A Family Afar - Blog

Landing...Prepare for Inpact.

Fri, 21 Aug 2015 06:30:33 GMT

Sitting at my familiar dining room table, at our comfortable home in Hawaii, I alter between clicking the battery icon at the top of my laptop screen, checking how much time remains on this faulty battery, and gazing out at the soothing, persistent rain on our lanai. I am waiting, waiting for the part of me that my friends, family, and virtual friends keep gently insisting should write a book, to show up. But only my melancholy, ill-adjusted, travel-blues-riddled self seems present. I remain sitting here alone. Yup, alone. Kiko is working and the kids are at their first organized activity since our return, 1/2 day tennis camp. That in itself is enough to send me whirling in a mix of high and low emotions after spending a year almost exclusively within an arms reach of each other.

It has been over a month, actually 40 days, since we have returned home. Whatever adjusting I had expected to happen should be all finished up by now. But if anything I feel it more intensely. Funny how a feeling can be so strong yet so difficult to aptly explain to someone else. A recurring , descriptive image keeps popping into my head and although inadequate, it seems to be the best way at the moment to convey my current feelings .....imagine a head and inside that head is everything witnessed over the past year, landscapes, people, food, sounds, monuments, smells, customs and they are all trying to find their place to settle in, but communication between these foreign bits and fragments is difficult at best, and there are a lot of pieces that just aren't able to fit along side others, but they each keep trying to get their points across, trying to find their place, in the big chaotic mess called my brain.

Believe me I know I sound like a little travel snot. I can hear that too, even through the muddle. "Oh, I just got back from traveling the world, to beautiful Hawaii, and I am so confused and depressed".... and spoiled. I know. But it doesn't make the adjusting any easier. Does it make it less annoying, if I acknowledge it myself?

Mixed in with all that is the fear of "loosing" all of last year experinces as we settle into a routine, that is astonishingly similar to that which we left last year. But when I take the time to look past the day-to-day and to think of actualities I realize that our travel experiences are forever part of us, an us that is so much stronger than it was before.

I would have been shocked if someone would have told me before we left, "when you return from your trip you children will be so close that they will cry for each other when they start spending time apart." But that is exactly what happened. On one of the first days back in the States Yoda came home in a rush from a neighbor's house. When asked what happened he looked shocked and sad, tears started to flow. "I missed my sister, my best sister". I swear I am not making this up and he wasn't joking. The look of appreciation and understanding on Zuki's face when she heard her brother's words is something I will never forget. In turn, as they each went on sleepovers, the one left at home dramatically lamented the time apart. Of course I am not telling you that they always get along seamlessly, but there is a bond that has been formed over the countless hours they entertained each other, the times they stuck to together as they approached foreign children looking to make a new friend, and as they experienced so many new things together. I have witnessed their ability to exchange an simple look, conveying so many thoughts and feelings, excitement mixed with anxiousness, as they experienced things together that they never imagine existed. This bond is not something that will fade quickly. And this in itself is enough of a reward for this past year.

But as I sit here I realize we have gained even more. Hearing the kids tell their versions of our epic experiences actually makes the area where my heart is located warm. Witnessing the fresh eyes with which they literally "see" the cultural in which they have grown up as they draw comparisons to others they have experienced, makes me proud. Their real interest in foreign affairs, because they now have a personal connection, has changed the way they learn and will have a lasting impact throughout their lives. Somehow these moments of light, when I see "the big picture", help organize all those bits and pieces in my head and I find myself feeling less unsettled with this whole "settling back in" phase.

There is another descriptive image that kept persevering in my thoughts. This one has a more comical feel. It is that of our family of four crammed in a space ship, that old kind of 1960's style, red with flames painted on the side, coming in for a landing on the lush island of Kauai. The boys are out running about before Zuki and I even know we have landed. My daughter and I sit in the space ship with our hair blowing in the wind and our mouths open in awe, staring in bewildered confusion. And to be honest that is kinda how it was when we first got home.

Artistic rendering of our re-entry by Zuki and me.

We are each such different individuals and even though we went through this year together we each process it and our return differently. Both boys, Yoda and my husband, seem to just want to dive right back in. Yoda to such an extent that I now realize his need to surround himself with friends and to have a daily "plan" of activities is his way of soothing his transition, filling his days with everything he missed from home. Zuki surprised me with how contemplative and philosophical she became the first few weeks upon our return, questioniing a lot, even to the extent of repeatedly inquiring about the nature of our very existence. Being surrounded by groups of people she knew pre-trip caused her to become very introspective and quite. We had many deep conversations, just the two of us, that made me simultaneously proud of my thoughtful daughter, questioning so much of the world at such a young age, and nervous as I wondered if this type of thinking might make it hard to fit in with her peers. Luckily, now 6 weeks in, she retains her new outlook on the world while reconnecting, one friend at a time.

It probably comes as no surprise that I wasn't ready for the trip to end. As our time was winding down in the Philippines the rest of the family was mostly excited to return home, see friends, unpack missed toys, have our kitchen again...there was a little anxiousness as far as what it would really be like to return, but the sentiment "Yeah, we are going home" prevailed. I dragged my feet, ho-hummed, somehow shocked that there was an end to our around-the-world-trip. I wasn't good at hiding it either.

Luckily at the last minute, the very last night, something changed and I genuinely began looking forward to going home. It just hit me like a frying pan. Zuki had been telling me for a few days how she often sees "signs" around her. When she thought of something, more often then not she was finding that the answer or something relevant would appear in a literal sign. (English advertising and signage is quite prevalent in the Philippines). It intrigued me. I was feeling so lost; I wanted a sign. I looked and looked; nothing seemed fitting to the questions that were whirling in my brain. Lucky kid. But turns out It might not be a sheer matter of luck but may boil down to the fact that I simple may not be as in-tune as she is. My signs had to be less cryptic. Just as I began to realize that the infected bug bite on my leg was pushing past the acceptable "it's going to be fine; lets just clean it" limit, as visions of me rolling through the next three airports in a wheel chair filled my head, my stomach started to do those all too familiar summersaults of traveler's belly. "Ok", I screamed in my head " I GIVE IN, I AM READY TO GO HOME!". And just like that my stomach problems receded and the antibiotics started kicking in on my pain-ridden leg...OK. I just needed more obvious signs to steer my brain to the appropriate frame of mind...home will be nice on a lot of levels.

Out in front of our last hotel before our journey home

Even with my change of heart about returning, once home I kept on with the idea of looking for signs, something to show me everything was going to be ok. One day we went down to a beautiful beach called Lumahai, which is quite renowned amongst locals as a place to find the rare and highly sought after kauai sunrise shells, endemic to Hawaii. To me they have always been a true manifestation of Hawaii life. Ok, I thought, I'll take a walk down the beach and find a sunrise, a sure sign of welcome from the island where I am suppose to be. So I walk, loving the solitude and the beauty of the North Shore. I reach the end of the beach and start my walk back, still thinking that a wave could bring up a sunrise at any moment,...right to my feet. But my dreamy mind was interrupted by an agitated girl in her twenties sitting cursing on the shore line. It's only me and her alone along an empty expanse of beach. Relieved how easy it is to converse when both people speak the same language, I simple ask, "Are you ok?" "I just stepped on a bee!" she retorted. Realizing she hasn't taken the stinger out, I ask if I can help and quickly scrape the stinger out and help calm her. Before I know it she tells me how stepping on a bee is just one of the bad things that has happened on this still young day. Her "friend" just stole her bag with all her belongings and her money to go buy drugs. She continues on about her gloomy situation when all of a sudden her face brightens with a wide smile and she says "But I found a sunrise shell...want to see it?" I feel the second frying pan hit me in my spoiled head as a smile and admire her newly found shell. Of course she needed that sunrise a lot more than I. Signs seems to come from the totally different direction then I am looking in.....

After talking a bit, I get up to continue to walk and she asks me where I am from, "cause you have a strange accent". A smile breaks out across my face as I reply, "I live here" and I remember the countless other times someone has said that same thing to me upon my return to the states. Somehow in my attempt to make conversation with people who speaks English as a second or third language easier, I often simplify my sentence structure drastically, "We go now," kinda thing and I guess it is not an easy habit to break.

And with that I am reminded that I have felt this way before. It actually has a name, "reverse culture shock." I know I need to give myself time and luckily I have it. We live on a beautiful island, where we live a life pretty darn close to dream-like, and we truly appreciate this. So for now I am indulging myself by blaring music that sings to me, "liking" quotes that speak to me, and simply allow there to be empty space to sort out all the foreign puzzle pieces in my brain. And slowly my sentence structure is returning.

Note: This was written about 5 weeks ago and as expected piece by piece we are shaping our new life on the island. Kids have started school and seem well prepared for their respective grades and are weaving their world schooling with their public school assignments. All is well and I hope next month to dive back into South East Asia where I left off our story..

To Be Continued....

Fri, 29 May 2015 11:46:07 GMT

Somewhere between Loas and Cambodia the realization that this epic trip, which began as a vague idea and evolved in my mind over a decade, had an actual end, that was ever approaching, crept into my mind. With each passing day and week, which seem to be flying by at this point, we grow closer to The End.

The End of a beautiful day on Siquijor Is, Philippines

Don’t get me wrong, I am not dreading returning to our home on Kauai, full of friends, natural beauty, and a lovely laid back lifestyle; who could? It is the ceasing of this current lifestyle that is causing me to be uneasy.

I have become accustomed to being surrounded by the exotic and it is intoxicating and keeps me motivated. This journey is full of the unexpected. Adventure surrounds us. Even on the most mundane of days there is always something new, literally surprising us, opening our eyes, and causing figurative lightbulbs in our brains to ignite.

New people, foods, and scenery, are the norm and that which is completely unheard of or even unacceptable at home are common occurrences.

Dock at Lazy Beach, Cambodia

Getting a "fish massage"

It feels wild. Free.

Topping it all off is the fact that the journey in itself is a natural school for all of us. Watching the kids learn is amazing and invigorating to realize that we too, as adults, have so much still to learn.

Zuki at Cambodian Cooking School

Rubber being collected in Indonesia

Zuki snorkeling in a the seagrass, full of unique creatures.

But the true treasure of this trip, although quite uncomfortable at times, is the learning about each other on an intense level. It is not always pretty as our individual weaknesses and strengths are completely unmasked but even this process has become a way of life for us.

So it is with these thoughts swirling in mind that I first unconsciously, then with intent, have not updated this blog.

Although I am sure many people are able to pump out a great blog post in a short time, find good WiFi, type, insert photos, push “publish”; that doesn't work for me.

I think, write, think, think some more, reread, think, write, edit photos, .think...edit..hours pass, days... and it is something that takes me out of the present moment for far too long.

Since I realize that writing blog posts is a vital way for me to process what is going on around me I have choosen not to abandon this blog entirely but simply postpone it until I am home. Not only does this allow me to appreciate these last weeks more fully but there is always the off chance that reliving the stories and memorable moments at home may help with the inevitable reverse culture shock, which I am known to experience when returning home after lengthy travels.

So please stay tuned for our stories from our last four months, when we lived amongst Asian elephants and their mahouts in Laos,

Elephant coming over to find out more about Yoda

slowed down in rural Cambodian village,

battled the heat while exploring ancient Angkor Wat

enjoyed the modern city amusements of Singapore,

slept under the stars, and passing showers, on remote islands in Indonesia with close friends,

A beautiful island, Indonesia, where were we camped

travelled with like minded nomadic families

and discovered underwater paradise in the Philippines.

