Travel
D R E A M D E S T I N AT I O N
Park Hotel Vitznau SWITZERLAND
To cleanse your mind, body and soul, check in to the opulent Park Hotel Vitznau, a luxury wellness retreat in a grand building perched on the shore of Lake Lucerne. Six artistic themes have been woven into the design of the rooms and public spaces, offerings guests a stay that is as much about imagination as rejuvenation. Indulge in relaxing massages, enjoy the Finnish sauna, and swim in the heated outdoor infinity pool, from which the views of the Swiss Alps are nothing short of spectacular. Tatyana Leonov FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE
Wi-Fidelity BY
Amelia Lester
ILLUSTRATION BY SIMON LETCH
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F DONALD Trump has taught us anything, it’s that holidays aren’t what they used to be. When the US president announced he’d be spending the dog days of summer at his golf course in New Jersey, the world let out a sigh of relief. But unlike the pardon he went on to grant the impressively horrible Arizona sheriff Joe Arpaio, there would be no reprieve for the rest of us. Between threats of nuclear war and equivocating about neo-Nazis, Trump’s two weeks away from the office were his busiest yet. And isn’t that often the way, now we are all tethered to our smartphones? The out-of-office auto response is a cute relic from a bygone era, that magical time before employers coopted instantaneous global communication into new and intrusive ways to work. (I’m looking at you, video conferencing.) Fewer and fewer places on earth are truly out of reach, and we’re growing more dependent on our
The out-of-office auto response is a cute relic from a bygone era.
phones. That’s why, when an out-of-office message reads, “I will be checking my email less frequently,” what it really means is, “I will be checking my email just as much as before, but only bothering to acknowledge the interesting ones.” Increasingly, hotels proudly tout an absence of in-room connectivity – though in their common areas you inevitably see slouched-over guests, oblivious to the vista, seeking drip-drops of data. There is only one place I know of, Lord Howe Island, where for most resorts there really is no Wi-Fi available. And though it’s embarrassing to admit, a recent stay there was more confronting than it was relaxing, revealing what can only be described as an addiction to the internet. With no bars on my phone and no way to get them, I initially felt a childlike surge of energy. After a morning of hiking, though, it was time to head inside. A garden variety annoyance, which even at the time I recognised as gross and entitled, took hold. “Who decided the internet was incompatible with an inner sense of peace anyway? What if Taylor Swift releases her new single and I’m not there to read the bevy of think pieces about it?” Then came full-blown panic,
followed by the hatching of a cunning plan. I told no one, because it was ridiculous. So on a perfect summer’s day in a subtropical paradise, I rode my rusty little rental bike to the other side of the island. There was a cafe there, and I was told there’d be Wi-Fi. I am not the 45th president of the United States, and I don’t even like golf, but here’s where I feel some sense of kinship with Donald Trump. Instead of golfing on his holiday, he couldn’t help but crack open his Twitter app. Lots of us share that inability to disconnect. And I’d wager it makes us all feel pretty empty inside. (“Sad!”) As articles shared on Facebook often conclude, time spent on social media correlates with feelings of dissatisfaction, and even depression. Seven dollars and thirteen minutes after arriving at Lord Howe Island’s only coffee shop, I successfully logged onto Gmail. A yoga studio in my old neighbourhood suggested I try its hipopener workshop; AGL Energy was singing the praises of paperless billing. There was no life-changing missive requiring my immediate attention. Why had I thought there would be? Anyone who might send me an interesting email probably figured I was out snorkelling. Which is precisely what I did next. n
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