I dreamt about that day for months. I’m lying on the beach, with the sand and the breeze and the waves, while unlimited mojitos and piña coladas penetrate my bloodstream. I am buzzed in the most comfortable way, wrapped up in a blanket of perfect tropical November weather. I am in Cuba on a ten-day vacation and all is well. At least, that is how I imagine things would be. Unfortunately, while physically I may be able to take a vacation, my restless mind knows no such luxury.

Last month I went on my first ever vacation to a little island called Cuba. Yes, the same Cuba that former President John F. Kennedy placed an embargo on in 1962, and that has since (recently) been lifted. The very same that is known for its cigars, rum, and 1950s cars. It is also a "third world" country with very little American tourism. One of the first questions that people asked when I told them I was going on vacation there was, “Why Cuba?” My answer was simple, “I want to travel the world and the opportunity was presented to me.”

Since visiting, the first question I get asked naturally is “How was it?” My response, “…It was great!” I’m not lying by saying I had a great time because a lot of the time it was. However, I also don’t want to bore people with the details of how I came to the realization that even on vacation, my restlessness and anxiety can’t seem to chill out. That doesn’t seem to be appropriate small talk.

Like I did when imagining my trip to Cuba, I romanticize upcoming events often. It might be as simple an event as my next day off. I imagine reading a book in the comfort of a hot bath. Maybe I will get extra wild with a bath bomb and candles. My mind will be at ease and all my worries will secede with the tide of the hot water as I become calm, eventually motionless. Everything is still. Isn’t that lovely? And it is! That is until a few minutes in I notice the water is a couple of degrees too cool, and I forgot my lavender essential oil.

Oh my, the stress relieving benefits that I am missing out on by not sprinkling two-three drops into the tub. Also, I should probably buy some more magnesium flakes, because I am positive I’ve seen an increase in my anxiety since I ran out. Okay, I’ll just read. Dammit! I forgot a towel to wipe off my hands. I’ll just use my hair. Then I try to read, but these damn petty thoughts continue to march insensitively and relentlessly into my brain. I am completely aware of how ridiculous and trivial my typical worries are.

So how do I make them stop?

Not even on vacation did they stop. Thoughts of how much work I had to do to stay caught up in my classes (despite having turned in several assignments early) crept into my mind. Self-deprecating thoughts of my body image and how I should have worked out more in the weeks before. Ruminating on how much better a time I would have had if I hadn’t forgotten my glasses (oh the headaches!). Worrying from day one that we wouldn’t be able to do everything that we wanted to do in the time that we had. Wondering what’s for dinner (at 10 am), and if I’ll be able to stomach it… So maddeningly petty!

I could have written an article about all of the positive experiences I had in Cuba, but even now when I think back I just feel like I ruined what could have been much better a time for myself, but also for those who were subjected to my neurotic demeanor. I thought that this time would be different. I thought that I would be away from everything that stresses me out and makes me anxious; however, our minds have a funny way of being unaffected by location.

Emerson once said:

“Traveling is a fool’s paradise. We owe to our first journeys the discovery that place is nothing… I affect to be intoxicated with sights and suggestions, but I am not intoxicated. My giant goes with me wherever I go.”

My giant was definitely with me in Cuba.

With having said all of this, I am grateful for the time I spent in Cuba. As Emerson so eloquently put it, I owe to Cuba the realization that place is nothing. While much of the time my worries polluted my mind and took away from my experience, there were many instances where I was able to let it all go and embrace the moment. Often times this involved watching the people of Cuba pass by and growing increasingly empathetic to their way of life.

In these moments, I was able to leave my own mind for a bit and wonder into that of our server, the bicycle taxi driver, or the young twenty-somethings in La Habana on their way to the square to use the internet. Other times I was able to lose myself in the crystal clear water of the oceans of Varadero. With every great, crashing wave, another worry of mine was deconstructed, its triviality revealed and washed away. It was in these moments of movement that I was able to keep the giant in check.

Even now, as I sit here and write, the movement of my fingers across my keyboard is enough to keep my restless mind at bay. As I come to the realization that every article is another brick, I have hope that someday this peace I am feeling from movement, one day I can emulate when standing still.