Stolen moments make a daiquiri taste sweeter. Sipping one at the shady end of the pool when you are being paid to do so adds poignancy to the occasion because it feels illicit: should work taste this good? Should it be okay to have so much downtime on a work gig?
Since starting my own business in 2006, I have enjoyed myself. Sure, there are work gigs which are a slog – back to back programmes teaching bankers how to behave can pall – but the foreign trips, that’s where the fun is. I have never been one to jet in, whirl around in meetings and jet out again; that’s for the birds as far as I’m concerned. No. Much superior is to bolt a day or two on the beginning and the end. To add time to enjoy, acclimatise beforehand, relax afterwards. And, if ever possible, to enjoy during as well.
Long haul is a speciality. It affords you time. There’s the flight itself, which is an indulgence and very much part of the experience. If the cost of doing business with you is a business class return ticket, well, there are airline business lounges to frequent. It is a golden rule for me that when I travel anywhere – plane, train, automobile – I always arrive earlier than is efficient or strictly necessary. It is an article of faith that I never run for any of the aforementioned modes of transport. My walk to the departure gate is always unhurried, never the frantic run of those who arrive late, don’t plan, get stuck in queues at security and consequently have to rush everywhere in a sweat of exertion. Slow. Casual. Unhurried. Relaxed. That’s my credo.
Which all means there’s time to smell the flowers in the airport lounge. Well, if your carrier has gone to the bother of creating a calming environment and filling it with nice things to eat and drink, it’d be bad manners to miss the opportunity to indulge. So a Bloody Mary mixed by the barman at Air Canada’s Heathrow lounge is the best breakfast for a mid morning flight to Toronto. And a large scotch aids sleep on the return leg overnight flight. American Airlines doesn’t have the best facilities and the cabin crew are all Saga pinups rather than the youthful types at Virgin Atlantic, but they mother you well and turn every request for a G&T into a double, gratis.
The trip is off to a promising start. At the other end, there’s the hand held name board and chauffeur driven limo to whisk you to the hotel, which usually doubles as the venue. Of late, post pandemic, as budgets are reigned in , the selection of hotel has become more conventional for conventions. In the heyday of the ’00s and the ’10s, you could score big here. The Ciragan Palace in Istanbul setting the standard for a pair of gigs in 2009 and 2010. Nowadays, it’s far more prosaic. The Westin in Long Beach. The Paradox in Clarke Quay, Singapore. So evasive action has to be taken. It is perfectly possible to swap hotels. Having booked a full week at the Westin and, upon arrival, instantly spotting that it is a depressingly awful hotel, I quit it immediately upon finishing my work and got a ride up to the far more salubrious Viceroy in Santa Monica. Where I hooked up with an old friend and godfather to my son for dinner and enjoyed a sensational cheese omelette, a good lunch at the Blue Plate and a visit to the Getty Villa. We sandwiched the gig in Singapore between two stays in Langkawi – the first at the Datai. Compensation can always be found and, of course, so can daiquiris.
After the trials of a three day programme delivered in Johannesburg – where I did manage to hook up with my old school mate who took me on a tour of Soweto – my partner in crime and I jetted the three hours down to Cape Town for a little r and r dining at Camps Bay, climbing the Lion’s Head, penguin watching on the Indian Ocean, visiting Robben Island and, of course, sipping daiquiris at the shady end of the rooftop pool at our hotel. All on expenses, of course. Which was justified because we did get invited back to repeat the three day workshop in Cape Town. A trip I took my son on who got two weeks work experience there as a result.
There have been long trips to China and Japan and India and Cambodia where it has been wondrous to explore in my days outside of work. Om Beach in Goa in the monsoon season is spectacular if not ideal for swimming – great crashing waves of North Sea brown pound the sand ferociously, but it is humid. The French Quarter in Shanghai is pretty. The gardens at the Imperial Palace in Tokyo are ideal for escaping the crowds. Angkor Wat in the early morning before it gets too hot is intimidatingly imposing. An extra day or two is vital to prevent the sin of letting these experiences pass you by. An old boss of mine, weary from so much business travel, always wanted his secretary to book the most efficient itinerary so he could do his thing and then jet back home. His wife left him anyway. He might as well have taken his ease, admired the view and enjoyed a daiquiri – or his choice of poison – after all.
My friend and former client, Simon, spent more time up in the air on business trips than is strictly good for you. He once explained how much he now enjoys the view from 30,000 feet because, when he worked for Nissan, his secretary scheduled every moment on board with papers to read and presentations to write. He was frazzled. When he got out of the industry, he became a traveller. He was a changed man. Now he sips his coffee and enjoys the moment. And I am glad. He is excellent company.
Taking time out from doing business is the only way to enjoy the scenery and make the air miles count. When I have finished a work gig, I always have three dry martinis and raise each glass to, in order, the client (for giving me the paid work), my family (who I love) and myself (for a job well done). And then, I go to bed. The next day, invariably, I can be found at the shady end of the pool, daiquiri in hand. And that, my friend, is how it should be.
