I’m not always sure Alan knows how beloved a parent he is. Below are just a few of the many reasons.

1. I never had to choose between my “two dads” 

My good-looking parents

As a child, I always felt torn between the love I had for my biological over my step-dad. I understand as an adult that it was an issue of guilt: I never wanted one of my “dads” to feel slighted.

I believe Alan dealt with this issue with an enormous amount of grace and understanding. I don’t believe for a second, however, that it was easy. I was an unruly, out-spoken teenager who believed any and all authority figures were sent only to torment me. My step-dad got the brunt of my teen-anger while I considered my largely out-of-the-picture biological father to be some sort of wronged martyr. It was very easy to side with my “real” dad, who didn’t handle any of the discipline and other day-to-day crap. Because I was an independent little thing, I often vilified my step-dad; it was easier than admitting I was wrong and didn’t yet know how to take care of myself.

To Alan’s credit, he never once said a word about my teenage alliances, although I imagine it must’ve been very difficult and at times, utterly painful. It’s only today that I recognize the enormous amount of strength this took. Alan, if you’re reading, you are my “real” dad even more than if you had contributed to my DNA.

2. He raised me as his own and taught me how a “real man” takes care of his family

From Day 1 of my parents’ marriage, Alan contributed financially and emotionally to our family. He helped put food on the table, pay for various sporting activities and music lessons and classes, and even helped pay for my brother’s wedding and my higher education.

More important than Alan’s financial contribution, however, was the time he gave to me. Both he and my mom worked (and still work!) full-time. Yet he showed up for nearly all of my gymnastics meets and orchestra performances. He cheered at the sidelines of my brother’s soccer games. When, on a family vacation, I got a terrible sunburn because I was too stubborn to wear sun lotion, it was Alan who sat indoors with me for an entire day playing board games while the rest of our family went to the beach. It was also Alan who patiently taught me my multiplication tables, assisted me (again and again) with algebra, and helped me memorize history facts for various tests.

Alan’s contribution of time hasn’t lessened as I’ve grown older. He’s driven many times the six hours from his home to mine in New York to visit with me and my daughter. He’s taken my kid for weeks at a time to summer camp, helped me move between states, and attended events that are special to me and the kiddo.

Also, because my daughter’s father is absent and doesn’t pay child support, Alan has given even more of his time and resources towards ensuring my small family feels loved and supported. He has (along with my mom) picked up the ball my kid’s father dropped, and has helped shower my girl with love.

Being a parent is the best way to understand how difficult it is to be, well, a parent. Being a single parent makes the absence of a partner- even one who assists even financially- even clearer. My step-dad never said anything bad about my biological father’s inability to parent. He let me figure it out for myself. Over the years, at times when I was the most upset over my kid’s father being a total non-parent, it’s been very difficult not to bitch about him. Neither of my parents have ever said a bad word about my daughter’s father (at least, not so that she might overhear).

My parents’ discretion has taught me to keep my mouth shut. My kid is figuring out on her own the weaknesses of men, and all without negative comments and stories. More importantly, she’s learning from my stepfather that a strong man takes care of his family even when the going gets rough.

3. I have a “forever” dad

It took me a long time to realize that there are many different sorts of parents. There are the ones who are there part-time (or “no”-time), and those who are there for the long-haul. I hope that Alan knows that while it took me a long time to appreciate the power of endurance, as an adult, the fact that he has always been there (and always will be there) is one that will always be appreciated. If I have taken for granted the fact that Alan has always been there for me, it’s only because he’s never NOT been there for me. Since the day Alan married my mom (and even before), I’ve had a “forever” dad. This is, alongside having a devoted mom and wonderful daughter, one of the biggest gifts I’ve ever received.

4. Why I, as an agnostic, am so thankful to have God in my life (lessons in tolerance) 

Alan checking out a chameleon with my daughter

My step-dad is an American Baptist minister. He is driven by his love for God. I, however, am firmly agnostic. Growing up, I bitched and moaned about having to go to church every Sunday. But wow- what a great foundation I was given. I learned not only about Christian beliefs, but I was exposed to people who had all sorts of faiths. I was loved by people who- backed by their love of God- loved me, too.

Unlike the typically closed-minded Southern Baptists, in my stepfather’s American Baptist religion he is what’s called ‘Welcoming and Affirming’, which means he performs gay marriages. He believes in love between ALL people, of all creeds, colors, genders and sexual orientations. He is very active in social justice programs, helping young people who have committed crimes in his community as well as the people who have had crimes committed against them to come up with healthy solutions to problems. He is, in sum, my idea of what a true Christian should be. He practices what the real Jesus would’ve practiced: “Do unto others…”

I think Alan sees the good in people, whether or not they are Christian. I imagine that while it would be lovely to see me also be a Christian, the fact that I am still questioning my spirituality and beliefs is a testament that my step-dad has allowed me one of the tenants of his Baptist religion: the freedom of religion. I am thankful for having been raised in a church by a loving community, for having a parent who believes in God, and for being allowed to explore my own faith (or lack of) without repercussion. This is, I’ve learned, a rare gift for a religious parent to bestow upon his child. It’s one that has helped me to be tolerant of people of all religious AND non-religious persuasions.

4. For better or for worse, my step-dad taught me to be a free-thinker

My step-dad and I argued like cats and dogs when I was a teenager. Heck, we still argue like cats and dogs. I am thankful for this. He helped raise me to always question people when I think they’re wrong (even if I thought he was wrong!), and to stand up for my convictions. I am an idea-driven person. I know I get this from Alan. I’ve heard that blood is thicker than water, but that’s just plain stupid, as there is no one else on the planet besides my step-dad from whom I inherited tenacity. I know we drive each other crazy for being the sort of people who stubbornly become attached to our ideas, yet I wouldn’t have it any other way. Alan taught me how to stand on my own two feet.

5. For better or for worse, my step-dad also taught me to let others be free-thinkers

Alan also taught me how to stand down and allow other people to make their own choices. When I wanted to go to one of the most expensive colleges in the country for a degree that was sure to not grant me a high income, he supported me in my choice. Indeed, he supported my decision to have a kid when I wasn’t married, and trusted (in that he never told me I was nuts) my decision to homeschool my kid. Sure, over the years Alan has questioned some of my motives for decisions I’ve made. I’ve been glad for his questioning, as his views have often helped me examine my choices from various viewpoints.

A few years ago I worked with inner-city parents in a charter school in Manhattan. I didn’t always agree with the decisions they made for their families, but I knew when to listen, when to be supportive, and when to gently question their motives. As my daughter begins to enter her teen years, the lesson of allowing a person to make her own mistakes is starting to be applied in new and creative ways. By letting me make mistakes while still being supportive, Alan helped show me that I can allow others the same grace. It’s a tough lesson, but one that is particularly important.

6. The power of giving people what they need to feel loved

Alan and my daughter

My step-dad isn’t a touchy-feeling man. Over the years, however, he became a consummate hugger. He greets me with hugs every time I see him, and does the same for my daughter. As a person who relies heavily on hugs to sustain me, I can’t tell him how much I appreciate the innumerable hugs and kisses I’ve been given over the years. These gentle physical expressions have helped make me feel even more loved.

7. Expressing emotions is vital

I am, for lack of better words, an… emotional person. I wear my heart on my sleeve. My step-dad, not so much. Despite our different styles in communicating, Alan’s taught me to always tell people how I feel in a responsible, clear fashion. Once, at a particularly selfish time in my life, he sent me a letter telling me the impression my actions had made on him. I didn’t like to read what he had to say, and if I recall, I didn’t respond. But it made a particular impact, and it truly had me examine my own person. I appreciate that Alan has made an effort to tell me how he’s felt at difficult times, as it has, I believe, helped make me a better, clearer, communicator.

8. He gave me an appreciation for minutia

Me wearing the crown Alan helped me make (and my brother wearing an outfit my aunt, Carol, made)

Scrabble, Boggle, Backgammon… Alan loves them all, and he has spent many an hour learning ‘Q’ words that don’t require a ‘U’; words that begin with ‘Z’, and two-letter words.

I, however, tend to lose concentration during board games mid-way through, and am notorious for backing away slowly from a puzzle. Despite my seeming attention-deficit disorder, I do concentrate on embroidery and other crafts for hours on end, and have even had solo art shows in Brooklyn at which I’ve exhibited (and sold!) some of my embroidered canvases. I believe I can thank Alan for this, as in addition to his gaming, he has always loved arts and crafts.

Who is both the first and last person to leave the Ukrainian Egg-Making table? Alan. Same goes for candy and bread-making. When I was little, it was Alan who spent an evening with me helping to paste “jewels” onto a cardboard crown for Halloween. I truly was transformed into a princess. This past Thanksgiving, Alan sat with my sister-in-law, Leah, to help make holiday-themed napkin holders, and every Christmas he makes elaborately decorated sugar cookies (I won’t talk about what the rest of ours looks like… suffice to say I seem to end up with at least one every year that isn’t a rainbow of colors as much as it is poop-colored).

Alan and my sister-in-law crafting on Thanksgiving

I love that Alan will spend long hours crafting with our family. He has taught me that one is rewarded for concentrating on the little things… Or, in other words, a person can build a mountain using one grain of sand at a time. I think about this lesson often, particularly as I’m writing difficult sections of my books and/or having hard parenting days.

Oh- I might add that Alan contributed to my love of the natural world. The man seriously loves his birds, and his enthusiasm has bubbled into my daughter and my love of the sciences. Good stuff.

8. He let me stand at the edge of a cliff

In a post I wrote about my mom, I mentioned how she let me stand at the edge of cliffs even though she had a fear of heights. Now that I’m a mom, I salute her. My step-dad doesn’t have a fear of heights. He had no problem standing at the edge of a cliff with me, staring down at the river below. Nor did he have any issue with insects. He urged me to examine the world, from the tiniest insect to the most magnificent view. An avid traveler, Alan has visited Costa Rica to help build houses, and Jordan to meet with a prince. I think I owe a part of my wanderlust to him.

When I was a kid my family went on “mystery rides.” Essentially, the whole family jumped into the car and headed off for a day-trip to a state park. They were mini-adventures, and I loved every minute (well, except for when I was an angsty teen).

Now, as an adult and lead-explorer for my family, every time I’m standing at the top of a mountain, I think of Alan and wish he were there. This happened in Iceland, Switzerland and, most recently, a couple of days ago at the very top of Machu Picchu in Peru.

9. He always walks ahead

It’s a joke in my family that Alan is always about twenty paces in front of the rest of us. He whistles as he walks, or rather, strolls, and meanders along as the rest of my quirky family gets our act together. Alan is a do-er. It must sometimes drive him crazy that the rest of us are indecisive, barely even able to decide on a place to eat dinner. So he walks ahead, lost in his own world, waiting, waiting, waiting for the rest of us.

Once, on a 4th of July, my entire extended family was together at the beach. Instead of watching the fireworks, we ended up all giving each other back-rubs. Yep, true story, we MISSED the fireworks because we all wanted to be pet. Alan, however he felt about this, went out alone to the porch to watch the fireworks.

I think it’s a sign of great strength that a person can join a strong-willed family, keep his own personality and not go too nuts when no one around him can get their acts together. That he walks ahead means we won’t starve, as he’ll have always made a reservation at a restaurant on his jaunts.

10. He loves my mom and demonstrates teamwork

My mom is easy to adore. She’s sweet, thoughtful and quite funny. Yet, as I mentioned in the beginning of this post, she came with baggage… I was no saint as a teen. I tried, at times, to pit my parents against each other. It made me feel better, in a weird, twisted way, if people around me shared my angst. Believe me, I didn’t act the way I did intentionally, but I still ended up being a holy terror. I tried my parents’ patience. Indeed, my brother and I nearly sent my mom over the edge. I’m sure having to deal with my biological dad also wasn’t any picnic.

