Traveling abroad with kids: A family sabbatical.

2011-08-08T10:38:00.000-07:00

We got up close and personal with a pair of oxen yesterday in order to understand the beast just a bit better than we did at the start of the day.

As it does on family sabbatical, we couldn't have predicted how it would turn out other than we will definitely go into the purchasing decision with a great deal of prudence because we want your generosity to go a long way.

We learned that horn size matters. One oxen got spooked as we crossed the 'highway' and broke loose. More on how the story ended below.

And off he went.

As we had watched the oxen be yoked earlier that morning we reflected on the fact that we were watching the same method come alive that had been used by the Greeks and Romans.

From Roman mosaic captured from Ancient Coins for Education.

We learned an oxen travels at .3 mph which doesn't seem fast but there's a reason they're called 'the living tractor'.

Their steadiness, strength and stamina sure beats your own two feet.

We took turns walking because we felt bad about making the oxen work carrying our weight. Don Pablo's son insisted they weren't tired (it's true every time I checked they weren't sweating) but we walked on and off anyway. Each step sure adds up, especially when the ox-cart ride turns into a 3.5 hour affair!

We learned how to chop wood with a machete.

Don Pablo son was a good teacher. He'd learned to yoke oxen starting when he was four and moved on to the machete when he was seven. When I asked if he'd ever been cut he showed me his hand lined with scars and raised his pant leg to show pitted scars along his leg pointing out the big one that had to be sewn up.

Lucky for us, Betsy and J made it out with no blood to show for it.

We learned that Don Pablo had 10 children, had worked as a fruit and veggie vendor until he'd suffered a stroke and since then, had spent the last 25 years training oxen.

He estimated he'd sold more than 60 pairs of oxen. I asked Don Pablo's son if his dad still cut with the machete and he said, 'Oh yes. And when we till the soil for planting, we're out all day. He's happy working.'

Don Pablo 'backing up the oxen' into a shady parking spot.

We learned that life expectancy is not long for oxen in Nicaragua, 7 or 8 years was the estimate. We've heard of 12 years in more extraordinary cases. Not sure how the pair in the following picture will come out- they were hauling amps and a ton of musical equipment!

We had read that it wasn't hard to train oxen but that 'it takes commitment to work regularly, as well as patience and consistency in what you ask, and proving yourself a good leader by making sure your animals needs are met. When their needs are met, oxen are patient, hard working draft animals, and will not balk at toiling at your side all day long.' LINK

Although we all cringed at the whip Don Pablo used to 'encourage' the oxen, it was clear that the oxen were willing and steady partners. When we arrived, the oxen had been munching on corn. When we went to cut wood we noticed Don Pablo slipping them a bag of bread and water. He led the oxen with low calls and grunts and exerted little physical energy if any. And when it came time to snare the runaway oxen in the end it was Don Pablo who walked over to it and led him away.

Speaking of running away. . .

When we realized the ox had slipped out of the yoke and was no longer attached to the cart, it left Betsy's family and ours in the back of the cart with Don Pablo's 17 year old son holding half the yoke. As we awkwardly made it down a big bump on to a dirt road, I held Baby-O close and in a moment of panic I cursed my recklessness (an ox-cart ride had seemed a good idea to get to know oxen better while serving the dual purpose of giving some money to Don Pablo) for now I pictured us rolling over. I needn't have worried as is the mantra for family in tow. We survived the transition and Don Pablo's son ran faster than I thought was possible straight up a big hill after the galloping oxen (I didn't know such a thing was possible either).

Talk about a spectacle. There we stood, Betsy and I with our 5 children between us with our mouths gaping open as the oxen came tearing back towards us now dodging trucks, vans and motorcycles that ply this 'highway'. Up the opposite hill it went with Don Pablo's son chasing after him.

We went and huddled by a coconut 'stand' which was really just a house whose daughter's sold us coconuts to drink. At least we were out of the way.

J perked us all up when he informed us that now a 'really young kid is helping'. Sure enough as the oxen appeared again a young boy stood on one side of him while Don Pablo's son, now with a rope, came on the backside.

Off the oxen roared past the boy until he was finally spooked by a big truck into retreating just enough for the boy to corral him. 73 year old Don Pablo shuffled out to the road tied him up and watched as his son led the ox away while the line up of traffic looked on.

STILL notes keep coming- from Michigan to Washington over the weekend I've heard from you and I THANK YOU! We'll settle up when we get back and I'll let you know what will happen with the oxen.

Masaya Volcano and the downside of its gases

2011-08-07T15:13:00.000-07:00

The Spanish christened the active Masaya Volcano "The mouth of Hell" when they encountered it, even planting a cross at the crater's lip in the 1500's in an effort to exorcise the Devil. It was to no avail- Masaya is still spewing, rumbling and emitting hellish gases.

On Friday, Isabel was overcome by the volcanic gases after horseback riding in the 'meadow of the volcano'.

After neurotic searching, I'm going to bet it was the hydrogen sulfide that was the culprit based on her symptoms. Each day 6,000 metric tons of gas waft up and out of a 'conduit' in the center of Masaya's inner crater. I learned from experts that unlike other volcanos, Masaya vents gas that has not been filtered by groundwater. That means that the gases are coming directly from underlying magma. Yep. being near Masaya means you are getting a direct whiff of and look at Earth's plumbing system.

Gigi and Zoe had gone riding at 8 am after switching their classes to later that day. They had a great time and were luminous when they returned.

They quickly dashed off with Bergman Jr. for some machete training in the back 40 of the property. The girls had rallied for equal opportunity machete lessons despite some raised eyebrows!

Baby-O and I waited for what we thought was an appropriate amount of time for blade handling and set off to find them for some pictures. Way off in the distance I saw Zoe running at us at breakneck speed.

She zigged across a bean field and zagged through a banana tree stand until in horror, my brain registered she was running not for pleasure but to report an emergency. "Something's wrong with Gigi!" she shouted with an expression on her face that won't leave my mind for a long while.

My first thought was that Gigi had lost a finger to the machete so I asked Zoe to stay back with Baby-O already picturing a bloody scene. I started running on the path until I saw Bergman Jr. supporting a slumped Gigi and broke off the trail tearing through low underbrush hoping I wouldn't step on an iguana, snake or anything else.

I will never forget coming upon her and yelling 'sit down and put your head between your knees!' She looked so terrible my fear was that she was imminently going to faint and hurt herself. Bergman Jr. helped sit her down and as she lifted her head and looked at me I knew Bergman Jr. was right when he said, 'we need to get her back.'

Gigi was the color of a corpse and her body was so strangely cold it was as if she'd been packed in ice. Yet later on, she said that she was sweating buckets even though she wasn't hot.

Her eyes were moving two different directions and she was unable to speak other than faint yes or no mumbling. Bergman Jr. who is as tall as Gigi was sweating bullets as was I two minutes later while we made our way back to the hotel.

We stopped at a wooden shack for her to lie down for a moment, her 'bed' wasn't the most comfortable.

WOODEN SHACK

The lovely kitchen staff crowded around her door to peak in on her, and Bergman Sr. asked them to bring her orange leaf tea and orange leaves to inhale. They had a pitcher of neon purple juice waiting for her.

Gigi went on to sleep the rest of the day and by dinner was able to join us. Betsy's lungs were still sore the next day and she had her own moment of ashen corpse-ness without the passing out fortunately.

Gigi's episode makes me grateful for the gift of the oxen for the community of Panama even more. Although locals say, 'They're used to it.' Living directly in the path of Masaya Volcano's gas plume means lung diseases, teeth decay, headaches and an inability to grow enough food. They may be used to it but it doesn't make it easy.

This morning we're off to spend some time with Don Pablo to learn more about oxen, their work and their training so we can better report back to each of you who donated money and goodwill. Gigi is almost perfect now so not to worry back home. The only remaining symptoms are stinging eyes.

Thanks again for the notes that keep coming in with donation pledges. I plan to wire in the money directly in one fell swoop so just let me know how much you want to give and we'll settle up once we get back home this week. I am so honored to know such generous people.

2011-08-05T19:36:00.000-07:00

Thank you so much for raising just shy of a $1,000 in a handful of days in order to buy a pair of oxen. I cannot wait to report the next step. Iʼm humbled by your spirit of generosity and resolve to get involved.

Weʼve taken a lot of steps as a family in these days. Sure, some of them have been outwardly exotic like visiting an active volcano, horseback riding in it's shadow or swimming in a crater lake.

Others have been dream-come-true category like entering a monkey cage to feed them and hold them or being taught how to use a machete. But the steps that stand out the most are the ones being taken on changing our internal landscape (weʼve had no stomach problems so I donʼt mean that kind!).

I am so proud of our children. The steps they have willingly taken to understand poverty, hunger, dignity and another language have been giant.

Theyʼve done it with more grace than I could have hoped for as a parent.

Fact is, theyʼve gone hungry. Understand, we are fed super well at La Mariposa.

Yet gone is the ʻeat at willʼ reality to which weʼve all grown accustomed. Try eating only breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next 3 days and see what it feels like. You. . . will. . . feel. . . hungry. Really hungry. J ate the salt scraps in the bottom of a pretzel bag that had been finished off yesterday. Last night Gigi discovered some leftover snacks sheʼd packed for the flight. J jumped out of bed (heʼd nearly been asleep) and they parceled out what would surely have been discarded back home.

They have not complained. They know they are being fed like kings compared to everyone around them and we are; itʼs actually felt good to savor food in a way that is only possible when your last meal was just that- a meal and not a snack.

I am grateful for their big hearts, open minds, and spirit of adventure.

As for Baby-O, bless her happy heart- for when youʼre two youʼre going to experience whatever bathroom facilities are the norm because itʼs simply how it is.

She has experienced latrines of every sort, happily and with no judgement, all of us learn from her every day.

Mayet from New York has Baby-O pose with a flower.

I wonder how the changes will affect them long-term? Will they be fleeting or will it affect their future? A young Williams graduate, just arrived, who is studying at Cambridge for a dual-master’s program before she starts medical school is just one example of the dynamic young people we’ve met who truly wants to ‘change the world’. Brady, another dynamo, will begin his work as a fellow as he embarks on a master's at the Bard Center for Environmental Policy. It’s been an honor to be in each one of their presences, and presence they have in spades. I don’t think it’s been lost on the kids either.

All in a day. . .

While Baby-O, Gigi and I toured a small herb farmer who makes soaps and shampoos for the hotel, toured an artisan town and saw how furniture was made, J stayed back at the ranch. I felt a tug at my heart to leave him but knew he’d be in great hands. I needn’t have worried. He learned how to ‘paralyze a chicken’, washed chickens (“got pecked a lot!” he reported with a mischievous glee) played Othello with several of the teachers and ate the salt scraps at the bottom of a pretzel bag when he got hungry. He was aglow when we returned.

As for Gigi, Baby-O and I, this was our afternoon.

At the start of the tour of the herb farm, Baby-O ran over to a bush and said, 'menta!'

We learn that the flower of the cacao tree emerges from the bark itself.

We are delighted to meet a 'garden pot pineapple'.

Construction, Central American style, has been fascinating and mind-blowing to see.

We see woven furniture be born.

Back at La Mariposa, each night a ritual occurs. A gathering around the tables for conversation, wifi (It turns off at 7pm every night, quite a funny moment to observe!) and games. Try turning your wifi off each night at 7 and see what happens and games. The bonding that occurs between travelers is part of the magic. It's as close to co-housing as you might get. It's loads of fun.

James from Philly leading the group in a raucous round of 'Liar's Dice'.

Thanks for reading and thank you so much for all your encouragement and support on the oxen, you are appreciated.

