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Why We Travel

Why do we travel — Why does anyone travel?

Let’s face it, traveling can be a royal pain in the arse. It’s expensive, it’s time consuming, it’s a risk, it’s often uncomfortable, but for a few of us it’s as necessary as oxygen.

The most common question we get when we start telling people about our crazy adventures is, why? Why would any sane person travel like you guys do?

Hey look, we get it.

Not everyone is born with wanderlust that drives them to the ends of the earth. We just happen to be that way. But we know lots of people who aren’t. Once on a bus trip while parked at a random Safeway somewhere in California, a couple walked by staring at our bus. This happens a lot, most people are overjoyed when they see us in our bus. But these two walked by slowly with looks of utter confusion on their faces. Finally, the woman turned to her husband and said, “That is my nightmare. Don’t ever make me live in one of those.”

Alrighty then! Give the woman credit for knowing what she doesn’t like. But, her nightmare is our playground. We love messing around on our bus. No matter if we are headed down the coast to San Diego, overland to Utah, or just up to Moss Landing for breakfast, we love being on the road, in a converted school bus.

I remember my first solo trip.

I was on my way to Puerto Rico to work in the rainforest with some crazy organization who my parents knew of from a family friend. All I knew was that I was getting on the plane and some guy was going to pick me up in San Juan and take me to the rainforest.

Years later my mom admitted that she had waited for me to turn around and give one final wave before disappearing down the jet way. I never did. It never even occurred to me to look back – why would I?

I had a backpack over my shoulder and a sleeping bag tucked under my arm. For the first time in my life I felt perfectly at ease. I was headed out, on an adventure, all was right in my world.

In college, I was known for bringing a packed suitcase to class so I could go straight to the metro and jump on a plane to skip across the Atlantic. Malone, too, was  famous on his own college campus for being the crazy sophomore who jumped on a plane to London over fall break. A few days before a visiting student from the UK had bet Malone he would never come visit. He called his new friend from a phone booth at Victoria station a few days after the bet.

The thought of jumping on a plane and walking down the jetway into an unplanned adventure, if only for a quick weekend, appeals to us.

When I was pregnant with Bryce a good friend of ours, Carlos Mota, pulled Malone aside and told him point blank to keep traveling. He regaled Malone with stories of traveling with his two kids, all the times he went into hotel kitchens to clean baby bottles, of creating makeshift beds in various places, of being so exhausted he was barely able to speak at his speaking engagements, but that it was absolutely worth it. His kids were not afraid of anything and he and his wife were able to see the world through the eyes of their children.

We both agreed we wanted that more than anything for our kids.

We felt lucky to have found our love for traveling and wanted to pass on that fearless nature and absolute drive to explore new places to them. Looking back we both can see that our love for adventure and willingness to put up with travel hardships was passed down to each of us by our fearless parents – but that’s a story for another day.

Our kids are rugged, resilient adventurers. True wanderers of the earth, ready to jump at a moment’s notice, to try anything – once. To set sail, dive deep, dance in the rain, sleep on the floor, go to plan C, or D, or E. To laugh when all else fails. We could not have asked for better traveling partners.

Back to the question at hand. Why? No really, why?

When we meet  people, or  get to talking to the people we already know, they inevitably ask:

Why do you travel? Why do you want to go there? What will you do? What do you want to see? Truthfully, I often don’t know. Does it matter?

Sometimes I simply want to breathe in the air that’s on the other side the world.

I’m not a planner so when we arrive at a new place I’m just as surprised as everyone else about what happens next. (don’t tell them that ) I love arriving. Stepping off the plane and getting that first whiff of air sneaking into the jetway from a poorly sealed portal. Or better yet walking down the stairs right onto the tarmac with the wall of  heat slapping you in the face as you stumble to find the stairs with your feet. Or watching the snow drift down and settle on the wings as you wait your turn to exit while you question your decision to pack the light weight jacket because it took up less space in the backpack.