I don’t recall my parents ever raising a voice with each other. In fact, besides raised eyebrows conveying annoyance, I don’t remember them ever fighting. I’m sure there must have been spats; it’s a part of any relationship. The fact that my parents kept their disagreements from me is to both their credit. In my eyes, they ALWAYS moved as a team.

Alan has always been gentle with my mom, and has provided me with a role-model for how a man should treat a woman. I demand no less than respect and love from any man who dares get involved with me, and I think I’m a better mom for ensuring I never get involved with men who would think it’s right to try to have the “upper-hand.”

Alan, Happy Father’s Day. “Stepfather” is just a word, and doesn’t adequately convey the type of parent I think you are. You aren’t a step… You’re the entire staircase! (I know, I know, terrible metaphor, but it fits.) Alan, I think about you more often than you know, and carry you with me everywhere I go. I love you very much, and am so glad to have been blessed with you as one of my parents.

Thanks for reading and please, if you like what you see, follow our adventures and ‘like’ our Facebook page!

A few days ago, we went with our friends from the Mundo Antiguo Spanish School to hike to a few of the sites along some of the ceque pathways. The first that we visited, Tambomachay, is located 8 kilometers up from Cusco at 3,765 meters (12,352 feet) above sea level! We decided to take a cab up, up, up the winding road to this Inca ruin, and then walk the seven or eight miles back down, cutting our own way off the beaten path through farmland and the wilds, hitting up a mess of ceques along the way.

The cab dropped us off at the edge of the path to Tambomachay, where we purchased our Boleto Turistico for 130 soles/$46 (for the kid, 70 soles/$23), which gets us into a number of important Inca sites and museums in the Cusco area. Without this ticket, the cost for entrance into multiple sites would’ve been rather cost prohibitive, so it made sense for us to cough up the soles. Besides, as the ticket is good for only ten days, it really has forced us to make the most of our time, seeing a few interesting places we might’ve otherwise skipped.

Tambomachay, nicknamed both the ‘Inca Baths’ and the ‘Princess Bath’, is a construction consisting of four walls built directly into a hillside. Tambo, the Quechua word meaning place or storage, refers to four trapezoidal niches built into the structure that were probably used for holding offerings in honor of the water that the Inca ingeniously engineered to come pouring through aqueducts built into the face of the structure. Machay, which means rest in Quechua, really conveys how I felt upon seeing this special place: even after an uphill walk past a number of Quechua vendors, we were greeted by the gentle sound of water flowing down the rocks. The aqueducts were built in such a way that the water flows down the front of the structure to a small fount where water was most likely ritualized. Besides the water… Nothing. Silence. Closing my eyes, I could almost imagine people from Inca time bathing in the waters… At least I could imagine that until I realized that the water was probably a very chill 40-45 degrees (colder than the air, as it was flowing from deep within the earth).

Tambomachay was a relaxing first stop on our day-long hike to some of the Inca ceques. Stay tuned to learn about our next stop…  Puka Pukara!

Thanks for reading and please, if you like what you see, follow our adventures and ‘like’ our Facebook page!

Me, sans make-up, on the side of a mountain in Peru, in a dorky hat and wearing a dorky outfit. It doesn’t get any more “real” than this!

“You’re f@*king awesome,” a married girlfriend recently told me. “You prove that you don’t need a man, a house or security.” Convinced that my life was one of independence, freedom and adventure while hers was one of compromise, stagnancy and boredom, she went on to bemoan her failing marriage and mortgage. I mainly listened, although I believe I slipped in a mumbled, “the grass is always greener on the other side.”

It’s no secret that I’m not married, don’t work a normal 9-5, have my homebase in New York, and travel as much as I’m able. I’m viewed by many of my friends as a person who does what I want, when I want to do it. “You’re so lucky,” they tell my kid, who is alternatively educated and is my primary traveling partner.

I get innumerable emails from single parents (mostly moms) and recently separated parents who want to make the transition to homeschooling and/or travel. I give all the positive, ‘you-can-do-it’ advice I can muster. For the record, I mean every word of it. I absolutely believe a person can take charge of her (or his) life. Yet there’s always another side to the story…

I think it’s time to also share the other side of my situation; the dark side, if you will. Because make no mistake: my life isn’t all rainbows and unicorns. It’s really, really difficult, often lonely, and I sometimes wonder why the hell I’m doing what I’m doing. Here are some of my single parent travel realities that might surprise you.

1. Loneliness

I’m a busy woman, which doesn’t leave much room for reflecting on being a single mom. At home, in Bushwick, loneliness is kept at bay by paying bills at midnight, cleaning the bathroom or heading to the store to pick up milk. While traveling, however, the reality of what it means to be a single mom sinks in…

Sure, friends and family are always there, but they don’t share my bed, hug me close in the middle of the night or soothe my insecurities. At the end of an amazing day, with the kid tucked away in her bed, sometimes I hanker to share the gorgeous things I’ve seen. There are times I also yearn for someone with whom to confide my deepest secrets; a person on who’s shoulder I can cry. More than anything, I sometimes want someone there who gets as excited about my kid’s achievements or as upset when she’s sick or is suffering a problem.

Granted, after many years of being alone, I’ve grown a thick skin, but there are moments on the road when the loneliness feels all-encompassing.

In a few years, my daughter will be having her own adventures. Occasionally, while we’re exploring a new country, this fact that she won’t be with me forever hits me like a ton of bricks, and I imagine myself a hermit living in a cave, or wonder if I should cloister myself among the nuns we’ve glimpsed in Spain or Peru. It’s times like this that I try really, really hard not to have a pathetic pity party in which me, myself and I are invited.

2. No Safety Net

The couples I know tend to collect  tangible things to cash in on later in their lives. They own homes, have investments and/or property, and spend years building a future together. Actually, many of the single people who don’t have children do the same sorts of things.

To date, I’ve never collected child support from my kid’s dad (once, about nine years ago, he wrote a check for $200.00, but then told me not to cash it because it might bounce). I’m both mother and bread-winner for my small family of two.

Before becoming a freelancing, homeschooling (for lack of a better word) mom, I spent years handing over half of my income to the nannies who helped raise my kid while I worked long hours to just pay rent. There was nothing left for investments, bank accounts or retirement funds. Yet the possibility to make more money was there. I just had to wait another year or two to get another raise, which would’ve meant I could’ve built a safety net. I was told by friends and family that I was “paying my dues,” that it was “just how it was.”

The day arrived when I had a mini-breakdown. I was not, I decided, on this earth to be miserable and be apart from my daughter. So I dropped the proverbial “ball.” The American Dream didn’t feel like my dream (more about my ideas about the American Dream here and here). A single mother (or father!), after all, is seen as a second rate citizen in the eyes of the government. Single parents (and single people in general) aren’t given the same tax cuts as married couples, and the road to success is one of total luck. I was tired of barely being around to raise my kid, of handing nearly every dollar I earned over to someone else, and disillusioned by working in corporate America or in a school system I believed was broken.

Why try to do everything that two-parent households do if I’m not afforded the same lifestyle, I thought? The day arrived when I said: “fuck it.” I decided to live the way I wanted, which meant developing a business in which I could work from home, be with my kid full-time, and homeschool. As for marriage and becoming a two-parent household, ha! While I love the idea (I’m not fundamentally against marriage), I’d only marry if I was absolutely, 100% in love. The idea of marrying for security or for children makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Where does this leave me? Free! Unfettered! Able to raise my kid how I want without anyone intervening!

Wonderful, yes? Su-u-u-ure… But I’d be kidding myself if I said that my chosen way of life will bring me financial or even emotional security.

I’ve given up a large portion of earnings and security to afford my lifestyle. I don’t regret my choices for a moment, but there are times, late at night, when I cry over not having the material things my coupled-off friends have, and there are occasionally times when I feel bitter over the social stigma against single mothers (which means enormous economic disparity). The worst, however, is the feeling that someday, when I’m old, I won’t have a partner to shoot the shit with, deal with health decisions, and, if need be, advocate for me should I lose my ability to reason. The thought of those burdens being shouldered by my child makes my heart ache. Yet I still choose to be a full-time, freelancing mother because I think it’s more important to be with my kid while she’s young than worry about what will happen to me when I’m old. Who knows what the future will bring. Right now, however, I’m doing everything in my power to be a great mom and stay true to my own person.

3. Wait, there’s only ME to blame?

Oh, there was also that time when I thought it would be a brilliant idea to make my kid walk from our rented apartment in North Lisbon to the Tower of Belem… 10+ miles in 98 degree heat. Brilliant. But I got this photo!

Damn it, I forgot to hang up the soaking laundry, which means I packed wet clothes. I also forgot to deposit a check, which means I ran out of money in Portugal. I didn’t pick up groceries, was too tired to make dinner, and didn’t run to the pharmacy to pick up my kid’s medicine. I neglected to pack enough warm clothes for Cusco, meaning the kid and I have been shivering for nearly a week (as I can’t afford to go buy new sweaters, socks and other warm items). I decided to take the miserable overnight bus from Madrid to Lisbon instead of taking the train, didn’t put sunscreen on one side of my kid’s face, let her eat an entire bag of chocolate because I felt guilty, and then complained when she puked. I got the flu, and, feverish and shivering, let my kid largely fend for herself while we suffered the most disgusting apartment I’ve ever rented in Lisbon. I drank one too many drinks and got us lost on the Metro in Paris (although I pretended the entire time to know exactly where we were). I thought it would be a good idea to hitchhike from Massachusetts to the Hamptons, and made my kid hold up a sign asking for a ride (note: rich assholes don’t pick up hitchhikers on ferries).

Yep, all of these are true stories. And there’s no one to blame for the ridiculousness of any of it except for myself. It sure would be nice, sometimes, if I weren’t the only responsible party. While most of the stories above were minor happenings, there have been times- such as when my kid had a wretched cough in Granada- when I wish there were someone else with whom to share ideas. And then, if a bad decision were made, someone who could help me pick up the pieces. Sure, it’s empowering to ‘go it alone’, but it’s also, on occasion, terrifying.

4. Passports and permissions

My God, where to begin with this one. My kid’s absent father wouldn’t sign for a passport for many years, meaning we were trapped state-side. It took visiting a lawyer to finally get him to agree. The issue of passports and permissions deserves a post all to itself (which I’ll be writing next week). Suffice to say (for now) that this issue has caused me great frustration over the years, and is one that parents making decisions together don’t have to contend with.

5. Cold, hard cash

I’ve given up a great deal of my income in order to raise my kid and stay true to my personal beliefs. I’m not whining. I CHOSE this life. I LOVE it. But it doesn’t make it easy. A single parent who doesn’t take child support (see #2, above) needs to be extra savvy.

So, how do I make it work? To be perfectly honest, there are times I barely scrape by. I’ve literally dug into my bag for change, fed my kid beans and rice for weeks, and not been able to sleep wondering how to come up with rent. I almost had a heart attack last summer in Portugal when I realized I had forgotten to deposit a check (which was on my desk back home in Brooklyn) and only had a few euros in my wallet.

I’m a freelancer, which means feast or famine (OK, never quite ‘feast’, but you get the point). When I decided to drop out of the rat race, I formed my own writing, editing and business development/marketing company. I’ve worked with educational consulting companies, universities, emerging-mid-career writers, done PR work for artists, and consulted fellow bloggers on how to write blog posts. I’ve done all of this not necessarily because I love it, but because I’m damn good at what I do, it puts food on the table, and affords me to stay home to raise and educate my kid.

