I used to equate going on vacation with hopping on a plane, changing time zones and climates, and flaneur-ing all day armed with a camera, a foreign language phrase book, and a subway map.
And then I got old. Now vacation means vegetate, preferably done at an empty beach, with an itinerary that involves bits of flailing-swimming, stretches of snoozing and reading stuff not for school, and early evenings at the hotel restaurant, drinking cerveza negra while listening to probinsya romansa music and watching the water, the limestone cliffs, the distant islands, or whatever else in the scenery fade out. In bed by 9 pm. Internet, cable, and electricity welcome, but not required.