Tag: travel

What’s The Exact Opposite Of Cats In The Cradle?

The loves of my life

I love travel. Although I love my home, if I can fly somewhere every 3 months I am over the moon. Most of the time, we take our boys with us when wanderlust strikes. Tomorrow, though, hubby and I are skipping town for a few days. Literally. A few days. A couple hours before bed tonight, our oldest comes into our room crying because he doesn’t want us to leave. His face is wet. His eyes are red. He’s been suffering in his room quietly until he could stand it no longer. This breaks my heart. It also tells me something. Hubby and I do not leave our sons often enough.

I know that he’s eleven and that in just a few short years he’ll be smiling as he slams the door behind us when we leave, so I should treasure his hysterical tears now. But, I can’t. They make me feel like we’re not doing enough to prepare him. I love my sons, but I do not want them living in my basement and delivering pizzas for a living. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just don’t want them doing it from my basement. They’re more than welcome to pursue that life path for themselves from a crummy, garden level apartment that they finance themselves. No judgments from me. Make no mistake about it, though, as much as I love my sons to infinity and beyond, I want them to leave me someday the way they are meant to. I want them to grow up and have their own adventures. They can miss me, but they’ll have to leave me to make that happen.

We gave Joe tons of hugs and told him that we trust him. We told him that we’ll miss him oodles and will FaceTime with him every day. We told him that he’s brave and strong and that he’s got this. We told him that parents need time together alone as a couple so they can stay married. We told him that his little brother would protect and care for him. I don’t think it made much of a difference, but he did finally fall asleep. I know that someday he will walk out our front door, his car all packed for college, and when he drives away I will cry just like he did tonight. I’m sure it will be my ugliest cry ever. But, there’s a part of me that will be so glad to take that burden of sadness away from him. I can handle it. I think.

 

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Genovesa Island, Galapagos

Boobies always make boys smile

On the last full day of our excursion aboard the National Geographic Endeavor, we were fortunate enough to visit Genovesa Island. This island was closed to visitors for years because of its fragile environment. Over a million birds call Genovesa their home. There are colonies of swallow-tailed gulls, red-footed boobies, petrels, and frigatebirds. Short-eared owls hunt smaller bird prey over cracks of dried lava millions and millions of years old. The entire island is an extinct volcano slowly sinking into the sea. The center of the cone is now filled with sea and one side has been entirely eroded away so that our ship was able to sail directly into the c-shaped center. The only word I could come up with to describe its landscape is “otherworldly.”

My father-in-law asked me what my impressions were of this trip compared with other trips we have taken as a family. We’ve been treated to trips to England, Alaska’s Inside Passage, Norway, and now the Galapagos Islands. Hands down, this has been my favorite trip. When I told other people I was going to the Galapagos, their responses were always the same. I was told repeatedly, “That’s the trip of a lifetime.” The truth is, though, that it’s not the trip of a lifetime because that implies we will only ever visit these islands once. I want to come back to this place again someday, maybe in another season, maybe to visit a few different islands, but I definitely want to return. I completely understand how the naturalists here never tire of their job. This place is enchanting. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m having a hard time with the reality of leaving these islands. Tears have been shed. But, that just proves that these islands are beyond the trip of a lifetime. They are the love of a lifetime, and I will have to return to them again someday.

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Bartolomé Island, Galapagos

The family photo to prove we were here

When we found out we had been booked on an excursion to the Galapagos, I was intrigued. It hadn’t been a place I had ever thought I would travel to, so I hadn’t allowed myself to become too excited about the location. Now, though, after nearly a week here, I can’t believe I had ever left this magical place off my list. Yesterday we visited Bartolomé Island to view Pinnacle Rock. Pinnacle Rock is an icon. It is to the Galapagos what the Statue of Liberty is to New York City or the Eiffel Tower is to Paris. To take in the grand view, we climbed over 300 stairs before 7 a.m. It was well worth it.