What would I like to be doing? Well, some of the same. I do enjoy some of my freelance work, particularly challenging projects that have me creating solutions for stressed-out clients. But I’m passionate about writing my own fiction. I spent many years writing my first novel, BOOK OF REVELATIONS, working closely with an amazing editor to make it great. I can’t really discuss the current status of the book except to say there’s a promising opportunity on the horizon… Cross your fingers for me… if I am fortunate enough to sell this book, my financial situation might change dramatically.

I’ve also been completing a work of middle grade fiction called RAINER TAUPE AND THE GREAT GLASS TURBINE. I’ve been working on this book for far too long, but, as it generally is for single moms who need to put food on the table, there have been a few other pressing items that have needed to come first. The book will FINALLY be completed by August, at which point I’ll have to wait to see if it is picked up. Fortunately, I’ve garnered a few contacts over the years, which I intend to fully exploit (so far, the feedback for this project has been incredibly positive!)

While my fiction writing isn’t currently paying off, I feel confident that it’s only a matter of time. “DO WHAT YOU LOVE” is my mantra. I don’t only tell this to myself, but to my kid, who has developed a small, albeit growing, skincare business called Paloma & Co. Currently, Paloma products are sold in four stores and online, but I hope to help my kiddo grow the company in order for it to become a sustainable business (I’m the official co-owner of the company).

Another potential source of income for my family is this blog. While I’ve only used it as a sort of online travelogue for family and friends, I’ve found it to also be a great community-building outlet. The blog has slowly been gathering a growing readership, and soon I’ve look into how I might join the ranks of travel writers by making a little money off the many hours of work I put into this blog. You can help in this endeavor by sharing Break Out of Bushwick with your friends, joining our Facebook page, and just simply by continuing to contribute to the conversations we try so hard to create. This blog is- more than anything- a labor of love. But man, it sure would be nice to see some of the fruits of this labor present themselves in the form of cold, hard cash.

At the end of the day, being a single mom who travels means I largely need to trust that the universe will help support my decisions. My life is a leap of faith, and, while I don’t expect everyone to understand or appreciate why I live the way I do, I hope that at least my enthusiasm is contagious (I also hope that if my life’s walls were to crumble, folks would help buttress them with positivity and love rather than criticism and “I told you so’s”).

Bottom line…  As a single mom, financing travel isn’t easy. But at the end of the day, it’s no less difficult than financing my life in New York. I make many sacrifices that many of my coupled or single friends (sans kids) don’t have to deal with. I’ve had roommates for years and rent out rooms in my place via AirBnB to help cover my rent. I’ve taken jobs at much lower than market value just because I’ve been desperate for the work. I’ve worked through the night to create art to sell for much less than I believe it’s worth, sold belongings to buy groceries, and just generally done whatever has been needed to give my daughter a good, healthy life.

6. Full-time mom + full-time freelancer + full-time educational partner + travel planner + everything else = YAWN!

I help guide my kid’s learning by day; work at night; and sleep… Um… When do I sleep?

Many of my friends complain to me of “being tired.” I sometimes wonder if they forget they’re talking to a single mom who not only works full time, but educates a kid full time? Actually, I do EVERYTHING full time.

I’ve dated a couple of guys who have shared the responsibility of their kids with their ex wives (never again!!). They each had nannies who cooked and cleaned. It was really, really hard for me to sympathize when these guys said they were “stressed” or “tired.” I don’t think either one of them had an accurate picture of what my life looked like.

Typically, I wake at around 5AM to work on writing and/or freelance projects. By the time my kid wakes, I’ve already put in a full work day. For the rest of the day, I help guide my kid’s education, meaning that while she can work independently, I’m 100% on-hand to assist with anything she needs, and also create content and activities for some of her subjects. In addition, I transport my kid back and forth between her many activities and classes (and also help teach some of them). I volunteer for 15 hours a week at her neighborhood co-op school. I single-handedly teach her history, art history and vocabulary and grammar. I assist with her many science projects. Because my daughter has expressed that she gets the most out of lessons that we do together, I take Spanish and college-level science classes with her. Over dinner each night, we talk about the many things we’re learning.

Work and parenting would be plenty to keep me busy, but you know what? I also have passions that belong only to me. I love writing, and consider a day wasted if I don’t put in at least an hour or two working on one of my novels or even writing a blog post. Writing is, to me, akin to breathing. The trade-off is that I’ll often get only four hours of sleep a night in order to write a few pages.

While traveling, my life isn’t so different. I wake incredibly early to write, respond to emails and pitch for jobs. I then spend the entire day with my kid and people we meet on the road. Then, after everyone else is long in bed, I tap away on my computer keyboard for at least a couple more hours.

Again- and I can’t stress this enough- I chose this life. But holy shit, am I tired. So, so fucking tired.

Unlike many Americans, I don’t equate how many hours I work with success, and I certainly don’t believe being “busy” is anything to be proud of. That said, at this point of time, being “busy” is a part of my everyday life, and I’m not willing to drop either full-time parenthood, writing or educating to be less busy. I think this might be different if I weren’t single. Indeed, I find that when I’m romantically involved with someone, I tend to sleep in a little later and work a little slower. This has something to do with the fact that when I’m in a long-term relationship (which, to be honest, hasn’t happened in a long time), my partner has traditionally helped out with food, cleaning and grocery shopping. It’s easy to be less busy with some of the busy work lifted.

7. Doubts… I have a lot of ‘em

Just as I’m kept up at night worrying about money and wishing there were someone else to discuss both the good and bad of travel with, I’m also woken in the middle of the night with an occasional- but gripping- feeling of impending doom. What if dropping out of the grind means I’ll have to work at a Walmart when I’m 70? Is prioritizing travel really more important than security?

It’s natural to have doubts, especially during the wee hours of the morn’ when there isn’t anyone else to tell me what I’m doing is right. It takes a great amount of self-confidence to quiet my doubt. Also, covering some of my bases- like insurance and travel insurance- takes some of the pressure off. I believe the universe will help me out, but I do try to be prepared as much as possible.

Mostly, I try to remember that I only have one life. There isn’t a wrong way to live it as long as I’m living my own version of the truth. I think (hope?) that having doubts means I’m constantly examining and reexamining my choices and honing my ideas for what I think is best for my daughter.

8. Sex, drugs and rock n’ roll on and off the road

Maneater

Let me laugh a second before responding to this one… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Here’s a little confession: I used to be a chronic dater. One friend gave me the oh-so-flattering nickname, ‘Maneater’. It was never my intention to be a serial dater, but to be honest, after the wretched experience I had with my kid’s father in the Midwest (I won’t write about it- just believe me- it was shitty), and then, following a break-up with a boyfriend in Brooklyn that left me feeling… empty… the idea of allowing someone into my life was headache-inducing.

Also, I’m a mom. And a strong-willed one at that. For many years, I thought that there weren’t any men out there tough enough to handle me. It was, I’ll admit, a pretty pathetic cop-out. Fact is, I was scared shitless to let someone in. It felt easier to love ‘em and leave ‘em.

It took me a long time to feel secure enough to want to be in another relationship. Years, actually. Oh, I tried. A month here, a month there. Sometimes, even few months (at which point either one or the other party would end things). All of it only served to make me feel pretty lousy.

A couple of years ago, however, I seemed to turn a corner. I felt strong, worthy and beautiful. I no longer wanted flings. Therefore, I put myself out there in an entirely different way. Granted, I haven’t had the best of luck, but at least I now know what I want and more importantly, what I need.

Meeting men my own age who I am both attracted to and who want the same things out of life as me is tough even in Brooklyn. While traveling, I don’t expect to meet anyone, and I don’t try. That’s not to say it can’t happen. People are people regardless of location. The few times I’ve formed any ounce of mutual attraction with someone while on the road, however, I’ve had to explain that I travel with my kid, and that I can’t: a) go out on a normal date; b) or be ‘intimate’. Other single moms handle this differently. Kudos to them. I think it’s awesome. But when I’m traveling with my kid, I’m traveling WITH MY KID. A good guy in Brooklyn, Europe, South America or beyond wouldn’t (and shouldn’t) want me to leave my kid in order to be with him… He should work harder to come up with creative solutions to spend more time with me. Because I’m F-ing worth it.

Honestly, I don’t stress about this. At least, not too often. There are occasions when I feel I’m missing out when adults around me go out late for salsa dancing and/or getting wasted. But those times are few and far between (usually when I’m PMSing). Usually, I’m perfectly content having a nice dinner with a group of people- kid included- and then heading back at normal hour to put my girl to bed. In Brooklyn, my girl can spend the night with friends so that I can go out and “be an adult.” But on the road, the kid’s with me the entire time. Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m sure it would be different if we were in a place for an extended period of time, but except for when we’re in Brooklyn, we’re gypsies… Just traveling through.

I’ve chosen my main priority, and it’s neither sex, drugs, nor rock n’ roll (although all of those things have, at various times, been very important to me)… It’s my kid. And, as I touched on earlier, I want my ‘dating life’ to be meaningful. I want to both set a good example for my kid, and feel a sense of deep connection and contentment out of any new relationship I enter.

9. No room to breathe

I’ve already mentioned that I’m with my kid nearly every moment during our travels. While this is mostly wonderful, we also drive each other batty. I mean, have you ever hung out with an eleven-year-old girl?! Holy Hormones, Batman! Jesus, someone pass me the Valium! That said, I’m no picnic. I’m moody, opinionated, and, when I have something to say, I’m entirely unwilling to keep my mouth shut. The two of us are sort of like a slap-stick comedy show… or a totally over-the-top made-for-TV drama.

My kid and I really only rub each other the wrong way when we need space. Therefore, I try really hard to make sure we get it. After all, it’s just the two of us. We homeschool, travel together and just generally are with each other more than average kids and parents. There’s no one around to act as a buffer. No one to tell either of us when we’re acting out of line (besides each other), and certainly no one to give me a “night off” or take Anevay out for ice-cream when she needs a break.

The kid’s way of getting space is by latching onto the people we encounter. She can make friends just about anywhere, and is perfectly happy sitting at the opposite end of the table than me in order to make an experience separate from one made with me.

I tend to need the most space when we’re alone, which means, quite simply, I need to ask for it! The trick is to ask before I turn into a bitchy, irritable mess. This is a work in progress. I’m getting better at it every day. (Again, Valium might make things easier?)

10. Life sucks… and then it doesn’t

I’ve had two separate boyfriends tell me I should wear a helmet because of how clumsy I am. Sigh. It’s true. I’m constantly bashing my head on pipes, stubbing my toes, and scraping my hands on invisible things that, well, scrape! I sometimes think my clumsiness is a metaphor for my life. I’m like a damned bumper-car, banging with gusto against every situation I encounter. Sometimes, this is a lovely thing. The unexpected twists and turns bring variety and often, great joy. There are times, however, when my… gusto… makes life tough. Sometimes, my life plain feels overwhelmingly bad. But I think it’s this way for everyone, right? To have ups and downs?

When I was in my teens and early twenties I felt entitled to a good life. There was no doubt in my mind that everything I ever wanted would come my way. As embarrassing as it sounds, I thought I’d fall in love, have a kid (well, that part came true), work some sort of dream job making a lot of money, travel the world (this part came true, too!) and just generally not really have to work for “the good life.”

I’m happy to report that life has handed me a reality check. I’ve had to work several shitty jobs, been dumped by people I’ve loved, and just generally had to accept that life rarely turns out as expected.