A morning at La Mariposa is worth a lifetime of living including how to use a machete

2011-08-04T11:07:00.000-07:00

Update:
Thank you thank you thank you!! In less than 48 hours I think we've raised enough money to buy a pair of oxen. If you still want to email me or post a comment and ask questions about contributing PLEASE do. The need is infinite:

-the daycare hasn't received rice and beans from the government in a month. $40 would provide enough money to buy a sack of rice that could last 3 months

-the teachers in more than one reading corner haven't received their pay in months, they keep showing up to help the kids

- many of the kids of Panama neither have shoes nor a set of extra clothes

- La Mariposa itself is so generous with the projects (they provide employment for 50 people and so much more) that they are barely making it

These are just a handful of examples, if you wish to help, please do!

Here's a day in the life of a morning for children at La Mariposa:

Our new friend Maia from Miami and Baby-O pick chiles and bananas to take to the monkeys

Baby-O teaches Maia that the monkeys use the chiles as mosquito repellent.

The monkeys knead the chiles.

Friends go up into the tower room to sing with teacher Alba.

The kids are never far from the hammocks that are all over the La Mariposa.

Singing "Los Pollitos Cantan. . ."

Jeremy with the beloved Alba

There are magical little pathways all over the property. Baby-O loves to choose how we move through the jungle-like setting. This is her favorite passage.

After the morning classes just before the juice break, Armando takes the kids to check for eggs.

"A Melba! A Melba!" Melba, the incredibly kind and hardworking 'knower and doer of all" is where the kids know the eggs are headed.

Delivering the fresh eggs.

At 10:00 sharp a homemade juice is served. The kids spend every second of the half hour diving into cards or other games.

Gigi with Zoe, aka Claire from Philly

For the younger set, Juan serves milk.

Can you find the gringa?

Kate, from Ann Arbor has spent a month here with her brother and sister. They've worked hard every day with nothing but good cheer. They spend their evenings with their home stay. They are great kids and I see why their parents knew they'd be fine coming solo. They are great friends with all of the staff whom they help in all capacities from kitchen duty to garden duty to farm work.

At the break the teachers gather to rest and delight the younger set.

The older kids are deep into an Othello while Berman Jr. and Baby-O converse about the lollipop. . .

Berman Sr. is the Director of the language program and keeper of the 'bell'! He has the constitution of a surgeon and the patience of a saint. He organizes the teachers and herds the students! He is also guide, driver and all-around facilitator.

For J, his second hour of class is 'Machete 101'

Off to lunch. . .

Laguna de Apoyo and other volcanos in Nicaragua as well as loincloth man

2011-08-03T16:07:00.001-07:00

Another great thing about family sabbaticals anywhere is a chance for the kiddos to man the camera. Gigi took these beautiful shots yesterday when she visited two artisan villages.

The crater lake, Laguna de Apoyo- you'll see it in action below.

We have dubbed this one, 'Loincloth Man!'

Our friend Betsy from Philadelphia (another great benefit of international travel with or without kids is hooking up with really interesting people from all over) took these shots of us when we spent the day swimming in a crater lake of a volcano that is 'in repose'. Laguna de Apoyo is officially one of my favorite places on any continent- the water is sublime at a lovely bathwater temperature.

Baby-O loves kayaking.

Here's J and Gigi overlooking an active volcano- can you see the smoke? Unfortunately, the extreme levels of sulfur dioxide that are released from the crater is what ravages the communities that lie in the path of the gas plume and results in health problems as well as the inability to grow crops.

Thanks for reading.

2011-08-02T13:03:00.000-07:00

SPOILER ALERT:
I’m going to ask you to help us buy a team of oxen to donate at the end!

One of the highlights of staying at La Mariposa with kids is the amount of learning and growing that is constantly occurring.

In addition to the 1:1 Spanish classes, issues of ecology, botany, biology, poverty, and cooking come alive. For this parent, it’s more than I’d hoped for. By the kids’ laughing, joy and absence of ‘I’m bored’ I believe it is for them too.
_______________________________________________

UPDATE
If you read yesterday’s post, you’ll know the subject of trash was on my mind.
At 8:00 sharp classes begin. Just before the ‘bell’ was sounded, Paulette announced she’d be leading a discussion on the ‘Story of Stuff’ and that the younger set would probably like it. All of the kids volunteered to attend. The reviews?

“Amazing”
“Really cool”
“I loved it”

I’m going to ask all the kids who are willing (Raffi and Sophia have arrived from Venice Beach) to post about it.
________________________________________________

Paulette also announced that we had a chance to go and visit the community of Panama, the poorest in the municipality. Panama lies on a ridge just downwind from the Masaya Volcano. Whereas every other square inch of soil we've seen is covered with vegetation, this land was eerily empty.

Because of the gases that blow through the community and the poison of the acid rain that falls, only pineapple and one other fruit can grow in the Panama community.

We’ll post more about what it was like to visit the school and tell the follies of aid agencies erecting flush toilets WHEN THERE IS NO WATER FOR 6 MONTHS OUT OF THE YEAR.

You're right if you think these might have been used once on inauguration day. . .

It was incredibly eye opening and I think in the end pretty disconcerting for the kids. You can’t hide hunger.You can’t hide thirst. You can’t hide what it looks like to scrape out a living.

More than once I had to look away from the dogs of the community, for it was in their skeletal image that the concept of poverty jumped from an abstraction to an all too vivid reality.

CALL FOR HELP OR SHOW OF HANDS
Would you help buy a pair of oxen?
The goal? Access to water.
I am wondering if anyone would be interested in donating towards a pair of oxen for this community. It would mean some kids could be in school instead of walking the long walk (downhill, yep uphill with water sounds hellish) to get water for their family. It's about 7 kilometers and the process takes about 2 hours, it's a job that is executed by women and children. It would mean the community could provide a consistent lunch for the kids- they have a donated kitchen at the school site but no water for 6 months out of the year means; they are currently dependent on La Mariposa for water in order to make school lunches. It would mean maybe they could coax more agriculture out of the soil.

Here’s J sitting on sacks of donated rice that lies stacked in the back of one of the classrooms:

The pair of oxen cost $800 and they’d need an oxen-whisperer to manage them. Please email me or drop a line in the comments if you’d be willing to donate large or small. Just let me know how much you can contribute. Spread the word to anyone who might want to know about being able to help buy oxen for the Panama community. Maybe it’s something we can get done before we leave?

ONE WEEK for kids and a solo Mom at La Mariposa Nicaragua

2011-08-01T13:49:00.000-07:00

Trash. Energy. Water. Meat.

It’s impossible to stay at La Mariposa and leave unchanged unless you are completely indifferent or unwilling to see your own role as a consumer. This shift began before we left our house from a one line sentence Paulette penned in the FAQ section of the website.

“And please don’t encourage too many aluminum-wrapped snacks- the rubbish is non-biodegradable!”

We go through a lot of snacks like a lot of other people do who have young children and as much as we’ve bought organic or have sworn off plastic for our kids I’d never given thought to the idea that I’ve been piling up eternal trash at breakneck speed with the aluminum-lined snack packages. I plan on spending the next weeks giving hard thought and research to alternatives. Any ideas?

Like for so many around the world who have infrastructure challenges, waste disposal is not a sure thing for Nicaraguans. The impact? People tend to use their surroundings as a trashcan. It’s painful to see, I’ve seen it before and it never gets easier to see swollen diapers in a waterway, snack packages shadowing out grass patches on the town turf or barbed wire fences cradling so much trash you can’t make out where the ground begins.

The upside? Our normal relationship to trash is a relationship of near invisibility other than for the family members charged with wheeling it to the curb.

What’s next? First off, I’m going to ask Paulette to give a kids-tour of the operation- what will they see?

-solar array

-water tanks (to say water is scarce is beyond an understatement- it makes flush toilets seem the Anti-Christ- in fact, latrines are the norm. . .we’re still working on that one!)

-worm bins

-ecological outdoor stove (La Mariposa tries to burn as much as possible)

-rice husks used for the chicken coop

-2 organic farms to supply the vegetables and fruits prepared for the guests
-leaving and planting as many trees as possible on the property including leaving the fruit for the birds and insects. We saw this honeycomb today in the trunk of a tree which has been left standing:

-ox poo bought from the poorest man I’ve met

Don Pablo lives right around the corner. I met him because Baby-O wanted to see his oxen being strapped on to the cart, they were going to pick up firewood. He noticed and gestured for her to sit on his colt’s back. Bambi, a beautiful black colt was painfully skinny, I could count every rib and practically make out her internal organs to boot. As I negotiated the multiple different types of animal poo I waved at the women lining the house that was 5 feet away.

Don Pablo has to be around my Dad’s age, with 1:4 Nicaraguan men working either in the U.S. or Costa Rica it has no doubt left a heavy burden on the older generation. With a flick of the hand he and his million dollar smile along with the rickety wooden cart were off.

The subject of trash just won’t go away. When I was a little girl I remember traveling to Mexico and seeing kids crawling through mountains of trash. I’ve never forgotten it. It looks like this:

Photo by Venetia joubert sarah oosterveld

I’m checking into a Granada dump project to see if there is a way for us to help. Kids as young as 3 spend hours every day picking through trash, often with bare feet. They do this to support their families with scraps of food and if they’re lucky, a bit of recyclable material that can be cleaned and sold. At the big dump in Managua more than 1600 people a day work the dump, it’s been estimated as many as 500 of those people are children. Another 500 work as cleaners cleaning materials like copper, aluminum, iron, bronze, plastic and paper which can be sold. Here’s a quote from a Mom who works the dump:

“We used to eat at least twice a day. Now we are hard-pressed just to make soup, so the children can be fooled into feeling full,” said Santos, who works with her partner and their 3 children under the age of 13 scavenging among rotten food scraps, dead animals, cans, glass, dust and dirt.”

Speaking of eating, other than our outing to the Laguna when J consumed two bowls of chicken soup, we haven’t had any meat served to us. With so many chickens waddling around us each day and seeing just a handful of cows grazing on the town turf it’s easy not to miss meat. Paulette’s two chicken coops would be decimated in a week if we were to have chicken served to all of us guests.

Our food order at the laguna took about an hour to prepare. I realize now a chicken was likely being butchered in that time.

Paulette’s work is an example of how each of us can make a difference if we want to.

Her mission to employ as many locals as possible is an obvious gain. But, her work to reforest her land with native plants, trees and systems is no less powerful. For example, her choices to use a traditional security system with these thorny plants instead of barbed wire.

The latter provides no habitat for lizards and countless other critters. Most locals have ripped out this traditional 'fencing'. I cracked up when she told us that she shows her staff how she, a 60 year old woman, can easily make it over a barbed wire fence, it must be a sight to see. One leaf at a time, animals find a sanctuary and the planet gets a break. From the shade-grown coffee

to the frog pond,

everything around La Mariposa has a purpose to restore a balance while taking less and giving more.

My hope is that we, by staying here will leave changed in that way: take less, give more.

Out my window at La Mariposa Nicaragua and a soccer match

2011-07-31T16:01:00.000-07:00

Perfumes are the feelings of flowers. ~Heinrich Heine, The Hartz Journey

Each night certain flowers of La Mariposa release the most fragrant of aromas. Nicaragua is the land of lakes and volcanoes, between the volcanic soil and frequent rains many trees and bushes can flourish by just putting a branch into the ground.

All of these flowers exist just outside our window. We took these pictures yesterday morning before we left for a trip to swim in a crater lake.

We'll post about the kids' trip to the active volcano and what it was like to swim in a crater lake of a volcano that is in 'repose'. Repose you say? Your feet were quick to register that the lake bottom was warm to the touch. As J pointed out, digging your toes into the sandy bottom you reached even warmer places. The water temperature was like a perfect bath, so perfect it was that we stayed in the water literally all day. We'll post more on this outing soon.

J played in the semi-finals this morning on a 12 year old boy's team that needed a 6th man. Unfortunately they didn't come out on top, they'll play for 3rd place next Sunday. As a die-hard Barcelona fan it was hilarious to see J don a Real Madrid (their archenemy) jersey to play in the game. Lucky for J, the gracious intern Chrissy loaned him her sneakers.

