We’re spending our entire vacation at home—and sometimes it feels embarrassing

We’ve spent most of our summer vacation at home for years. The last time we traveled to the warmth of Southern Europe was in 2018. We don’t have a cottage or a family summer place. Our children’s grandparents live just a few kilometers away, so we don’t even take the typical grandparent trip many Finnish families do. It might not be worth mentioning that my spouse and I haven’t had a real vacation together in years—only a few days at a time—because our work schedules never match.

It’s tempting to say I avoid flying for climate reasons. But the truth is more mundane: after dealing with a water-damaged house and a house-building project, our family’s vacation funds and savings go toward our loan payments. Sure, we sometimes head to nearby museums, summer cafés, beaches, and amusement parks, but mostly, we stay home. Even a day at an amusement park or a week of cottage rental can be costly. (I should add a disclaimer: I know what true poverty is, and I’m not comparing our situation to that.)

Summer vacation at home is something you have to explain. When you return to work and someone asks how your time off was, it’s hard to answer: Just the usual, thanks for asking. I didn’t break away from the everyday, experience anything new, or see anything remarkable, but I hung the laundry in peace while listening to an audiobook. In the mornings, I lounged with my son watching nature documentaries. I walked the dog, visited an ice cream stand, dropped by the grandparents’ for coffee, and weeded the flowerbeds. My spouse and I built a fence. We didn’t do elaborate barbecues; we ate pretty much the same as usual—just more often on the terrace.

So yes, I do feel like an outsider when colleagues and friends talk about sailboat trips, traveling to Japan, cottage getaways, and touring vineyards in Tuscany. Someone once said a vacation doesn’t feel like a vacation unless you travel somewhere. I almost wanted to say, you’re right: sometimes a vacation doesn’t feel like much at all. It can be a string of days with naps, housework, family disagreements, and dog walks in the woods—just on a looser schedule.

The hardest part is explaining to my child why we don’t go anywhere on vacation. That’s what stings the most. “Mom, have you noticed that other families go somewhere on their vacations, but we stay home?” Yes, dear, I’ve noticed. I miss that moment of packing our suitcases and heading out, too. There’s something exciting about it, something that breaks the routine—but for now (and likely for years), our vacation looks different.

A VAcation AT HOME is almost taboo among the middle class (in Finland, at least). We assume a vacation should be the best time of the year: recharging, trying new things, spending quality family time—a break from the everyday. Heading off on a summer trip is tightly tied to a certain social class. It shows you want memorable experiences for your children, you’re curious and bold, and you know how to spend money wisely—in Finland, travel is as ordinary a topic as talking about your job. Maybe that’s why staying put makes me feel ashamed.

Climate change or another pandemic could force everyone to stay home again. During the pandemic, staying home became unexpectedly popular. Even then, though, most people were eager to leave home or try something new: buying cottages, installing hot tubs, and building pizza ovens. Finnish summer destinations filled up with masked tourists, and hikers crowded Lapland.

there are good sides to vacationing at home. I might not be able to relax as well anywhere else. I’m the kind of person who finds travel stressful. It’s also surprisingly satisfying to clean in peace (yes, it really can be fun once you’re over 40), watch TV, and pull weeds. You can slip into vacation mode at home through small things: eating breakfast on the terrace, a midweek movie night, ice cream from the freezer, and the feeling of crawling into your own bed with fresh sheets and a book. Having unhurried time in your own life can bring a kind of peace that feels almost luxurious.