Travel is a good way to get over oneself. My daughter and I have witnessed how people live in a variety of circumstances. It’s been truly humbling. With this in mind, while my life sometimes sucks, I also know that I have family and friends who love me, have been fortunate enough to be educated, and make enough money to travel (on a tight budget, but travel all the same!). I’m an independent, forward-thinking single mom. I LOVE my life. But, as I’ve written about in this post, it’s not all unicorns and rainbows.

Do you have questions for me that I haven’t answered? Wondering more about how it is to travel as a single mom? Have your own thoughts about being a traveling single mom? Leave a comment below!

Thanks for reading and please, if you like what you see, follow our adventures and ‘like’ our Facebook page!

The festival of saints, otherwise known as ‘Corpus Christi’, is a Catholic celebration infused with Inca traditions during which thousands of people flood the Plaza de Armas to watch a procession of saints from the different churches in Cusco. Beginning 60 days after Easter, the festival is truly a sight to behold.

On the first day of the festival, which happened eight day ago (boo! I missed it!), fifteen saints and virgins were carried in a procession to the Cathedral of Santo Domingo, a building constructed by the Spanish that was meant to wipe out Inca religion from Cusco. Using Inca labor and huge stones brought down from Sacsayhuaman (an Inca site that still rests today above the city), the Spanish, finding that even the ground was sacred to the Inca (in their worship of Pachamama, or Earth Mama), used the sand in the plaza in their construction.

The Spanish failed in erasing Inca religion. Many people from Cusco and surroundings are of Inca/Quechua heritage, and still hold dear a number of old traditions. While Quechua in general are now Catholics, their religion is blended with Andean religion. On the one hand there is a deep Catholic saint worship, which includes Mary and a host of other virgins, but, unlike any Catholics I’ve met, believe that Jesus isn’t a single incarnation of God, but many, like a brotherhood of Jesus. In addition to saint worship, Quechua people also still worship Pachamama, and have various rites to celebrate, and offer payment to, this goddess.

During Corpus Christi, the patron saints: Sebastian, Blas, Joseph and James; along with five virgins with flowing hair and tunics, are carried in a procession around the Plaza de Armas. Families celebrate the entire afternoon, evening and night, and typical foods are served. I spied folks sitting on the steps of the cathedral with polystyrene plates laden with chiriuchu (a spicy meal made with cuy, or guinea pig), cornbread and items I couldn’t distinguish. After a couple of hours, it was apparent that some of the people watching the procession had drank their share of chincha, a powerful alcoholic beverage made with corn. The kid and I watched one old man quite literally fall over like a tree. He was scooped up by friends, and went on his merry way.

Most celebrators were, however, sober, somber, and entirely in the moment, paying homage to each of the saints as they were carried past. Some of the festival participants carried the heavy wooden saints. They strained under the weight, making a choreographed, shuffled dance to the music as they proceeded. One of the saints was carried by men who weren’t wearing shoes, as a local, shocked, pointed out to us. Seeing as how it was COLD out (about 55 degrees), and the sun would be going down in a couple of hours (meaning it would dip down to about 37), it must have been very difficult for these men.

A happy barrage of sounds hit our ears: each saint and virgin had its own band accompanying it through the square.The kid and I started out watching the procession in front of the huge doors of the cathedral, but, because we were directly next to where each band started playing (those drums are loud!), after an hour, we meandered through the plaza.

On a whole, the festival was incredibly… for lack of better word… civilized. Within the sea of people, I wasn’t once pushed or grabbed. Babies and grandmothers smiled at us, strangers pointed proudly to the saints from the churches to which they belonged. Occasionally, en masse, many people in the crowd made the sign of the cross. No one seemed to mind that I didn’t.

After a few hours, as the sun started to set, the kid and I wandered into a restaurant on the plaza to try our first taste of lomo saltado, a Peruvian specialty consisting of beef, tomatoes and onion, with fried potato on top. The meal warmed us, and, from our window seat close to the end of the procession, we could still see the saints being carried through the plaza.

Being privy to Corpus Christi was an honor, and quite a lot of fun. While we returned home for dinner around 7:00, the celebration continued the entire night, with music and fireworks. Even now, as I write at 8:00 in the morning, the occasional sound of a drum and/or firework sounds through the streets. Below are a handful more photos of the festival.

Thanks, Cusco!

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LLAMAS!

The neighborhood of San Blas, where our hosts have their home, is congested with art galleries, shops and many Quechua women and girls charging a sole for a photo op. While I’ve already gotten very good at saying, “Maybe later,” this woman crossed the street, deposited her young charge into Anevay’s unsuspecting arms, and turned to me. “Photo now,” she commanded. I laughed. What else could I do? She knew she had us. Anyway, a missing sole- which is worth much less than the American dollar- won’t make a big impact on my wallet, but for this woman, I imagine it’ll go towards putting food and other necessities on the table.

Quechua people are from various regions in Colombia, Ecuador, Bolivia and Peru. Sadly, these indigenous peoples faced persecution from various governments, petroleum and logging companies, etc. In the Peruvian civil war in the 80′s, approximately three fourths of the 70,000 deaths were Quechua. Through the late 60′s, forced sterilization of Quechua women painted a dark shadow over Peru’s history. Even today, ethnic discrimination is witnessed in the Peruvian parliament. Recently elected members, Hilaria Supa Huaman and Maria Sumire swore their oaths of office in Quechua, but parliamentary president Martha Hildebrand and other members refused their acceptance.

While it’s difficult for me not to have my own opinions, during my month-long stay in this country I’m going to try to keep my mouth shut and listen to the ideas of as many people as possible in order to learn more about the social dynamics between the indigenous and Latin people.

Meanwhile, back to the baby llama… For those of you not already in the know, I have a warm spot in my heart for alpacas and llamas, which means that it was somewhat difficult for me not to snatch this little one from Anevay and run off. Fortunately for all parties, my continued breathlessness means that no llama-napping occurred. Cusco, consider your fuzzy little ones safe… For now.

STEEP STREETS!

Today, being the first day I’m starting to feel better, we headed up further into the San Blas neighborhood and then up a street towards the hike to Sacsayhuaman (pronounced ‘Sexy Woman’), an Inca site about a mile above Cusco… The kid and I both found ourselves feeling a little breathless, but it was ultimately a pack of dogs that started fighting that made us turn back.

There are a lot of dogs in Cusco. Most of them mind their own business, but because some of them are rabid, it’s good to err on the side of caution. We’ll take the short hike to Sacsayhuaman this weekend with one of our hosts, Rik, who jokingly promised to sacrifice Anevay should we be attacked by dogs (Mom, if you’re reading this, he was kidding). Actually, the dogs, having been maltreated by many people, are likely to give us a wide berth. Most of them are actually quite sweet- we’ve seen more than a few backpackers petting them- but I’m advising Anevay to not get too close. The last thing I want to do on this trip is for either of us to need a round of painful rabies shots.

The real reason for going with Rik this weekend is that he knows the history of Cusco and surroundings, and will be able to answer many of our questions. Perhaps he’ll be able to catch me, too, if I pass out from the altitude/steep streets.

CUSCO FLAG AND PLAZA DE ARMAS

I think the Cusco flag is awesome, and not only because it’s rainbow-striped like the gay pride flag, but because it’s a symbol of Inca heritage. The flag flaunts its colors throughout the city, but particularly in the Plaza de Armas, known as the ‘Square of the Warrior’ during the days of the Inca.

Speaking of the Plaza de Armas… What a beautiful, relaxing place to people watch. Benches are littered over an expanse of grass, beautiful gardens and a main fountain. The plaza hasn’t always been, however, a peaceful place.

While Lima is known as a Spanish city, Cusco is known as being Quechua. Long before the huge square was surrounded by colonial arcades, it was the center of the Inca empire in the Andes. Various Inca palaces had been built around this square until Pizarro and his men arrived in Cusco and destroyed much of the city in 1533. What remains are many impressive buildings built by the Spanish- the cathedral being one of them, but with a distinctive Quechua feel (e.g., jaguars were carved in various locations in and around the cathedral).

Cathedral on the Plaza de Armas in Cusco

Anevay and I look forward to learning more about the history of Cusco and exploring this beautiful city. 

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Does this mosquito carry yellow fever? I’d rather not find out.

TO VACCINATE, OR NOT TO VACCINATE, THAT IS THE QUESTION…

Parents these days tend to fall into one of two camps: those who vaccinate their children; and those who don’t. I tend to fall somewhere in the middle. My daughter has received many vaccinations throughout her life, but with each shot, I do extensive research. Many doctors recommend a series of vaccinations before heading to Peru: typhoid; rabies; hepatitis… But all of those diseases can be treated using powerful medicines (or, in the case of rabies, an immediate and not-so-fun 30-day series of painful vaccinations). Not so with yellow fever. If you contract this nasty disease, you either: a) let it run its course; or b) you die. 

WHAT IS YELLOW FEVER?

Yellow fever is an infectious, hemorrhagic (bleeding) virus transmitted by the bite of a female mosquito native to tropical and subtropical regions of Africa and South America, infecting about 200,000 people per year. While it’s not a disease to which we would be exposed in mountainous Cusco and surroundings, it is possible (but incredibly rare) to be exposed to the disease while in Tambopata (rainforest).

Typically the disease causes fever, nausea, vomiting, chills, headache and chills, with symptoms lasting about three or four days. About 15% of patients, however, enter a second phase of the illness that includes bleeding from the nose, eyes or stomach, poor kidney function, jaundice, return of fever, and abdominal pain and more vomiting. Half of the people who go into this second phase die, meaning that the disease kills about 30,000 people per year.

It would be highly unlikely for either the kid or I to contract yellow fever during our four days visiting the jungle. Yet insecticides, protective clothing and mosquito netting aren’t entirely sufficient preventatives. Mosquitos are crafty critters! Also, the vaccination lasts ten years, meaning we’d be covered if we choose to travel to other affected regions during that period. Finally, there are many countries that don’t allow you to visit without the vaccination. If we decide to head into Bolivia from Peru, for example, we’d only be allowed if we carried proof of vaccination from a doctor.

WHAT ARE THE RISKS?

Clinica Pardo, where we received our prescription for Yellow Fever vaccinations in Cusco, Peru.

Are there risks to receiving yellow fever vaccinations? Well, with over 500 million vaccinations worldwide, there have been very few adverse reactions.  Most issues arise resulting from allergic reactions to the eggs in which the vaccine is grown. As Anevay and I aren’t allergic to eggs, it seems highly unlikely that we would have this problem.

There is a small risk of neurological disease and/or encephalitis, but mostly with people with compromised immune systems and very young children.  People over 60 also have a higher risk of adverse reactions. We don’t really fall into any of those categories, do we?

There is also a very small risk of a disease called YEL-AVD, which is similar to yellow fever. The risk factors of the disease aren’t really known, although it seems to be genetic.

Essentially, the risks of the vaccine are very low. I think any parent seeks data to support his or her case for vaccinating. I’ve spoken with traveling families who vaccinate their children for every known disease known to people, and also talked with those who refuse to give even vaccines and medicines that are highly recommended (e.g., malaria preventatives in various African countries). With yellow fever, I decided to err on the side of caution- again, primarily because there is no known cure to combat the disease. I suppose my position about vaccinations is to not only seek data to support a for/against vaccination argument.

WHERE TO GET THE VACCINE? HOW MUCH DOES IT COST?

Our yellow fever vaccination cards… Proof for ten years!