In Nicaragua they play sala futbol- yep on a basketball court!

Gigi passed the time with Baby-O buying potato chips (Lays) and playing with Luis Jr., La Mariposa's driver's son. J's team were the only ones with jerseys, most played in t-shirts. One fellow had two different shoes on and more than a handful wore Chinese slippers but boy could they move the ball.

The rest of the day looked like this:

Day 3 La Mariposa Nicaragua

2011-07-29T14:43:00.000-07:00

Today we experienced our first downpour. It was a glorious thing by way of sound. But, once we’d left the hotel it was clear that a certain lack of mercy awaited some unlucky crossroads. Certain streets flooded with a torrent of water that looked like a full-on river even neatly turning at times and rushing down side streets like an important tributary. But that was once we’d left the grounds. La Mariposa itself, the hotel and its manicured gardens, are more akin to staying in a zoo exhibit: it seems like you’re inhabiting a perfect slice of an ecosystem with a predictable stream of food and care.

In our case, it is tropical paradise with the exception of pesky biting insects. To be fair, they’re not worse than any American mosquito, just more plentiful.

We had a chance to ford some of the makeshift waterways in the school van because of a special dinner outing that coincided with the deluge. It was pizza prepared and served by poor youth who have gotten off the streets. The government apparently funds the operation- the space was covered in incredible murals from Venice to Frida Kahlo and the young men did a terrific job. J and Gigi would go on to have the ride of their lives because the downpour began on the way home after I’d sanctioned another trip in the truck. Whereas I looked out at the rain with a bite of the lip they returned so elated I could barely take in their description of the thrill the experience had been. They were drenched to the bone but beaming in a blinding sort of way. Imagine someone pouring a bucket of water over your head and that was about the pace of this rain. Zoe from Philly reports her two favorite memories from her first two weeks both involve the back of the truck.

Gigi had homework tonight. Real homework.

Zoe and Gigi consulting after breakfast before classes begin at 8 o'clock sharp.

I’m proud the kids are really trying to be diligent about their classes even though the classes themselves are far from easy. They are being taught true grammar.

J being taught by the kind Jenny, today he made up the following sentence, "My friend Sam plays soccer on the table." We cracked up because we saw that he knew exactly what he was saying! It's been said, joking in another language is the first step to fluency, I think Gigi and J are on their way!

Lucky that the teachers know to keep it fun for the kids so the girls play a lot of cards and J gets competitive with board games. Guillermina, Paulette’s daughter, stopped by to have a hand at J and it was a delight to see everyone having so much fun with peals of laughter breaking up the air.

Baby-O helped Santos the Botanist (he’s much more than a gardener) wash leaves on the potted plants that line the beautiful outdoor corridors of the hotel. He has shown us the 'house' (a plant) for the tadpoles as they are losing their tails and becoming frogs. He has taught us that we should give the monkeys' chili peppers because as they rub it all over their fur it serves as an insect repellent. Santos has just brought me the most aromatic leaves ever and says he'll show me the plant tomorrow. Baby-O loves to work with him. Her favorite job is watering all the potted plants.

Later, she stopped to inspect a worm getting carried away by tropical ants. Ceil from Chicago, and I cracked up trying to explain that no, the worm was not doing the walking, the ants were!

We're definitely in the tropics but the bugs have been manageable.

I enjoyed getting to know a nice Austrian, Christian who is traveling around Central America. It brought back old times when we spoke of Chiripo- a mountain Rick and I climbed nearly 20 years ago. I warned him about the mice in the walls at the village base hostel. . .

Many of us have iPods, laptops, cameras and so on while only the top echelon of Paulette’s staff appear to have simple, first generation cell phones. Much of the power here at La Mariposa is solar and the water is hauled in. You can bet all of us are thinking differently about energy use after just 72 hours.

Many of us adults are writing and posting pictures to send back home and I tried to imagine what this must look like to the locals: funny at best, probably pretty alien. Whenever I glimpse one of adult guests furtively peering into the glow of the screen I see tight lips, furrowed brow and complete and utter glazed focus into the abyss. One of the main differences I’ve noticed is how frequent and deep the eye contact is here between people and how simple things like ‘hello’, ‘good morning’ and ‘how are you’ are meant when uttered. And they are uttered.

Tonight a monkey escaped just as Gigi and J were about to help feed (luckily only Oscar the animal-keeper was inside so we didn’t feel guilty!).

Just as he's about to jump into the canopy

The bugger spent all evening leaping around the canopy right over his enclosure. He won’t go far. He has spent nearly his whole life at La Mariposa, these monkeys arrived around four weeks old. Apparently hunters wait until the monkey babies are old enough to hang on to mom but too young to cry much. The hunters shoot the mothers and scoop up the babies who fall from the canopy. It’s been said they were on their way to a zoo in North America. Yikes.

They are the kids’ delight and mine too. Paulette asked that a bench be made by the monkeys so people can sit and watch them. Baby-O became versed in the way of masonry as she showed her trusty traveling doll the monkeys. The monkeys were as curious about the doll as they were about the dirt clods that were being turned up to make way for the bench. The monkeys have been fascinating to say the least. I’m growing convinced Baby-O’s new fondness for bananas is rooted in our ritual of delivering the peels to the monkeys.

This scene shows how unbelievably curious they are- just like Curious George. Francisco was finishing the sitting bench and all the monkeys got involved in the goings on.

After slipping the clod of dirt through the fence, he proceeded to smash it on several of his jumping branches.

Feeding the monkeys is one of our daily rituals (it occurs throughout the day).

Stretching with his leg to an apprehensive Baby-O

Each stretching more but not enough.

Monkey switches arms and strains, Baby-O moves up

Finally!

Baby-O takes her dolls and stuffed dog to visit the monkeys. They are afraid but curious about them.

Below see what he's staring at.

The wildlife has been spectacular. I went to turn on our fan this afternoon and found this guy sitting on the button. It’s not easy to shoo out a tropical grasshopper. . .

We’ve been out on the roads now 3x and each time we’ve seen folks huddled in doorways talking, clustered under trees or sitting on simple plastic chairs shooting the doo-doo. If I had to sum it up I’d say Nicaraguan so far strikes me as a place of communion. We’ll see if this assessment fades after some time under our belt.

Tonight our Bostonian friends had a birthday celebration and it was beyond festive under another type of canopy-this one a colorful circus-like tent of the boys’ home pizza parlor. What I will remember about it (besides that the cake was delicious) is Luis, our driver not touching his cake. When I asked if he didn’t care for sweets he shook his head and said he was taking it home to his family. We’ll visit them tomorrow for ironically he too has a 10 year old son and a 2 year old daughter.

James, our friend from Philadelphia, visited the home this afternoon of a student whom he had volunteered to tutor in English over the last week. They received the Philadelphia family at their farm and were treated to a humbling level of hospitality. James remarked that the patriarch is 70 years old and largely farms everything himself but may need to sell off part of it because it’s hard for him to keep up. James told a neat story that as he struggled to negotiate part of a farm walk holding 4yo Jeremy, the grandfather went in front of him and said “put your hand on my shoulder, I will steady you.” Later he told James, ‘We stood like that shoulder to shoulder in the war. We were strong.’ James observed how humbling it is that the Nicaraguans are so warm, inviting and accepting of foreigners despite their history.

CHALLENGE: For a Nicaraguan souvenir (J and Gigi are supposed to visit the mouth of an active volcano tomorrow. . .) what happened in recent Nicaraguan history that might have made Nicaraguans not happy to see Americans? Blogger changed the commenting capabilities so it should now be more possible to comment than it was when we were in Spain. You all gave such TERRIFIC answers try to post them if you can!

Lest I unfairly only portray the upside of it all today we had our first rumblings of the downside. The bug bites are beginning to accumulate and they are itchy. I’ve taken to wearing my long pants even though it’s humid because we spend so much time at the monkey cage where the mosquitoes are particularly plentiful. Gigi reported she awoke twice in the night to stand in a small plastic basin of water to take the edge off of her bites. There were some rumblings of boredom and I realize now it coincided with Zoe’s outing to her Dad’s student’s farm.

Always the planner, Gigi is pacing herself and not reading much holding out her books for the week that Zoe will leave. J is halfway through Rick Riordan’s newest sequel and thinking ahead of how much he’ll have to read. It reminds me of what a bonanza it was to find a New Yorker on the road when we were backpacking around Asia. I remember one issue we were lucky enough to find, discarded in our hostel room in India. We took it on a trip to Nepal and I read every single word in that issue down to the ads, each word a luxurious stroke of relaxation.

La Mariposa Nicaragua The Benefits

2011-07-28T09:03:00.000-07:00

The view that greets me every morning.

I have never had an airport pick-up on a trip. I have never stayed at the same hotel for the duration of a trip for that matter. I have definitely never been on ‘excursions’ like we’ve done as a group clambering into the hotel van. I was afraid I would hate it but with the three kids and their dad working hard back home it’s been nothing but a treat so far. Our trusty psychologist friend Patrick remarked with an edge of dismay on me taking the kids solo on this trip the evening before we left. Somehow coming from him I really did worry it might be a little crazy. I kept telling people it would either turn out to be a deranged decision to spend 3 weeks in Central America with the kids without their Dad or it would be a break from the treadmill that is life at home.

I’m happy to report that at least for now it absolutely feels like the latter. There is a certain nurturing that goes on in developing countries that is completely absent in our world. Melba, the head day cook, room keeper, laundry washer (in a basin outside) and to Baby-O knower of all questions (she took a fruit that fell from a tree in front of her feet today all the way to the kitchen looking for Melba to ask what its name was) is constantly saying, “Lisa. . .” with a pregnant pause as she stares into my eyes with the kindest eyes in the world before asking, ‘Is your room ok? Is the bed working for you?’ and so on. And as far as I can tell she absolutely means it. I would venture to guess not many American moms feel anyone cares how it’s going for them amidst the rat-race of being chauffeur, cook, market person, toilet-bowl cleaner and so on. Here, the list of jobs each person done is dizzyingly long but they are not alone.

In the kitchen there are a good core of 3-4 folks cooking and washing and their laughter sprinkles out of the kitchen. The night shift is equally cheery and fiercely protective of making sure the kids are getting what they need. Nothing is too much trouble.

A monkey escaped yesterday and the men quickly assembled to help Oscar. When I saw a kind father of four who is always tickling Baby-O getting the puppy food in the evening I knew the monkey hadn’t been caught. When I asked if there was anything to be done he looked at me with the most somber and sincere expression and said, ‘We will help Oscar.’ with a pause he took my hand to shake it and gave me the most grave expression of thanks I have ever received as he told me he would let me know if there was anything we could do.

Kind Oscar in a quieter moment before the monkey escape

La Mariposa is a beehive of activity from dawn through dusk from the grounds to the teaching shelters on to the kitchen and numerous animals with cages and without. But there appears to be joy and purpose about the work with the day full of chiding and laughter. Paulette meets with the staff each morning but other than that everyone seems to know exactly what’s to be done. Because many of the guests are here working side by side with the staff as volunteers or spending hours in the huts hard at work at their language studies it doesn’t have that normally very awkward division of labor that truly can feel like the divide that it is. On the contrary, as a guest I too have felt a real sense of contribution to the hive just by being here. Paulette integrates so many opportunities to help out in small ways (buying the pineapple juice from the poorest community or going to pizza with the street boys an experience that I’ll post about later) that you feel like you have something to give. The place is FULL. Chris and his Mom have come two other times. Paulette has created something unique and meaningful and it’s palpable both on the outside and the inside.

Nicaraguan Pineapple Farm Day 2

2011-07-27T09:46:00.000-07:00

Day Two

La Mariposa runs so consistently that it already feels like we’ve been here forever vs. a day. The kids made me wake them early (7am) so they could help Oscar with the monkeys. They scrammed to breakfast and dashed off to the monkey cage; they are so captivated that they’ve begged me to ask if they can work with Oscar one on one in lieu of one of their formal classes. J chose to keep conversation and Gigi grammar if we can work it out.