And I will be sure to update all the actual budgets, which will hopefully be a guide to help families currently planning for their world adventure. For once the financials are set it is an open road; And what a trip it can be...

Thailand: Southeast Asia 101

Thu, 19 Mar 2015 07:35:41 GMT

Thailand is a great introduction to travel in Southeast Asia. Quite accustomed to tourists, it received a whooping 26.5 million visitors in 2014, securing its ranking as the 10th most visited country in the world. For us, Thailand was the perfect place to acclimatize to a new continent while treating ourselves to some comforts that we hadn't experienced in months.

We settled into Bangkok for a week. What better place to get accustomed to the new (delicious) food, cool transport, and the pervasive religion, Buddhism, with its exquisite temples and orange clad monks? (Note this blog post covers our entire 3 weeks in Thailand, which was split up into two visits,( 1.Bangkok and 2.Chaing Mai), by our three week jaunt to Myanmar, covered in a previous post)

Since Kiko and I have spent a fair bit of time in our pre-kid lives traveling through Southeast Asia, entering Thailand was tinted with a bit of a "coming home" sort of feeling. A sensation that was no doubt amplified by our previous 2 months in Africa, which while being an utterly amazing and unforgettable experience, was althogher new ground for me, and to a large extent Kiko as well. But what surprised me the most about Bangkok was the ease at which the kids adjusted. Can it really be as simple as some parenting literature suggests; i.e. the kids simply reflect the parents' attitude? Hum, something to ponder when considering some of the rough patches on this trip...

Or maybe it just boils down to the fact that Thailand is super traveler friendly. I think what captivated us first and foremost was the delicious food. Street food and local restaurants all seemed to delight. One exception would be the food aimed solely at the backpackers, which tends to be super cheap and rather bland.

Sticky rice cooked in bamboo

Another immediate highlight is the unique temples...everywhere. Even as an adult I couldn't help but feel like I was in a fairytale with the glittering, grand architecture.

And for me in particular, the monks, commonly seen in every city, town, and village, are a constant reminder of the existence of a simpler, purposeful life, which has always had a certain pull on me.

For the kids, the wax models of the monks were a real draw. Wow, none of us could get over how realistic they looked. Zuki was convinced at least on one occasion, that the red clothed man was actually a real old monk in deep meditation. She is a rather perceptive kid, so you never know.

We were made super comfortable at our chosen accommodations, Golden Mountain Hostel, a brand new, uber clean hostel, located in the authentic, old section of Bangkok.

Unlike in our pre-kid Asian travels, at this hostel we were really settling into the category of "flash packers", defined by a fellow traveling family at flashpackerfamily.com as

Flash packer (noun): One who travels with the intrepid ethos of a backpacker but having added comfort, style, and technology whilst still maintaining a sense of exploration and adventure.

Yup, that sounds like us.

Ideally located in the Historic Old Town District, a collection of old world neighborhoods which seems miles away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the city,

Canals, the old thoroughfare.

Giant lizards on the banks of the canal.

it is within walking distance of the wonderful Grand Palace and Wat Pho and within reach of the other districts of the city via the picturesque, convenient, and fun, water taxi and thrilling tuk-tuks, which easily connect to the city's mass transits systems.

Waiting for water taxi

Tuk Tuk

After a thoroughly enjoyed week in Bangkok, the lure of "old world Asia" pulled us to Myanmar for a wonderful 3 weeks. Amazingly we worked it out so that upon our return flight to Bangkok we merely had to wait a few hours at the Don Mueang International Airport/train station to board the overnight, sleeper train to Chaing Mai. (We purchased the train tickets before we left for Myanmar). This epic, 13 hr train trip was something I had done some 18 years earlier with my best friend and I definitely wanted the kids to experience it. Luckily it was just as I had remembered, with the comfortable seats that are seamlessly changed by the attendant into wide, white sheeted bunk beds, fully equipped with pillows, newly laundered blankets, and privacy curtains.

2nd class, AC sleeper

The kids were in giddy awe of it all and immediately crawled off to their upper bunks, leaving me to watch the world go by in the huge window adjacent to my lower berth. The soothing rocking of the train enticed me to sleep but a silly smile stuck on my face as I was filled with memories of my previous travels and emotions as I momentarily glimpsed the full magnitude of our family's world trip.

In Chiang Mai we found comfort once again. At first I struggled with the pervasive touristic nature of the town, but after some reflection I realized that a little taste from home at this point in our trip would be truly appreciated and we fully embraced what Chaing Mai had to offer. We sought out some much missed gluten free foods and scored at a true American diner, Butter is Better.

Kids over the moon with gluten free blueberry pancakes, and Kiko and I pretty darn happy with a real, huge cappachino.

Even at the weekend street markets we found a reminder of our Hawaiian home.

Thai girl rocking a Ukulele to an Hawaiian tune at the street market.

In between the piles of made-in-china items for sale there are some really unique handmade crafts to be found in Chaing Mai's weekend markets and small boutique stores. We stumbled on this wonderfully unique store, Bantaktor, selling funky hand crocheted dolls with a huge selection of adorable knit clothing, hats and accessories for them. We tried our tired and true technique of saying something along the lines of ,"They're nice. Lets wait and see what else is in town or if you still want them in a few days", which is usually quite effective in keeping our luggage light. Not this time. These dolls were all both of the kids talked about for 24 hrs. So after they both sorted their packs and lightened their loads, we returned, each kids buying themselves a doll and a handful of clothes. We have been really restrictive in the past with "souvenirs". Firstly because it is mostly made-for-tourist-junk anyway and secondly we simple can't carry a whole bunch of stuff with us around the world. So getting these dolls were a real treat, and to my and Kiko's delight, they have enabled countless hours of creative play.

Before our departure from home, we use to list all sorts of fun modes of transport we hoped to ride, trains, tuk-tuks, camels,... and unique places we wished to sleep,... castle, train, tent, treehouse,... So when I stumbled on some treehouses during my online searching that were just 1 hr outside of Chiang Mai, it seemed made-to-be as I also wanted the kids to see the more rural side of Thailand.

The ride up included a stop at the "sticky waterfall" (Bua Thong Waterfalls (Nam Phu Chet Si)) with mineral deposits that made for a fun and picturesque adventure.

The easily climbed falls, were a tough act to follow but The Rabeang Pasak Tree House Resort delivered.

These 9 unique tree houses were loving built by a Thai architect, Mr. Bullsiri, and were originally used as a weekend getaway for him and his family. Later as he just kept building and building the family decided to open to the public. The love and care for the property, the tree houses, and the guests, exudes from the wonderful host, Pin, Mr. Bullsiri's daughter. The tree houses were fairytale material. I slept deeply and peacefully every night.

Our days were filled with unplugged relaxing and old school adventuring, biking on the free bikes, exploring nearby bat caves, playing and fishing in the river that runs through the property, and cuddling all the cats and dogs that live on the property. As you can imagine, the resort attracts families with children so there were always a few kids for Yoda and Zuki to hang with.

Our five nights went way too fast. Before we knew it we were back in Chiang Mai. Our timing was perfect as our return coincided with the annual Flower Festival. It was cool to see the amazing floats and the elaborate costumes. It didn't hit me until I saw the flower covered floats that I had actually stumbled on this exact festival in Feb. 1997. Whoops, (Scales, I know you're giggling) guess I won't be able to fault the kids for not remembering every moment of this trip. In the 18 years, things had changed a bit. As expected there are considerable more tourists, with a surprisingly huge percentage coming form China, but most noticeable were the obtrusive cell phones and tablets, making it near impossible to get a decent picture. It became comical as I watched people attempting to get around each other to take a photo. There was even some verbal confrontations among tourists! It helped me see the comical side of my constant need to "click" and I put my camera down and enjoyed just watching the amazing creations roll by.

Of course I did manage to get a few shots ....

Life on the "banana pancake trail" can be pretty easy.

The Banana Pancake Trail is the name given to the well-trodden and constantly growing routes around South East Asia travelled by backpackers and other tourists.

We embraced the pervasive easy-travel style, enjoying the economic yet brilliantly comfortable flash packer accommodations available in Chiang Mai.

Lamphu House

The Sculpture Hostel

Kiko partook in the quintessential Chiang Mai experience of a Thai Cooking Class, from which we will all benefit. And I celebrated my birthday a couple weeks early with 5 hours of treatments at a wonderful spa.

Fah Lanna Spa

At all budget levels, Thailand can be a pretty easy and enjoyable place to travel. And the perfect gateway to ease into travel in Asia.

Feeling pretty comfortable

Mystical Myanmar

Tue, 10 Mar 2015 11:07:26 GMT

Our flexibility was rewarded. Stories of a land reminiscent of Thailand 30 years ago, with beauty and friendliness that even the most jaded of travelers couldn't help but be taken with, were finding us at every turn as we stood perched in Bangkok, the entryway to our open 3 month S.E. Asia leg of our journey. The common refrain was an unequivocal, "Go to Myanmar now, before it changes." It took a little research to rid myself of outdated ideas of Burma, officially changed to Myanmar in 1989, as a dangerous and inaccessible land of never-ending opium fields, with its refugees flooding into Thailand, which I still held from my previous SE Asia travel, 20 years ago. With small yet consistent positive changes in the government, and improvements with human rights, Myanmar slowly began opening to tourism in the late 1990. After much research on the internet, available at a speed in Bangkok which we hadn't experienced since Europe, and planning visa/flight logistics, Myanmar found its way onto our itinerary.

Our entry point was the city of Yangon and our first outing, a morning visit to the most important Pagoda in Myanmar, 2500 year old Shwedagon, with its tall gilded stupa. With this visit I immediately realized we had been well guided in our decision. Myanmar's maintains a strong belief in Theravada Buddhism, which is evident with the countless temples and scores of monks and nuns seen throughout the country.

As we wondered through Yangon I found an undefinable beauty in the dilapidated and chaotic streets

As always we were quite happy to stumble on some street markets, which make for a quick way to familiarize oneself with a place through its food, dress, and social interactions. Constantly on the look out for new gluten free snacks, the kids were pleased with the wide choice of rice and coconut goodies, along with the wonderful selection of fresh fruits and veggies.

With our allotted 3 weeks in Myanmar, we were eager to explore more rural areas. Bagan, the land of mist covered pagodas, was "just" a 10 hr bus trip away.

It was actually shocking how real-life was every bit as incredible as the almost too-cool-to-be-real pictures I had seen during my internet planning. The temples of Bagan really look like this. It is quite striking to take in. It did occur to me while riding on that long bus, that touring thousands of temples might not thrill the kids for very long. We wisely kept the exploring to 1/2 days, and luckily the whole "Indiana Jones" feel of the place kept their imagination peaked. It helped that one day we rented little e-bikes and scooted around exploring in whatever direction any of us felt pulled. The relative lack of restrictions and the endless tunnels and stairs of the temples created a feeling of wild discovery.

Just to be safe, we took the recommendation of parents who have visited temple studded Ankor Wat (Cambodia), and booked a hotel with a pool, so that after a 1/2 day of exploring in the heat, a cool respite awaited.

