Turning Childhood Memories into Wanderlust

Tags

EUROPE, family travel. wanderlust, memories, road trip, travel with kids, Weekly Photo Challenge

Are we nuts? I scowled at my husband, as we boarded the plane and crammed ourselves and three little kids into the economy seats of a plane bound for London. We had put our farther-flung travels on hold for the toddler years, but now it was time to load everybody up and start seeing the world through fresh young eyes.

We soon found we had nothing to fear. From takeoff that summer day, we discovered our kids were born to travel. They entertained themselves or slept the entire flight, they stayed up all the next day until bedtime, and they believed me when I said there was no such thing as jet lag, spending all of day two on their feet, in the tube, in the parks and museums and churches and shops, and they topped it off with a night at the theater. They were 5, 8 and 10 years old; I have to say I was pretty impressed.

We stayed with friends in London and started some great travel memories, the kind of recollections kids have of their trips, not necessarily the kind adults and travel bloggers write about. They remember minding the gap as we rode back and forth into the city, gawking at the torture devices in the Tower of London, snuggling a new Paddington Bear toy, and the sheer magnitude of choices at the food court at Harrods. They remember the crushing crowds at the theater, but not much about the play. They recall it being scorching hot outside Big Ben and Parliament, but nothing about the places themselves.

Paris was next, via the Eurostar train through the chunnel, a ride that is still remembered for the orange juice that was spilled on my daughter’s white sweater rather than for the transportation wonder that it was. Strongest memory of the Eiffel Tower? The awful pizza – who puts weird mushrooms on pizza, they cried! (Who eats in the Eiffel Tower, we should have been asking.) Continental toilets were the subject of many a journal entry; my oldest was intrigued with the different flushing mechanisms, the water flow, the seats – you name it; he cataloged it.

Notre Dame is remembered for its roof and the winding stairs that got them there; back then you could go the whole way up, and we spent well over an hour looking out over the rooftops, but no one has any memory of going inside. Parisian cuisine? They ordered steak frites or jambon et fromage sandwiches at every single restaurant for every single meal (except for that sad Eiffel Tower pizza). We rented a spacious apartment decades before AirBnb, and they remember … the lobby.

The French countryside brought new delights. What kid would not love Mont St Michel and the idea that we could be stranded there when the tide came in? Forget the abbey; that natural moat was the cool part. Dinard was a charming beach town, but here they had the coziest, whitest beds, all three crammed together in a toile-covered room, and that Grand Hotel may still be their favorite hotel in the world. Monet’s garden delighted my daughter, perhaps in part for its flowers and green benches, but mostly because she remembered she had gotten out of a day of preschool to attend the Monet exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago with me years before. And, to them, the D-Day beaches represented the end of a different kind of World War: a huge fight between mom and dad over asking for directions! (To be honest, that hours-long argument and the driving in circles all over Normandy are my strongest memories of that historic place as well.)

Belgium brought panic and a three-way police lookout when we sailed through a toll area without paying the toll (by accident) and the kids were certain we would be arrested, but it also brought one of the most relaxing afternoons we had, meandering though Bruges, eating chocolates and posing on every little stone bridge we crossed.

Our final destination, the Netherlands, where my brother was living with his family, is somewhat properly remembered for our visit to Anne Frank’s house, an evening canal cruise, and the pannenkoeken houses, but what they would say really sticks in their minds is the stone their cousin threw at our youngest’s head in their backyard. Or the porn movie that came on as my brother tried to change the TV channel. Or the girls in the windows in the red light district, which they struggled to comprehend. Or the topless beach near Scheveningen.

Ahem, there is a theme developing there, but it was a different kind of lust that was growing in the kids on that first big trip. Today, those little tykes have a wanderlust that matches their mother’s, and I think all those mundane memories of other countries were the spark. All three kids spent some portion of their college lives overseas, continued to travel with us for many years, have worked overseas in Israel, Ireland, South Africa, Ghana and Malawi, and now take their own road and train and bus trips, wrangling their friends and significant others to step away from home to create more silly, random memories.

Ten Feet Out the Door

Tags

family, family travel, gathering, Weekly Photo Challenge

Every few years, our family of five eschews traditional gift-giving at Christmas time. Instead, we gather in some far-off location where we can just be with each other without the distractions of errands, other friends, or holiday madness.