Afterwards, we were fortunate enough to snorkel from the beach just below the rock, around the point, and to another sandy beach. This time we were accompanied by both boys. (Earlier this week Luke had decided he was too afraid to deep sea snorkel and after an hour with his grandparents where he was given boundaries he decided that snorkeling with his parents was a better option.) Although seeing the schools of yellow-tailed surgeonfish and king angelfish was incredibly cool, what meant more to me was being out in the ocean with my boys, having them swim along with us, and sharing the experience of pointing to new and different fish. At one point, Joe decided to return to shore with his aunt. On their swim back, they came face to face with a white tipped reef shark. Joe, whose nickname is Shark Boy in our house because of his vast knowledge of all things shark, was thoroughly freaked out. Personally, I was thrilled that he had that encounter. He told us he wanted to see a shark on this trip and he did.

Our boys are growing fast and these are the experiences I want to share with them. I want us to try new things as a family, to see new sights together, and to learn new things about the world. It doesn’t really matter what brand of shoes we wear or how nice our dining room table is. What matters is that we are together growing as a family. I think this trip has changed our priorities a bit. Well…I will still buy clothes for myself from Boden; I’m simply going to buy fewer of them so we can increase our travel savings account.

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Santa Cruz Island, Galapagos

Yesterday we had the opportunity to visit the city of Puerto Ayora on Santa Cruz Island. This is where the Charles Darwin Research Station is located and where we would have been able to meet Lonesome George had he survived just 40 days longer. Alas, no George. Still, the station was well worth the trip as we were able to learn about the breeding program designed to increase the population of giant tortoises around the islands.

After our visit to the station, we were able to spend some time wandering around the town. Approximately 20,000 people live here, so it’s less of a town and more of a city, I suppose. Still, compared to Denver, it’s small. The best part of the day (well, aside from standing in the Santa Cruz highlands just feet from giant tortoises) was a small fish market we encountered in town. There was a crowd of tourists gathered with cameras when we got there. There were the usual fish market thieves (pelicans) and this time there were a couple other added guests…sea lions. They stood at the foot of the fish counter where the fish were being cut and begged like dogs at a table for scraps. Cutest thing ever. A fellow passenger on the cruise told me yesterday that he read that sea lions here are like dogs in wet suits. No wonder I like them so much.

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Floreana Island, Galapagos

Our day yesterday was spent on Floreana Island. Our Galapagos expedition leader, Paula, told us that Floreana is called the Mystery Island. I’m not surprised. Our excursions there yesterday had me thinking about the now defunct ABC television series, LOST.

We started our day with a very early morning hike to try to see some flamingos. Yes. Flamingos. These are Greater American Flamingos that came here from the Caribbean. There is a small population of about 500 of these birds living in the Galapagos. So, we hiked a bit inland from the ocean to a brackish lake on Floreana, hopeful we would see some pink birds but also doubtful because their population is so small. We were in luck. There were about 15 of them at the lake. How crazy to see an American flamingo out here in the isolated Pacific.

Later in the afternoon, we were doing Zodiac cruises around Post Office Bay (here there is a barrel that was set up in 1793 and you can deposit letters without postage and hopefully someone will stop by, take your letter, and hand deliver it to the recipient at a future date). As we skirted our way around the bay, we saw an eagle ray jump from the water just ahead of us, spied several sea turtles coming up for air, and even saw a penguin. The Galapagos Islands, in addition to flamingos, are also home to a small population of penguins. These are the only penguins that live north of the equator and they can do this because of the Humboldt and Cromwell currents that cool both the ocean and the air here.

I sat in our room last night thinking about seeing a flamingo and a penguin on the same day on the same island in the Pacific near the equator. The Galapagos Islands truly are a magical, mysterious place. On LOST, people who were marooned on an isolated tropical island were stuck pondering how polar bears came to be there. Today I saw a flamingo and a penguin on the same island. Apparently LOST wasn’t that far fetched after all.