One of the MANY frogs.

The puppies.

Tonight after I’d gotten Baby-O to bed (don’t worry everyone- I had the key in my pocket and was 10 paces away!) the older kids and I hung out. They were collapsed in laughter recalling many parts of the day. It consisted of a lot of card tricks in between classes and meals. If you’d told me that Gigi would be asking me to quiz her on tenses I wouldn’t have believed it. In between ‘Another one’! J kept asking me in Spanish how my feet were and if I liked tomatoes! I knew their Spanish would never be the same but I was surprised to hear Gigi ask me the first day, “What is this ‘ser’ about?” I replied, “Did you hear ‘estar’ too?” When she nodded affirmatively I knew her relationship with grammar had begun!

The 3 teenagers from Davis are delightful (small world- the eldest is considering Whitman seriously----we’ll need to connect him with Peter! And their grandfather’s first cousin is a school board member I know!). The older boys are doing a home stay and doing physical labor in the morning.

We’ve met the most interesting people that it’s hard to believe it’s only been 48 hours! Here’s a sampling:
-Swarthmore English Professor
-Villanova Engineering Professor
-Boston gentleman traveling with his Mom and brother. Today he told me about his teenage son’s project designing a lithium-powered refrigerated suitcase to transport medicines into remote areas (you get the picture!)
-17 year old from Berkley who is here on her own, she’s incredible with Baby-O. It was sweet to say that she appreciated her parents supporting and encouraging her travel but that she knew her mom was at home worrying and she felt bad about inflicting the fear into her mom’s days.
-A set of 15 year old twins and their 19 year old sister all from Ann Arbor. The twins are soooo mature. Their father is a minister in an ‘extremely progressive Episcopal church’ I’ve seen them stringing wire for plants, shoveling cement, cleaning the chicken coops, spreading out coffee beans with nothing but good cheer.

and many more characters!

Needless to say, La Mariposa has in part been a blast because of the company. It’s been terrific to see the kids band together and really enjoy themselves in a way that is out of an old Disney movie. Today when Kyle from Berkley arrived she was desperate to teach them a game called ‘13’, later the kids reported that the teenagers knew it as Vietnamese poker!

Today they had a chance to ride in the back of a pickup truck.

I relented first with Gigi and then on the way back with J. At one point our driver stopped our vehicle and explained the kids had been gesturing madly about the view and that he thought they wanted us to take a picture. We all were surprised to imagine them ‘taking in the scenery’ so seriously but we all got our cameras out and took a shot. Later, Gigi explained that they were debating whether a certain cloud formation and rainbow was the gateway to Heaven.

She was incredulous none of the adults had noticed. Apparently one must sometimes ride open-air in the back of a pickup truck in Nicaragua. Ironically Rick and I did so nearly 20 years ago hitch hiking through Central America and I can remember it like it was yesterday.

We spent the afternoon at a pineapple ‘farm’ which was really a diversified traditional land holding. The gentleman farmed coffee, bananas, tomatoes, peppers, sugar cane and of course, pineapple.

Sugar Cane

Papayas

Coffee Beans

Yesterday they spread out coffee beans to dry, placed them in big sacks and tonight they'll go to be ground. Apparently the coffee will be ready for consumption tomorrow. That's fresh!

The farmer explained that if Dole were allowed in their municipality they’d be eradicated overnight.

One municipality did so and all the small landowners are gone. He also insisted that the pineapples would taste different and different they were- unbelievably juicy, fragrant and overall scrumptious. Adults and kids alike devoured their plates.

This is what a field of pineapple plants look like! It's a bit different than Iowa!

I wasn’t sure how Baby-O would do on the field trip (they are offered throughout the week) but didn’t want to send the older kids alone. Baby-O begged to come along so there we were walking a 1/2 mile or so down a dirt road passing chickens and children taking in Mahogany trees.

Later as everyone sat listening to the talk she ate her Goldfish and pretzels and watched the ducks, chickens, chicks, dogs and puppies engaged as could be.

When she declared she had to go #2 I eyed the latrine structure and asked if she could wait. After a while it was clear she couldn’t so I hoped for the best. It was SPOTLESS inside and she laughed with glee at the idea that she was ‘outside and inside at the same time!’ As we made our way out I was humbled to see that the latrine was part of a public works donation program dedicated in 2010. Dole aside these people were poor. The floor was dirt, a smoldering log fire burned and water I’m pretty sure was trucked in. But as the farmer eloquently explained, the farm had been in his family for 3 generations and he proudly reported that in his municipality they won’t let Dole in. The pride was palpable as was when he explained that he doesn’t use the pesticides that are so common in the big multinational holdings.

A huge storm seemed to come up out of the horizon and I worried that Baby-O might be frightened. We were touring the farm by foot and I was definitely nervous myself since we were a good 20 minutes to the vehicles. As the wind whipped I turned just in time to see Baby-O shriek with glee and spread her arms howling with laughter that just beat out the howling of the wind. I guess I needn’t have worried. . .

The wind is whipping so hard Baby-O is watching to see if her flower will fly away.

On the way to the farm we stopped at a juice stand that is staffed from the poorest community in the area. It is the people that live just under the volcano. The gases prevent nearly anything from flourishing there and the people are plagued with health problems. Pineapple however can grow despite the circumstances. Our kids were thrilled to have Berman, Paulette’s manager lop off the tops of coconuts and drink fresh coconut water. Our family has been drinking it back home out of cans and the kids reported this was far more delicious!

Lastly, J was invited this morning to play in the town semi-finals for soccer. He’ll hopefully practice with the team on Thur (he was worried he won’t understand what is being said). Hopefully his Crocs will hold up and stay on! It hasn’t rained at all and although it’s been hot the weather has been really nice. I can’t believe I told him NOT to pack his sneakers. . .ugh!

Tomorrow’s afternoon activity is the History of Nicaragua from 1970-Present. Hmmmm we’ll have to see if the kids’ bite!

On the road in Nicaragua

2011-07-26T11:06:00.000-07:00

We’re back on the road again. We’ve arrived at La Mariposa Spanish School in Nicaragua after an uneventful 14 hour trip, we’ll stay for 3 weeks.

We chose La Mariposa because the kids could receive Spanish instruction in the morning and help out with different chores on their off time. La Mariposa has rescue animals ranging from dogs, monkeys and parrots as well as 2 organic farm plots.

Baby-O is enthralled with all of the animals and they with her.

Helping wash one of the 4 puppies!

La Mariposa provides the meals which are eaten family-style with the other students who have come from all over to learn Spanish. The food has been a hit.

The staff makes special juice for Gigi made with Agave and last night even made her her own agave cake. Paulette, the tour de force behind the school said would accept nothing else but equity for Gigi's dessert experience. It somes up Paulette's politics, spirit and style. We've spent just a little time with her so far but it's clear, she's a visionary and one of the rare who makes impossibilities happen. She employs over 50 locals in an operation that runs like a Swiss train.

Paulette has trained locals to serve as patient teachers. Clusters of people gather all over the property to have their classes.

In the first minutes of our first morning we were thrilled to learn that Zoe from Philadelphia is also 12 a ball of charisma and staying on for two more weeks. She and Gigi were playing cards within seconds. They’re still at it! They’ll be mates in Spanish class, apparently it went well this morning. J was able to hook up with several boys from CA who trooped down to the town soccer place- the basketball court, they played for several hours. The locals were playing each other for money so our guys waited their turn, hopefully we’ll see some international team blending in the weeks to come.

They even play cards in class!

Seeing Gigi after the morning class for the juice break.

Cards are played even during the break.

La Mariposa is packed with goings-on. Today there was Salsa at 1pm and a talk on the Central American free trade zone at 5pm. This afternoon you could visit a reading library funded by previous students and volunteer to read to the kids. The kids mostly hunted frogs, played cards and got acclimated. Baby-O has a friend too. Jeremy , Zoe’s 4 yr. old brother. While Baby-O took her nap he would run around and call “Baby-OOOOOOO” since he wanted to play with her.

Jeremy doing a play for Baby-O!

Gigi helped feed the monkeys in the afternoon. More on these orphans’ story later.

Everyone has slept like a log, eaten well and reveled in card tricks, the animals and the joy of being in a place that is one in a million. Early report is that La Mariposa is everything I had hoped for- a place for the kids to learn Spanish actively, interact with locals, eat locally, play locally and think globally.

How has the family sabbatical changed us? One month out

2011-04-07T04:32:00.000-07:00

It all started after Gigi declared, " I just ate red peppers and onions without complaining. I didn't really mind it either."

It prompted the question, "How did the family sabbatical to Spain change you and the family?"

Gigi said truthfully, "I can eat anything that's put in front of me. I don't pick at my food."

She also noted that all of us thirst for better water. The water in Spain was amazing. Our favorite brand, Lanjaron, is bottled in a city that the World Health Organization has recognized as one of the places with the greatest longevity on the planet.

What are we doing differently? We ordered a water filter.

We don't prepare a 'different' food for the kids and we expect them to eat. Last night Gigi ate chard, artichoke, tomato, onion and parsley with barely a blink of an eye. Ok, she definitely enjoyed the pasta more but it's been a real change.

J smiled and looked away while he shared,

"We appreciate what we have more.

I saw some Crocs in Morocco that the kids were wearing and they were like, 8 years old!

Now I look at mine and think, "I'm lucky." We were kind of spoiled brats before."

J spent hours upon hours playing soccer in this alley of Marrakech. It never seemed to leave him that when he first met his buddies they were playing soccer with a tennis ball. Leaving the soccer ball that he hand carried from Spain seemed to be an important moment for him.

What else?

The kids both want to study Arabic.

In a complete coincidence, our neighbor Pat was trained by the Air Force to be fluent in Arabic. He reports the basics are simple and has said he is willing to tutor them. We'll keep you posted.

They don't ask to watch TV.

The family sabbatical forced the kids to create fun on their own. . . even when they were taking in a Roman ruin!

(They have called to watch the NCAA finals and Spanish soccer matches at their grandparents. However, they've been shocked and frankly, disgusted by the volume of commercials- they counted something like 30 car commercials during the NCAA championship!).

Disclaimer: we didn't watch a lot of TV before we left but they loved to bug us to watch movies. That seems to have slipped away.

What are we doing differently? Watching an episode of "The Last Airbender" each night after Baby-O goes to bed; as a family. The reviews say parents will enjoy it as much as kids and it's been true for us.

We are still lingering over meals. . . for now. I hope it lasts forever.

What are we doing differently? We light candles for every meal. (The kids delight in firing them up for breakfast!)

We were reminded about the Danish concept of 'Hygge' from a friend we made at Heathrow on our flight back (an American architect who has lived and work in Vienna for 17 years). Close synonyms to describe Hygge are coziness, fellowship, security, reassurance and well-being. He said the Danes use candles everywhere, all the time. Even in bars.

Try it. They're on to something.

Photo by jpc

How to stop eating artificial food colors, dyes and preservatives

2011-04-01T06:37:00.000-07:00

I don't want my family eating food that includes things made from petroleum or coal tar.

Photo by Torn Ravenscrag

Our family stopped eating artificial colors, flavors and preservatives nine years ago. J had a severe skin reaction to them from the day he started solids.

Every time we travel, I realize just how differently the rest of the world shops, cooks and eats.

Synthetic food dyes are derived primarily from petroleum and coal sources- they provide no nutritional or quality value to food.

Photo by Piccolo Namek

Europe is willing to take action on whether or not food dyes are safe whereas our FDA will not. The UK, Denmark, Sweden, Switzerland, France, Belgium, and Norway have all banned food dyes which are legal here in the US. Food manufacturers like Kraft, Mars, and Coca-Cola as well as suppliers such as Wal-Mart voluntarily removed artificial food colorings for products sold in Europe. . . in 2007.