Epidaurus, Greece

Long before we started this tradition, we carted our kids around the world as they were growing up. When I look back now, I can’t imagine how we herded three children under ten (with suitcases) through the radiating streets around the Arc de Triomphe to catch the rush-hour metro. I am in awe of the mere idea of trekking and camping with five teenagers (our three and two friends) on the Inca Trail. I cringe to remember my 6-year-old pushing and shoving with a friend on the edge of a chasm in the Dart River area of New Zealand. And I have photos to document the times we pulled over to capture some striking scenery and ended up with one boy or another watering the local flora on the side of the road. (T alone has sprinkled five continents, I would guess.) Ten feet out the door was not an excursion for the meek; it was a major production and involved the assembling of a lot more than just people. Back then we had to gather passports, inoculation records, tiny backpacks, snacks  – and more often than not, our wits – as we set off for new places.

Serengeti, Tanzania

As the years passed, the kids got busy with activities and college and their own lives, and my husband could never get away as much as I could to travel. I started to travel alone – either completely solo the whole time or just on my own until I met up with a trekking group somewhere. Even as some of my neighbors clucked disapprovingly, I grew to really relish my time alone, and I tried to book at least one and sometimes two trips a year during my work breaks to explore somewhere my husband didn’t care to go.

Iguazu Falls, Argentina

But as much as I enjoy the adventure and peace of wandering the world on my own or in small numbers, the gathering of my brood to travel somewhere new is the greatest gift I can imagine. This year, our gathering spot will be Colombia, and I can’t wait to have our ten feet all together once again!

See some other great takes on the Weekly Photo Challenge here!

Walking in Circles

Tags

Alps, circuit hikes, France, Italy, Switzerland, Tour du Mont Blanc

Readers of One Foot Out the Door have undoubtedly noticed that many of my posts describe hiking adventures, which makes perfect sense given my preference for travel on my own two feet. But there’s a certain kind of walk that I love even more than others: the circuit trek.

Although a number of my favorite hikes have been out-and-backs or one-ways, there’s something about a circular hike that feels more complete and satisfying. Of course, the main benefit of a circumnavigation is that you don’t have to retrace your steps and see the same scenery twice. For me, the biggest draws of these loop hikes are that they are usually quite long, cover a variety of terrain, reach areas that vehicles and beasts of burden cannot, and sometimes even cross borders.

Two of my favorite circuit treks have been the Tour du Mont Blanc in France, Switzerland, and Italy, and the Paine Circuit in Chilean Patagonia. Today let me tell you a little about the former, or the TMB as it is sometimes known. Stay tuned for the “O” tomorrow!

The Tour du Mont Blanc

Mont Blanc is the highest mountain in western Europe and the Alps, and circling it takes hikers through three countries, a variety of landscapes and climates, and a delicious array of cuisines. Unlike more remote treks like the Paine Circuit, the TMB passes through more developed and populated areas, at least overnight, so it is possible to clump around all day out in nature and still sit down to a nice glass of wine and a hearty dinner most nights. There are also camping options, as well as mountain huts along the way.

Most treks start in Chamonix, a classic (and charming) Savoyard town at the base of Mont Blanc, and take anywhere from seven to about ten days to complete. To start, trekkers can drive or walk to Les Houches, passing under the Aiguilles Rouges, where there are magnificent views of the glaciers clinging to the north face of Mont Blanc, followed by a nice slow traverse and descent to the town. Leaving this small ski resort village at the end of the Chamonix valley, the next day’s hike goes fairly relentlessly uphill all morning (a pattern repeated almost daily), passes the Col de Voza, ambles through some buggy groves and woods, and ends with a climb late in the day to the town of Les Contamines.

A brief but interesting diversion outside of town the next day is Notre Dame de la Gorge, a small church in a valley outside of Les Contamines-Montjoie. The plain, white facade belies a surprising Baroque interior, and the tiny church’s setting near the beginning of the trail draws locals and trekkers alike. From here, the trail leads steeply uphill on an old Roman road; the ascent continues virtually unstopped to a first pass today, the Col de Bonhomme. Even in summer, it can be quite snowy and chilly here, but if you trudge on for another 15 minutes, there is a gorgeous meadow of wildflowers surrounded by snow-covered, pointy peaks in every direction, a rushing waterfall, and a glacial, greenish-blue lake in the distance. If you are lucky, you may spy some ibex clinging to the mountainsides here or a marmot or two darting amongst the rocks.

After this perfect picnic spot, hikers press on to a second pass at Croix de Bonhomme at 8100’; here there is a cozy mountain hut here for drinks and cake before descending to Les Chapieux for the night. Today’s hike of 4200’ up and 3000’ down is the longest day of walking overall on the circuit. But at least you’re in France, where dinner might be stewed meats, creamy polenta, bread, a local red vin de Savoie, and a tarte for dessert.