Come on! How can that not be fun? I love traveling.

When we travel we put ourselves in other people’s way. We purposely involve ourselves in their world, their cultures, their lives. And often we put our very lives in their hands. Admittedly, that takes a special kind of faith in humanity.

The last time we were in Morocco we needed to get ourselves from Tangiers to Fez, which is about a five-hour drive, where we were to spend the night. But we also had planned to stop in a beautiful city called Chefchaouen known for its blue paint and magnificent streets, where we wanted to have lunch and a hike around the city. We had been told shared taxis were the way to go.

But, as I said, I’m not much of a planner so the plan was flawed and the hotel manager had concerns. He didn’t like the idea of us trying to find a taxi from Chefchaouen all the way to Fez at that late hour. He advised us to hire our own taxi, that he would arrange for us, all the way to Fez with an agreement to stop for lunch along the way.

That sounded like a terrific idea to us so we all agreed and off to the phones he went. All seemed great – there was no way the hotel manager would put us in a fake taxi, would he? No way. His entire livelihood rises and falls on trip advisor reviews so handing us off to someone who would rob us and leave us on the side of road would be bad for business, surly. Imagine the review! We felt all was well and we loaded our stuff and our children into the newly arrived taxi and took off.

However, things didn’t go as planned. Within a few minutes of our departure from the hotel our taxi driver got a phone call. He then excitedly told us that a buddy of his was from Chefchaouen and would take us because he just happened to be in town dropping off a fare.

Malone and I looked at each other and he immediately started calling the hotel. Our broken Arabic and our driver’s broken English might be part of the problem, but this seemed a little far-fetched to us. No answer at the hotel, no such thing as an answering machine, no better understanding of what was happening.

The boys perked up. They could tell something was amiss. The driver was excited, he didn’t have to drive all the way to Fez but would share some of the money. His buddy would get a fare all the way home. It was good to have friends in the same business, haha, life is good!

Malone took a deep breath and gave us all that look – stay calm but alert. We all sat up straight, we all listened carefully.

The boys took a photo of the driver.

The driver pulled onto a dirt road and stopped about 150 feet from the main road.

It was secluded.

We waited.

“He’s coming. He’s coming!” our driver told us. “No worry. Don’t worry.”

Here’s the thing. The vibe wasn’t wrong. That feeling you get when you know something bad is about to happen wasn’t there at all. The boys were joking with the driver, Bryce was translating as best as he could and giving me that eye that said this guy seems fine.

But we were stopped on a dusty side road, waiting for other people to arrive. I waited and hoped we hadn’t royally screwed up.

After a few minutes another car showed up and pulled in next to us. We all jumped out and introduced ourselves. Sure enough it was a lone driver in a nice car big enough for us and our stuff. Everyone moved our gear to the new car and our local driver did a thorough check to make sure we hadn’t left anything in his. Malone discreetly took photos of the two license plates, all the while laughing and joking with our new friends. We shook hands and piled into the new taxi.

The boys, ever aware, didn’t get into the car until we did, smart boys. We all piled in and roared off to Chefchaouen. We stopped for lunch while the driver went home and slept. He picked us up after a few hours and took us to Fez. It was good to have friends. There was no malice. No plan to rob us. He really was just a guy trying to find a fare back home.

It was a reminder of our faith in humanity. When we travel, we put ourselves directly in the path of other people and while doing so we have faith that they will do right by us. So far, 95% of the time, the people we have met do exactly that, thus keeping our faith in humanity high.

Maybe that’s why we travel. To remind ourselves that no matter who we are, where we live, where we come from, what we believe, what we are afraid of, or what we look like, people are thoughtful, kind, altruistic. Willing to help a crazy family. Willing to point the way to a lost soul. Willing to smile at a stranger. Willing to brighten the day with the only thing we really have in this world – ourselves.