Zuki journaling by the pool

To be clear, yes Myanmar is "just" opening up to tourism but that doesn't mean you have the entire place to yourselves. Here is the temple recommend for a "less crowded" sunset viewing.

But with a sunset view like this, who's complaining?

The highlight of our time in Bagan was created from a simple spontaneous connection. Yoda and Zuki had been talking for a week or so about businesses they each wanted to set up upon their return to Hawaii. Zuki had already begun hand sewing some cute little animals from socks and miscellaneous "bling" found along our travels, while Yoda was contriving a plan based on creating wooden characters, with which he had no real experience.

We happened to pop into one of the shops along Bagan's main road where a man was carving. Wood carving is an ancient art in Myanmar and is till practiced today by master wood carvers. Yoda showed an interest and before I knew it we had arranged to bring the kids back the next morning.

The following day, Nyi Phyoe, the son of Sandar, who we had met the day before, became Yoda's carving teacher. With a chunk of teak between his feet, Yoda watched his teacher, and with guidance, copied the technique on his own piece of wood.

Meanwhile, Sandar and his wife Soe, allowed Zuki to choose a buddha mask to paint herself. They sweetly showed her step by step how to paint and emboss with gold leaf paint just like they do themselves when creating masks to sell.

After hours of work, both kids had completed what will likely be their most prized souvenirs of our trip. When we went to pay, Sandar would only accept payment for the mask which Zuki had painted. After much convincing, we were able to pay a little more for the heaps of time that they had spent teaching our children. They invited the kids back for more lessons the next day and the kids were clamoring to go but I thought we had already taken up too much of their time. I told the kids "no".

The next day we stopped into the shop after dinner to let them know that Yoda loved his mask so much that he was actually sleeping with it. Soe, with a smile on her face, asked why we had't come back that day. I instantly felt her disappointment. I was flooded with the realization that I had taken an uniquely western view, believing we were "wasting their time", a concept which may not even exist in Myanmar. I now understand that they too had genuinely appreciate the unique experience that we had all shared the day before.

I have very few regrets on this trip but not letting the kids return to this wood shop for more lessons is one. Luckily the positive side of having a regret is learning from it so that a similar occurrence doesn't happen again. I have leaned my lesson.

Unfortunately, we had already pre-booked our boat trip. The next morning we had to wake at 4:30am to catch a 14hr express boat trip to Mandalay, a stepping stone on our way to the more remote town of Hsipaw, the jumping off point for hill village treks.

Boarding the express boat to Mandalay

Our river journey was a mixed bag; on one hand was the beauty, serenity, and cultural experience of the Irrawaddy river, while on the other, was sickness and flaring temperaments, (see my previous post) causing our family dynamics to be at a low. It made for a tough day.

Now what I find extremely interesting is that while Kiko and I agree that Zuki was not a big fan of the river trip at the time, she views it entirely differently now, almost 2 months later. She cheeringly compares it to Lao's Mekong river, which she has expressed interest in going on a long boat trip, and generally not acknowledging the mood of unrest of that day. This brings to mind something I find myself occasionally wondering about; I am really intrigued to see how the children view this world trip in its entirety, given the distance of time and space. In the end how will it end up settling into their memories?

Looking out on the Irrawaddy River

We didn't arrive to Mandalay, the second largest city in Myanmar, until 7:30pm that night and ended up spending 2 nights in an all-out-break. We didn't even leave the no-frills hotel room beside to go for the buffet breakfast downstairs. We ordered room service for lunch and dinner. It felt hedonistic and much needed. Part of the art of family travel is realizing when you need to do something like this. Finally fully rested, we got on a bus and finished our journey to Hsipaw.

Something about Hsipaw felt right. Perhaps it was simply the small size, or the super friendly and comfortable guest house (Tai House Resort) where we stayed, or the quirky cars around town; whatever it was, I was happy we choose to visit. As luck would have it, the first few days were rainy, keeping us from going straight on a trek and allowing us time to explore around town.

We filled our days with bike exploration and wandering the markets.

We biked a few times to the "noodle factory" but never got to see the noodle making in action. Rice noodles have been one of the kid's favorite foods in Asia so it was even interesting for them to see the empty factory and the endless rows of noodles drying in the sun. Wonder if they work at night?

One morning we woke up at 4am to see the morning market, where hill tribe people sell their wares. Its quite dark and an unusual experience to be up and walking through a market at that time. The most atmospheric stalls are still lit by candles. All are packed up and gone by 7am, back to the farms.

Finally the rain cleared and we embarked on a 2 day, 1 night trek, to visit both the Shan and Palaung Tribes, over-nighting in Pankam village. Both kids were recovering from some sort of traveler's belly so we agreed with the guide to have a motorbike along in case one of the kids needed a lift part way. The hike was 6 hours on a rough road/path with an elevation gain of over 2000ft. It felt great to be getting out into the more rural landscape. Never knowing what interesting sights lay ahead , easily fueled us.

The local kids were super friendly and very interested in our children. Our guide, who has been in the guiding business since the arrival of the first tourists, told us that we were only the 3rd family to visit this village. This was really great for us, as it seemed to even out the playing field; they seemed as interested in us as we were in them.

These local girls, taking care of their younger siblings slung on their backs, bravely befriended our kids. Giggles abound.

The kids were all too happy for a little lift when their "stomachs hurt".

By the time we made it up to Pankam Village, Yoda was starting to look like a local.

He quickly joined a few kids his own age playing a very organized game of throw-your-slipper-at-a-balanced-stone-to-knock-it-down-and-win-the-gambled-lot-of-rubber-bands. No local language skills needed. Even after the village school teacher came by and all the kids magically scattered, Yoda continued playing solo in front of our home-stay house for hours, even after dark, with a headlamp. I was seriously questioning all the expensive toys I ever purchased for him. He didn't even have rubber bands and he still loved it.

Sunset was amazing as it always seems to be when you have the time to appreciate it.

Our accommodations were four simple yet comfortable mattresses on the floor with warm blankets and mosquito nets on the second level above the family's kitchen.

We woke early, like we always do when filled with excitement about our new surroundings, and were rewarded with a colorful show as the sky became ablaze.

But no matter how early we wake up, the locals always seem to be up before us.

Zuki enjoying the heat of the morning cooking fire.

We really wished we had arranged to stay 2 nights, which would have allowed us more time to simply enjoy the remote village. Some travelers are under the impression there is "nothing to do" in these small villages but just watching or actually participating in the daily life is a wonderful experience. We could have helped in the tea plantations, with building something, or cooking, and Yoda could have located some more boys to play the "slipper game." There is a lot of activity in a place like this. Next time. Our hike down was beautiful as well, full of smiling faces, inquisitive stares, and breathtaking scenery.

In the one-room school

A few novice monks distracted from their studies by our unusually looking children passing by their window.

We returned to Hsipaw for one more night but again I had the feeling we were departing before really giving it the time it deserved. The Shan owners of our guest house were so friendly and warm, inviting us to share in their extend family's meals, helping us arrange our days, and buying our kids the local style shirts as a parting gift. But with only 5 days left before our flight back to Bangkok we still wanted to see the famous Inle Lake, which was yet another 10 hr bus ride away.

This time we opted for a night bus which was pretty non-eventful and comfortable enough to get some sleep. Luckily when we arrived at 5AM our pre-booked hotel had our room ready and even provided us with a free breakfast. Since Bagan and Inle Lake are the top tourist destination in the country, both are set up for visitors with tasty cafes serving a wide range of food, (Burmese, Thai, Indian, Western) numerous travel agencies, and the full spectrum of guest houses and hotels from which to choose. Since entering Asia we have slowly begun to enjoy these pockets of Western comforts on the so called "backpacker's trail."

Our Canadian friends, who we 1st meet in Bagan, then again in both Hsipaw and Inle Lake, with us at one of the yummy Cafes in Nyaung Shwe (Lake Inle)

Even among all this, the local eateries are never too hard to find. And for those looking, glimpses of everyday life are really everywhere.

Like this dancing elephant, blessing local business and collection money for the country's pagodas.

We enjoyed biking a few days through the outskirts of town and in the nearby countryside, but compared to being on the lake, all else pales in comparison. We enjoyed being on the lake so much that we went out 3 days! At a total cost of $20 for an all day trip, how could we resist? Again we were rewarded for being natural early risers, which enabled us to witness the lake shrouded in mist as it became alive with activity.

The traditional method of fishing with large wide-weave basket/nets was quite picturesque. After our second day on the lake we were sure that the few men at the entrance to the lake were posing for tourists, but we were lucky to see the real deal further in.

It was really amazing to see the fisherman paddling with their leg, a technique that is unique to Inle Lake and allows them to have both hands free to fish. They wrap their ankle and foot around the paddle and make a circular motion to steer and propel the boat, all while fishing. Even, Kiko, who grew up fishing, seemed impressed.

The boat trips offer visits to temples on the shore of the lake and stopovers at the daily markets that rotate among the different villages throughout the week. The daily markets, range from extremely touristy, with seemingly endless stalls selling all sorts of tourist trinkets, to mostly local, with hill tribe girls shopping for wares and lots of fresh foods on offer, depending on the day and site of the market.

Walking up to one of the temples past the endless crafts for sale.

I was completely enthralled with the views of life on the lake; the bright colors, the stilted houses, and the people fishing, washing clothes, showering, and farming all on the shores of the lake.

One time when Yoda chose to walk a slightly different path through the market, I glanced up to see where he was and I saw a friendly woman casually enfolding him.

And this picture captures what is special about Myanmar. When fellow SE Asia travelers hear that we have been to mystical Myanmar we are immediately asked, "What is it like?". Of course it is a traveler's reoccurring dilemma to attempt to adequately sum up weeks worth of experiences in a few sentences, but I think the photo above shows what is different about Myanmar. It's the guenuine friendliness and approachability of the Burmese that set the country apart for me. Everything else were bonuses.

Traveling to Myanmar?

The face of travel is changing very quickly in Myanmar so the info below may be of some help when planning your trip.

ATMs are widespread and functional, everywhere we visited. (Yangon, Bagan, Mandalay, Hsipaw, lnle Lake)
When exchanging cash, only brand new bills will be excepted but there are banks in Bangkok that are equipped with these if needed.
30 day Visas are easily obtained via the internet. When approved you will receive an email confirmation that needs to be printed and shown on arrival. Our visas were approved overnight and there was actually a human who responded to my email after I had made a mistake on one of the online applications. http://evisa.moip.gov.mm

Local food is quite oily and pales in comparison to neighboring Thailand, but what food doesn't? When you tire of the local food all the places we visited also offered other Asian and Western foods.
Overland travel is long (think 10+ hours) but we found it surprisingly comfortable. Actually the buses can be downright cold with the AC blaring, so bring extra layers. Some buses provided blankets! Lots of higher end tourists flew between destinations but the prices of flight seemed high.
Although we were warned via previous travelers and on the internet of hotels completely selling out during high season (Dec-Feb) we did not find this to be the case and regret that we panicked a little and initially pre-booked the first bit of our trip. If you are particular about getting a room at a certain hotel/guest house, pre-booking would be a good idea. We used Agoda.com and booking.com a few times and got as good prices, oftentimes better than that offered at the desk of the hotel or travel agency.