Photo by tlindenbaum

In the U.S., Kellog's strawberry Nutri-Grain Bar is colored with red 40, yellow 6 and blue 1; in Britian, the same product contains beetroot red, annatto and paprika extract.

How do you stop using synthetic colors, flavors and preservatives?

1. Read the label on everything you buy.
Don't worry. You'll get fast at it. Artificial colors, dyes and preservatives are masked by many names. Look up any ingredients you don't recognize, you'll memorize them like an old elementary school vocabulary list!

2. Get it out of your house. All of it. Don't let it back in.
Sort through your entire refrigerator and pantry throwing away everything that has a synthetic ingredient.

3. Obstain.
Don't buy it. Don't eat at restaurants that use them (Yes, you'll need to ask.). Don't let your kids eat the school lunch unless they have access to a rare organic program.

4. Educate your kids.
Research the ingredients together. They are as likely not to want to eat coal tar as you are; read about the studies that show rats are hyper, confused and more prone to cancer on these ingredients, read about how the additives are made and where they come from.

5. Change the way you eat and shop.
Cook homemade foods. Freeze if time doesn't allow for nightly cooking. Learn simple, fast, homemade recipes. Shop more frequently (foods won't last as long- Europeans have very small refrigerators!). Buy the freshest foods you can buy. Become a regular at the local farmer's markets and consider a CSA where a local grower delivers a box of produce to you.

6. Be patient and ask for help.
This is a gargantuan change and can seem overwhelming. You are not alone. Visit natural food markets and ask for recipe ideas and produce help, you'll find a whole new community to help you along the way.

7. Be aware.
Watch for wellness changes . . . in skin, in behavior, in learning, in your family dynamic. Are relationships and healthiness improving? Keep it up!

8. Advocate.

Links to cookbooks that have helped us eradicate artificial colors, flavors and preservatives (Please add your favorites- I finally fixed the comments problem!). I will post a Spanish school lunch menu tomorrow with links to recipes. Prepared to be shocked.

Boredom, the Family Sabbatical and the history of flip flops

2011-03-28T00:32:00.000-07:00

Kids 'summiting' alone in the Sierra Nevadas outside of Granada

"A kid needs enough downtime to be bored, yes—bored enough to stare at the sky and study the imperfections in his own eyeball. That’s what makes for a childhood worth remembering for the whole of one’s life."
- Cristina Schwarz in an excerpt from "Leave Those Kids Alone" in the
March issue of The Atlantic

More on the subject here

One of the greatest things about a family sabbatical is enough downtime to be bored, yes- bored.

Now that we're back home those spaces on the trip that appeared to be a vacuum were in fact, a plenum- a state of fullness. Questions were asked, wonder sparked, jokes told, squabbles had, tears shed, silence shared. In retrospect, it's clear that life was being lived, one empty moment at a time.

One of those days of boredom on the trip yielded the following piece of writing from 11 year old Gigi. Never one to let an opportunity to be cheeky escape her, she wrote an essay about flip flops. It started out as a joke. Take a look at what it turned into. What was remarkable was the day after she finished it we saw this enormous thing in a Roman ruins museum. (Take a look at the strap and the toes, you'll be learning about it.)

The continuous slapping of flip-flops against cobblestone alleys is all I have heard for a month and a half. This sound is capable of masking the voices of souk inhabitants.

It can bounce around the ruins of a Roman temple and carry me across the stepping stones of a river.

My new-fangled flip-flops (which are actually a Greek design using a strap between the big toe and second toe) might have walked where a Roman flip-flop (a strap separating the second toe from the third) once crossed a pavilion.

The sound of my flip-flops followed me on a search for Moroccan slippers.

If I found some slippers in my size, then maybe I would hear a soft shuffling noise, not unlike a loyal dog following its master. We searched many shops. The only shoes that would fit my unusually gargantuan foot induced vomiting because they only came in fuchsia, black and brown.

After seeing my choices, I was quite contented with my flip-flops.

After hearing the sound of my flip-flops on noir-colored pavement, marble, grass, rocks damp with river water, and dirt sometimes as brown as my eyes, I now get to add cobblestoned alleys to my list.

Normally, you wouldn't find cobblestoned alleys in the U.S.

But here, in Spain and Portugal it is not uncommon.

While we were in Spain, the Egyptian president, Mubarak (who was 82 and having ruled for over 30 years) was forced to change his status from dictator to toppled leader.

In Egyptian murals there are depictions of early flip-flops. The murals are in both tombs and temples and some date back to around 4,000 B.C. I hope that during the conflict none of the ancient Egyptian masterpieces were destroyed.

The next place the sound of my flip-flops will accompany me might be over a little wooden bridge, with me dressed in a Kimono, where zoris are common.

Photo by d'n'c

Or, the sound could tread on cement with me that the Chinese lay over 2,000 years ago.

Photo by Blazej Mrozinski

Wherever I go, I know the "flip-flop" of flip-flops will trail behind me like a shadow that never disappears.

Google tools for parents and breathing space

2011-03-25T06:01:00.000-07:00

What's Google got to do with Spain you ask? Everything.

Keeping in touch and staying in the loop is about keeping your sanity when you're on the road and then it occurred to me that being a parent in the U.S. is a bit like being on the road. All the time.

One observation about coming home is just how BUSY life is here. Ack!

To be sure, we were in a quasi-vacation state during the trip but the pace of life here is palpably different, frenetic to sum it up in a word.

It hasn't felt like this. . .yet.

Photo by Richard C. Kelsey

I'd say it did before the trip which was one of the reasons we went.

"Unbearable!" is what Tony pronounced it. I met Tony in Seville when we rented her apartment. A Spaniard, she had two children in the U.S. before moving back to Spain with her jovial husband Mark. She recalled the driving, the meetings, the activities, the isolation as if it were yesterday and the sense of misery that had gone with it. Do you feel that way?

Here are some tools I've been enjoying since we came home. Why? They help to find treasures.

For the kids and for me. They make me feel like I'm harnessing the web instead of drowning in it.

1. Google Images

I've been reading with Baby-O and using Google Images to enliven our read.

Yesterday she pointed out a Python in a book. I told her they lived in trees (and not near here!) and then opened up the laptop.

credited here

We looked at probably 30 different images and spoke about how pythons came in different colors and sizes.

Photo by Trisha Shears, Creative Commons sharer super-star!

Then Baby-O pointed at a platypus in her book and asked 'What's that?'

Photo by TwoWings

Part duck, part otter, part beaver my love. Thanks Google images!

J's always had a fascination with cryptids.

(a cryptid (from the Greek "κρύπτω" (krypto) meaning "hide") is a creature or plant whose existence has been suggested but that is unrecognized by a scientific consensus, and whose existence is moreover often regarded as highly unlikely.- Thanks Wikipedia for defining this 'fringe science' term)

J's had a love affair with the Tasmanian Tiger or Thylacine for as long as I can remember. Last night we used Google Images and You Tube to bring it alive. He studied the jaw many times over.

This YouTube video of Ben, the world's last known Tasmanian Tiger, is well, everything you imagine it might be.

We talked about extinction and dingoes. He pulled out one of his favorite books and with great animation and fervor found the part where the author says perhaps the Tasmanian Tiger may still be alive. The last thing he said before he went to bed was, "Mom. I believe they are still alive."

2. Google's Fast Flip

Fast Flip was launched in 2009 and is still in the Google Labs. It's a news aggregator that is supposed to mirror the flipping of microfiche to discover and share news articles. What I like about it (and yes, there are many aggregators out now- (do tell if you have a favorite) is that Google shares the ad revenue with the news sources (NYTimes, BBC, Reuters, Christian Science Monitor, Fast Company to name a few). I use Fast Flip because it seems like one small way to support good journalism.

It led me to this.

A great blog post about vintage children's science books. That then led me to a blog called vintage kids' books my kid loves, What a find! Visiting is almost as good as discovering a great find at. . .fill in the blank.

3. Yesterday Google launched Think Quarterly.

Read it. Let your older kids read it.

Google describes the quarterly online magazine as, "a breathing place in a busy world". The first issue is dedicated to the world of data and its impact on business, it'll remain to be seen if they can revolutionize magazine content the way they did searching- the jury is still out.

Here is what I plan to share with the kids in the morning from the first issue.

We used to be calorie poor and now the problem is obesity. We used to be data poor, now the problem is data obesity.”

That's Hal Varian, Chief Economist for Google. He's the one who said in 2009 that "statistician will be the 'sexy' job in ten years". Gigi showed a lot of interest in different fields on the trip, as an ex-headhunter I love profiling different specialties.

Here's the other quote from the magazine that I plan to share.

"We were brought up to believe more data was good, and that's no longer true"

- Guy Laurence, CEO Vodafone UK

How can we help our kids thrive in the world that awaits them? How do we create more breathing space for them. . .for their parents?

"But in a world of accelerating change, we all need time to reflect. Think Quarterly is a breathing space in a busy world. It's a place to take time out and consider what's happening and why it matters," -Matt Brittin, Managing Director UK & Ireland Operations, Google

Spanish Olive Oil- A way of life.

2011-03-22T12:32:00.000-07:00

Olive trees in Spain as far as the eye can take you.

The Phoenicians and Greeks introduced olive oil to Spain over 3,000 years ago. Today Spain is the world's largest producer of olive oils.

This Spanish tree trunk is OLD, we heard of many trees that were 1,000 years or more.

It was the Moorish culture that left behind the word for oil in Spanish.

'Aceite' originates from the Arabic word al-zait, it means 'olive juice!' In fact, olive oil is exactly that- juice. Why? Olives are a fruit and what we know as 'oil' is the juice squeezed from the fruit just like we do with lemons and oranges.

Olives for sale in a Spanish market

Hippocrates, the Greek who is known as 'The Father of Medicine' called olive oil the 'great therapeutic.' What do we know about olive oil and the body today? It lowers blood pressure and raises 'good' cholesterol. It may slow the narrowing of the heart arteries. It may slow the process of age-related dementia, Alzheimer's and even give some protection against some types of cancer including bowel and breast cancers.

There's no doubt that the diet in Spain is different than what we eat in the U.S. Their consumption of fruit, fish, wine and veggies is different to be sure.

Here's a Spanish family eating lunch: veggies, wine, bread, olive oil and ham without a lick of nitrates or nitrites.

The biggest thing that struck us on our trip was the sheer amount of olive oil consumed, every single Spanish day.

We are talking about a drenching amount- the word copious seems scant to capture the amount. How much? I tried to cook a handful of Spanish dishes our first week home and managed to go through an ENTIRE BOTTLE OF OLIVE OIL!

This dish carried a cup of olive oil.

This soup? A quarter pint! The mushrooms in the center? 1/3 of a pint!

How should it taste? Fruity. Smooth. Not too bitter and not too spicy. It should have the aroma of an olive grove. Spicy? Turns out great olive oil should 'awaken' the tongue but not burn it.

We stopped by an olive producer, Senorio Vizcantar to taste and learn from Don Fermin; his family has tended olive groves for three generations. It was other-worldly to hear him speak about olive oil- how to judge a good one remains seared on our taste buds.

It was like being in the presence of a master who knew he was simply this generation's spokesman. His family-owned small holding fights on by diversifying into olive oil hand creams (amazing!) and olive paste and jam and producing olive oils that are globally recognized as outstanding.

Fermin is passionate about olive oil. It is contagious. He gives classes on olive oil 'appreciation' atop this 1,000 year trunk.

A 1,000 year old trunk supports a wall of Vizcantar oils.

The small white-washed village of Almedenilla boasts a bull ring with the endless rows of olive trees radiating out from every direction.

We've decided to import a palette of Don Fermin's olive oil tins. We don't know where it will end up. We only know that we're trying hard to keep elements of the trip alive here at home and if olive oil isn't in the picture we haven't a thing. We're continuing making Paella on Sunday so just to keep that tradition alive we had to see this through!

