Go to your nearest travel agent and pick up all the brochures you can for your next holiday. Start planning it at once. Never mind if you can't really afford to go off this winter to places like Florida, Mexico or the Caribbean. The time for budgeting will come later. The time for dreaming is now.
Don't tell everyone at the office what a fantastic time you had. It won't make you feel any better; your colleagues will be envious; and the boss will think that you have lost your enthusiasm for work. (It may be true, but in these uncertain times it pays to keep one's feelings hidden.)
Take a weekend break somewhere nearer home. Summer isn't over, after all, and there are lively playgrounds within easy reach.
Don't give up your job for what you imagine will be a better life in the place you have just left. There is a vast difference between spending a holiday in a resort and working there. Some escapists have made a go of running a bar, a restaurant, or a small hotel but you must have noticed that it's far from easy. You might simply be exchanging one set of cares for another.
There are, of course, people who do not suffer from post-holiday blues. Some are young men and women who have not yet acquired the commitments most of us have -a mortgage, a family, a career. They can go where they want, and do what they like. For many, a summer trip abroad is the first, and often the last, opportunity to escape from any kind of responsible schedule. Others are people who are determined to make the most of their retirement years. For them, life has become one long holiday And why not? They have worked hard and they are entitled to spend their savings on whatever takes their fancy. They tend to be an adventurous lot, fond of "getting off the beaten track" and ready to try anything once. I envy them.
Then there are the workaholics who think that holidays are for wimps. They boast that they never take time off, and expect us to admire their dedication to the pursuit of success. Many are tycoons who have already made more money than they can ever hope to spend, but who drive themselves on relentlessly because they fool themselves that they are indispensable. Their idea of fun is to read balance sheets and make takeover bids.
I pity them, because they are missing the opportunity to enrich their lives in other ways. They will probably come to regret it, but by then it's often too late. They may end up taking an enforced break - in hospital.
Where do good Russians go when they die?
All good Americans go to Paris when they die, according to Oscar Wilde. Taking up the theme, Katya Galitzine looks at the heavenly destinations ofher countrymen
IN THE present economic state of Russia, the "bad" Russians can afford to travel to the places "good" Russians dream to reach. Ask a native what his dream destination is, and nine out of ten will immediately respond "Bagamaz" - without much thought. The word conjures up sapphire seas, fruit on trees, sand and sun and tropical climes; all assets that Russia, despite its vastness, is lacking. Some strange eccentricity in Soviet education led every citizen to learn that Bagamaz - the Bahamas - is paradise on earth. Strange for a totalitarian state to promote a foreign land and especially one so close in climate and vegetation to Cuba.
In the Soviet Union (that was), only privileged Party members were allowed to travel and the general public travelled via censored TV. Only two programmes showed the landscapes of other countries. One was Travel Film Club, presented by a bald commentator who patronised the locals and criticised their way of life. The other, International Panorama, was purely educational.
When a third of the world's land mass is already yours, the options for a travelling Russian are more limited. Obviously anywhere as cold as Siberia is not on the agenda, nor do politically handicapped states or overpopulated, impoverished lands seem particularly fascinating. Tropical islands, whether western or eastern, are what most people search for.
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