Christmas With The Maasai

Mon, 23 Feb 2015 08:14:53 GMT

Christmas is a much anticipated holiday steeped with traditions; extended family, piles of presents, cheery music, special holiday sweets, and the frezy-like state created from the reminders of the upcoming holiday everywhere you turn. All these combine to create what our kids know as “Christmas”. There are many ways to celebrate the holiday but I think there is one universal, no one wants to have a disappointed kid on Christmas. Yet I was nervous about that ever-present possibility given that we wouldn’t have any of our normal “ingredients” this year. So I thought why even try to compete with such a longstanding tradition: why not just simply change the playing field entirely? Choosing to do something completely foreign and totally unforgettable seemed to be a surefire recipe to allow even the most unique of Christmas experiences to be declared a success. Unfortunately Christmas time is pretty much “high season” everywhere causing prices to soar. Luckily our first pick, Maji Moto Maasai Cultural Camp in Kenya, maintains standard prices all year round. A week learning about the Maasai, a tribe of semi-nomadic people inhabiting Kenya and Tanzania, including a couple of days of game drives and some warrior training, seemed to fit our needs perfectly.

The two days of game drives in an pop-topped safari vehicle was a great start.

Chief Salaton in the foreground

We felt truly lucky to spot so many animals but seeing as we were accompanied by, Salaton, a Maasai Chief with a lifetime of experience living in the bush, perhaps it wasn’t a matter of luck at all.

We had seen many animals in Samburu with Elephant Watch the week prior and Maasai Mara worked out to be the perfect complimentary game drive as we saw an array of different animals and the scenery was taken right out of the The Lion King.

The sheer number of wildebeests spread across the plains was breathtaking but we were told it was nothing compared to the numbers during the famous Great Migration which occurs here every September/October.

Hippos were a great surprise too. Oh the little baby....

High on our wish list were Big Cats and Maasai Mara Park delivered. It was truly like being in a National Geographic program. We saw lions and cheetahs doing their thing in wild Africa.

There were way too many other sightings to list here (kids kept a good record as part of their world schooling) but a few of the highlights were oryx, hyena, warthogs, elephants, buffaloes, giraffes, zebras, serval cat, ....

After two days of game drives we were looking forward to meeting the Maasai at Maji Moto, one of the few activities that I had researched pre-trip with the hopes of making it work for our time in Kenya. The kids had been excited watching the videos on the camp's website 7 months ago so they were quite eager to finally visit.

The Maasai, with their distinct red shuka, draped over their bodies, a small red leather sheathed sword and perhaps a wooden throwing club, or rungu, hanging from the mens' waists, and beautiful beaded jewelry wrapping the necks and arms of both the women and the men, make for quite a striking sight against the muted tones of the African backdrop. The warm welcome upon our arrival was like no other.

The powerful chanting, world famous high jumping, universal smiles, and complete foreignness of our surroundings created one of those I can't believe we get to do this-chicken skin- overwhelming feelings.

Maji Moto, is a tribal community of about 3000 Maasai spread out over the rural rangelands, where each family lives in a maryatta, or compound consisting of a mud, dung, and stick house and a corral made of branches in which to keep their livestock. There is a small town center with a few tiny shops and the hot springs, or maji moto in Swahili, which gives the village it's name. Salaton's cultural camp in situated on the Savannah, a few minutes walk from the springs, at the foot of the Loito hills.

Our accommodations for the 6 nights was in a two bedroom mud home constructed in the local style. The beds were neat and simple with mosquito netting and a single battery powered light lit the room at night. Nearby were clean shared bathrooms with hot showers, which use water from the village hot springs. Every evening a few warriors would either be huddled by the nearby fire or on our front porch as guards, and would accompany us silently if we needed to use the bathroom in the night. Their natural stealth and their red shukas, invisible in the darkness of the night, made it seem like they appeared out of no where. It was comforting knowing a warrior or two was guarding us against any potential wild animals.

Our main Maasai "guides" for our stay, Meeri and Quella, were such friendly, genuine teachers that our time with them flowed very naturally. Each day we went on various adventures, learning about Maasai culture and environment as we explored.

Quella and Meeri

Our first outing was a little walking tour to show us the lay of the village. Immediately the "warrior training" began with spear throwing instruction along the way. Maasai are herdsmen, sheepherding goats and cows. They carry spears as protection for themselves and their livestock against the wild animals with whom they share the environment.

The kids did amazing with the spears, true naturals and they were thrilled. That first day they must have thrown the spears hundreds of times. By the next morning their arms were sore and my parental judgment clearer as I had had time to think of all the possible accidents that could occur with the very sharp weapon (one side of which is referred to as the "killing side"). Luckily Quella, thinking along the same lines, carved some sticks from a specific wood into two spears like that which the local children use to practice.

And they continued with their training, with their stick spears at their sides all week.

One day we hiked up the hill behind our camp. Along the way we saw boys, probably the same age as Yoda and Zuki, taking care of large herds of goats using an intricate system of whistles and various noises to keep the goats together and going in the right direction. These kids had a big responsibility as livestock is the entire wealth of a family. Maasai lifestyle is very communal and children are truly seen as belonging to everyone. Meeri's child is being raised by a group of widows, allowing Meeri the opportunity to finish high school and work at the camp. An adult can ask any child of the community to care for another smaller child, walk their livestock, etc. I explained to Meeri that Zuki could babysit when she got older but she would get paid. Both the fact that Zuki, at 10 wasn't old enough to already care for a baby all day and that she would actually receive money for babysitting were both totally foreign concepts. It was interesting for Zuki and Yoda to see what is expected of children of their age in the Maasai culture. These exchanges are an important aspect of why we travel as a family. Bit by bit our minds are open to the endless possible ways of life.

As we hiked we learned some of the plants the boy shepards might eat along the way. Maasai diet is quite unusual, mostly consisting of fresh blood and milk and a few wild plant; no fish, no pork, no chicken, and no wild animals. They eat goat, sheep, and cow on special occasion. We are pretty adventurous eaters when traveling but none of us were tempted to try the blood fresh from the goat's throat for breakfast. I felt a little better about our squeamishness when we saw the reaction of the Maasai to the fish that our game driver, who was not Maasai, caught and cooked up for lunch. Meeri and Rose, another wonderfully Maasai woman, stood, unable to hide their discomfort, as they looked in amazement at the fish hanging in the tree waiting to be cooked. Zuki snuck up behind them and kinda spooked them; they jumped so high. Oh, the laughs. They were quite scared and amazed by the fact that anyone would eat fish, or "snake" as they kept referring to it as. It was interesting to see that they feel towards eating fish the same we feel towards drinking raw blood.

Once we reached the top of the hill we could see the entire village and out to the Maasai Mara Reserve. The experience to be out there with people so in tune with their environment, just sharing our time, was amazing. And again the Maasai chants, which are very rhythmic and repetitive enough that an outsider can easily join, brought that moment to another level.

While we were up on the rocks on the top of the hill Quella showed Yoda how he can "sling shot" a small rock with his finger. I know it doesn't sound like a big deal but it was amazing and still puzzles me today. When he would release his finger and let the small pebble fly, the noise was like what you would expect from a cartoon. It literally "whizzed". How could it go so fast to make that noise? Not even a pebble projected from a proper sling shot makes that noise. None of us could come close to the speed. I easily imagined Quella as a boy spending hours with his friends while out sheepherding perfecting his talent.

Salaton is a very progressive Chief and is working to preserve the Maasai culture and improve the way of life for his people. We were able to see first hand some of his innovative projects funded by a significant portion of the money generated from the cultural camp One of the most powerful and far reaching is his boarding school for young girls, often as young as 10, who are escaping arranged marriages, a Maasai cultural tradition he is working to change. To this end he visits with the families in the local communities to talk about the benefits of allowing girls an education after which they are equipped to decide for themselves if they would like to marry.

Also, with the encouragement of his mother, who was a widow herself, he has set up a widow's camp to protect and empower the women who have outlived their husbands and are not permitted in the Maasai culture to remarry.

We heard first hand from Meeri of how at the age of 10, when her 80 year old husband died, she spent 3 days and nights walking through the bush to Salaton's camp, which she had been told by one of her teachers was a camp that helped girls like her. She had to keep herself hidden, off the main roads, so that her dad wouldn't find her. At night she slept in trees to keep safe from the wild animals. Our own Zuki is 10. It was shocking for us all to hear Meeri's childhood story. Thank goodness for people like Salaton. At one point there were 56 girls sleeping in a little room at the widow camp until he was able to build the current boarding school.

We were invited to visit the widow's camp located next to the cultural camp and received another wonderful welcome.

The women make beautiful beaded jewelry which they sell to the tourists at very reasonable prices, providing them with some income. We were invited to see inside their simple huts, where there are two beds, constructed of sticks with cow hides as mattresses, which accommodate 2 adults and multiple kids. A small fire has the duel purpose of stove and heater. The youngest goats are brought into a tiny enclosed area in the house during the night to ensure that there will be milk for human consumption in the morning.

Meeri lives in the widow's camp and makes jewelry in her spare time. It was amazing to see how much effort goes into the intricate bead work. Zuki and I each made a simple bracelet with Merri's instruction.

One afternoon the common sight of women and girls transporting water in large jugs slung over their head peaked Zuki's curiosity. How hard was it to carry? The cloth slung over the head looked pretty comfortable. With a few word to Meeri, Zuki and I were off to the spring with some empty jugs. The village hot spring is amazingly hot. We couldn't even keep our feet in it at the source. It is here where villagers collect water to bring back to their homes. There are also designated ares for showering and washing laundry. At the farthest stretches the animals drink. Nearby another one of Salaton's innovative ideas grows as he has planted a large garden with many plants and herbs that the villagers use for medicine since some were becoming increasingly harder to find.

Meeri's daughter and few other girls were also fetching water and it was a very social affair. We were met with looks of curiosity and amusement as we needed assistance with every step, filling the jug, adjusting the harness, and positioning it on our backs and heads. Zuki did quite well with the 10yr old size jug (10 liters). She was full of smiles and while it not exactly comfortable, she could do it. But when Meeri released the 20 liter jug's full weight on to my back I thought my neck might actually snap. I wouldn't allow myself to release my grip on the head strap as was using my hands help cary some of the weight. I was shocked how uncomfortable it was. I made it only a maybe 1/4 of the way to camp at which point I took up Meeri's offer of assistance. I had watched woman laden with these jugs standing leisurely talking as if not noticing the wight pulling on their heads. The village girls start at a very young age which must strength the muscles needed. A three year old starts with 3L, age seven moves up to 7L, age ten carries the 10L and finally will graduate to carrying the 20L. Amazingly it is not uncommon for women to walk 3-5 km or even more carrying these!

Once back in camp Kiko gave it a try, bringing laughter from the Maasai men. I quickly discovered none of them had ever even tried it. Fetching water was exclusively a woman's job along with building the family house, which take about 6 months!

It was surprisingly chilly in the evening so the hot water showers and the nightly fire were luxurious. The fire was a wonderful place to gather, share stories, and chant together. What unforgettable moments we had under the stars, with only the light of the fire, all of us chanting in a strange language together.

Yoda learning how to make a fire from rubbing sticks together.