J said this morning, "I miss the food so much". We all do.

'My favorite museums ever!' say one and all. Pitt Rivers Museum & Museum of Natural History, Oxford England

2011-03-17T00:54:00.000-07:00

"The building heaves with the collective juju of the known world, gathered by Victorians as they traveled their vast empire and beyond."
(NY Times Review)

"A case of love at first sight" (Wall Street Journal Review)

"This is a museum to inspire you." (The Times)

"Pitt Rivers museum: canoes, monkey skulls and a witch in a bottle" (The Telegraph)

The gushing is worthy: The Pitt Rivers Museum and Oxford University Museum of Natural History are absolute winners for kids and adults alike. It's no surprise the museums have shared the prize for best 'Family Friendly Museum'. Located in the thick of Oxford's colleges (yet close enough to town to walk back for great pub food and return again for more) the building itself is enrapturing. Our family gave a collective gasp upon entering.

The dinosaurs and Dodo immediately take your breath away, it's impossible to comprehend just how mind-blowing the eclectic collection of 100,000 artefacts will be.

J face to face with a Dodo.

Gigi studying dinosaur eggs.

The artefacts do the teaching. There is no interactive gadgetry to be found just old-fashioned peering, gasping, dreaming and appreciating. And appreciate you do.

We got supremely lucky and had a wonderful time seeing a security guard's favorite artefacts on several floors of the Pitt-Rivers Museum. (What were they? They ranged from the smallest doll in the world to the sharpest swords in the world. That would be Samurai. "Did you know these swords are so sharp they can slice four men in half in one blow?" he asked the kids. This kind gentleman brought the collection alive not only with his really nifty flashlight but with his heart-felt appreciation of the artefacts and an intimacy with the innards of the museum that made it seemed like we had stepped into E.L. Konigburg's novel.)

It's been nearly a month since our visit and last night Gigi told a group about the 'weapon that was covered in spikes designed to make it so you had to puncture through the body to get it out- there was no pulling backwards' Yes, this was another of our security guard's favorites! Can you spot it? It's the weapon in the middle.

Our friend also pointed out an 'elephant trap' (a huge spike nailed into wood) and showed us the much smaller human version- he was quick to point out that they are illegal. Hmmmm glad the kids didn't get any ideas. The traps made the mace look ordinary.

Remember the shrunken head hanging from the rear view mirror of the Knight Bus in the "Prisoners of Azkaban"? Yep. Pitt-Rivers has a collection of them.

You can also gaze upon Darwin's net and his bug collections. Seeing the map of where the Beagle sailed for 5 years is an unparalleled geography lesson in itself.

DNA turbos from abstract to intriguing at Museum of Natural History.

It's impossible to share just how alive knowledge becomes at these museums but I'll give you two examples that I think shed light on why traveling with kids in tow is a boon for their 'education'.

You are quite literally surrounded by 'Big Thinkers' at the Museum of Natural History. I pointed out Euclid to Gigi and we had a small talk about Geometry and who uses it today.

All of the sudden I saw her straining to get a shot and so I came closer to peer at what she was seeing. Excitedly she told me that she was sending the shot to her friend Hanna who wants to be an architect.

One of the most special memories from the trip is of our family plopped down on the museum floor talking about Darwin, the debate around evolution, the theory of natural selection, adaptation and so on. . . for an HOUR. We talked about how the debate still rages today but how under these very ceilings the debate had played out in earnest. Later, upon being kicked out at closing time we would walk out onto the grassy quad and stand silently as we read this stone.

It's just the way of these museums- the low-key exhibit style sucks you in and bewitches you before you know what's happened.

Apparently it's been going on for generations. We ran into a young woman sketching.

She explained with the sweetest of excitement that she was lucky enough to have grown up in Oxford and had spent much of her childhood visiting the collections. She said, "The weather might not be great but the museums sure are!"

She spoke about how she had loved coming as a girl and still did- she was home from university. She lamented gravely that the Egyptian Room was closed for renovation; she sounded like she was describing an old friend, not a museum exhibit. It's easy to see why; the museums just feels that good.

I think it meant something for the kids to see someone sketching just for the love of it. By now they had definitely understood that education in Oxford means something different than in the rest of the world.

Most museums are of the 'Please, don't touch.' variety. Not these, there are small signs inviting animals to be stroked (the look across the face of a child was identical to that which washed over adults as they touched wallabies and otters: wonder and glee).

Many museums can wow with their artefacts but somehow Oxford's museums have an uncanny way of humanizing them in a way that inspires understanding and curiosity in equal doses.

This pufferfish helmet (click to watch a killer (!) video on the helmet) caught my attention for a long while- its spikes contained toxins 1200x more deadly than cyanide! What could it possibly look like on?

Like happened so often at the museums I needn't look far to understand further. The Pitt-Rivers didn't leave me with just the picture (and the man's expression that I haven't been able to forget) there was a small note that said women would have helped him keep the helmet on.

The Pitt-Rivers Museum and Oxford's Museum of Natural History are an ode to exploration and explorers and it's simply impossible to leave unchanged. A month later we're all still mentioning things and ideas we encountered at the museums.

We've decided Oxford makes the perfect pit-stop (no pun intended) after the long flight to Europe. It's a sensational place to de-jetlag oneself in style and in good company.

Buses to Oxford are direct from Heathrow, the trip is just shy of an hour and there's even free wi-fi aboard! Did we mention the incredible Farmer's Market just across from the bus station in Oxford? Just be prepared to feel melancholy that you're pulling out of the station and not in once it's time for you to press on (and with Heathrow a perfect vaulting point for the rest of Europe vault you may.)

Breeding Contentment and the Spanish Tuna Tart

2011-03-11T16:27:00.000-08:00

Photo of Bunaken from Visit Indonesia (it really looks just like this)

Many years ago when Rick and I were backpacking around Asia we found ourselves on a speck of an island off of Indonesia. (For anyone on the hunt for the best snorkeling in the world and the Gilligan's Island of your imagination, look no further- Bunaken National Park is extraordinary.)

It was so small the only structures were glorified shacks covered with palm-fronds. We were eating lunch one day with our Swedish backpacking buddies; we didn't notice who else was in the small hut until something happened.

There was a rumble and a bang of sorts and we all looked at each other quizzically. I remember wondering if a truck had run into the back of the 'hut' until I remembered the island was so small there were no trucks; there weren't any cars either for that matter, everything and everyone arrives by boat. In a micro-second a table full of Japanese backpackers had jumped from their table and had literally rolled off into the sandy beach that was the front of the restaurant. Our four non-earthquake familiar bums sat firmly planted in our seats. Upon seeing the panicked Japanese group in the sand our brains slowly registered that an earthquake had struck.

We feel really lucky that we have come home safely and are praying for Japan's people.

We may have a strong internet connection but we haven't seemed to acquire any more time. So, as I hear Baby-O waking up I want to share pictures of another dish that was ubiquitous in Spain- the tuna tart or tarta de tuna y tomate. You could buy it from small bakeries by the slab (or whole as Rick liked to do) for just a handful of Euros. It was great for a snack, for breakfast or for taking along on day-trips to the beach or hiking.

I had an hour and fifteen minutes yesterday before I had to head into the kids' school to help Gigi's class learn typing. I wanted to hold a piece of the trip close to us and decided by jove I was going to try to reproduce the tart even though I didn't have a real recipe. It was a whirlwind hour but what resulted was the best filling I've ever made in my life. One lesson from the trip that remains strong within me is to just try. . . to experiment when you don't know how. . . to not postpone because it usually turns out ok and if you get lucky it may just turn out great.

Here's what went inside.

The dough was a cinch. Besides flour and salt it has a cup of olive oil and a cup of white wine- it's like a health elixir in itself. It doesn't have any yeast (other than that found in the wine) so it really takes 5 minutes to make and 30 minutes to 'rest'.

(Sorry for the photo quality- all the photos since we've gotten home have been taken on the phone)

The tuna fillets that are found in Spain are nothing like our canned tuna. I found a tuna on sale, the fillet floating in olive oil and really close to the succulent Spanish tuna- nothing like the yucky canned variety we all have memories of appearing in our lunch . . .

With about two minutes to spare I asked Rick if he would add the final touch- some kind of decoration, it's usually ropes strung daintily across the dough. My cheeky husband did this:

We've never bought fish in our entire adult life since most of those years were vegetarian (before that we were on the austerity plan of rice and beans) :)

We've turned to the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch list to know which fish we should buy and which we should avoid. They sum it up aptly: "there's a limit to the fish in the sea." They've produced a nifty pocket-guide or app for sustainable seafood so we have no excuses! Turns out the tuna I had found does not make the cut. . .

The American Museum of Natural History science website for kids 'Ology' not only has a good Biodiversity section complete with games but Archeology, Anthropology, Astronomy, the Brain and more. 'Ology' also posts a wildly eccentric collection of facts that will delight kids and adults alike- they make for great dinnertime conversation.

We're still searching for a comprehensive list of which fish are the healthiest to eat (read: mercury content etc.) Thank you Pam (xo) for sending this super clear list of which fish should be or are not to be. . . in your diet. . .if you inform yourself!

I ran into the kids' principal yesterday and she asked what it had been like to have so few possessions- the short answer? Completely liberating. By the end of the trip the 5 of us were in two suitcases, one medium and one large along with small backpacks. We had a handful of a change of clothes and two sets of shoes.

Not having access to a dryer and having to lug your possessions around breeds contentment.

Family Sabbatical: Returning home

2011-03-09T13:15:00.000-08:00

The first morning home the kids were ecstatic to rediscover the house and its contents. Baby-O hit the pretend food and kitchen hard. J was a sport and played along, it all seemed normal until. . . he asked me if I wanted homemade wine- Red or White? Would I like a vegetables and salad to start? He announced that my plate of bread and cheese had arrived. Would I care for mild or strong fish as my main course? Would I be having coffee with my dessert?

I knew we would never be the same.

If you need the short version of how we've tried to integrate the trip upon re-entry in the first 5 days, here it is.

1. Have wine with lunch. (Ok if it's absolutely not possible at least with dinner)

2. Cook Paella and homemade Spanish soups and use half a bottle of olive oil in two days.

3. Do Moroccan Hammam as best you can (more on this but it's an ancient bathing/scrubbing/oiling)

4. Linger over meals, as in twice as long as you used to at the same table.

5. Get up an hour early to 'hang out' as the kids say together as a family.

6. Go to bed an hour earlier.

7. Realize how much you miss people when you see them for only scant hours a day. Tell them.

Wellbeing is attained by little and little, and nevertheless is no little thing itself.
Citium Zeno

A Greek man named Zeno said that. He invented the Stoic school of philosophy. You've probably heard of being 'stoic,' what you might not know is that 'stoa' is the Greek word for porch. In fact, Zeno invented this way of thinking on a front porch where he and the earliest followers used to gather. Stoicism was (and for some, is) a guidebook for living your life that was very popular during the Roman era; we saw so many Roman ruins that I wanted to think about how these people may have organized their time and thinking and wondered if it could help with our re-entry. Today we tend to think of Stoicism as harsh and tough but in fact, it had a lot of beauty and sense to it.

One Stoic way of thinking that really comes alive when traveling is their belief that one should detach from anything that is outside of one's control. The only road to success? Practice. The ultimate goal? Remember Seneca from Cordoba? He put it like this- "peace for all times" or put conversely, freedom from suffering.

Today is our 5th day back.

We'd gone from this:

To this:

Peace for all times is a bit distant with slush on the ground and jet lag on the horizon.

Jet lag reminds me of the story of Creation. 'And on the 4th night, the toddler slept again.' The older kids had no problem returning to this time schedule, Baby-O not so much. Suddenly on the fourth night she slept pretty well back to normal.