New Zealand and “Stan the Van”

After months of youth hostels and cheap hotels we stepped up the quality of our lodging with a move into an RV in New Zealand. We arrived in Auckland late in the evening from Melbourne and spent the night in the equivalent of a Motel 6 motor lodge near the airport before an early morning taxi to the RV rental facility.

The boys settled in to read and “guard” the luggage while Aleix and I signed a stack of forms. We decided against “blown over” insurance. Insurance to cover the cost of damage when high winds blow you off the road and the vehicle onto its side. I questioned the wisdom of our decision a week later when we were hit with howling cross winds on the South Island.  The RV handled like a sailing dingy on the Monterey Bay under a wind advisory.

An impressively efficient operation Maui RV processes hundreds of folks each morning who arrive, usually direct from the airport via a Maui shuttle, and within about an hour go forth onto the roads of New Zealand in vehicles bigger than anything they have driven, most of them “on the wrong side of the road.”

If you have driven on the “other side” you recognize the highest risk and most confusing moments occur when making a turn, whether in a congested city or a rural intersection with no traffic, and no signage. On past trips in the UK we established the “Hodges turn safety system” which consists of Bryce and Colin repeating the mantra, “left side, left side, left side” through the turn, much like the ding of a turn indicator. It sounds ridiculous, I admit, but it saved us on several occasions. Once confident I am headed to the correct lane, I say, “got it.” The boys stop and await the next opportunity to protect us from head on collisions.

The checkout procedure on the RV entails a 10-minute tour of its quirks by an 18-year-old college student employed by Maui for the summer. He demonstrated how to add water, empty the waste, operate the stove, and start the heater. He also emphasized that the handbrake is THE parking brake. Without the brake engaged the RV would roll…until something stopped it. Apparently a common problem. I took the opportunity to ask, “What is the wildest story you have about renters and their failures?”

His response: “I would not believe it if I hadn’t seen it myself. We had a couple from China rent a fairly large RV. As they drove away a colleague looking out of the plate glass window at the front of our building let out a shout. I turned in time to see the RV jump the curb on the access road and roll into the field until it came to a stop. The couple got out; the supervisor and a couple of the other guys walked out to see what had happened. With much hand waving, pointing, and nodding, the renter got across that the cruise control hadn’t worked. He engaged it then got out of the driver’s seat and stepped into the back to help his wife make tea. Shortly thereafter the RV jumped the curb.”

Wishing to not add to future stories collected by the Maui rental staff, we loaded the van, which the boys christened “Stan the van,” and headed to a nearby grocery store for supplies.

Over the subsequent two weeks, Stan would carry us over thousands of kilometers around the South Island, along the coast, via ferry to the North Island, and finally into Auckland.

With long summer days we drove into sunsets that seemed to last hours, explored beaches free of people, experienced the solitude of the open road and a refreshing sense of isolation late at night under the stars far from cell phone coverage and the sounds of mankind.

The Pak Ou Caves

 

The Pak Ou Caves are about 25 kilometers north of Luan Prabang on the Mekong. They have housed Buddhist icons for hundreds of years and continue to be an important place of pilgrimage. I was told that during the late 60s and 70s the royal family, whose capital was Luang Prabang, sought shelter in the caves from the ravages of the war.

Up the Mekong from Luang Prabang and into Thailand

In the early morning light, the long, dark wooden boat sat low in the Mekong River on the edge of Luang Prabang, Laos waiting for us as we worked our way down to board it. We had booked a two day passage going north up the Mekong to Huay Xai to cross Friendship Bridge Four and make our way into Thailand and down to Chaing Rai. There were about a dozen travelers in total on the boat. It was nothing but deck with tables and built in lounges, no walls, but with a roof overhead-necessary during the rainy season but now important for shade. The captain, and owner of the boat, drove from a small wheel house at the bow while the toilets, kitchen, and the owner’s residence were at the stern.