Those same chants would spontaneously breakout while on our long walks together with Marri and Quella. We walked miles through the open plains learning the edible plants, seeing the far flung homes, and coming across herdsmen and animals. Still now, 2 months later, just the four of us will find ourselves singing the songs we learned at Maji Moto. You can't help but feel lighter, happier, with the rhythm and the memories of such a unparalleled time on our trip.

The kids particularly enjoyed the "oropiji", a white carrot which grows wild and are staple food for the boys out all day with their herds . With the spotting of each small purple flower, which indicate the juicy root below, we would all break into the "oropiji" song, meant to ensure that the carrot would come up in its entirety as it was dug up with the tip of the spear.

It was Zuki who came up with the idea to use the obsidian, strewn all over the landscape and traditionally used as spear tips in the past, as a makeshift knife to peel the skin. Oh how great wild food gathered by your own hands tastes.

On December 23, without a thought of Christmas, we headed out on another hike across the plains, this time only about 1.5 hours, with the intent of sleeping in the bush for the night. The afternoon rains and thunder and lightening rolled through soon after our onset.

Although the rain seemed to Kiko and I to be more of a storm than the usual afternoon passing showers we had witnessed, we trusted our native guides and continuted on our way. Just when it seemed like we really shouldn't be out in these conditions we would see someone else happily going along their way, like this woman pictured below who still had 4 more hours of walking to reach her home.

At one point the rain was so heavy that Quella made the decision to seek shelter at a nearby house. We were welcomed inside dripping wet. Just as we came in so did their herd of goats. It was a chaotic scene of many legs, wetness, and the funny "baahs" and "bleats" of the livestock. The little damper created by the weather was completed lifted by the quick change of environment and we were all smiles as we tried to assist the family to get the goats back outside.

Finally the rain ceased and we continued walking. We arrived at our bush camp to see that the other Maasai had already made fresh beds out of the sage leaves and our dinner was tied to a tree.

Immediately the preparations of the fire and the goat began.

Zuki, a true animal lover, asked me to take a little walk with her, while the goat was being killed. Tears were shed. She had a hard time coming to grips with the fact that that cute little goat she played with was going to be our dinner. The boys choose to watch the slaughter and Kiko, who has been around animals being killed before was impressed with the Maasai's quick, silent, and humane technique. When we returned Zuki's curiosity was too strong to stay away. We were all impressed with the butchering, which was precise and clean, ensuring every part of the goat could be enjoyed. The testicles were the first part to be roasted, meant for the young warriors, but as Yoda was way too squeamish Kiko took the honor. Piece by piece we watched the animal become recognizable food, a wonderful lesson in both biology and where our food comes from.

The night was amazing. The sky clear and the feast like no other. The Maasai were all in great festive moods and the singing and joking under the stars made for a night not to be forgotten. It was wonderful to see such respect for an animal, not a part went to waste. As the night progressed in to the wee hours, the intestines and blood were combined in a pot to create one of the Maasai's favorite dishes. At one point a special drink was made with the bark of a tree, which somehow allows one to eat more then normal. This is useful I was told when a group of young Maasai Warrors are out in the bush and need to consume an entire cow!

Unfortunately, I can't say the whole night was perfect. Actually in its entirety, it turned out to be a mixed bag of the absolute best and absolute worst, all in one. When we did eventually go off to sleep, my stomach did a lurch, which I knew immediately was not good. My stomach had been a bit off the entire day but I had't thought much of it. Seeing as we were in the African wilderness and there were a handful of Maasai Warriors guarding our camp all night against potential dangerous animals I felt I had to wake Kiko to accompany me into the wide open bush to use the "toilet". I'll spare you the details but I, well my guard Kiko and I, spent the entire night out in the bush. At one unforgettable moment while I was throwing up, I could here hyenas calls coming from multiple directions, I remember pausing just enough to ask Kiko how close he thought they were. Hour after hour, Kiko began to get pretty comfortable in his new role as "African Bush Guard", so much so that while I was trying to find a spot where I could squat without something treacherous biting my bum, Kiko was pointing out eyes glowing in the trees and telling me it was "one of those animals you have been wanting to see." I practically yelled, "Could you be more specific? A dangerous one or not?" Turned out it was a bush baby...

A massive headache lingered all the next day in camp, but I slowly recovered just in time for Christmas. The kids made a wonderful "tree", which we topped with a handmade angel I had had the foresight to purchase in Nairobi the week before.

Christmas morning festivities were a simple affair amongst the 4 of us as the Maasai do not celebrate Christmas and have never heard of Santa or the Tooth Fairy for that matter. We each were allotted $15 to spend on surprise gifts for the other three. We haven't been purchasing many souvenirs along our trip so far which made shopping in Kenya even more fun. Beaded jewelry, small stuffed animals made of african cloth, and even a Maasai wooden throwing club were opened and appreciated and then we were off exploring again.

We had noticed that a group of young kids were often taking care of baby goats nearby so we wandered over. When given the leisure of time, connections seem to be able to form through cultural and language barriers. The girls were drawn to Zuki's collection of bracelets from around the world, and from there the ice was broken.

Before long we were exchanging song and dances. Gosh did we feel untalented when it was our turn to sing and dance. These kids rocked and looked a bit shocked that we weren't able to preform a choreographed performance in return.

Beautiful song and dance

On the morning of our departure the new warriors was put to the test. We were given shields and "swords" (2' long sticks used as training for the wooden throwing club, or rungu) and teams were formed. And then all of a sudden these sticks went whizzing by. It had just enough thrill and danger to make it super exciting. The grown men were actually being hit quite hard. Everyone was laughing and having a good time.

Yoda was practically in tears when it ended; he would have loved to play that all day. Spontaneously a chanting line formed and we all joined in jumping and bobbing our heads as we had witnessed throughout the week.

I can say with confidence that our time with the Maasai will never be forgotten; A christmas not about the gifts but about the experiences. The experience, the memories, the lessons were the big Christmas gift this year. We made some wonderful bonds and learned so much about a culture so different then our own. In the years to come that yellow Kenya angel will be prominent on our family christmas tree, as a physical reminder of our very different christmas with the Maasai at Maji Moto.

Travel life continues Even As posts fall behind....

Thu, 05 Feb 2015 08:46:25 GMT

Here is the reality of it. We are traveling up Myanmar’s Ayeyarwaddy river, sitting on deck of the 13 hour “express” boat, for which we had to wake at 4:30 to catch.

Its OK ‘cause I was already up since 2AM with a bad travelers belly, the second such occurrence in the last 3 days.

When I woke Zuki she was in a cranky mood. Its probably the lack of sleep, since our “splurge” hotel with pool in Bagan, land of the temples, has serious plumbing issues causing our room to sporadically fill with methane gas, the smell of sewage gagging us, which we were trying to alleviate into late last night. The idea of another long travel day ahead isn’t helping either.
She sleepily berates me for arranging it, stating that I was blatantly taking advantage of the fact that they (ie the kids) didn’t complain on our last 10 hour bus trip, only 5 days ago.

Luckily the boat is surprisingly comfortable with working toilets and 3 deck levels with indoor and outdoor seating and only a handful of other passengers because at $40 a ticket the super budget travelers and the locals opt for the bus ($7), whereas the high-end tourists take a flight. The views of the landscape as the sun rose were spectacular and continues to be as we pass villages, mist covered pagodas, and exotic fishing boats.

Honestly normally we don’t plan so many big travel days so close together. We enjoy finding a place to hunker down for a week or two but sometimes finding a place we want to stay at for awhile isn’t always easy. It can’t normally be determined from simply reading a guide book. Getting advice from fellow travelers is sometimes more helpful but each person, couple, or family has different ideas of what merits a longer stay. Its more of a feeling or simply one personal connection that makes a place click.

When traveling in a country like Myanmar, with its limited infrastructure, on a budget there is simply no way of getting around long travel days as moving from one place to another via ground is just long. We have been running around too much lately and I am feeling worn down and crazy.

It is not helped by things like Zuki actually biting Yoda earlier in a disagreement below decks or the argument that interrupted me just now regarding how many apples each kid already ate and who gets to eat the last one.

I am suppose to be sitting here writing about our time living with the Massai in Kenya at Christmas.

It falls in the arena of one of the “highlight of our trip”. We loved it. There are wonderful stories and pictures to be shared. If only I could just pause this trip I would have the leisure to present it properly.

We watched National Geographic during our down time at our “splurge” hotel since we haven’t seen a English playing TV in months. There was a show which features an ex-guardian angel rider taking couples out into the wilderness for intense experiences to bring to light relationship problems so that they may be addressed. This morning amidst the arguing, sicknesses, general difficulty it dawned on me that our trip is remarkably like that “intense wilderness experience” for our family, but we don’t have a guide. On the positive side I think we have worked through a lot in the last 7 months, and there are definite periods of being-in-the-grove right before another bump or mountain.

And maybe that is it.
Maybe it is as simple as that.

Currently traveling deep in Buddhist country, surrounded by images of that serene face of Buddha, it clicks.

Life is suffering, continual ups and downs created by our attachments. Those hills and valleys are not going to go away but perhaps I can learn to be less affected by it all.

Coming soon (hopefully) Blog post: “Life with the Maasai”

Author's note: (This was actually written 3 weeks ago but due to poor WiFi I am just posting it now)

KENYA: GAME DRIVES WITH THE SAMBURU

Tue, 30 Dec 2014 14:50:11 GMT

Closely surrounded by a large herd of elephants, our family and two Samburu guides sit silently awed in our parked open-sided safari vehicle.

With just the slightest bit of imagination, one can envision oneself a part of the herd. We are in very close proximity to these gracious, enormous animals. They are fully aware of our presence but are not spoked since the Samburu guides leading us can understand many of their actions and noises and act accordingly, making the elephants completely comfortable with our being there.

One elephant slowly and completely scratches his neck and trunk against a large tree branch. In the silence we hear the rough sound of his skin rubbing along the bark and clearly see his contentment.

Between the legs of the adults we spot a baby elephant peaking out, acting remarkably similar to a human child, playfully pulling on tails, twisting his trunk to rest on his siblings, and finding ways to squeeze in the tight spots between his relatives.

One elephant, only 5 feet from us, looks directly at us and lifts her trunk, scanning the air, gathering information about us. We sit perfectly still. I wonder what information she obtains? Probably a lot considering Zuki has been wearing the same outfit for a week.

Uncontrollable muffled giggles escape from the kids, when one neighboring elephant pees, which in actuality is more like a water main break than a pee, as an elephant can urinate about 42 gallons in one go!

There is a lot of ear flapping. Trunks continually pull down leaves, bringing food to their mouths. They use their front feet to kick and loosen the grass, which they eat. With their trunks they throw mud or dirt all over their body as a form of sun protection, which gives the Samburu elephants a distinct reddish brown color. And in the middle of it all we feel like the luckiest people on Earth. This is what dreams are made of. I have loved Elephants forever and being this close to such friendly elephants in their natural habitat is simply an astounding experience.

Remarkably the amazing experience continues even after the game drives. We really scored with our choice in camps, which can be totally attributed to my good college buddy, Jake Norton, who from his own experience at the camp told us we simply had to go to Elephant Watch Camp in Samburu National Reserve . With his letter of introduction to the Douglas-Hamilton family, who are famous for their elephant conservation work and run the luxury camp, we were offered a great friend-of-friend-low-season rate, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity we couldn't pass up.