Yep. That’s a penguin all right.
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San Cristobal Island, Galapagos

Me and my new best friends

I have always loved sea lions. Their little ear flaps, long whiskers, and deeply inquisitive eyes make them my favorites. On San Cristobal Island in the Galapagos I had the opportunity to sit within feet of them and observe them. It’s true what they say of the animals here. They are not the least bit fearful of humans. Birds land at your feet. Fish swim right up to you. Sea lions jump and splash in the water where you are swimming. I had one sea lion today stop on the beach, its flippers resting on my feet. Amazing. I am in awe of this place. You hear that it’s magical, but you have no idea until you’re here. I am blessed.

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First Rule Of Travel

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When we traveled to Norway a few years ago, I had a phrase I uttered repeatedly to my children: The first rule of travel is “Hurry up and wait.” It seems whenever you travel, the trip is filled with an inevitable ebb and flow. You rush to get to the airport to check in, then you wait in line. You hurry to get through security screening just to sit idly at the gate. When it’s finally boarding time, you rush to get on the plane only to sit in line waiting for take off. It is the way it works.

So far today our experience is proving my first rule of travel to be absolute. We woke up at 5:15 to get our luggage out for the tour company by 6. We were exhausted after only four hours of sleep, but we soldiered on, had breakfast, and waited for our 7:20 departure to the airport for our flight from mainland Ecuador to the Galapagos Islands. At 7:20, though, we were informed that the plane we are taking is still in Quito because it is damaged. So, now we must wait on another plane. Sigh.

It amazes me how different my boys are. With the flight delayed, my more laid back Luke promptly fell asleep in a couch in the lobby. Joe, however, began to stress out, afraid our ship would leave the islands without us, annoyed that we were stuck at the hotel. I just keep repeating the travel mantra to him and reassuring him that we will get there eventually. And we will…even if it doesn’t feel that way right now.

I used to hate the tides of travel, but now I don’t mind “hurry up and wait” as much because it forces me to live in the moment. There’s something incredibly freeing in having no choice but to sit and be, to exist in the present and wait for the day to unfold rather than bullying your way through it. Still, I admit that, like Joe, I think I’d like “be” a lot happier if I was sitting on some white sand near some playful sea lions. What can I say? Old habits die hard.

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Argh! This App Turned Me Into A Pirate

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So, I just spent an hour here in the Miami airport writing a blog entry in response to the vitriolic rhetoric on both sides of the CEO of Chick-Fil-A Dan Cathy’s remarks regarding marriage. I worked on it, labored over its message, and finally felt good about what I had to say when the app crashed without saving my work. So bummed. But it happens. As I’m getting ready to board our flight to Ecuador, I am going to assume that I was not meant to deliver that message today.

So instead I will leave you (and this country) with a couple quick thoughts. As we were flying over the Gulf of Mexico, I stared down into the sea. Perpetually a landlocked land lover, I am fascinated by the vast seas on this planet that I rarely see. The view from my airplane window of the gulf, the white sand beaches of Florida, and the clouds flashing lightning reminded me how small and insignificant I am. I think more people need to consider their transience and relative unimportance on this rotating rock. No person here is in exclusive possession of Divine Wisdom. We all struggle. We all love. We all want to be happy. We spend too much time absorbed with things that are not our problem and none of our business. Not one of us has the answer for another person. If we could just shut our mouths, open our minds, and accept that we don’t all the answers, we might be a lot better off.

Heading off now to grow my world view with my children. More from the Galapagos!

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Why You Don’t Mess With English Majors

About to board for our Norway trip.

So, we’re leaving on this big expedition to the Galapagos tomorrow, right? I’ve spent my day packing and cleaning and writing out luggage tags and running errands. I have to get up at 4 a.m. to start this journey, but I have so much to do to finish getting ready that I am already acknowledging that tomorrow is going to be a triple shot latte followed by two Cokes kind of day. Still, I am excited. I love travel. Love it. Once we get to the airport, I will be in my happy place.

Anyway, yesterday I was at a party for a friend and someone asked me if I was excited about our upcoming vacation. Clearly this particular friend hasn’t known me for very long.

“It’s a trip,” I corrected him.

He stared at me blankly.

“Oh. Steve said you guys were going on a family vacation,” he said, puzzled by my distinction.