We settled into our seats and were pleasantly surprised to be served coffee and croissants as we pushed away from the shore and into the river.

The trip takes two full days with an overnight stop, as navigating the river at night is unwise. One can make the trip on a speedboat in six to eight hours, however we witnessed several of these boats and everyone, driver and passengers, were wearing motorcycle helmets and from what we could see holding on for dear life. The speed boats looked to hold six to eight passengers. While infrequent, death and injury are common place enough that only those in a real hurry opt for the speedboats.

Over the course of the first day we made a stop at the Pak Ou caves (a separate blog post) and were served an exceptional buffet style Lao lunch of fried fish, curry vegetables, rice, and chicken.

Often on this trip, and in life, it feels like we are moving through the world whether running to catch a train, figure out our next place to sleep, or what to see or do. Being on the Mekong was the opposite. It felt like we were sitting calmly watching the world go by. Aside from reading and talking, there was nothing else to do but sit and watch the herds of water buffalo, the passing boats, children playing on the river’s edge, a family carrying water up to their crops a few meters above the river’s edge, the occasional saffron colored robes of monks and the river itself. Long train rides have the same feeling. But on a train one is looking out the window while on the boat, with no walls, we could feel the breeze, hear the sounds and smell the jungle.

Riding Elephants in Laos.

It was a forty minute drive to the Elephant village outside Luang Prabang, Laos, where we were to ride elephants. When we arrived at the entrance we all got out of the van and unloaded our respective luggage. Deciding not to roll the suitcases on the gravel, we lugged our luggage (hehe) to the centre of the village and set our bags down in the centre of the circular centre hut. Next to a muted television, which was to the right of where we entered the area, was a small table with coffee and tea upon it. There were no walls.

Dad decided that I should try a cup of coffee, and I was instantly hooked. (Although I still need a considerable amount of sugar.) We were told that we should look around the centre area but to stay near the circle-with-a-roof, clear of the elephants wandering by. I complied, sipping my coffee and exploring down a linear path with smaller, rectangular shelves-with-roofs that had interesting elephant related and local made items like scarves, all, of course, for sale. There were only twenty-five or so guests in the area, divided into groups of six to eight people, including our own group. About a dozen elephant guides were talking and getting ready for the day. I would soon learn they are called mahouts.

I walked past these tables and looped up a different, less linear path, back to the roofed circle. After waiting for a few minutes, we moved to a recently vacated stone table on the lawn. There our guide explained the itinerary for the two day excursion in more detail than ever given to me for a school event! After a short introduction of names we moved BACK to the circular shack and stood just outside the inner circle in front of an information board.

This board was one of many, however, it was apparent this board was very important, as it was yellow and was prominently displayed for all to see. The board had a matrix in which words were placed. The guide explained to us that the words were instructions that all their elephants were trained to understand. For example, one very important word in the table was ‘How How,’ which told the elephant to cease all motion. (STOP.) The guide explained to us that the elephant behind him, (which prompted lots of gawking, by me and the group), was our practice elephant. We were to mount it, and then ride/drive her in a circle around another lawn on the other “side” of the circular structure erected in the middle.

I, not wanting to be first, snuck to the back of the group. The first person mounted the elephant almost flawlessly, setting the standard for the rest of us. She rode the elephant in the prescribed circle, then dismounted. After several more people rode the majestic elephant it was my turn to go. I walked tentatively up to the elephant and the mahout (driver) gave the command for the elephant to slightly bend and raise its front leg. I placed my foot onto the knee and hoisted myself up, luckily I had the help of the mahout, and our guide. I steadied myself on the elephant and the mahout said, “Pie Pie,” which means walk forward. The elephant lumbered forward slowly. We slowly completed the circle around the lawn.

After the circle we all went into the boarding tower to board our elephants for the first ride. Mom and I boarded the same elephant and got settled in the chair. The mahout was already seated behind the ears. As soon as we were seated the elephant lurched forward and I was very thankful for the small cross bar fitted over the chair. The elephant led us down to the river and across it. The elephant trumpeted, obviously happy to be in the water. After we exited the first bit of river and onto an island, the mahout up front let me sit on the neck of the elephant whilst he and mom sat in the chair. It was fun, and I ended up doing it the entire rest of the trip. After walking on the island for a stretch of several meters we entered the river again. Then, after the river we walked back up another path onto the road, and walked the elephant back to the village on the road.

After getting back to the circle, we hauled our luggage past the little lawn to a slope that ran down to the river. We got into a long boat, and placed our bags in it. The boat took us to a long, steep stair case to the house in which we would be staying. We all grabbed our respective bags and dragged them up the hill. After settling in the room we walked back to the centre of the village on a path by the river. We had a lovely dinner at the restaurant area and then walked back to the house to sleep.

In the morning we had to wake up at 07:15 in order to dress and get down to the river to catch a river boat to an area where we met the elephants. We were to be giving them a bath. The river boat dropped us off at a small path that we followed until we saw the elephants. I hopped on my respective elephant, (with a mahout), and we followed the path back to the river. The elephant, at first, didn’t want to get into the river, which I was perfectly ok with. But after a few attempts the mahout finally coaxed the elephant into the water. The elephant then refused to kneel down so I could wet, again I was fine with that. I finally got a little wet, and the bath was indeed fun, but after a while we had to return the elephants to the mahouts so that the elephants could be given a real bath.

After the bath we were taken back to the house to change and pack. Then we were taken to breakfast. After a short breakfast we went into the van and were driven back to the hotel. This was a very fun experience for me and my family, that I will remember for quite sometime, if not forever.

Luang Prabang, Northern Laos

After a few days of recovery at “Mike’s house” in Vientiane our family of four was off to our next stop on our around the world adventure. North, to the city of Luang Prabang. We had planned for the city to become our base for four days, we ended up staying eight. So far, we tend to slow down rather than speed up.

The city and the surrounding area is home to about 50,000 people and until the communist takeover of the country in 1975 it was the seat of government and royal capital of the Kingdom of Laos.

The city is also home to a number of temples and monasteries so encountering groups of monks is a common occurrence. The old city sits on a peninsula between the Nam Khan and Mekong Rivers. Over the last eight to ten years it has become a more frequent stop for travelers who previously would skip northern Laos in their travels through Vietnam and northern Thailand. It seems as if nearly every resident has either opened a guest house, small shop, or restaurant. The ambiance is relaxed and the people are as friendly as anywhere we have been.

The city also has a few characters as well.

One of whom is Ruth Borthwick an Australian who runs a book exchange and one of the nicer restaurants in Luang Prabang along with a cooking school which we attended. Ruth’s uncle was the Australian Ambassador to Laos in the 1970s when Ruth’s parents were assassinated in a bus between Luang Prabang and Vientiane. One twist in the story is that her father was the twin brother of the ambassador. Of the 35 passengers on the ambushed bus only four were killed. It seems quite likely that the real target was the ambassador.

Ruth is a woman of strong opinion, many of which we agreed with while others we did not. It was an excellent experience for the boys to encounter someone who was of strong opinion and willing to engage in a discussion on the state of the world.

The book exchange is set up as a one-to-one trade with a small fee that goes towards putting books in Lao schools. Or, if one doesn’t have a book to exchange the books can be purchased for a reasonable price with the proceeds going towards school books. We left Ruth with all of the hard copy books we had devoured in China and tried to minimize the number of new ones we added to our packs.

The cooking class was excellent, as you can see from the photos. We met some great folks including a fun couple from Vermont. Colin was gung-ho from the start while Bryce was a bit hesitant at first and then stepped it up on the second dish. By the end of the second round of meals both boys were clearly in charge of our respective teams with Colin directing me as his “sous chef” and Bryce giving Aleix directions on what to do next.