While still in New York, I looked up doctors through the Center for Disease Control who give the yellow fever vaccination. I learned that the shots aren’t covered by insurance, and that the doctors charge about $100.00 just to write the prescription (the cost of what they call an “office visit”). Ah, America, you’re a money-hungry bitch. Many of you doctors, you’re part of the nasty machine. For my daughter and I to receive the vaccinations in the States, it would have cost me a total of about $400.00. Knowing how long we would’ve had to sit in a waiting room before actually seeing the doctor for those two minutes, the entire experience sounded like an inefficient and financial nightmare.

In Peru, however, where we went today for our yellow fever immunizations, we were prescribed our immunizations in less than two minutes (for no cost), and then, at a separate facility down the street, received them in about ten minutes. Total cost for the two of us? A little over $40.00. That’s a $360.00 difference from what we would’ve paid in the U.S.A. Of course, it helped greatly that our hosts here in Peru helped us secure doctors who don’t try to squeeze cash out of tourists (a common problem). If you decide to get immunizations (or any care at a clinic!) in a foreign country, I’d definitely do my homework on cost, safety, etc., and, as in our case, ask a local for advice and/or translation assistance.

And there you have it. My summary of why I decided for my small family of two to be vaccinated against yellow fever.

What vaccination decisions does your family made? Please share in a comment below! 

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Museo de la Coca

The top items on my Cusco agenda today? Spanish class at Mundo Antigua Spanish School, then off to buy a big bag of coca. 

Yes, folks, COCA. Tengo mal de altura! Or in other words, as I wrote about in my last post, I have altitude sickness! (Are you impressed? My Spanish lessons are already paying off!). We knew just the place to go… The Museo de la Coca, to learn about the history, medicinal and spiritual practices of the coca leaf.

Nancy Felix, the proprietor, and Cusco guide, Ninoska Montúfor met us at the door with huge smiles. Ninoska escorted us inside, sat us down, and gave us a lesson about coca before we went off on our own. Thanks, Ninoska!

Pachamama with a bulge of coca in her cheek!

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For over 3,000 years, coca has been an important part of the Andean people of Peru, and has used as offerings from Pre-Inca to contemporary times to Pachamama (Earth Mama) and Inti (Sun God). It is also used as a traditional medicine in the Andes, foremost as a stimulant to combat altitude sickness (Ninoska told us that it works by increasing the production of red blood cells, helping to oxygenate the blood), hunger, fatigue and even thirst. Most people around the world are familiar with cocaine, a powerful and dangerous stimulant chemically derived from large quantities of coca leaves. The raw leaves, however, only have a very small amount of the coca alkaloid, the pharmacologically active ingredient in both coca leaves and cocaine, and does not cause the dangerous effects associated with the use of the controversial drug. (Mom, if you’re reading, don’t worry: there is absolutely no evidence of people forming addictions to the coca leaf.) Indeed, raw coca leaves are rich in calcium, vitamins and nutrients such as fiber and protein, making it a proper food. Traditionally, coca leaves are most commonly chewed or prepared as mata de coca (coca tea). Peruvians, Colombians and Bolivians all use coca- Ninoska told us that 90% of all Bolivians use it in their every day lives!

Coca would’ve helped decrease discomfort during skull deformation in the Paracas culture.

Coca has strong anesthetic effects, and, before stronger anesthetics became available, were used for skull operations (the Inca were terrific surgeons!) and, among the ancient Paracas culture south of Peru, coca was mixed with various liquids and applied as a paste to the sides of infant’s heads to ease the discomfort of cranial deformation, a practice among the elite members of the society.

Offerings to Pachamama

Folks in Europe and North America haven’t had as much luck with cocaine, but that’s because, like many great traditional plants, they had to mess with nature to try to “improve upon” coca. In 1859, the German chemist, Albert Niemann, isolated cocaine from coca leaves. Known as a “miracle drug,” cocaine was used by a variety of famous surgeons, and Sigmund Freud used the drug to combat depression and anxiety. It was during the famous psychoanalyst’s “cocaine years” that he wrote most of what would become his popular texts explaining the human experience (maybe that’s why I think his entire Oedipus Complex is ridiculous?).

A variety of drinks and soft drinks are made from coca, including this one. I think the purpose of the beverage speaks for itself in its packaging?

Most people think of Colombia as the world’s largest coca producer, but with expansion of vast crops along the Bolivian and Brazilian borders, Peru has now surpassed its northern neighbor in the plant’s production. Because the plant is strongly regulated by the state, it can legally only be grown for traditional uses. There are pockets, however, deep in the jungle, where people grow coca for cocaine. In the northern regions, especially, different groups of Shining Path guerillas have been known to compete for control over the drug trade, although that was mostly a problem between 1980 and 2000. See, while most Peruvians don’t touch the stuff, Americans and Europeans have a greedy fondness for the white powder. I can only imagine what crop and production decisions I would make if I were a poor, rural farmer living in Peru.

Overdose ‘victim’ at the Museo de la Coca

The Museo de Coca preaches a definite anti-drug message. Anevay, who was walking ahead of me, turned around one corner and rushed back: “Mama, there’s a man SLEEPING.” The ‘man’ ended up being a dummy dressed in the clothes of a backpacker. A warning to would-be drug-takers, the dummy was shown with drug paraphernalia- an overdose. “Let’s get out of here,” the kid said. “He’s creepy.”

Mate de Coca

As a New Yorker who grew up during America’s “War on Drugs” and has too-often had a lens focused on the evils of cocaine (destroyed lives, deaths, etc.), it was illuminating to learn about the traditional medicinal and spiritual uses for coca. I look forward to learning more over the course of the next month, especially about the worship of Pachamama and Inti.

Tonight, however, I’m going to take it easy with a hot cup of mate de coca (grown locally in the Cusco surroundings!). I’m hoping the brew will help develop a guerilla army of red blood cells to combat my altitude sickness as I sleep tonight. Wish me luck!

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Want to visit the Museo de la Coca? Head just a two minute walk from the Plaza de Armas:

• Calle Palacio No. 122, Cusco, Peru
• Email the museum for more information: museodelacoca@hotmail.com

Thanks for reading and please, if you like what you see, follow our adventures and ‘like’ our Facebook page!

From Lima to Peru… The Andes!

Cusco wasn’t our first experience high up in the mountains. Last summer we visited various locations in Iceland and Switzerland, and pre-Anevay (hard to imagine!) I had visited the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. But Cusco, at 11,200 feet- much higher than anywhere else I had visited- literally took my breath away.

The flight from Lima was an almost transcendental experience. Feeling the climb, up, up, up into the magnificent display of Zeus’s white clouded playground, didn’t compare at all to what we saw once the clouds broke. The Andes, in all their glory, spread out until the horizon. My eyes could just barely make out switchbacked roads on the mountains directly below the plane, and occasionally a small town, but besides that, emptiness. Photos don’t do it justice.

The second we debarked in Cusco, we felt the altitude. The symptoms manifested differently for the two of us- Anevay was a little short of breath while a headache crept up on me, like a hangover after a three-day binge.

Our hosts, Norma and Rik from the Mundo Antiguo Spanish School that will be giving us Spanish lessons and a few adventures throughout Peru (more to report on the school in the days to come!), picked us up and assured what we were feeling was normal. “Just take it easy,” Norma recommended, “and drink a lot of water.”

Quinoa Soup!

Last night we heeded Rik and Norma’s advice. We shared quinoa soup, arroz con pollo and a sip of wine (I know, I know, the worst thing for altitude sickness… I swear it was just a sip) with the family. Already, we were falling in love with Cusco.

So far, so good, I thought, tucked under about 15 woolen blankets (Cusco is COLD at night, especially as most of the homes/businesses don’t have central heating).

1:15AM on June 4, 2013, officially goes on record as being the worst wake-up of my life. Like someone threw a lead plate on my chest, sucked the oxygen from my lungs, and pricked my fingers and toes with a million little needles. Add the drum circle that decided to hold a session inside of my head, as well as a few T-Rexes who decided to go to town attacking my brain, and you might have some idea of what I felt like when I was shocked awake.

Yes, folks, I had my first case of altitude sickness, or soroche as it’s called in this neck of the, well, mountains. The sickness is caused by acute exposure to low levels of oxygen at high altitude, and occurs most commonly at 8,000 feet or above. Well, here in Cusco, we’re well above 8,000 feet!

View from our hosts’ home in the San Blas neighborhood of Cusco

For many sufferers, altitude sickness can feel like a mild flu, hangover or carbon monoxide poisoning. I think I fell into all three of these categories. As a migraine sufferer, I’ve had some wicked headaches, but the one I had last night could beat them all back with a stick. Add in my inability to draw in a full breath and a serious stomach ache, and you might start to understand how miserable I was.

Think you’d be exempt from getting altitude sickness? Ha! Think again. The illness strikes indiscriminately. Some people get it; some don’t. It all comes down to how your body deals with maintaining proper blood oxygen levels. It generally takes about two days for a person’s body to start producing more red blood cells, which means that for most soroche sufferers, two days of symptoms.

Soon after I woke, I spoke briefly with my hosts, as I was concerned my symptoms weren’t normal. See, in addition to my head, stomach and a case of the shakes (I swear I’m not an alcoholic!), my capacity to reason or communicate efficiently was affected- soroche had turned me into an incoherent, bumbling idiot who couldn’t thread together a complete sentence. After pantomiming my discomfort, Norma and Rik assured me that I was fine. “Take an aspirin,” Rik said, “and try to relax.”

Because I’m a researcher (ahem, a worry-wort), once back in my room I perused the Internet for a few minutes to make sure I wasn’t having a stroke (an effect of serious altitude sickness). Below, I’ll share my newfound knowledge (thanks, Wikipedia!).

Headaches, I read, are the primary symptom of altitude sickness. So are:

• Nausea, vomiting or lack of appetite
• Dizziness/lightheadedness
• Insomnia
• Pins and needles
• Shortness of breath upon exertion
• Nosebleed
• Persistent rapid pulse
• Drowsiness
• Excessive flatulation
• General Malaise
• Swelling of the hands, feet and face

Well, I was having more than a couple of those symptoms; I was just happy not to be having a problem with flatulence!

I then read about more severe symptoms of altitude sickness, which could indicate pulmonary edema (fluid in the lungs) or cerebral edema (swelling of the brain. Some of these symptoms included: fever, persistent dry cough, unsteady gait and increased nausea. One symptom, shortness of breath while resting, was affecting me, but I had a feeling that it was happening to me because I had been taking in less oxygen as I slept.

I was miserable, yes, but in the danger zone, no. Ah, sweet relief!

I spent an hour moaning, shaking, dry-heaving and cursing everyone who has ever hurt me (even my 7th grade boyfriend!). Finally, once my stomach settled and the shivers went away, I drank a big glass of water, chewed a few orange-flavored baby aspirin and went back to bed.

During the night, I woke a few more times needing more air, but my headache had somewhat subsided and I felt more reasonable. I heeded Norma and Rik’s advice and “just relaxed.”

Where do things stand this morning? Better, much better. The drum circle in my head is still goin’ at it, but the T-Rexes have left for other feeding grounds. I’m still feeling a little out of it, and warned Rik and Norma that it might be a couple of days before I’m able to have a coherent conversation, but I’m going to treat my altitude sickness and start my day!

What do people do to combat soroche? A few simple things: rest; a ton of water; and coca leaves. Yep, you read that right… COCA, as in the leaves from the plant that are processed to make cocaine. Here in Peru, unprocessed coca leaves are used as a very, very mild stimulant; they are either chewed or brewed into a tea, and are both safe and effective for people of all ages.