“Oh. It’s a family vacation for Steve. For me, it’s a family trip.”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

“You see, my kids are coming with me. Since my career is as a full-time, stay-at-home parent, any traveling I do with my children is not technically a vacation for me. According to the dictionary definition, a vacation is a freedom or release from work. If my work is there, it’s a trip. You know, just like if you traveled for your job it would be a trip and not a vacation,” I explained.

“But, you’re going to the Galapagos Islands,” he said. “I think most people would call that a vacation.”

“I’m sure most people would. I would not. If you went to London for work, would you call it a vacation?” I asked.

“No.”

“If you went to London to see the Olympics, would you have to file for vacation time from work?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“See….that’s just it. I don’t file for vacation time because it’s not a vacation,” I continued. “It’s a trip. I’m bringing my work along.”

“But it’s the same thing,” he said.

“It’s not the same thing. For me, a vacation is when I’m away from my children. For you, a vacation is when you’re away from work,” I tried again.

“But, when you’re away from home doesn’t it feel like vacation?” he pressed.

“Not really because it’s actually easier to parent my kids at home than it is when we travel. When we travel there are all sorts of distractions and new issues. There’s no routine. Things are more chaotic, which sometimes makes work more difficult.”

At this point, I sensed his eyes starting to roll to the back of his head, so I dropped the subject and moved on. Clearly, he was not going to understand where I was coming from. I’m not entirely sure, in fact, that anyone but a fellow stay-at-home parent could understand my distinction between the two words at this point in my life. It’s an issue of semantics. I get that. Someday, when my boys are grown and I am without them more than with them, I’m sure my terminology will go back to the more standard and readily acceptable. Someday, when I vacation with my sons (and maybe even their families), the journeys will truly be vacations because I will have more freedom to enjoy myself and fewer responsibilities. For now, though, I’m sticking with calling this a “trip.” Don’t misunderstand me. It’s going to be an amazing, incredible, once-in-a-lifetime trip, but it’s still a trip…even if my work doesn’t fit into my laptop case.

 

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Relaxing Is A Lot Of Hard Work

The place where I can breathe

Why is relaxing such hard work? We’re meeting some wonderful, lifelong friends arriving from Minnesota at the airport tomorrow morning before heading up to our home-away-from-home in Steamboat Springs. To get ready for five days in the mountains, I spent the majority of my day preparing for our trip. I was trapped in the hot, upper floor of our home, peering into closets, ironing clothes, folding laundry, and laying out outfits.

While packing, I spent a lot of time watching HGTV. This is one of my husband’s favorite channels. It is not mine. I hate the House Hunters who think they’re going to get granite counter tops and hardwood floors in 2800 square feet in an old but totally updated house in the big city for under $200k. The Million Dollar Rooms show makes me physically ill. Today I saw one house where the gentleman spent $7 million dollars on his swimming pool area, including a champagne-filled hot tub. Seriously? A hot tub of champagne? I don’t care how much money you’ve earned and saved. That kind of extravagance is unconscionable. My favorite (and I mean that in a tone dripping with sarcasm) is the overseas House Hunter editions where you get to see some spoiled Americans searching for their dream space in a foreign country and then being put out because most people in the world don’t have homes like we do in the United States. You know, they wanted a home in Colombia but why do all the homes in Colombia have to be so, well, Colombian? About the only good thing I can say about HGTV is that it’s nice to have on when you’re doing something else. What really sucks about HGTV, though, is when an episode I’ve already seen today re-airs after 5 hours. That means I’ve spent way too much time watching HGTV today.

Still…once I get beyond the mind-numbing television and the dreams I’ll be having tonight during my five hours of sleep about not forgetting Joe’s retainer in the packing process tomorrow morning (oh…and did I remember to feed the frogs?), I realize that none of what happened today or tonight or even in the morning on our way out of town will matter. By the time we’re on our deck tomorrow afternoon with Jeff and Jessie, having drinks and enjoying the view of Steamboat Springs while our four boys play together, it will all have been worth it. Even the time spent watching HGTV.

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