Seeing friends and sleeping in our own beds has been heaven. Returning to the loneliness of a car-centric, work-heavy culture has been hell (hell is an overstatement, more like sad). This isn't meant to be a litany of complaints rather, observations that jump out after being gone to places that organize their days so differently.

The biggest shock?

Not a soul in sight.

After having to master weaving on sidewalks to avoid collisions, it is eery to not see a soul. Sure, the weather doesn't help but Oxford, England was colder (!) and we had to dodge bikes and people to make it five feet.

So many 'devices' in use. I feel like I'm surrounded by zombies.

Photo by D. Sharon Pruitt

I walked the 9 blocks it takes to get to my parents' house and saw one man. I was about to arrive when I heard a voice. Chastising my cynicism I got ready to wave when I saw a lone figure approaching. He walked right in front of me conversing loudly. . .with his ear bud.

Although our State recently passed a law banning cell phone use while driving, I stopped counting how many people have driven by me staring blankly as they speak into their cellphones; the number got too scary. Although certainly Iphone 4's were in plain sight in Spain and England (not so much in Portugal and Morocco) it was exceedingly rare to see people using them in public, more so in Oxford but still, not even close.

So much fast-food. So little cheap fresh food.

flickr/CreativeCommons

We've returned with a real appreciation that organic or fresh, local is not within reach for everyone in the U.S. Hardly. Local, fresh food is really, really expensive. We didn't realize we weren't seeing fast-food during the trip until Gigi reminded us of this fact halfway through the trip. (It's just a wild guess but I'd bet the ratio of mom and pop places to chain stores in all the countries we visited was something like 50:1)

I've had to tell J to put a lid on it because I overheard him telling so many people the following, "The food at the airports in Spain and England is better than what we eat here." It's true but not so politically or socially correct to be blasting about.

It left me feeling like this:

What to do?
I leaned towards the Stoics and thought about what I control. . .my own kitchen was the best place to start.

I made one of our favorite Spanish soups the first day along with a vegetable we ate copious amounts of in Spain- a stew of garbanzos, fish and spinach along with mushrooms marinated in herbs, lemon juice and olive oil.

(I know someday soon the kids will remember where to place the silverware and this scene will be lost forever. . .)

Rick made incredible pancakes two days in a row out of semolina, garbanzo flour and regular flour. The third day we made waffles with the same flours. We lingered. I noticed that so far, all of us are eating a lot more slowly than the last time we sat at the same table. Will it last?

photo by Erika Pizzato

On a roll and now feeling the memory of our trip slipping through my fingers as everything here began to seem so familiar (like being able to flush toilet paper, buy gallons of milk, and sleep on a SOFT bed) I made Paella on Sunday. (Don Jose from Hotel Monte Victoria has done it every Sunday for his whole family- 18 people now, forever. . .)

It wasn't as hard as it sounds. By now I had gone through half of a bottle of olive oil. . .in two days. Our authentic paella pan from Mac and Gayle's is on its way. . .I overflowed into another massive pan.

Yesterday as an after-school snack I made Picadillo, a Spanish soup with chicken, ham (I got local prosciutto and fried it to try to make up for the lack of jamon serrano), angel-hair pasta in a rich broth topped by home-made croutons (yum! They are soooo easy.) and chopped up hard-boiled eggs. It sounds like a strange combination but it is served ubiquitously in Spain for good reason. I will post the school menu of what Spanish children get for lunch- the short version is that they are 4-5 course meals.

(disclaimer: Rick and I were vegetarians for 15 years, we're exploring where we stand now :)

For now, the kids are delighting in recounting their adventures and thrilled they remember how to tie a turban. J's teacher has said he can bring something in each day this week. He's given a 'talk' each day, we're grateful that he can share his memories in this way.

One should count each day a separate life.
That's another thing that Seneca said.

We're trying to do that. All I know is that the kids are pounding us to design our next adventure. . .now.

1,000 year old Oxford, England on our last night and other tales

2011-03-02T17:22:00.000-08:00

Our family sabbatical to Spain (with trips to Morocco, Portugal and England) has come to an end; tomorrow we fly home.

Sorry that we've been out of touch for the last week- no 'wee-fee' as the Spaniards say.

We've been challenged by many of you over the last (nearly) two months with questions about how we plan to translate 'wisdom from the trip' to our life back home; our answer is we're not sure yet but we won't give up until we do it.

We'll keep you posted (no pun intended). We'll also play catch up and fill you in on the incredible places we visited over the last week and other weeks we couldn't post about the interesting places and learning we were doing. We'll also write about whether or not the kids' got 'behind' in school and how all that goes once we get back.

But for now, scenes from the last week.

From Roman ruins on the Atlantic

To standing upon a geological wonder of limestone that was part of the bottom of the ocean floor 100 million years ago

From experiencing Andalucian beaches and their bounty for the first time

To returning back to Malaga where we had begun the trip, we had a great last week.

It is already abundantly clear that some things are permanent. Friends, family and history come to mind tonight while new discoveries and changes lie around every corner. . . if you've got your eyes ready and your heart willing.

The wonderful family of the Hotel Monte Victoria made us feel as if we'd returned home. It felt like we had and that everything was the same.

Like breakfast.

Except. . . the Nativity sets had been put away and as we had driven into Malaga we had stumbled upon early-carnival celebrations in advance of Lent

Something else had changed too- Linda, one of the cats of the Hotel Monte Victoria that we had cherished the first time around, had just given birth to 7 kittens

One thing that hadn't changed was Tom. I'm convinced that our favorite Japanese kids' film director, Hayao Miyazaki used Tom the cat as an inspiration! He is one of the most lovable creatures ever and as many previous happy Monte Victoria guests note, the real director of the house!

Tom delighted one and all- the power of pets and kids in tow should not be underestimated when booking accommodations.

We left Spain knowing the world had changed radically while we'd been away.

We believe we have too but travel, unlike a revolution, shows its effects more slowly.

It's fitting we ended with a whirlwind trip to Oxford, England to visit a family we had met when Gigi was 3. Friends don't change even if the world does and you live one away from each other.

Born 5 days apart, Gigi and Zebulon went to preschool together. His family now lives in England where the uber-smart Dad is now a Director in Applied Mathematics at the University of Oxford. Time doesn't matter when friends are involved; the night was pure magic. Here they all are in our hipster pad in Oxford

More to follow in a forthcoming post on why you must visit this city with kids (or without) as soon as you can. Information about a great place to stay with family in tow, the food, the incredible things we saw like a Dodo, dinosaurs, endless weapons and Darwin's net at what the kids' declared was, 'the best museum ever!' are to come.

You'll also find out what it's like to attend a Hogwarts-like institution without the wizards of course, when we write about Zebulon's school. It was founded in 1480 and to give you a sense about how different it is from American 6th grade he takes Latin, Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Art, Drama, Geography, Information Communications and Technology, and French to name a few of his weekly classes. Does that whet your appetite? Can you see his uniform up there? He's taken off the tie and blazer!

I was ecstatic to receive an email this week from the gorgeous Myriam. Remember our Tunisian friends we met in Marrakech? I didn't tell you they were newlyweds. We are going to post an interview with them about Tunisia (we are planning a visit!) and their life soon including the grand affair that is a Tunisian wedding. Here's a taste.

When the rowdy crowd that was hanging out at Riad Misria looked at the wedding pictures and we came upon Myriam's brother (pictured below) Gigi remarked later, "You guys went nuts when you saw Myriam's brother!" I'm guessing you can figure out why! What a family.

One of the treasures about traveling are the friends you make. There's something very visceral about being away from home and meeting people that have chosen to do or be exactly where you are at that very moment yourself. Small-talk is non-existent, instead you dive right into survival points, acting upon their advice, side-stepping the surface for deep discussions and jokes that will linger in your mind for months to come. Sami and Myriam are like that along with other characters you'll meet, without Sami's kindness we wouldn't have experienced Marrakech in the same way.

We know we won't be seeing the same things once we go home.

Or, eating the same foods (I'll refrain from showing the taps at the many pubs we managed to frequent in literally less than 48 hours).

My curiosity lies now with how the trip might change the way the kids think, act, eat and wonder. And also, how we will think, act, eat and wonder with each other.

One thing is for sure, making the decision to see and be with people you miss or experience places you dream of is not something I plan to postpone. I imagine many people in Egypt, Tunisia and Libya are wondering why they waited for so long. . . here's a glimpse of a friend revolution aka kids having so much fun you know everyone will remember it for a very long time.

I'm excited that Rick and Dr. genius, aka Zebulon's dad were already planning our next adventure and I was left wondering why we waited so long for this one.

I was reading a book about Japanese word puzzles last night called, "The Gateless Gate"

(do you see how even the title is a puzzle?) and came upon these words,

"If useless things do not clutter your mind you have the best days of your life."

When you travel for a long time (or a short time if you're careful) you realize that there's less time or space to clutter your mind and literally, your space. Maybe that's why you remember it as some of

the best days of your life.

I hope I can carry that idea home with me

and unpack it

and use it

every day.

I'm excited to try.

Even though tonight is an ending it is really just the beginning.

Thanks for traveling with us and for your generosity in words and spirit along the way; for all of you who took care of things back home so that we could be away, we thank you.

Love Family in Tow

Side trip to Tangier, Morocco

2011-02-23T03:03:00.000-08:00

We took the fast boat from Tarifa, Spain across the Straits of Gibraltar to Tangier, Morocco. More to follow, heading back to Spain today.

Moroccan mint tea.

The city has been ruled by English, French and Spanish, the architecture tells the story. It was like being in France on some streets.

Gaddafi gave his live speech yesterday and everywhere Moroccans gathered to listen. His trademark 'oratory' echoed through the small streets.

The kids on the ceiling of our small guesthouse.

Marrakech 'A rainbow' says a 9 year old

2011-02-20T10:31:00.000-08:00

"The Market" -J 9 years old

One of the most important things in a Moroccan life are spices and supplies. The best place to get that stuff is in the market.

When you enter the first thing you see are the many people. Then, you see a land of color: green chameleons, yellowish cumin, black hats, herbs, lanterns, daggers and much more.

My favorite thing was the chameleons because they were so unusual.

The market is the best place to find a dagger. Some of the daggers are big, some are small. They all have their own style. But some of the daggers are fake so you have to pick very wisely!

Before I went to Morocco I thought bargaining was something that was only in Star Wars. When you buy something in Morocco you always have to bargain. Say, if a shop owner says a price like 300 Dirhams then you go to a third of that and say 100 Dirhams.

The price the shop owner says is nothing close to the real price! When you bargain something you think in your brain, "I'm never going to do this!"

(Gigi successfully bargaining for lanterns. A fellow who listened in said, 'She was strong!')

Once you start it's like a Battleship game: one goes then the next until you feel the wonder of victory!

(J hugged after successfully negotiating daggers.)

If you want to save energy and drive to the market it will take 10x as long as walking because more than half the traffic on the street are humans! When you go to the market donkeys and huge carts pass you by. A street in the market of Marrakech is the size of two American sidewalks. So, the best way to travel is to go on foot!

For Americans Morocco is the busiest place ever! The first time I went out I thought the streets would be very, very dirty. But, it turned out that for so many people the streets were very clean. At night, men sweep with big, straw brooms.

When you take a walk you see magical things like cows heads, roosters and endless beautiful hand-made carpets, our family even got one.

In my heart Morocco is like a rainbow. . . it has everything.

Morocco "life-changing" says a 9 year old

2011-02-19T01:38:00.000-08:00

We're back in Seville this morning after leaving Marrakech. I've never seen the kids more animated or excited when relaying and reflecting on the trip to Morocco. J had written a piece early in the week saying that upon arriving in Morocco he knew it would change his life. I held back on sharing this because I wondered what he might say at the end of the week.

As we sat in the Marrakech airport he repeated the idea that Morocco had been life-changing; I asked him to explain.

He said he understood people. He had spent the week bonding with kids in French, Arabic, and Berber.