Elephant Watch Camp is a beautiful luxurious Eco camp designed to allow the guest privacy and comfort while living in the truly wild African bush.

The tents are beautifully decorated and hung under thatched roofs with mud walls semi-enclosing the tent and the private open-air bathrooms. Warm water is filled into the buckets in the bathroom to create a eco-freindly yet luxurious safari shower.-

The camp has a beautiful location along the river. Originally the kids had one tent and adults a second tent but the stories of wild cats and elephants wandering through camp combined with the unusual animal noises surrounding us, the kids felt more comfortable with one adult/one child tents. One elephant is known to sleep right on the side of the path between our two tents. Anytime we needed to walk to or from our tent in the dark a Samburu warrior magically appeared to protect us should we need it. We did see a serval cat, elephants, and velvet monkeys wandering free in the camp during our stay.

Elephants from the lunch table.

We were the only guests and immensely enjoyed our time with the lovely Saba Douglas-Hamilton and her 3 beautiful children. Saba had an exotic life growing up in East Africa and we sat engrossed over dinner as she shared incredible stories of her childhood. I loved hearing her girls speaking to each other in Swahili and switching effortlessly to English when playing with Zuki and Yoda. What a wonderful childhood to grow up in Kenya learning from the Samburu in such a naturally beautiful environment.

Most employees are from the local Samburu villages. Samburu are a Nilotic people of north-central Kenya that are related to but distinct from the Maasai. The guides with their training as nature guides and personal experiences as Samburu, are a wealth of information and a pleasure to be with.

Our fearless and fun Samburu guides.

Traditional Samburu huts made of sticks, mud, elephant dung, and scrap cloth or plastic.

And as if herds of elephants weren't enough, there are a lot of other amazing animals around Samburu reserve. It was funny as the days past how we got so accustomed to seeing zebras and giraffes and the kids got apt at identifying animals like water buck, dik-dik, impala, and oryx, which embarrassingly enough, we had never even heard of before arriving in Kenya.

Our last night celebration was one of those events that is so exotic, so powerful, and so full of positive energy that you know at the time that it is a "memory in the making." We hiked up with a group of Samburu tribespeople, one with a gun just incase we needed to scare away any wild animals, about an hour to a small hill will a beautiful view of the undeveloped reserve.

A fire was started from dried elephant dung and two sticks, one of which is rotated quickly between your hands making it "dig" a little hole in the second piece of wood, laid on the ground. The point of intersection of the sticks is where the first embers are created and then passed onto the shredded elephant dung to feed the flame.

With the fire roaring, the Samburu chanting and dancing started in full force and of course we joined in. Our high-jumps looked ridiculously tiny compared to the warriors, but we had a blast. The chants are so deep they penetrate into your body and the repetitive nature allows for easy participation.

The sun set and in the darkness we all loaded into the safari vehicle. The 20 minute ride down to camp in the darkness, squeezed all together, chanting as one was completely spontaneous and simply exhilarating.

Our time at Elephant Watch Camp was a highlight experience of my life. Yup, not just this world trip but of my life, and I have been a bit of an exotic-travel junkie in the past. We were truly lucky that everything aligned and we were able to stay at Elephant Watch for a magical 3 nights. It has been the case numerous times on this trip and I am now a firm believer in things happening when you relax, open your mind, and let the universe guide you a bit .

Zanzibar: Barefoot Adventures

Sun, 28 Dec 2014 12:04:07 GMT

Zanzibar island in Tanzania, was not on my radar when initially thinking of our time in East Africa. Kenya, the quintessential image of Safari Africa, was slotted for the month of December, following our customary pattern of spending about a month per country, our magic time frame for acquiring a feel for a place. Because I knew a considerable percentage of our time and monster portion of our budget was going towards safari and that Christmas is considered high season almost everywhere, I began attempting to plan Kenya in November while still traveling in Morocco. Weak internet, the lack of a Kenyan guide book, and honestly not a clue about East Africa, I was becoming overwhelmed just as I received an email from a friend gushing with rave reviews of her recent multi-family trip to the island of Zanzibar. And as simple as that, a little inestinguishable light was lit. A quick google search of "images of Zanzibar" secured a spot for this white sand island in the Indian Ocean on our itinerary.

The famous rock restaurant.

I was suffering from sticker shock as I continued to plan the East African leg of our trip. Both Kenya and Zanzibar were proving shockingly expensive for midrange accommodations which we felt were suitable for our family's first trip to East Africa. Luckily the beginning of December is actually low season so after a few emails and recommendations we were able to find some accommodations in Zanzibar that would work close to our initial budget.

As I knew our 3 flights, Morocco to Istanbul, then on to Nairobi, and finally to Zanzibar, would leave us exhausted, we opted to stay close to the airport in Stone Town the first 2 nights of our 10 night stay in Zanzibar. (We got a last minute deal for a cute quad room with 3 mosquito netted beds and attached bath at Warere Town House) We literally slept all afternoon the first day, which was a first in our 6 months of travel. Luckily we still had 2 nights and a day to explore this unique Swahili costal town that was once the main slave trading ports for East Africa.

We welcomed the change in diet from our one-too-many tajines in Morocco and enjoyed lovely curries and local fish. We passed up the popular tourist tours (the spice tour, Stone Town tour, and various snorkel day trips) which although sounding interesting, seemed a bit too much for our travel-tired minds and bodies. We opted to explore on our own, slowly enjoying our markedly new surroundings. Everything was a feast for our senses, including the increadible heat and humidity.

Although I am sure there was much more to explore in and around town, we were soon ready for the more isolated areas of the surprisingly large island. A one hour taxi ride brought us to the relatively new, 9 villa, boutique resort, Indigo Beach, located in a small community called Bwejuu on the south-east coast, voted by Conde Nast Traveler as one of the top 10 beaches in the world! Because of the low season we were offered the East African Resident Rate ($130/nt for 2 adults/2kids) enabling us to book a 8 night stay in a two bedroom villa.

Upon our arrival, the striking azure roofs of the villas against the whitest-of-white sands was breathtaking; the simple yet comfortable decor, perfect. Our private villa, located just a few feet from the stunning pool, has its own little sand garden area, one large Swahili Barraza (lounge with two daybeds) for relaxing, two bedrooms, and a fun open air outside bathroom. We were thrilled. "Best booking ever mom!", said Yoda.

Anyone following this blog knows that this villa is unlike anywhere we have stayed so far on this trip. We took full advantage of it and really relaxed, caught up on school work, limited iPad time, played multiple times a day in the pool, and let free-time rule. The kids made a great friend with the temporary manager's six year old child and a few other families who passed through during our stay. The countless hours of childhood play were cherished by all.

The kids with their friend and snapper for our family's dinner.

Playing after dinner in the bar area

Maasai Warriors originally from mainland Africa, known for their fearlessness in fighting off lions, are often hired by resorts as guards. It was very reassuring seeing the warriors, armed with their red leather seethed swords and rungu, a wooden throwing club, patrolling the property. Although perfectly safe during the day, we were told not to venture down the beach after dark as muggings of tourists had occurred.

When we ventured off the property we were immediately immersed in the local community going about their daily lives and the sites were stunning.

The huge tidal changes in this part of Africa are renowned. Although I have read reviews of tourists complaining about the inability to swim in the ocean for such a large part of the day, I found I enjoyed the low tides the best because the locals come out in droves. Luckily, the inability to swim in the ocean was balanced out by the fact that we had a beautiful pool to cool off in.

Women collected seaweed, which I was told was used for the making of cosmetics, boys fished, and everyone seemed to be catching octopus, which was beaten repeatedly to make is soft for eating, a technique I had never seen before.

Women dug up coconut husks, which they had buried previously to be softened by the sand and salt water, which allowed the husks to be pulled apart in order to make rope.

The sheer number of shells on the beach was amazing.

Although there were a lot of dangerous urchins on the sea floor, we carefully ventured out in our bare feet to explore the marine life in the tide pools.

Brittle star on Zuki's hennaed hand.

We were often greeted by kids, armed with the typical english phrases, "what's your name?, where are you from?, how old are you?" but markedly absent was any plea for money or desire to sell us something, which was refreshing after Morocco and made the short exchanges dear to my heart.

But not all the excitement was at low tide. The much anticipated high tide, which enabled easy swimming, was pure fun.

Normally we are a snorkel loving family but because of the tide changes and our location we weren't able to simple snorkel of the beach, so even though our budget was stretched, we opted to take the simple snorkel boat trip to check out the reef. We were quite hesitant because we hold rather high expectations when it comes to coral reefs given that both of us have explored many of the world's ocean in our "previous pre-kid" lives. Luckily the little coral garden didn't disappoint. Although the visibility was not great, which must be common due to the drastic tide changes, it was so wonderful to snorkel on a healthy reef, with high coral coverage and fish variety. We were able to show the kids a wide variety of markedly different shaped coral, giant clams, clown fish living in anemones, soft corals, and more.

But often times the best experiences happen when just "doing nothing". Kiko, often "tired of relaxing", would go down to the beach and see what was going on and ended up befriending a few Maasai Warriors. We all sat and chatted one afternoon; I was so intrigued by their culture and and they answered many of my questions. Kiko taught them some Spanish, which they picked up quickly. Before we knew it were we being taught the Maasai jump, which appears to be more of an act of levitation.

But the best was the Hawaii vs Maasai football match; a great time was had by all.

Indigo's beach website says, "barefoot- this is how you will spend your holiday" and we certainly did and loved it.

As we handed our boarding tickets to the airline agent at the door for our flight to Kenya I looked down to see Yoda's bare feet. "Whoops", was his simple response when I pointed out his missing shoes. Luckily he was able to quickly run back to where we had been sitting in the waiting room to retrieve his slippers before crossing the tarmac to our plane to take us to our next adventure.

A Photo Journal: 4 cities

Thu, 11 Dec 2014 14:05:45 GMT

From my current vantage point of my villa in Zanzibar, Tanzania, it's a bit of a struggle to recall all the details of the last ten days of our visit to Morocco and the 24 hour stopover in Itstabul, Turkey.

Current location: Beaches of Zanzibar

With my toes covered in the powdery white sand, and images of kids frolicking in the Indian Ocean filling my mind, its tempting to just skip a bit of this journal blog.. just Be-In-The-Now. Insistently, our story calls me to keep a complete account.

But I can allow the sea breeze to persuade me to keep the prose short and stick to a more visual presentation.

Over a two week period we we visited four distinct cities, most of which would appear on a great number of travelers' bucket lists; Marrakech, Casablanca, Istanbul and the lesser known but equally intriguing, Essaouira on the coast of Morocco.

Marrakech, Morocco

Marrakech, with it's famously persistent salesmen, pickpockets, and con artists, tends to wear down the traveler. With that in mind we only booked a 4 night stay. Luckily Marrakech, also has it's beautiful side, the elaborate souks, amazing architecture, a variety of good restaurants, and of course the heart of ancient city, the famous Jemma el Fna, a large open space which fills, as night falls, with snake charmers, monkey performers, story tellers, food stalls, acrobats, fortune tellers, musicians, and more.

Eating at a cafe overlooking Jemma el Fna.

Zuki enjoying having a snake around her neck.

Koutoubia Minaret, on the South West of the Jemma.

