I have difficulty with the term "relaxation". At home there is always something I need "to do", tasks to accomplish, projects to finish. When traveling someplace new there is always something to see, somewhere to go or someplace to experience.
Although my friends and I always find something I haven't done before, a new museum, a new area of the city or a day trip away from it, a substantial portion of these visits are whiled away accomplishing nothing. There are dinners with their neighbors or trips to the gym, allowing me the opportunity to sample Diamondback eye candy, But there are also afternoons in a chaise, soaking up the desert sun, the dog occasionally coming out to keep me company.
Even the sounds are tranquil. I live in a densely populated urban area. I have become accustomed to the noise of traffic, trains, sirens and drunken revelers speaking louder than necessary as they stumble down the alley behind our building on random weekend nights. In my friends backyard there is the soft sound of a breeze bringing the wind chimes, with their gentle metallic tingle, to life. On occasion a bird will fly over, calling to others, conveying messages to their fellows we cannot decipher. You may hear a plane or a car but their noise too is soft, compared with the din of my home.
I love the noise of the city. I thrive on the pace. But every once in a while I enjoy rediscovering the recuperative power of doing nothing.