This morning Anevay and I will be taking our first language class, after which we’ll have lunch with the family. We’ll then head to the Museo de la Coca to learn the history of this traditional Peruvian plant before heading to the mercado to pick up a bag of our own.

Yes, people, I’m taking my kid to buy a bag of… coca (not coke, I promise)! I’m looking forward to learning more about the spiritual and traditional practices for this plant.

Language classes and my first (ver-r-r-ry slow) walk through Cusco, here I come!

Thanks for reading and please, if you like what you see, follow our adventures and ‘like’ our Facebook page!

I had the pleasure of catching up with Mark to discuss his book, Peru, writing, family, travel and his answer to the big question: WHAT THE HELL IS MACHU PICCHU?!

Melissa: Mark, you’ve written an entertaining, hilarious and informative book in which you chronicle your retracing of explorer Hiram Bingham III’s path to Machu Picchu. To do this, you really had to change your life in order to commit to the sort of trip that would allow you to conduct your research. What were some of the steps you took to make this happen?

Mark: I guess the first thing I had to do was to make writing this story my first and only professional priority. With my first book, Mr. America, I squeezed writing into the off hours of my full-time job as a magazine editor. The shift was scary, but once I sold the Turn Right idea as a book it was quite liberating to focus my mind on one thing. I know there’s a fashion for authors trying to keep a constant presence on social media via Twitter and Facebook and Tumblr and everything else, but I’ve always found that if you can concentrate on one thing and try to make it good, success will follow. Your work is the brand. I spent a month out of telephone and internet range in Peru reporting the book and realized when I got back to civilization that I hadn’t missed much.

Melissa: Your book poignantly details how the deaths of friends/family made you reassess your life. Having also made some life-altering decisions due partly to the deaths of loved ones, I wonder if you might touch on this a bit more?

Mark: I think the deaths of those close to you are rare opportunities to put everything on hold and ask, what is really important to me? What have I been putting off that’s really important? If I found out tomorrow that I was terminally ill, what would I be happy that I’d done instead of watch more TV or spend the weekend at the office? (Both of which I’ve done plenty of.) There are probably a thousand greeting-card cliches that apply to this notion and at least 999 of them are largely true.

Melissa: Your wife, Aurita, sounds pretty awesome. When you asked her how she’d feel if you quit your job and “follow in the footsteps of the guy who found Machu Picchu,” she answered, “What took you so long?” Not every spouse is so supportive! What sort of considerations did the two of you need to make before you decided to go for it?

Mark: Well, she is awesome. Childcare was the biggest issue, of course. We have three sons, all in school. But her family stepped up and covered all the time I spent away, which was two months in all. I think it helped that I was going to Peru, a place that she was familiar with and fond of, having spent a lot of time there as a child. And of course you have to be able to pay for it. I had a book contract by then, so I wasn’t delusional about running off to Peru and returning to write ‘The Celestine Prophecy II’ or whatever.

Melissa: The two of us seem to have a couple of things in common. Writing about adventures? Check. Actually going on adventures? Well, uh… Not so much (until more recently, that is). When you first decided to head to Peru to follow Bingham’s path, you had little outdoor adventure experience. I imagine that when your guide, John Leivers, suggested that instead of trekking the demanding Inca trail, the two of you should cut your own, much harder path. In your book, you mention some of the preparation necessary for the trip. Did you have any real idea of what you’d be getting yourself into? Certain scenes from your book (e.g., an outdoor ‘bathroom’ experience on the side of a mountain had be simultaneously horrified and laughing my ass off.

Mark: You know, John is so experienced in dealing with travelers–he used to lead six-month trips in an open-air truck across Asia and Africa–that I think he was trying to both push my limits and give me a sense of what I might be up against once we were on the trail. Ours was one of those trips that you really can’t comprehend until you’re in the middle of it. As for the bathroom humor, I must admit that in the first draft that section went on a lot longer (again, I have three sons) but my editors wisely asked me to trim it back.

Incidentally, I email with John all the time and he recently told me that he may be putting together a package trip that follows most of the route we follow in the book. I’ll post something online if and when that becomes a reality. “Trip of a lifetime” doesn’t begin to describe what such a journey would be like.

Hiram Bingham III

Melissa: OK, in my mind, the kind of trip you made is one that takes a certain amount of fortitude. Yet John Leivers apparently called Hiram Bingham III a ‘Martini Explorer’. Holy crap, if that’s true, then how does one describe the flocks of tourists who walk the Inca trail? And what of Leiver’s eye injury, so gruesomely detailed in your book? That doesn’t necessarily ring ‘Martini Explorer’!

Mark: Basically, we’re all martini explorers compared to John. Remember, Bingham was alternating nights out in his tent (purchased from Abercrombie and Fitch when they were still a travel outfitter) with candlelit dinners served at wealthy haciendas out in the Peruvian hinterlands. He endured some tough times, especially down in the jungle, but he didn’t suffer unless he needed to. As for John’s eye injury, had it happened to me I’d still be in physical and psychological therapy, and of course they’d have had to strap me onto a mule, stuff my mouth with coca leaves to stifle my screaming and walk me God knows how many days to the nearest hospital. But John shrugged it off within 24 hours and never spoke of it again. 

Melissa: Bingham sounds like quite the character, and, most recently, the subject of a deep controversy over the ‘plundering’ and ownership of Inca artifacts. Could you talk about this briefly?

Mark: Bingham’s a complicated guy. He had an enormous ego, and a need to make a name for himself. He hogged credit. He made some underhanded deals to get artifacts out of Peru. But he also happened to encounter Machu Picchu at a moment when people were blowing up Inca ruins with TNT, searching for the supposed gold buried underneath. Bingham came to Machu Picchu in 1911, photographed it beautifully, and publicized it to the world in National Geographic. Had he not done so, we likely wouldn’t have a Machu Picchu to visit today, at least not in the form that it still exists. Also, Yale finally agreed to send the artifacts Bingham excavated at Machu Picchu back to Peru, and some of them are on display in Cusco.

Melissa: Bingham had some ideas about why Machu Picchu was built. Once and for all, why the hell did a bunch of Inca build that place on top of a mountain? You questioned in the beginning of your book: was it “a fortress? A sun temple? A really elaborate granary?” After spending a month on the ground thinking about and breathing thoughts of Machu Picchu, you must have some ideas.

Mark: My best guess is that it’s something between the “Camp David of the Incas,” as most scholars have agreed (that is, a summer resort away from the royal court at Cusco), and the “sacred center” that anthropologist/explorer Johan Reinhard has proposed. What that means is that the Incas, who were terrific landscape architects, chose the site because it was perfectly situated between certain holy mountains and other geographical features, such as the Urubamba River. Anyone who has visited Machu Picchu remembers that “whoa!” feeling that you get when you first round a corner and see the city laid out ahead of you, nestled in those green mountains. I’m certain that effect was intentional.

Melissa: My daughter and I will be in Peru this summer, and will be in Cusco for Inti Raymi- the ‘Festival of the Sun’- on June 24th. In your book you suggested that Cusco is “a magnet for mystics” and that Machu Picchu is filled with New Agers “hoping to experience a personal harmonic convergence.” I’m a sceptic, through-and-through, although totally open to learning about new (‘New’?) ideas. On your adventure with John, you learned a lot about how the Inca engineers aligned their sites with the sun and the moon. Thoughts about this and the significance for modern-day Peruvians?

Mark: Well, you have to remember that Peru has long had two primary cultures. One is the Hispanic (Spanish-speaking) culture of the coast, especially the capital Lima, which was founded by Pizarro. The other is the traditional Andean (Quechua-speaking) culture of the mountains. All Peruvians are proud of Machu Picchu, but for the second group in particular, the heritage of the Incas is a serious source of pride. 

Melissa: Your wife, Aurita, was raised in Lima. Nati Huamani, however, a member of the extended family who started out as your wife’s nanny, is from the Andes. A Quechua speaker, it sounds like Huamani and her family believe in Pachamama, or Mother Earth, and other mountain deities. Being privy to two different Peruvian cultures, what are your thoughts about the contemporary relationships between various groups of Peruvians? Do worlds collide, or do you feel that there is a more seamless meeting of the minds?

Mark: Well, I’m no expert on Peruvian relations. But there have long been the two primary groups in Peru. In national elections, you’ll see candidates trying to appeal to one side or the other. What’s interesting is that the people of the mountains often seamlessly integrate their ancient traditions with things like Catholicism. Nati told me once that when she had a horrible headache during a visit to her tiny mountain village, she visited a doctor, a church and a native chamán, or shaman. I think the chamán was the most effective.

Melissa: I know that you’ve done a bit of traveling with your eldest son, Alex, including a trip to Cusco, and that you’ve taken numerous family trips to Lima. Have you and your family traveled to places outside of Peru? Could you see making travel a ‘lifestyle’? It would seem that your profession could enable you to be rather location-independent?

Mark: Oddly, all the successful travel writers I know seem to need a home base to come back to in order to get any work done. I’m not sure that constant movement is compatible with the meditation necessary to write, at least to write narrative nonfiction. I find it easier to vacuum up as much information as I can while traveling, jot down any brilliant insights and then process it all when I’m at home in my slippers, drinking coffee. My family hasn’t had too many serious adventures, though we lived in Madrid for a year when my eldest son was in kindergarten. I went back a few months ago and was pleased to see that not that much had changed in my decade away, though smoking was no longer allowed in the waiting room at the maternity hospital. It still had its own bar, though.

John Leivers, minutes from arriving to Machu Picchu

Melissa: Many of my readers are location-independent, and make money as they travel by doing all manner of work. Some of them want to cash in on their writing skills, yet travel writing is a difficult profession to break into. Those who do make most of their money from blogging. Any advice on how one might break into larger travel-writing gigs or book deals? While it seems like such a cutthroat industry (in which knowing the right people at the right time is the biggest key to success), I know from experience that perseverance can pay off. Thoughts? What has been your professional experience? Where do your ultimate writing interests lie?

Mark: Well, as in any field, knowing someone always helps. I was lucky to have come out of a career as a magazine editor, so I had a lot of contacts, as well as a clear sense of what people would be looking to pay for. If you’re trying to pitch a publication that pays, remember that thousands of other people are pitching them, too. Editors are looking for people to make their lives easier. That means: give me a great, fresh idea and show me that you’re the person who can execute it. Be honest with yourself. The New York Times probably isn’t interested in 2500 words on your press trip to someplace they just wrote about six weeks ago. It’s a good idea to specialize in some area (e.g., budget travel, South American food) until you start making contacts. As for books, what people often forget is that the publishing business isn’t an exclusive club or a lottery, it’s a BUSINESS. If you have an idea that an agent thinks he or she can sell, that agent will take it on. That’s how they put food on the table. Same thing for publishers. They want to publish good work, but first and foremost they need to make money. A memoir of your madcap Peace Corps year in Sierra Leone probably doesn’t have a lot of potential, unless you’re Paul Theroux. And if you can show a track record in self-publishing, or prove you have a loyal following online, that’s a great boost to making a sale. 

Melissa: OK, I’m leaving in a few days for Peru. My kid and I will be visiting Cusco, Machu Picchu, Lake Titicaca and Tambopata. Visiting so many different climates, I’m terrified of forgetting something crucial. Is there anything you think I should absolutely bring along?

Mark: Sunscreen. Ounce for ounce it’s more expensive than good pisco in Peru. And rain ponchos–the Andean weather is notoriously capricious.

Melissa: Mark, you’re working on a new project. Can you tell me a little about it? Finally, I have to ask… Where will you go next? Any adventures on the horizon?