The bustle of the Jemma at night, where lively food stalls fill the air with savory aromas and excitement, is captivating.

Always busy with the local crowd, stall #31

Street Food:Loving the quick food and great people watching in the Jemma.

Playing the bottle fishing game in the Jemma

North of the square are the souks, where hundreds of alleyways are chock full of all sorts of beautifully displayed wares for sale. We wandered for hours. Morocco, with it's wide range of handicrafts, including leather bags, shoes, jewelry, beads, antiques, lanterns, housewares, and of course carpets, was really the first place I was tempted to send a bunch of "stuff" home. My constant refrain, "Keep life simple" helped me, but oh I enjoyed looking.

Spices fresh from Morocco

Maintaining our tradition in Morocco, we rented a private Dar (apartment with courtyard) for our 4 nights in Marrakech. It was super cute and in a great location, 10 minute walk to Jemma el Fna, which was immensely helpful for finding our way home.

Lovely touches of Moroccan Decor

Our Kitchen and courtyard

Upstairs living area

View from our bed to the date palm in the courtyard

The four days allotted was the perfect amount of time in Marrakech.

Essaouira, Morocco

Upon our first wanderings through the old medina of this costal town, I was enchanted. I had heard about traveler's tales of laid back Essaouira, but it wasn't until I saw the beautiful colors, smelled the sea, and heard the calls of the countless seagulls, that I understand its lure. There was such a noticeable lack of hassle after Marrakech that it was almost disarming. The sea seems to define Essaouira, with its blue colors, fresh seafood, and the countless seagulls that fill the sky. We stayed 5 nights and I think we could have happily spent many more. Luckily the rainy weather of the last two days helped ease our departure.

The port

The white washed walls of Essouira.

The town is full of gorgeous cats; everywhere you look. The kids literally counted 173 cats in one afternoon of wanderings.

Such beauty in the combination of architecture and colors.

Argon oil is produced by women all over Morocco, but in Essaouira, we were able to learn about the production and the kids gave it a try.

We were also lucky enough to connect with a great traveling family, who have settled down for 2 months in Essaouria. The kids enjoyed a few playdates, which gave the parents time to exchang travel tales and information. It is refreshing and somehow reassuring meeting up with like minded families.

Casablanca, Morocco

The largest and most European city of Morocco, Casablanca, was made famous in the west by the movie by the same name. Even though the name is one in which its simple utterance conjures exotic images, Casablanca doesn't have a lot to draw tourists. Our flight out of Morocco departed from Casablanca, otherwise we wouldn't have thought to include it in our itinerary.

We had the perfect amount of time between our arrival in the late afternoon, and our departure the following afternoon, to fit in a visit to the Hasssen II mosque, the main draw of the city for most foreign visitors. It is beyond impressive and is the only mosque in Morocco to allow non-muslims inside. It is so large that Peter's Basilica in Rome could fit comfortably inside and the cost of construction is said to be $750 million.

Hassen II Mosque, with the tallest minaret in the world

Istanbul, Turkey

I recently read a quote about Istanbul.

"They say that if you only had a moment to see the world that you should spend those brief seconds looking at Istanbul. During that glimpse of time you will see the past, the present and the future of many different cultures reflected on this city."-- unknown

Hagia Sophia: the church of Divine Wisdom, 6th Century

The Blue Mosque

The ceiling inside the Blue Mosque

Well our "moment" in Istanbul was definitely brief, but that short time was sufficient to give Turkey a definite place on the "countries to return to" list. We would love to discover more about this exotic and attractive country.

As I have said before we are not city people, but surprisingly, we all enjoyed our time spent in these four beautifully different cities.

Road Trip: Morocco

Fri, 05 Dec 2014 14:57:18 GMT

Acknowledging the fact that in general we are more of a rural-loving family rather than a city-thriving group we really wanted to optimize our time in the remote areas of Morocco between the must-visit cities of Fez and Marrakech. A tour was really out of the question, price and freedom wise, and a good friend had informed us that he had no problem renting a car and driving himself when he visited a few year prior. So we opted to rent a car in Fez ($34/day) and take 2 weeks to explore before dropping it off upon entering Marrakech. I did read something to the effect that Morocco has one of the highest rates of car accidents in the world but really is it any more dangerous for Kiko to be driving than a hired driver? At least with Kiko driving, we were the ones deciding the speed and risks we were willing to take when passing.

Armed with the recommended Michelin map of Morocco and our handy google maps on our phones we headed south out of Fez towards the Sahara. After a little adjustment as far as timing of pedestrians, bikers, and mules crossing the road, and getting accustomed to the fact that drivers tend to pass at times that seem totally inopportune, Kiko was soon driving with confidence. We loved the freedom and the changing landscapes were truly breathtaking.

One of the secrets to making our long car rides enjoyable for all, has been books on tape. Funny right?, but it keeps us entertained and all eyes available to check out the ever changing scenes out the windows. The best is when we are able to access free downloads from our home library, which pertain to our current travel. We learned about the life of Da Vinci in Italy, and listened to Arabian Nights in Morocco.

We split up the 7 1/2 hr drive down to Merzouga, near the Algerian border, into two days so that we could arrive early enough to be able to catch our camel ride to our arranged camp in the desert.

A rest stop in the Cedar Forests to check out the Barbary Apes.

This part of our trip had been much anticipated. Even though it was a week early, a camel trek in the Sahara was Yoda’s 7th birthday present. Who is going to forget that birthday?

There are a lot of desert camel tours available from Merzouga but I did my research online and found the best for our price range. Ali and Sara’s Desert Palace is run by a super friendly English woman and her Berber husband. What a team, with her attention to detail and service and his knowledge of the desert environment they can’t be beat. It is a small and personable operation. I was thrilled upon our arrival to meet Sara after exchanging emails the previous week. A sand storm had just passed, actually while we were driving, so we enjoyed some Moroccan mint tea and discussed whether the weather would allow us to set off on the 1.5hr long camel trek to camp.

The end of the sand storm.

Luckily the wind and rain died down because the kids were pumped to get going. With our turbans wrapped, we set off, just the four of us and a “blue man”, named after the indigo turban traditionally worn by the nomadic men of the Sahara, leading the camels.

I recalled talking as a family while still on Kauai about where we would spend each person’s birthday around the world and to actually be on a camel in the Sahara was quite unreal.

Birthday boy, getting comfortable.

We passed some very simple camps and I heard the kids say, “Hope that’s not our camp.”. Although I replied, “Hey guys, we’re here for the desert experience, not the camp,” in my mind I was in agreement with them. The camps we passed just didn’t look very welcoming and we were signed up for a 2 night stay. The ride was beautiful as we got deeper into the desert. The color of the sand is a remarkable golden pink.

As expected, camel aren’t that comfortable to ride on. The camels of Northern Africa have one hump and the saddle, comprised of a pile of blankets, goes on top of the single mound. About an hour in Yoda asked, How long did they say it would take?” Classic. I don’t think he could hack the 52 day trip to Timbuktu.

Upon arrival the kids told me multiple times how great I did choosing camps, ah..such welcomed words to the ears of the continual planner of this trip. Our desert camp was somehow the perfect mix of comfort (each tent had a designated spotlessly clean bathroom with hot water shower!) and simple desert style, with common area tents piled with pillows and hammocks scattered around camp, which enhanced the whole experience.

Soon after arrival, the jaw dropping scene of the camels being led away to relax, and the rainbow shooting out of the desert convinced me that I was dreaming.

We loved every minute in the desert. While I enjoyed the various relaxing areas reading a book, The Story Teller of Marrakech, the kids borrowed some simple sand boards and hit the dunes.

The dinners were 3 course affairs illustrating the renowned Moroccan hospitality. It is surprisingly cold in the desert in November so, as we were the only guests the the first night, we ate in a beautiful tent all to ourselves. We were treated to some homegrown desert music afterwards. When the kids got tired we walked to our tents, the sky filled with stars. Surprisingly warm, the two person tents were outfitted with real beds toped with comfortable sheets and duvets. It was a great treat for the kids to have their own tent.

In the morning we got up at 6 am to be sure to catch the sunrise over the dunes. It was chilly but the tea and coffee served up at our table on the dune sure helped. The morning light was spectacular.

After breakfast we got ready for a 1/2 day 4x4 tour with Ali. We had the opportunity to visit nomadic Berbers (the original inhabitants of Morocco) living in tents and got a glimpse of their life without many modern comforts. Their goats and chickens wandered around their camp freely. There was a special mud oven to cook the bread, a staple food in Morocco, and the tea was made over a fire. It was cold and I had a hard time imagining their daily life. I am not that tough. Ali grew up in a similar family in which he was in charge of the goat herd and hadn't attended school.

The highlight of the tour was just stopping in the middle of the desert and looking for fossils.

Ali knew the spot well from his childhood and quickly discovered a handful of ammonites in a few seconds. It took a little bit to get an eye for it but eventually we were all able to see the fossils amongst the plain rocks. “Ohs” and “Ahs" were cried out across the open desert as one of us would find something good. We didn’t unearth the huge ones like those sold in the local shops, which more often then not are “enhanced” or just plane fake. But there is something about having been able to find these ourselves at the foot of the sahara that make them very special.

A few of Zuki's finds. Her hands still have the henna from Fez.

The fossils and minerals sold on the side of the road

We also stopped in and got a private concert of Gnaoua music, which is a type of Sufi music played by the decedents of slaves brought across the Sahara.. This troupe also tours in Europe. I found it hypnotic, and it is even said if it is played properly it can induce a trance like state, which some believe can get you closer to Allah. The kids had never heard anything like it’s irregular rhythms and looked more stunned then in any "trance like state of mystical ecstasy."

Finishing up our day we stopped by Sara and Ali’s home where they live with his mom and the unmarried sisters. Ali’s family use to be nomadic but this was their first “house” and his family was still getting use to it. We sat on pillows around a low table and enjoyed the traditional welcoming mint tea while chatting with Sara, who is a wealth of information about life in the village. The fact that she came from a society very similar to ours but is now truly immersed in a culture so different on so many levels, was intriguing.

The second night another couple joined us at the camp. The weather cleared, allowing us to eat at tables under the stars. The berber music was even more wonderful the second night as we circled around the open fire. That night will remain in my mind as a moment of perfection, when everything just clicked and I was mindful enough to savor it. Yoda had joined the band seamlessly while Zuki, at one of the nearby tables, excitedly showed her fossil finds by headlight to Sara, who truly shared her enthusiasm. I was part of the group around the fire but not engaged in conversation or making music, just warmed by the fire and the rhythm, enjoying the unique feeling of solitude while not being alone. The true magnitude of our trip hit me. Moments like that are the highs that soar in the opposite direction of the travel lows that I sometime write about.

After another wonderful breakfast on the second morning we rode the camels back to the town,

Zuki bonding.

where we chose to spend one night in a nearby hotel. We had had plans to go explore the local weekly market but upon our arrival, all of us felt lazy and we simply enjoyed the afternoon in the small hotel.

The next morning we packed up and got ready for another 5 or so hour drive to Dades Gorge. Driving in Morocco is never boring.