J said that his soccer skills had been changed forever from his time playing in the alley with his friends. He explained that when you play in a narrow alley with kids that play hours a day from when they're 3 years old you 'learn something.' He went on to say that playing in a narrow alley is 'all about control of the ball' and jumped up to mime 5 tricks he'd picked up.

This kid hand-carried a treasured soccer ball to Morocco from Spain- a ball he played with every single second he could wherever he could find space. As we left Riad Misria for the last time Gigi and J gave out little gifts to the friends of the 'alley'. He turned to his twin in age, Solomon, and with a little bow handed over the soccer ball. Solomon put his arm around J's neck and gave him a gesture that was half kiss, half bow and all heart.

Lots more to come- no time. Here are some funny memories of Morocco.

2011-02-17T05:19:00.000-08:00

Morocco is an explosion of experiences. One the children had been dying to live was to ride a camel. This dream came true a couple of days ago in the Ourika Valley. It wasn't the Sahara (that is a trip we are saving for next time when Baby-O is a bit older) but it didn't matter; the animals were loved by all (except Mom who shrieked a fair bit going up and going down--- these are HIGH animals and it was a really big motion!).

The haggling was fierce and humorous as always. Rick speaks a bit of French which helps but not up here where most people spoke Berber.

Gigi and J's saddle seems to be having a malfunction! I was sure they'd fall off but they didn't!

Baby-O couldn't get enough.

The water from the Atlas Mountains makes this valley a treat for the eye. Many organic herb farms are located here. It is common for Marrakech citizens to come to the valley for a weekend outing. It's only 45 minutes away but a universe away from the exhaust and noise. The loudest noise in the valley is the tinkling of cow and sheep bells and the rush of the mountain river.

We arrived back in Marrakech and visited the palm oasis outside of the city- these camels look more at home in this setting. We met a man from the old city in the Sahara along the route to Timbuktu- it used to take 52 days by camel to reach the trading village deep in the Sahara. My bum was ok with about 20 minutes! We voted the donkey 'most comfortable ride!'

Off to look at carpets. Much more to post soon. Sorry we can't seem to get comments on the blog! We've heard that from many people and we are so sad because we love hearing from you.

Berber Market II and the Ourika Valley

2011-02-15T10:48:00.000-08:00

We are home; that is how special Riad Misria is for a family traveling with kids. As we walked down the alley a shriek went up and the neighborhood boys cried out for J. He tossed them the soccer ball and a great war whoop rang out, we haven't seen J since, we've only heard the cries of glee echoing up the alley walls.

Sammy and Miriam were here as we walked in and we compared stories from Ourika Valley. The lovely Miriam was cooking a great vat of couscous while simultaneously helping us get our filthy clothes into a real washing machine AND making plans for us to get a henna design from her sister. We love Miriam so much we can't wait to meet her family. Staying at the Riad is so much like being in a great family lodge, plenty of room and comfort with great company around every corner. Rick and Baby-O are already in the pool.

The Berber Market was truly an experience, now that we have power here are more photos:

Here's a village up above where the market took place:

This river originates out of the Atlas Mountain snow- it's an oasis for donkeys but deadly during flood years. A handful of years ago it wiped out whole villages and killed hundreds.

A Berber man selling wool.

A donkey loaded down with tagines, the classic Moroccan cooking/serving vessel- these ones are for real, not for tourists.

I got stuck behind the donkey much Gigi's bemusement- a traffic jam of sorts!

This is a 'modern' butter churn. It takes an hour of shaking to make butter, it was made out of recycled cans. Gigi said it was light as a rose.

An earthen oven for cooking lamb. It takes 2 hours to roast the meat.

People didn't pay much attention to us because this market happens only once a week and it was clear business was the subject at hand.

Blacksmiths at work.

This was a 'banquet room' Berber-style in one of the 'restaurants'.

We continued up the road and passed women herding sheep.

The Atlas loomed large in the distance.

The kids were ecstatic to see these.

Villages along the way.

We stopped along the river for a tagine.

These musicians came out of nowhere to the delight of Baby-O.

They disappeared as quickly as they'd emerged, walking up the riverbed.

The beauty of the valley is impossible to relay in words. It's an oasis of a different kind.

Atlas Mountains, Berber Market and Marrakech Souks

2011-02-14T14:06:00.000-08:00

We drove to the Atlas Mountains today. Our amazing Tunisian compadres (they're also staying at Riad Misria) helped Rick get the rental car. The beautiful Miriam led us through the souks so we could hook up with the vehicle. The new Norwegian father and daughter came along for their first dip into Marrakech. We paused to take a closer look. . .

The kids were transfixed by miniature turtles.

Chameleons.

Miriam and I by the beauty supplies like olive soap and clay from the Atlas mountains for the traditional Moroccan bath. (more on that soon-Gigi and I experienced one yesterday)

Market everywhere.

We hit the road flawlessly thanks to Sammy and Miriam and realized we were on empty. We stopped here.

Only to learn the gas was strictly for scooters!

Grass for donkeys' only!

We stopped at a Berber market we'd read about. We were the ONLY tourists. It was beyond an experience.

This was a real market with villagers coming from far away to load up.

More to follow. On 2% battery and we left the adaptor back in Marrakech. We called Michel to tell him we'd be back tomorrow to the Riad. We'll hike first, go on a camel ride and then back to find carpets, daggers, potions and pottery in the lovely Marrakech- a haven for kids and adults alike.

Goodnight.

Marrakech outside the Souks

2011-02-14T13:45:00.000-08:00

It's really something to be amongst donkeys and feet with 110cc motor scooters being the only 'vehicle' we've seen for days. Although walking the souks in Marrakech is intense, crowded, and sometimes loud (always filled with strange smells); we'd forgotten how numbing and stinky it is to be amongst automobiles and buses.

Strain in the photo above. Do you see the wheelchair in the roundabout? I thought that was hilarious! We were in a horse drawn carriage on our way to Yves Saint Laurent's gift to the people of Marrakech:

Jardin Majorelle, the gardens were peaceful following the traffic and fumes. The cacti were lovely and reminded us of our beloved Tucson.

Even Baby-O's doll, Ximena loved the cacti.

Ximena also loved the cafe. We loved the cushions and fabrics which are a Moroccan staple in interior design.

Here is our Berber driver. He was very kind although from behind I couldn't help but wonder if Obi-Wan's face might look back at us.

Marrakech takes a bit of courage and resoluteness for haggling and intensity of interaction shall we say. Take a look at this couple sorting out details with a potential horse carriage driver. Not for the faint-hearted but surmountable. J has become an extraordinary haggler and has nerves of steel. Funny enough Moroccans of Arabic descent call him a 'Berber' when he haggles Berber's call him 'Catalan' when he haggles!

We saw an ancient fortress that was just ok. After the splendor of Andalucia's monuments it's hard to compare. The storks however were amazing.

Baby-O on the other hand thought it was a grand visit! See the ruins in the background.

Here is one of the few (and I mean this was a single tile) remaining pieces other than wall.

Turns out the fortress was destroyed 300 years ago! We all thought that fact turned out to be funny.

Back on the streets and in the souks (markets) we reveled in the sights.

Apple stores eat your heart out. Here's Apple Store souk style!

It was across from here where J and Rick were buying bread and yogurt.

It made us realize how terrific our Riad Misria's location is; we are only steps away from where the souks start so we all vowed to try to not see cars unless we're driving one out of the city- we will tomorrow into the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. We bagged the oasis when we saw the hairpin turns we'd endure on a 6 hour trip to our destination OVER the Atlas Mountains. Plus, we are so happy at our Riad (a Norwegian family with children arrived last night) that we want to savor a great thing. When we went around Marrakech today and saw the horrible locations of other riads (busy roads or in the middle of nothing) we thanked our lucky stars to have chosen well. Accommodations are everything, period.

Morocco: "Enchanting, fantastical and stupendous!"- 11 year old's review

2011-02-12T17:06:00.000-08:00

Morocco is a GREAT place to travel with kids. We were a bit apprehensive to take this leg of the trip but we are having a blast. We needn't have worried. The kids haven't stopped smiling or learning since we arrived. From trying out a smattering of Arabic and French to learning how to tie a turban or calculate big percentages for bargaining, they are on fire.

The kids have been more bemused than bewildered, stimulated than paralyzed, and overall riveted by the entire spectacle of it all and spectacle it is--- but how does it seem to an 11 year old?
"Enchanting, fantastical and stupendous". Ok, at first she said 'nice, fun and interesting' which were adjectives sent back by Mom! J has had a non-stop grin and a constant stream of 'I love it'.

Even when it's shocking. And it is. Around practically every corner.

Sometimes what we see is hard. It's one of the reasons we thought about not coming. Would it be TOO shocking? TOO 'hard'? TOO raw? Morocco is unedited. It is so real your hair stands on end but in the realness of it all we have all found ourselves absolutely engaged, without stipulations. The kids have not blinked once so to speak rather, they seem to open their eyes wider taking it all in.

The gruesome with the gorgeous. The rough with the tender.

Some things we expected to see but they are even more beautiful than we could have imagined.

It is impossible to capture the kindness and openness of the Moroccan people. We had heard about it. Read about it. Studied it. To experience it is a wonder. They have a gesture where they take their right fist and gently pound it over their heart as they smile these grand smiles and look directly into your eyes. Try it. It feels a tiny bit like how it is to be in Morocco.

Other things we'd hoped to learn about. Here are plates of natural dyes.

It is more interesting than we had expected. We learned that maroon comes from pomegranate, green from mint, blue from indigo, saffron for yellow, henna for red. We will later see men embroidering with a string and spindle that stretch down an entire alley (ours) and is connected to a man's head as he holds it steady for his mate.

What are the kids studying so intently here?

A man carving wood with his toe! We see these spindle mechanisms all over. Look carefully and find the blade.

Passageway after passageway in the souks yield the most incredible sights.

Incongruous sights like a man stopping to drink his tea with a rooster stomping around next to him as his hammer and anvil lie stationary. Can you see the rooster?

A sea of lanterns. Can you find J's head? These lanterns are BIG.

Here's a Moroccan young man that helped us the night before pounding a design into a lantern. We saw him today and we all lit up like old friends. I asked if I could take his picture and he immediately began pounding furiously!

It is impossible to avoid getting swept into the fun of it all.

Baby-O loved her scarf (yes we bought )

One thing that is contributing to this fun-fest is that we hit the jackpock with our riad (thank you Evan for providing a great definition- a riad is a traditional Moroccan house that has been transformed into a guesthouse).

Riad Misria is an oasis just steps away from the souks and one minute from the oldest Islamic College in Morocco; it's a school that was founded in the 14th Century. In short, we are in the thick of it but we feel as pampered as we ever have in our lives. Nothing is too much trouble for Michel's menagerie of staff who are great about teaching us French and Arabic, fetching milk, pounding out miniature ice chips for the baby, or finding the Barcelona game on TV and even going out to the street to find J to tell him it was beginning! They scatter rose petals on the table when we they serve meals. We feel incredibly fortunate to be experiencing what feels like epic hospitality.

When I sat back at home daydreaming about what I hoped might happen during the trip. One of the things I pictured was J playing soccer with 'local children'. Tonight we arrived back down our alley where our Riad home is located and stumbled upon two boys kicking a tennis ball in a soccer 'game'. J joined in spontaneously and went on to spend an hour playing with a small posse that formed. To hear him describe the kids' faces when he brought out the real soccer ball he'd lugged along from Spain was priceless. They even ended up smashing a fellow's scooter light out- oops!

The mother across the way opened the door at the same time I did to check on the boys. We proceeded to have a 'conversation' in Arabic/French/Spanish that was essentially confirming we were both 'Barca' fans and not 'Real Madrid'! It's hard to believe that beyond this alley on the other side of a wooden door lies our piece of paradise.

It's a great feeling to not fathom what tomorrow will bring.

Or what puzzles will be unlocked.