Vacation Hangover

I am currently in the throes of the worst post-vacay hangover of my entire life.

Part of me thinks it’s not even worth it to go away, considering the pain that follows upon returning from a wonderful vacation.

My husband and I are one week removed from the most amazing trip to Hawaii, most of which we spent on Maui.

Me & J, happy in Hawaii. I’ll spare you the “after” photo — not pretty.

Talk about a magical place. We stayed in a condo on Ka’anapali beach via VRBO (see it here), which I HIGHLY recommend for Maui. I can’t imagine staying in a hotel when you can eat breakfast watch the sun set on your totally private, NYC studio apartment-sized lanai (Hawaiian for balcony). For the price we paid, we’d be looking at a parking lot in a hotel. And THIS never got old:

The rainbows would come and go, but you get the idea.

We somehow managed to find the perfect mix of island adventures/exploring and pure relaxation. Over ten days, we saw a life-changing sunrise 10,000 feet above sea level on Haleakala, happened upon friendly sea turtles while snorkeling near our condo (only to emerge from the water to watch WHALES breaching in the distance), ate amazing food, took in an awesome, non-cheesy luau, and drove through the rainforest.

All of this was broken up by many hours reading and dozing in a lounge chair in front of the Pacific Ocean. You know, ’cause all the fun was so exhausting.

Normally when I return to Manhattan after a trip, I am re-energized by all the people, noise and other distinguishing factors of this great city. But after Maui? I hate it. It’s too crowded, too noisy, and there are zero opportunities for an impromptu swim in the ocean. I’m not even excited about running and working out with my trainer, which are usually high points of the day. Perhaps that’s because everything’s better in Maui. When I ran in the mornings, a light mist would typically fall, followed by a spectacular rainbow. When I had to take the stairs, there were no subways involved. They looked more like this: