The Spanish call it El Fuga, I guess we’d call it a “getaway.” It was an escape, a romantic escape.

It was an odd idea, but as it turned out, a fine idea. Around 3 p.m., as a wind and ice storm descended on the farm, we headed out to a nearby town in Vermont – only 15 minutes away. I had reserved and paid for a motel room and there were all kinds of bargains and deals. This motel room, normally $159 a night, was $89 during this week, the first of January.

I had never done anything like this before, renting a motel room a stone’s throw from where I live. It was an awful night weather wise, howling winds, driving rain, some ice and sleet.

I brought some flowers for Maria, some lilies, but we only took one to the motel. We brought a vase for it.

We arrived as it was getting dark, the motel was run by an Indian family, the young son came from the living quarters to check the computer and give us our key to Room 10.

He smiled, was nice, but said nothing to us.

We went to our room, took the bags in and unpacked. The room was clean, neat, spare.

There was, of course, a giant TV screen, which we ignored. We don’t watch TV. There was one queen sized bed, an uncomfortable chair on which we piled our coats, and two reading lamps.

We were a bit bewildered at first, as to what to do. We work all the time, relaxation is not natural for us, but we figured it out quickly: extreme relaxation. The idea was to be together, and do nothing. Maria and I love to be together, it is never tiring or draining, always refreshing and nourishing.

We lay down in bed and pulled out our books and read for the next three hours. The room took awhile to warm up, the wind was fierce. The blankets were few and thin, the bathroom soap was tiny and think. It broke in half when I took it out of the package.

As the wind picked up, we got up and drive a couple of miles to a family bar/restaurant, one of those cozy Vermont restaurants with fireplaces, a bar, a bad singer in the other room. We had the dining room all to ourselves, and the food was solid and dependable, as family restaurants are. There was plenty of it.

Maria had  shrimp quesadilla, I had meatloaf and mashed potatoes, a usually safe choice in a strange place,  a good meal for a cold and stormy night. We were literally the only people in the restaurant, apart from the bar crowd down the hall.

It was sweet to be there, the restaurant was warm, the walls crammed with dead animals and old photographs. We talked and talked, and then it was time to go. We were glad not to be driving too far, back into bed for reading and I did look at Netflix’s Mozart In The Jungle on my Iphone.

And good to be back at our not fancy but comfortable and copy motel room, Room 10.

Then more reading, interrupted by more talking.

I finished Moonglow, the novel by Michael Chabon and dug into a wonderful new book, Mary Astor’s Purple Diary by Edward Sorel, the author and illustrator. Maria had just finished it. It is a wonderful book that will simply not permit itself to be put down.

Maria fell asleep eventually, I slept a couple of hours, then woke up at 3 a.m. and couldn’t sleep again. But I usually don’t sleep well, my mind has a schedule all of its own.

More reading. We got up around 9 and stopped at an inviting family restaurant for a great breakfast, I had some delicious whole wheat pancakes.

It was the perfect getaway, and warm room in a funky motel with my girl, books to read, little driving to do, we are back at our desks this morning, ready to work.

My romantic holiday experiment worked, Maria loved it also, the clean and cheap one might motel stand is a new way for us to getaway, relax and be close to one another. We decided we want a new and different motel each time, just for some variety and excitement.

Small acts of rebirth, commitment, and renewal. Are we strange, or this a good idea to anyone else?

I highly recommend the simple getaway. It’s not disruptive, expensive or complicated. And I truly feel recharged, not to mention in love.