Mark: Right now, I’m in the midst of writing a book about the people who are searching for the lost city of Atlantis. So far I’ve been to Spain, Germany, Malta, Athens, Santorini, and Morocco, and there may be a couple more stops along the way. But mostly I sit in my paper-filled office, writing and rewriting and rewriting.

Mark Adams and John Leivers

Learn more about Mark Adams and pick up your own copy of Turn Right at Machu Picchu!

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Thanks for reading and please, if you like what you see, follow our adventures and ‘like’ our Facebook page!

Ezra, Hannah, Tony, Jenn, Gabe and Elisha Miller

If you’re a human who travels, chances are you’ve heard of the Millers, a family of six who have been on the open road since 2008. Anevay and I have had the pleasure of spending some time with the Millers off-Internet; we count them as dear friends. We first met a couple of years ago at their campsite as we were first considering alternative education and long-term travel, and found the entire gang- Jenn, Tony, Hannah, Gabe, Elisha and Ezra- remarkable people. Since then, Anevay and I have had the pleasure of hosting the Millers here in New York. We count on them for providing us with sound travel/education information, music, and a lot of happiness. We hope to see them again soon.

Recently, it crossed my mind that I hadn’t yet interviewed the Millers as part of a running Break Out of Bushwick series called Conversation with a Traveling Family. Each interview profiles the experiences of a long-term traveling family, each with varying views about alternative education, health, politics and life. I emailed Jenn, who, currently stationed in New Zealand, cordially agreed to having me pick her brain. The result is  spectacular.

Expect nothing less than conversations about polygamy and how to brainwash kids, an anecdote about jumping out of a cake at a bachelor party, and a rhyme about travel that your family can recite through the ages around the campfire (Beowulf, eat your heart out!). Oh, and if that’s not enough, you might also read some thought-provoking thoughts about finding “home,” the key to a lasting marriage, homeschooling, and even the polarizing ‘I’ word… Immunizations!

Jenn, thanks for sharing! Without further ado…

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Melissa: Jenn, you have had quite the life! You were brought up by adventurous parents, and now, you and your husband, Tony, are raising a lovely brood of world citizens. You’ve biked through a number of countries, and taken planes to more countries than I can count. You’ve stationed your family in homes and tents all over the world, yet you seem to have a homebase in Canada. Many traveling families seem to give up their homes and former lives, and pride themselves on being ‘homeless’. I get the feeling that for you, it’s quite the opposite. Could you tell me more about why you and your family travel, and what it means to be ‘home’?

On her Grampa’s dock (Jenn and Ezra)

Jenn: I love this question… I’ve spent a lot of time over the years contemplating that question… what it means to be “home.” We did sell our house and put everything we had left into storage and become homeless by choice, but that’s not necessarily a point of pride, just a personal choice. We don’t have a physical “home” to go back to, but we do have a piece of land in Canada where we know we’ll land eventually and build a little

The cabin Jenn’s dad built when she was born

house. Probably within the next five years. We want to pick up my parent’s legacy where they leave off and take over their extensive property, gardens, orchards, etc. on the island in Canada where I spent much of my childhood. We consider that our “home” and we do love it with all of our hearts. We’re not traveling to try to escape home, rather the opposite actually. We’re traveling to define home and find our way back to it. In the most practical sense, home is where we hang our hats. We’re not particularly locationally bound people. We’ve called lots of places home but there are a few “homes” that resonate deeply with us: our property in Canada, a tiny pueblo in Guatemala where we spent six months, and a little village in Thailand that we called home base for the better part of a year are three that come immediately to mind. Really though, home is where our people are at. When we are together, we are home. We’ve learned that the “stuff” or the “box” you happen to be living in are not the things that matter. It’s the hearts, the relationships and the memories made that create “home.” The family culture, if you will. We work hard on that, developing family culture and the routines, and memories that will become “home” for our children as they launch out into the world.

These people *might* be Tony and Jenn, I’m not sure…

Melissa: I’ve gotta say, I love you and Tony. I sort of think I should marry the both of you. Fortunately for you, polygamy is illegal in the States. Seriously though, it seems that after 19 years of marriage, you’ve managed to keep the proverbial “spark.” I’m a person who requires a certain amount of space. You guys have lived in close quarters for a long time. How do you make it work? Any words of wisdom for couples on the road?

Jenn: Awww… that’s sweet of you to say! I could see the merits of polygamy…  ;) Yeah, 19 years sounds like a long time, doesn’t it? Funny how life sneaks up on you. I approach this question with much trepidation because Tony would agree with me that he and I have nothing special, no secrets and no words of wisdom to impart. I don’t write much about our marriage on purpose… the really important stuff doesn’t make the blog. It’s easy to look at someone’s life or blog and feel like everything in their world is shiny and wonder why it’s not that way for you. But when we do that, we’re comparing our weaknesses (which we’re all too acutely aware of) with our perceptions of other people’s strengths, which aren’t always the whole story. We’ve been married a long time because we decide every day that we want to keep going and stay married. We’ve decided that what we’re building together, with and for our children, is more important than our individual momentary happinesses. We have a “spark” because we choose every day to have a spark. Our marriage has been through some things we could never have imagined. Things that, if I’d had the info up front, would have guaranteed that I’d NEVER have gotten myself into this. I know Tony feels the same way. Life is hard. Marriage is hard. People grow and change and we have to find ways to keep reaching across those divides between two very unique people to find common ground, continue to love through and over and around, and build something of value to each other and our families. I have a whole laundry list of things I’d suggest people NOT do that we’ve done wrong, but no big secrets on the success front… except to keep going and keep giving.

As for space… ha. I require a lot of space, physically and mentally. It’s been a growth opportunity for me to have four kids in increasingly smaller physical spaces. We’re in an RV right now in New Zealand. We have 126 square feet between the 6 of us. It’s an adventure. I guess I’m finding out that what I think I need and what I really need are two different things, and that space can be defined (and created) in a number of ways. The trick to family life seems to lie in getting over my own needs for space and embracing the intensity of the relationships. I’m better or worse at that, depending on the day! Tony has always been great, since the kids were babies, at running defense for me. He knows that I need five minutes of brain space and he’s a master at deflecting the onslaught and creating that bit of quiet for me. When they were all toddlers he sent me to the bath tub every night after dinner (for several years!) while he read aloud to them, policed the dinner clean up and ran their bedtime routine. Now that most of them are teens, he just gives them twenty bucks and tells them to get lost! Keeping in tune with what we each need and finding ways to wall off our private lives, individually and together, is really important over the long haul.

Why travel by plane when you can take a camel?

Melissa: Traveling with kids can be tough. Many of my friends with kids practically get hives thinking about taking their kids on airplanes, and more than a few of them decide not to have children because they don’t want to be held back from traveling the world. You’ve been traveling with your kids since they were young- far longer than I have with my now-eleven-year-old. Any words of wisdom for people who feel their kids (living or hypothetical) will turn travel into a nightmare?

Jenn: Can be?? Traveling with kids is very tough! The more of them you have, and the bigger the age range the more true that is! I can’t speak for everyone, and kids are such unique little experiments in humanity that I hesitate to paint them all with a broad brush stroke where travel is concerned. Travel isn’t for everyone, especially big time travel, and that’s okay. We all get to do life our own way. I love that. However, I am a firm believer that families who want to travel with their kids absolutely can, regardless of the situation. We have dear friends with five kids, one with profound CP who is wheelchair bound. They travel as a lifestyle through places like China, and India as a family. If they can do it, anyone can!  I think the thing that most parents hit the wall on is their own lack of appropriate preparation. Kids cannot be expected to do in public (while traveling) what they have not been taught to do at home. Fit throwing, kicking seats, eating difficulties, short attention spans, sleep patterns, and so many of the other things that keep people from traveling with their kids are really just training issues. That probably sounds harsh to a lot of people, but it’s still true. If we work on preparing our kids to sit quietly, be happy reading a book instead of with a game device, take a bite of new foods to try them without having a meltdown, fall asleep on their own in a variety of places and a thousand other little ways to equip our kids with the social skills and self control to feel confident in a changing environment, travel becomes so much easier. It takes forethought, and discipline on the part of the parent. Kids will rise to almost any occasion given the tools and the social expectations. I actually think it’s really unfair to kids to throw them onto an airplane with no warning and then freak out at them when they’re losing it an hour and a half into the flight when they’ve never been expected to sit for more than three minutes at home.  With older kids, it’s easier. Dialogue is really important. Not making unilateral decisions without at least taking the temperature of the members of a family is key. Tweens and teens just want to be heard, considered and given ownership of as much of their lives as they can handle. If we’re raising our kids to be independent, free thinkers, then we have to treat them as if they are exactly that. In our family, we discuss all of our major moves and then Tony and I make the best decision for the family, but everyone is heard and taken seriously. Everyones dreams and desires matter, and we talk things out.

Visiting New York before they left on yet another adventure! (although they didn’t take Anevay with them!)

Melissa: Speaking of kids… Anevay and I have had the fun honor of getting to know your kids, and can honestly say that a greater brood of young people would be hard to find. Gabe, Hannah, Elisha and Ezra are kind, open and seem able to communicate with anyone, anywhere. And whoa- you have a couple of teens who actually LIKE you and your husband?! Assuming they’re not brainwashed, could you tell me how the young members of your family form such tight friendships with each other and those they come in contact with?

Jenn: He he. Of course they’re brainwashed! Thanks so much for your kind assessment of our young people; we’re doing our best. I regularly joke that we’ll not count our chickens before they hatch, and ten more years will tell the tale of who they are as people. My only secret as a parent is that I’m a careful student of other families. Early on we had some great mentor families. I learned to look 5-10 years ahead of where we were with our own kids and to take notes of the good, the bad and the ugly. I asked a lot of questions of families with great teens and there were some commonalities that we are working hard to blend into our own brand of family.  Time spent matters. There’s a lot of discussion in parenting circles about quality time… but in our experience you can’t force that, it comes on the child’s terms as a direct result of quantity time. We’ve restructured our lives and careers from the very beginning to allow both of us to be home with the children, eat three meals together most days, and be shared participants in their educations. That comes at a cost, as you well know, having done the same for Anevay, but the benefits make the cost laughable. Is there anything that matters more than our kids at the end of the day? Nope. We brainwashed them. Yep. I admit it. From the time they were tiny we told them that they were best friends. We forced interaction. Does that sound mean? It wasn’t. It was fun. Each kid had individual playtime with each other kid every day. We schooled together, all in one room. We included the little ones in what was happening with the big ones. We expected them to be best friends. We surrounded ourselves with other families who were doing similar things so that close sibling relationships were the norm around them. We assiduously weeded out any media infiltration to the contrary (Arthur was not a cartoon we watched because of the nasty attitude between siblings!) We spent a LOT of time talking about considering the needs of other people, and thinking of ways to bless other people in the family and we watered those seeds when they sprouted for all we were worth. Lots of effort invested in giving kids the tools to build relationships, other centered thinking, a willingness to forgive and ask forgiveness themselves, negotiation and discussion skills. It’s not any one thing, just a long haul assault on building up the preciousness of one another and those we come in contact with. As for the teens… we’ve always had a firm philosophy that we are not raising children, we’re raising adults. We hand our kids as much responsibility as they can handle and we expect them to pick it up and run with it. From the time they were tiny we’ve encouraged them to be their own people, work hard, have dreams, and chase them. I think one of the big reasons that some teens rebel is that they feel “stuck” during the most creative and productive years of their lives. They are legislated against and approached from a “control” oriented direction. To me, that’s exactly the wrong approach. We’ve sought to encourage, empower and free our young people. They know they can go anywhere and do anything, with or without us, that they demonstrate the maturity and the preparation to do. In that way we’ve become their partners and their cheerleaders instead of their jailers. The result is kids who come and go on their own adventures, but who aren’t in a rush to leave. Hannah told me recently that she’d like to stay at least an extra year because, “You’re doing cool stuff, and I don’t want to miss it!” Having dreams and adventures together as a family and encouraging your kids to fly out and do the same is one way to keep those creative teen minds productively occupied!  And those we come in contact with… well, I guess it just overflows from daily life!

