Planning a holiday used to be simple. You picked a destination, packed a suitcase, and argued about who forgot the toothbrush.
Now, planning begins with two entirely different spreadsheets. The husband’s spreadsheet is titled “Budget.” The wife’s is called “Photo Opportunities.” He starts with sensible questions. “How much are the flights?” She asks, “Does the resort have an infinity pool?”
He compares hotel prices. She compares sunsets. He proudly announces, “I’ve found a lovely three-star hotel.” She looks horrified. “But will my followers know it’s lovely?”
He explains that the room is spacious, clean and includes breakfast. She asks the only question that matters. “Does breakfast arrive floating in the swimming pool?”
Somewhere between “reasonable expenditure” and “aesthetic content,” negotiations begin. He suggests travelling during the off-season. She suggests travelling when the lighting is perfect. He packs one pair of comfortable walking shoes. She packs seven outfits for a four-day trip because “the beach deserves different colours.”
He spends the flight calculating exchange rates. She spends it practising holiday poses. At the destination, he becomes the official photographer. “Take one more.” Now from the left.” “A little lower.” No… lower.”
By the time he captures the perfect shot, he has unknowingly completed an advanced yoga course. Ironically, after climbing a hill for the breathtaking sunset, she posts a photo with the caption: “Living in the moment.”
He quietly wonders when exactly that moment happened, because he spent most of it holding three handbags, two hats, a water bottle and her phone. Yet, every evening they laugh over local food, get hopelessly lost, discover tiny cafés that never make it to Instagram, and return home with memories far better than the pictures.
Still, the first thing she does is upload a hundred photographs.The first thing he does is check the credit-card bill.
Both smile. One counts likes. The other counts surviving until the next holiday. 