We loved passing through all the little towns and the breathtaking ever changing scenery. Dades Gorge, often referred to as The Route of a Thousand Kasbahs, is on a lot of “must see” lists with most people just swinging by for an afternoon or a quick night between Marrakech and the desert. Since as a family we don’t function very well with one night stays, with all the unpacking, packing, and not much time for exploration in between, we opted to stay 3 nights to get in a little hiking and poking around. There are a lot of accommodations in the gorge and it was hard to choose online but the one I picked seemed meant to be. On the first afternoon we had ordered lunch and were waiting on the patio when these two boys about our kids age came hoping up…speaking English. I didn’t even think first, I just asked, “You speak English? Where are you from?” “Texas”, came a cheerful reply. We exchanged a little info and then they bounded away. I looked quickly between Zuki and Yoda…”They speak English, maybe they are staying here!” The buzz between us all was as if we had just met someone famous. I was just as excited as the kids. It had been a few weeks maybe even months since we had even heard kids speaking English.

The two boys came bouncing back up with their parents and all of us were smiles. Info was exchanged at rapid fire pace between parents as the kids disappeared off together to play. Turns out they are traveling around the world for a year or possibly more in the opposite direction as us; we were heading toward Asia while there next destination was South America. We ate lunch all together and then ended up joining them for a little hike across the street with their guide. It was a whirlwind and the kids were crestfallen once they left, as they had only stopped in for lunch and had accommodations arranged further along. Wow, what a great coincidence. The experience made us realize that we would like to seek out more such exchanges with other traveling families.

We enjoyed our relaxed days in Dades area, taking scenic drives and going on little hikes.

A Kashbah

The famous switch backs of Dades Gorge.

Our drive to our next much-anticipated accommodations was only an hour away, a pleasant change to the 4-5 hours we had grown accustomed to. We had rented another home on the global vacation rental website, www.airbnb.com; this time a 3 bedroom house in the palm grove of Skoura, where we would celebrate Yoda’s actual 7th birthday. We didn’t quite know what to expect as there weren’t many pictures online but what was shown could be described as “rustic chic Moroccan oasis style.” The owner upon hearing our story offered us a reduced price and we were able to rent it for a luxurious six nights.

The oasis of Skoura is breathtaking after crossing such arid lands. The large palm grove goes on and on. We followed the directions given to us by the owner…pass a kasbah hotel, cross a dry river bed, up a little hill, where we wait by the mosque, after calling the phone number of Mohammad. I am always so thankful when these directions to the homes/apartments work out. Mohammad, who speaks English and lives in Marrakech, sent his dad, who speaks Arabic (and probably a few other languages but not English) to met us and show us the house. We exchanged “salem” greetings and he opened up the house as the kids ran in to choose their rooms. The house was beautifully simple and extremely comfortable. The view out the front was otherworldly, as the layers of desert, palmery, mountains, and snow, created a beautiful scene.

View of the palm grove from our front porch.

As I stood on the patio the call to prayer began, first from one mosque and then from another in the opposite direction a few seconds later. Wow, I got chicken skin and felt so lucky to be in such a very unique place.

Somehow, with super slow internet, no pool, and no TV, the kids still repeatedly thanked me for a great “birthday house”. Maybe the same serenity that appealed to me also appealed to them? I didn’t want to question it too much; it just put a smile on my face.

There were no restaurants nearby so we had to stock up the house with everything. The markets in Morocoo are a wonderful experience. Because the farms have remained small scale almost all produce is organic here in Morocco and the meat naturally free-range. Although tourists pass through Skoura, I got the impression not many stock up on food so we weren’t over-charged for items as sometimes happens in areas more accustomed to foreigners. The people watching was a delight as we walked around looking for whatever we fancied to eat.

Purchasing meat was quite an experience as well. We actually chose our chicken live and the butcher went in the back to prepare it for us. He definitely chuckled a little when I made hand motions of plucking to ensure that the de-feathering was included the in the $4.50 price. The chicken was still warm when we brought it home. The steak was simply carved off the large hanging slab by the butcher depending on what cut you asked for. We don’t know French or Arabic so we stuck with “beefsteak”, which got us a nice cut of meat. They even put it through a grinder right there if you wanted ground beef.

Without many structured activities for tourists, we puttered here and there and the days in Skoura flew by. We spent some time just walking in the palm grove and admiring the daily oasis life. Groups of people would be working together hitting down and collecting the olives. There were men plowing the fields with donkeys and kids entertaining themselves as their parents worked. The intricate irrigation system was both esthetically beautiful as well as an incredible bit of engineering.

We visited some nearby beautiful Kasbahs (fortified villages made of mud-clay pise, at least in part dating back to the 17th & 18th century and said to be an indigenous Berber development) Even though they dot the entire southern area of Morocco they continued to amaze me.

Occasionally the local caretakers would come by the house to check on us. Although we did not share a common language among us, somehow we communicated, which never ceases to amaze me. The wife, Aisha, would be one big smile and come and pat or squeeze the kids a little every visit. In the late afternoon, the husband would come by and light us a glorious fire in our living room.

On the last full day we celebrated Yoda’s birthday. The kids have come to understand that birthdays on this trip are not about physical presents (as we can’t carry much with us) but more about the experiences we create. For weeks leading up to his birthday, Yoda continually went over with us how his day was going to play out. He would wake up and their would be decorations and cards that we would have all secretly made for him. We would eat breakfast and then open his presents and play with them. Then after lunch there would be cake and for dinner there would be pasta. The newest detail included in the rather descriptive summary was added upon the discovery that there was a stereo and a pile of CD’s at the house. There was also to be a dance party.

Ok well, that all seemed pretty clear so we followed his wishes to the best of our ability with what was available. Thank goodness we had had the foresight to purchase a boxed gluten free cake mix on our last day in Spain, as finding any ingredients to make a gluten free cake from scratch in Morocco would have been very difficult. We had also found a toy store and purchased a few small toys to be wrapped up as Yoda had really been missing having little characters with which to play out scenes with like he use to at home. Decorations were proving hard to come by and we were beginning to think we would need to string up toilet paper but luckily on one of the last days Zuki spotted a bag of balloons and we stealthy purchased them.

Yoda was truly surprised with the decorations and the day played out as he had hoped. We enjoyed the lovely cake and the pasta, (some rice noodles we had found a a little shop by chance) and the dance party, which consisted of just the four of us showing our moves, which was hysterical. The Skoura house will forever be referred to as ,“Yoda’s birthday house.”

The day of our planned departure the weather had turned dark and cold. We were already dreading leaving and the gloom did not help. I had been a little apprehensive about the drive to Marrakech, knowing that it entailed a high mountain pass with major switch backs and is listed on the “dangerous roads” website. There was also the possibility that it could be closed due to snow or still yet not closed and slippery with snow. We were advised it is normally a 5 hour drive. We left at 8:30 to ensure we had enough time for a break or two and still make our 3pm pickup up at the Avis car return.

It was raining the entire time but not like “downpour kauai style”, just continual moderate rain. The clouds were actually black. It seemed cold enough for it to be snowing up in the mountains.

We asked along the route the best we could, even pulling out our “point it” travel book that has everything you could ever want to discuss in picture form to help with language barriers. The men at the fruit stand insisted no snow as we pointed to the picture of snow falling. “Route ok?” “Oui, Oui” but it was the hand motion that had me worried, as he held out his hand flat and oscillated it back and forth. I know hand motions vary wildly by culture but for me that clearly meant, “kinda ok.” We proceeded but not with confidence. Soon after a truck coming the other way stopped in the middle of the road and a man got out to talk to us. We eagerly looked at him for information but when he saw we were foreigners and we didn’t speak his language he politely backed away, bowing in apology. “Wait! Route to Marrakech ok?”, but we received no answer. Ok well that sure didn’t help.

We proceeded with caution. In a few minutes we had an idea what the man had wanted. There was a pretty horrible accident around the bend. Two trucks had collided smashing a minivan in the middle. There was a man with blood on his face. Maybe the truck driver had wanted help from us in some way but by the time we had arrived there was a group gathered.

We started noting that there was some recent rock fall along the road and in some areas there was a thin layer of water across the road created from the water cascading down the hillsides around us. It was beautiful and I was sure, a bit unusual, because none of the many photos of the area that I had seen had shown the dozens of waterfalls ever present around us.

It became more clear how unusual the weather was as we saw groups of local men gathered around the rivers that had turned into chocolate brown gushers.

We came upon one area where the road had a few inches of water running across it. We stopped and rolled down our window to ask one of the gathered men “Route to Marrakech ok?” “Oui, Oui.” with a smile was the response. Other similar cars were driving across the water towards us so we proceeded. We offered the iPads to the kids in an effort to advert their attention from our situation. I mentioned the idea to Kiko that if it got too bad we could stop and stay the night at a hotel. Googles maps on my iphone told me where we were but didn’t have 3G to look up any news or info.

We crossed a few more flooded areas but nothing we weren’t positive we could get through. We noted areas of the road washed away from the adjacent river undermining it. Things seemed pretty bad but we hadn’t seen any where to safely stop for the night. There were not any real towns up there and we couldn’t remember the last hotel or restaurant we had seen.

Then we saw the low lying bridge ahead with vehicles stopped on either side of it. Unlike the previous areas we had already passed though, this water was actually rushing with considerable force across the road over a 40’ stretch. We pulled over and watched it as well. Sometimes the water seemed deeper and stronger, sometimes large branches came crashing past. We watched with interest as some vehicles choose to cross, buses, trucks and of the most interest to us, little cars about our size. The water came up to the bottom of the door on the cars. I worried about both the depth of the water with the functioning of the engine but mostly about the force of the water sweeping us away.

We waited. We talked as best we could with the other people waiting. We watched. We had discussions that we never wanted to have; like whether it is safer to have the windows open and seat belts unlatched when driving across water that has the potential to sweep the car into the rushing river. The idea of simply turning back wasn't an option as we were sure the areas we had already crossed had become significantly worse. But we didn’t know what lay ahead of us. God I wanted Google on my phone to be working. I wanted to talk to my dad for advice.

Zuki was fully aware of the situation and was scared and full of questions. My only response was to sooth her, “we aren’t going to do anything to put ourselves in danger,” but I was not sure of the actual safest option. Finally after waiting for about 1/2 hour and watching a number of small cars drive safely through we just decided we would make it and we went for it. We drove exactly where the other cars had driven and I held my breath and actually prayed. When we crossed to dry land Kiko offered a high five, which I half heartedly preformed, as tears brimmed my eyes. Oh Thank God.

Although there were no more flooded road crossings, the rest of the drive continued to be nerve racking and we saw another two accidents, one in which involved numerous motorcycles with multiple unmoving people laying on the street. At one point I heard Zuki say from the back, “oh this is so scary!” And I thought, "oh gosh, this is too much for her", but when I looked back at her I was uncharacteristically relived to see that she was referring to her game on her device rather then our immediate surroundings.

The infamous Tizi n’ Tichka pass which the guide book described as “pulse-racing series of switchbacks” seemed like nothing compared to the stress-inducing driving we had already been through. Finally when we were 1/2 hour from Marrakech we allowed ourselves to stop for a very late lunch. We both agreed we were thrilled that that was our last day, rather then our first, of our car rental in Morocco.

It wasn’t until a day later that we started to see the coverage on TV and internet news,

33 had died, another 12 people were missing,

and over 200 rescues made....

and we realized just how truly lucky we had been.