A pleasant stop the next day is a small farm and factory that makes Beaufort cheese, a local specialty made from the milk of Tarine cattle, the rich brown cows with deep black eyes that roam the high pastures in the Alps. (Be sure to buy a hunk for a snack later today.)

From the farm, the trail advances solidly uphill for hours to a pass at Col de la Seigne at 8245’ where the wind whips gustily enough at the marker between France and Italy to blow hikers into the next country and on down the path past the Rifugio Elisabetta to the outskirts of Courmayeur for an evening of pasta and limoncello (and grappa and green-apple vodka … ).

Depending on the time and energy available, hikers can make a one- or two-day trek to La Fouly and Champex from here. Either option ultimately leads to the Grand Col de Ferret at 8300’ and may include some exhilarating crossings of some hard, slick snowfields and a view of the impressive Glacier de Pre-de-Bar with Mont Dolent above (where France, Switzerland, and Italy all meet). At the Col de Ferret, trekkers pass from Italy to Switzerland and can choose a less-traveled route toward the Petit Col de Ferret and “ski” down through multiple long snowfields.

Walking directly out of Champex the next day, it is easy to catch the Bovine Route, essentially an old cow path that travels through the woods and crosses several wide streams on big boulders. If you love rock hopping and scrambling uphill, you will enjoy this morning’s hike even though the pitch is sometimes severe and the rocks can be slippery with mud or manure. Later, a relaxing traverse through a field with panoramic views and the happy sound of cowbells opens up to a hut with picnic tables and a spectacular lookout over the Rhone Valley and the town of Martigny. A final downhill stretch deposits walkers at Col de la Forclaz.

From here, hikers can again make a one- or two-day choice to get back to Chamonix. Both eventually pass by Les Cheserys, where an idyllic side trail leads to Lac Blanc. (There is also a long traverse to the cable car down to Chamonix if laundry and a hot shower call more convincingly than another mountain hut and lake.)
The little chalet high on the mountain is worth the detour, and there is a bit of adventure in climbing some thin metal ladders bolted into a vertical rock face and navigating a series of wooden slats nailed into the rocks. There are rewards at the top as well: Lac Blanc itself, an eerie, pearly gray-blue pool and the adorable Refuge du Lac Blanc which serves hot chocolate, cake, and coffee.

Leaving this little paradise, the circuit comes to an end with the final trek or cable car ride down to Chamonix. The tour du Mont Blanc generally covers about 10-12 miles a day, with ascents and descents of several thousand feet each day, over the course of some 105 miles overall.

 

 

Collecting Countries

Tags

Country count, in-depth travel, places visited

Lately I’ve noticed that some world travelers seem rather unappealingly attached to their “country counts.” It is certainly tempting to do; once you do start seriously wandering the globe and the count does start creeping up into impressive numbers, it is hard not to get a little, let’s just say, aggressive about adding places. Why not sneak over to Colonia del Sacramento for a day while in Buenos Aires and add Uruguay to the tally? Or take a day trip to Montenegro from Dubrovnik to bulk up the Balkans score. I’ve done both of those myself and enjoyed them immensely, but (I’d like to think) not just to notch two more nations. I gave my son grief this summer for driving a car over the Bosnian border from Croatia for a grand total of fifteen miles, and I joked that he could not really say he’d been to Bosnia & Herzegovina. His facetious response/rule? If you have something to eat or drink in a nation, it counts. So a cup of coffee later, he had added a new country!

All silliness aside, for all my wide travels, I’ve discovered in myself a preference to go deep – to spend a whole trip in one country or even one region. Beyond this, I’ve also gone back to many countries more than once when I just couldn’t get them out of my head. Yes, I could use my hard-earned money and vacation time to add another place to my list, but on a second or third trip, I can dig deeper than the main tourist sites and really get to know a place, or I can branch out and visit lesser-known cities or areas. And I just love the feeling of going back somewhere and feeling almost like a native; it’s so satisfying to really feel attached and connected or, even better, to know every little shortcut in a town and even give directions to someone else in a city halfway across the world.

Greece was one of the first places I visited multiple times. I had gone there as a child with my Greek grandparents, attended a camp in my teens, funded my own way there one summer during high school, and returned years later with my own family. Spain, too, became a favorite after a study abroad program and two subsequent trips to see new places and revisit old favorites, and France (notably Paris) has managed to insert itself into almost every western European trip I’ve taken.

