battlements . Nearly everything we ate and drank was delicious , and the little that wasn ’ t we consumed in large enough quantities to achieve the desired result . I have nothing but good things to say about that island and the people who live there .

When the time came , however , I was ready – even eager – to leave . For me , a good vacation is like a good story : It needs to end – and end well – because dragging it out cheapens the experience .

A new year is a upon us , which for some signifies a blank slate , a chance to commit to a resolution that , let ’ s face it , will have probably died on the vine come springtime . For others , January 1 is a day like any other , one possibly spent hungover , marking little more than the moment at which they must remember new dates when they write checks for the next 12 months . Either way , the new is always a welcome guest .

But a recent experience reminded me of the steady comfort of the old . As I write this , my wife and I just returned from a long overdue trip – a honeymoon , I suppose , though it wasn ’ t originally billed as such . We elected to go to Puerto Rico , a decision informed in equal parts by a sincere curiosity of this not-quite-a-state and my forgetting to renew a passport . In a word , it was delightful . We stayed in Old San Juan , the architecture of which is nothing short of otherworldly , its cobblestone streets a thing out of time . We hiked tropical rainforests and relaxed on hidden beaches . We took in indigenous art and walked colonial

Travel is essential , of course , and anyone with the means to do it should . It ’ s a fundamentally enriching experience in which we absorb , without even trying , the customs and traditions of the other people we share this dumb world with . What we tend to forget is that traveling similarly makes us learn more about where we ’ re from . We don ’ t so much remember the eccentricities or familiarities of our homes as pick up on the things that were always there but that we never really articulated to ourselves . Maybe it ’ s the pleasance of the climate , the expectation of the routine , the reassurance of the mundane , the simple fitment of its constituent parts , the importance of place . Who knows . I reckon it ’ s different for everyone . But if you like where you ’ re from , you come to miss it .

And just like that , I realized , for the first time , I missed Marathon .

So as 2023 turns to 2024 , feel free to celebrate the new . But let ’ s give a little love to the old while we ’ re at it .