archaic accommodation objectives of the Tourism Guild of the World (TGW)? I just imagine an unimpeachable young man who’s renting out a cottage for his first summer attending a TGW meeting and learning that installing fickle faucets is part of some grand conspiracy.
“But why would we want them to suffer?” he’d ask. “Why would we want to make another human being wonder if their shower hardware at home is remedial while they’re trying to relax and unwind?” Mysteriously, his little cottage would burn down in a fire that the firefighters would later deem “almost definitely sending-a-message arson.”
I Noticed What A Jaded, Judgmental Jerk I’ve Become
I take living near a huge city for granted. On the day-to-day, it doesn’t occur to me that in most places in the world, Starbucks and McDonald’s don’t take turns popping up every other block. Even though I’m jaded by the privilege of options and self-induced stress, I found myself looking at the townspeople in Northern Wisconsin like they were hostages of their own civilization ignorance.
One night of our stay my boyfriend and I went to dinner at a supper club (which isn’t anything like a casual dining Breakfast Club, FYI) and our server was so pleasant and sweet I just wanted to take her by the shoulders and tell her, “You don’t have to stay here. You could be somewhere where there are food trucks and traffic!” I felt like Jon Snow trying to win over the Wildlings, only I was trying to transplant these small town folks from their lives of simplicity and happiness into the cynicism and second-hand smoke of city life.
I Realized How Little I Actually Need
From the onset, surviving for five days without a 4K television and one to three spare hours to waste on the Internet sounded like a nightmare to me, not a vacation, but having less eliminates so much stress. Maybe it was the quiet or the fresh air or the mosquitos buzzing sweet nothings in my ear, but I didn’t feel myself needing to use the TV or computer to distract me from all the stuff going on in my brain. It was nice to be reminded that nothing obligates me to drag electronics or media around like an entertainment ball and chain. (…Though I was glad to be home in time for Game of Thrones.)
I Need More Of My Vacation Self In My Normal Routine
The past few months have been tough, and I fully expected I had packed all those icky, bad vibes into my suitcase next to my extra pairs of just-in-case underwear, but I was wrong. I somehow managed to outsmart my worries and leave them behind by the time we made it 50 miles from home. I became Vacation Katie: A person who spontaneously decides to do things without spending an hour Googling indecisively and wears hats.
Vacation Katie is satisfied spending most of the afternoon sitting on a dock or splish-splashing in shallow water. Vacation Katie looks at life like it’s a fresh glass of orange juice, unlike Regular Katie who sees it as the glass of orange juice you drank after brushing your teeth. I’m not sure how or if she’s even available, but I’d like to see more of Vacation Katie on a daily basis.
My Mom’s Inadvertent Deadpan Texts Are Surpassed By None
In true parent fashion, my mom was worried that I’d be kidnapped by a bear tribunal on this trip, so I tried to send her as many updates about our activities as possible. Her reactions always made it worth it worthwhile.
Romance Is Different For Each Couple
Prior to this trip, I didn’t realize how lucky I was to have someone who will eat cubes of cheese and mini sausages in the car with me without commenting about the blight of processed foods on our diets or the effects of dairy. I’ll never take that for granted again, because I’m living my best life when I can eat cubes of cheese without shame.
Vacation Constipation
I chose this image because it seems like the kind of scenic landscape that would be featured in a laxative commercial. We may be treading into TMI territory, but I’m confident Vacation Constipation (VC) is universal enough to discuss it freely here. Plus, how could I share a picture of cheese cubes and sausages without subsequently discussing their impact on my intestines?
Whenever I go on vacation — whether it’s for two days or a full week — my body goes into retention mode. Somehow, my digestive system can tell when I’m not near any familiar bathrooms. I don’t know if it’s a weird display of subconscious homesickness or some bizarre psychosomatic protest of complete relaxation, but VC is the. absolute. worst. If you think a little rain is the worst thing that could befall your vacation, think again.
I’m Not Stuck Anywhere And Neither Are You
Maybe it was just good timing in my life, or maybe it was just a bivalve mollusc setting up a great metaphor, but perhaps the most important thing I brought back from this trip — besides fudge — was the important reminder that I’m not stuck anywhere. It’s easy to feel weighed down by your obligations and dreams, but no one is ever truly as “stuck” as they might feel.
To prove this point, enter this clam thing I found in the water. I don’t know anything about marine biology, so I just assumed that clams just chill at the bottom of lakes and oceans at the mercy of the current, and they just go with the flow and hope to avoid getting cracked open and tossed into a frying pan. While enjoying the feeling of sandy toes, I realized my little friend had moved in a way I didn’t even know was possible and was trying to communicate with me underwater Ouija-style. The point is, even when you think you know how life moves, all it takes is something small to come along and remind you that inertia is often a choice.