Melissa: You and Tony have homeschooled your kids since the beginning. How does this work for you? Is there a typical ‘day in the life’? How have you balanced schoolwork with allowing your kids to follow their own passions?

Jenn: We have. Our typical day now, with teens is very different from when they were little. In general, our kids school about 4 hours a day, 4 days a week. I never felt like kids needed a 5 day per week job. Or approach is a blend of the Classical and Charlotte Mason philosophies, if that means anything to you! My kids are almost completely self sufficient in their schooling at this point. I provide the plans, they do the work. They set their own schedules and check in with me once a week or so. I help here and there with teaching new concepts, but they are largely independent learners. Which is our primary goal in their educations. They have plenty of time to follow their passions, and they do. When they were little we established the pattern of mornings for book learning, afternoons for life learning and that has carried over. Most afternoons our kids are off having adventures or working on their own projects. Hannah is a passionate musician, reader and writer. She also loves to draw. Gabriel is dreaming and planning hard for a round the world sailing trip with his friend. He’s an avid sailor, SCUBA diver and all round ocean boy. Elisha just told me the other day that his new dream is to become a chef! I’m so excited about that for him. He’s a “big picture” thinker and he enjoys puzzling through new things. Ezra loves to paint, and build things. He’s one of those people that jumps in with both feet and then learns to swim on the way up. He’s pretty much up for anything that could be considered a death sport. He requires supervision. I guess the short answer is that the kids balance their own schoolwork and passions… just like we all do!

Melissa: Let’s talk money. How do you and Tony make it work? I know that there have been times when the going got tough. Can you speak on that a bit? As a single mom living on one income, I wonder if there have been times when you’ve had to live on one income? Do you think a family needs to have a certain amount of savings to start traveling? What about debt?

Tony and Jenn

Jenn: We live on one income. We have since before Hannah was born. We decided to prioritize my efforts in the direction of cultivating home and family. It’s just been in the past couple of years as the children have needed less of my physical presence that I’ve begun to write with concerted effort towards developing a career out of it. We’ve discovered that our lifestyle will expand to fill out whatever income we have. We’ve learned to live with less and we’ve had the privilege of living with more. When we started traveling and Tony quit the job he had with Apple the plan was to travel for a year on what we’d saved. That was in 2008. As you know the market crashed and our money evaporated and we found ourselves camped in Italy in a tent, on bicycles with no money and no income. At the time it was extremely stressful, but in retrospect it was probably the best thing that happened to us because it forced action. We had to decide, with total commitment, whether we were going home to get jobs, or going to find a way to recreate ourselves and make it work. Guess which we picked? We wintered in Africa that year to save money and begin to cultivate our skills and contacts. It’s been a rocky road, but four years later, we’ve just about got this freelance-location independent thing figured out and we’ve more than replaced our previous income. We work about 20 hours a week now, which is the perfect balance for us. Tony’s work still supports us fully. I make a little money, but it’s hardly worth mentioning in the grand scheme of things. There are plenty of non-financial benefits to writing, and what I do definitely enhances our travel experiences, but we still live on his one income.

I would hesitate to speak on what any other family “needs” in terms of their travel preparations. There are so many variables in families and financial situations. I would say that if you haven’t saved then you’d better be quite sure of your income streams, especially if you have debt. Diversifying is good. Putting all of your eggs in one basket is scary. There are LOTS of ways to support yourself while traveling, creative, determined people always find ways to follow their dreams. It’s entirely possible to create income streams and careers that are as stable as traditional careers while traveling or doing anything else you’re passionate about. Possible should not be confused with easy, however.

Melissa:Let’s talk health, too. I recently wrote a post about why I think it’s important to have travel insurance. What decisions have you and Tony made for your family about health and travel insurance? What about that polarizing word with the capital I… Immunizations?

Jenn: I’m opinionated on these subjects and I’ll probably blow out a few of your readers, I apologize in advance! Insurance is non-optional in our travel book. It’s not even about the healthcare, because that is very cheaply available in most of the rest of the world and we’ve paid out of pocket for almost all of the services we’ve needed on the road, from emergency care, to hospital stays, to routine doctor visits and immunizations. It’s really about the catastrophic care. What happens when a war zone erupts around you? What happens when someone is critically injured and then needs an airlift to the other side of the world? These are the moments where ten years of paying what seem like silly premiums are a drop in the bucket. Repatriation of an injured person or a body can run into the hundreds of thousands of dollars. Without the insurance in place, getting the services you need fast enough can be a real difficulty. Our mutual friend Nancy has a powerful story of how that insurance saved her husband’s life when they were living in Ethiopia. Everything in travel is about calculated risks, and this is one that we are not willing to take. We always have, and always will, carry insurance while we’re traveling.

Immunizations… polarizing indeed. Let me start by telling you our position, then I’ll do my best to explain why we’re so firmly committed to it. We immunize our kids thoroughly, but not for every single new thing that comes down the pike, and not necessarily according to the recommended schedule. They’ve had all of the “standard” vaccines and they’ve had quite a few none of their friends have! We immunize for the “life threatening” diseases, basically… so not chicken pox or HPV or the like. When we started traveling in Asia we had them given the Japanese Encephalitis vaccine (part of the standard round up in Asia) and they’ve had Typhoid and Yellow fever, among other travel related vaccinations.

It is my personal recommendation that everyone immunize. I grew up with a polio affected father. My dad doesn’t have the use of his left arm, and the left side of his body is weaker than the right. I watched him set nails to build our houses between his toes. I buttoned the cuffs of his sleeves every morning of my childhood until I left the house. There are a million little things that I do “differently” than everyone else because I learned to do them by watching my dad. No one ever intentionally taught me to do them one handed, I just do. My Dad is the furthest thing from disabled. He’s done more in his life than most men would in two, but he does have some very definite difficulties in the process that other people don’t have. He spent part of his childhood in a wheelchair and in children’s hospitals. He was told all the many things he could not do. My grandmother fought like mad to get him the care he needed and rehabilitate him. She fought just as hard to make sure that my aunt was among the first kids to get the Salk vaccine when it first came out. One child in our family with polio was enough for her. I know there is a lot of talk in the parenting world about the possible risks of vaccines, but I’ve grown up my whole life watching the 100% certainty of the consequences in a world without them. A girlfriend of mine died of meningitis in Cuba when we were in high school. That’s a death that’s unnecessary now that there’s a vaccine for it. Many of these diseases, polio included, are not gone from the world, they’ve just been vaccinated down to a dull roar in places with good childhood healthcare. Having lived the life I’ve lived, I can’t be convinced otherwise. On to less controversial topics?

Jenn… traveling mom or pin-up?

Note: this is Melissa’s weird ‘Goddess’ foot, not Jenn’s…

Melissa: Jenn, this interview has indeed covered a lot of serious topics. How about I allow you to let down your hair a bit! Last summer I wrote a post involving my funny ‘Goddess-like Greek Toe’ (where the second toe is longer than the first). I was pleasantly surprised to find that you, too, share this oddity! What’s one other (odd, funny, sweet, etc) thing about you that fellow travelers might not know?

Jenn: Hehe. I love my long toes!! Hmm… I jumped out of a cake at a bachelor party once. Does that count? I will dance with anyone who asks… I once won 20 Euros in a bet for an old, old man at an Alstadt Fest in Germany, he pulled me right out of Tony’s lap to dance a polka. His old man friends bet him I wouldn’t dance with him. That made us both happy! I kind of collect old men, actually… like flies. The kids think it’s hysterical. They come out of the woodwork to talk to me, bring me gifts, buy me drinks, dance, whatever. It’s a family joke now. I am a collector of tangible memories. I have this ridiculous… I don’t know, neuroses maybe?….that compels me to collect pieces of places and people that matter to me. I have dozens of tiny things pressed in my journal or on my body. Bracelets, beads, tiny charms, bells, keys, shell bits. Each one is a person or a place to me. Perhaps the highest compliment I can pay someone is to take some little piece of them into my collection. It’s one of the ways that I take the people I love most with me no matter where I roam.

Melissa: What’s next? Where will the wind be pushing you and your family?

Jenn: I love that analogy, of the wind. It reminds me of the girl in Chocolat with her red cloak being blown by a gypsy wind. We’re headed to Australia in August, for about three months, and then we’re probably going to make a swing through North America for 3-5 months to see family (it will have been a year and a half) get Hannah’s driver’s license, see clients, sort out the kids citizenship paperwork in Canada, etc. Next summer I’m planning to walk the Camino de Santiago, 500 miles from France into Spain, with a childhood friend of mine. It seems like a good way to celebrate our 40th birthdays. Tony and the kids will hang somewhere on the continent while I do that. We’re thinking Greece, perhaps.  We’ve got lots of general plans, but no specific ones.

Melissa: That you’re a fellow writer warms my heart. Could you tell me a bit about your online writing and blogs that you manage? I’m familiar with your travel and educational writing… Any other sort of writing in the pipeline? Secret volumes of poetry in the attic? Novels stashed away in bike panniers? Screenplays rolled up with your sleeping bag? Tell me, tell me!

Jenn: It’s definitely one of the things that connects us, isn’t it? I love your writing, especially the short stories you shared with me. I aspire to fiction! I do a lot of writing for the alternative education and travel markets online, yes. I have a couple of columns and several regular venues. I have a blog called Uncommon Childhood that doesn’t get as much press as our Edventure Project one, but is dear to my heart because it’s where I collect lots of different ways to live life with kids from lots of different writers perspectives. Of course Nancy Vogel and I have our joint project Dream: Reboot, that is dedicated to helping people reinvent themselves and build the life of their dreams. She and I are in the process of rolling out a whole new phase of that which we hope will really inspire people! I also am working on a blog called Walkin’ It Off that is pretty much about the ways that we walk through midlife crises. My friend Jade, who I’m walking the Camino with, is my partner in crime on that one!

Secret writing… hehe, ever writer has secret writing. I used to be an avid journal keeper, but thats something I’ve laid aside in the past year or so. I do write poetry, but mostly for self therapy. I have a novel about three chapters from finished that I probably won’t attempt to publish until everyone who would be scandalized has died off. It is the story of how complicated life gets and how we throw one another life lines, in both real and imaginary ways. It is the story of how we lose ourselves through our very best efforts and sometimes are lucky enough to find ourselves again. Writing it has inspired me to work harder on fiction writing and telling stories. I have another novel taking shape in my head that I’d love to have time to get out on paper. It’s about reincarnation, the layers of lives we live, and the threads of people and loves that weave through it.

Melissa: Because I don’t think I can deal with not seeing more of your writing RIGHT NOW, I’m going to make a small demand… Please, for all that’s good, end this interview with a limerick or rhyme that traveling families can recite through the ages around a campfire!

Jenn: Tony says, “There once was a man from Nantucket….” No wait, that’s not going good places. Ehm. Okay. Here goes:

We’ve fallen in love with the road

And travel, whatever the mode:

By bike, boat or car

Where ever we are

The world is our humble abode. 

(*Note: All photos the property of the Millers with the exception of Melissa’s foot and the one taken in NYC)

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