The first country with which I truly fell in love, though, was Peru. I distinctly remember getting on the plane after trekking the Inca Trail and spending a little time in Cusco and Lima. I looked longingly out the window and just knew I would be coming back. In fact, I was back on a plane by myself a mere five months later to further explore the Cusco area and the Sacred Valley. I stayed in a small neighborhood in Cusco and fancied myself a Cusqueña; I walked all day, shopped in the local markets, and took a few day trips to Pisac and other towns along the Urubamba River. Rather unbelievably, I was offered the opportunity to go back again four months later to help lead a small group of visitors for a microcredit organization, and a year after that, I repeated that trip. Other than Peruvian tour guides, I may be one of the few people who has visited Machu Picchu three times in less than two years! I am now certainly the go-to source on Peru among my friends.

I have an even deeper connection and infatuation with Tibet, a country that is difficult to get to once, let alone twice. I originally went to Lhasa as part of a bigger trip to China but, again, before I’d even left this mystical city, I knew I was destined to go back and see more of both Lhasa and Tibet overall. A year later, I was back on the roof of the world and, this time, I hired a young man I had met on the first trip to take my daughter and me deep into the countryside. We spent days bumping along dusty roads on the Tibetan plateau. We stopped in raggedy little towns and ate with the locals; this eventful ride culminated in a brief stay and trek at Mount Everest’s north base camp, a place I had often imagined from all my reading. If I could, I’d jump right back on the brutal flights necessary to deliver me to spiritual Tibet yet again.

But other lands do call. One of them is Russia, the land of some of my favorite authors and a place that has long attracted me through its history and literature. In January, I will finally walk the streets of Anna Karenina and Raskolnikov, and in the bitter winter cold, I hope to experience in some small way the plight of so many pre- and post-revolution Russian characters, both real and fictional. I will see as much as I can, but after the Russian feast, I will do what the country-counters do – I’ll stop in Tallinn, Estonia and Helsinki, Finland for a small bite of dessert on my way home!

Friday Photos: Favorites from North to South

Tags

Argentina, France, Iguazu Falls, Tour du Mont Blanc

Another day, another view on the Tour du Mont Blanc

Iguazu Falls, Iguazu, Argentina

Friday Photos: Favorites from Rural to Urban

Tags

France, Ghana, Kumasi, Musee d'Orsay, Paris

From the fields of rural Ghana to urban Paris today …

Woman with peanuts, near Kumasi, Ghana

A view from the Musee d’Orsay, Paris, France

A Grave Situation

Tags

Buenos Aires, Cemeteries, Greece, Kazimierz, Krakow, La Recoleta, Paris, Pere-Lachaise, Sarajevo

What is it about cemeteries that attracts visitors and photographers? Some find it morbid and bizarre to walk around among gravestones and the dead, but I find most cemeteries to be peaceful and hauntingly beautiful places to spend an hour or two.

A rainy morning in Père-Lachaise Cemetery is one of my favorite memories of Paris. The weak morning sun seeping through the mist and illuminating the cobblestone walkways was the perfect backdrop for the mossy headstones engraved with famous names. Any reader, musician, artist, or just plain citizen of the world can appreciate a reflective stroll by the resting places of Proust, Molière, Chopin, Jim Morrison, and Seurat, among many others.

  An Ottoman-era cemetery high above Sarajevo is an incredible vantage point for seeing the valley in which this embattled Balkan city lies. The stories of snipers shooting down from these hills during the Seige of Sarajevo come frightening alive with this view, and the 15th century setting adds to the drama of Bosnia and Herzegovina’s tangled history.

Eva Perón’s grave is but one small reason to venture into La Recoleta Cemetery in Buenos Aires. As in Paris, the architecture of the tombs is spectacular in itself, and the narrow lanes arranged in a grid pattern evoke almost a neighborhood feeling among the tiny buildings. An abundance of cats and cobwebs adds to the mysterious allure here.

 

In Krakow, there are two fascinating cemeteries in the Kazimierz neighborhood, the “New” (1800s) and “Old” (1500s) Jewish Cemeteries. Oddly, the “new” one feels more ancient than the older one (also known as Remuh), perhaps because so many of the headstones are aslant and covered with moss. The older-growth trees half block the sun, dappling the toppling graves with light and shadow.

When I thought back on a number of trips, I was astonished to realize just how many other cemeteries I had visited, from the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial in Colleville-sur-Mer, France, to Arlington National in Washington, D.C., Montparnasse in Paris, and St. Louis in New Orleans.

Among all these monuments to mortality, perhaps the most emotional was an overgrown plot in Vasta, Greece, where I located the rough stone under which my great-grandfather lies. Grand or humble, cemeteries can be a quiet step back in time and a surprisingly serene way to spend a few hours outside on my travels.

Friday Photos: Mosque and Cathedral

Tags

Abu Dhabi, France, gargoyle, mosque, Notre Dame, Paris

Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque, Abu Dhabi, UAE

Gargoyle atop Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris, France