Before we got to the cooking, we of course had to source ingredients. This involved a short ride to the market and a detailed tour of the market. As many of you know, Aleix and I have been vegan for the last few years but have abandoned that constraint (please don’t tell my cardiologist) for this trip.

A walk through the meat section of the market did push Aleix back towards the vegetarian end of the spectrum for several days. The photos don’t sufficiently reflect the variety of ingredients to be had and the sheer number of individual vendors.

Also in the photos above is a bamboo bridge across the Nam Khan river bridge, lit with a long white ribbon of lights at night. There is also a shot of it from the shore during the day. The bridge is put up at the end of the rainy season and replaces the 5 people at a time ferry boat that crosses the river during the rainy season. In the neighborhood across the river down a dark residential road past a temple is a wood fired pizza restaurant. You know you have arrived when you see the “pizza” sign in the front yard. The restaurant is around back in the rear of the house that doubles as an English language school. The owner is Canadian. He teaches school during the day and five nights a week cooks pizza and serves beer to customers who eat at tables in his garden. And, such is the reality of Southeast Asia.

Vientiane Laos

We arrived in Vientiane after 16 days in China. A few days before our departure from Beijing we decided that our time in Vientiane needed to be more recovery and less exploring. That decision led us to Mike and Xoukiet and their lovely home on the outskirts of Vientiane. I emailed Mike with short (24 hour) notice and he fired off a quick email indicating that he was accepting our AirBnB request. We would figure it out, that I should send the flight info and he would meet us at the airport and not to worry all would be well.

In fact, it was more than we could have expected. Mike met us at the airport, even though our flight was over two hours late. On the way back to his home he gave us a quick rundown on Lao history. Our original plan was to spend two nights, but if you elect to stay with Mike and Xoukiet, you will be sorely tempted to extend your stay. We stayed four days. We are a family of four (two boys age 16 and 13) traveling for a year and it was as if we had come to see an uncle that we hadn’t seen in a few years.

During those four days we went shopping for furniture and supplies with Mike,  helped him set up an out building for an incoming intern from China, attended the “Wig Bizarre” (a fund raiser put on by the diplomatic community that included performances and food stalls,) and weathered an incredible monsoonal downpour while in their pool.

The boys spent part of each day catching up on homework, Mike’s house includes an upstairs area with a large table and white board. Colin has decided that math on a white board is definitely the way to go!

Mike engaged our sons in discussions about Lao history, our travels, and the challenges facing the world. Dinner each night was wonderful as new guests came and went. Mike’s famous gin and tonics (in my case I opted for vodka and tonic—a bad college experience is to blame) started the evening and Xuciet’s Lao meals were wonderful. She works for the United Nations and has her own powerful insights on a number of topics. Conversation flowed often late into the evening.

An incredible four days.

Mike and the boys continue to correspond about the state of the world, and how their generation might make a better go of it.

A Few Days out of the Cities in the Relative Quiet of Guilin and Yangshuo China

As we move around the world with our kids we have tried to intersperse times in big cities with time in the rural areas of the countries we visit. In the case of China we went from the intensity of Beijing, to the less frenetic city of X’ian and finally after a 19 hour train ride arrived in Guilin. From there we boarded a boat on the Li river to Yangshuo. This is a beautiful area of China. In fact, the back of one of the bills features an ink drawing of some of the karst mountains, formed when limestone and dolomite is eroded.

The Guilin area is known for its ‘better air quality’ but in our experience this was only in contrast to how bad it was elsewhere. The photos all benefited from the “dehaze” filter in the photo processing software (Adobe Lightroom.) It was certainly better than in Beijing and even Xian especially during a late afternoon hike in a light rain.

We spent several days at the Giggling Tree Guest House, an old farmhouse converted into a guest house by a Dutch couple. Last August I was standing in the dusty bar at Distrikt during Burning Man talking to a French TV producer who worked for National Geographic and had been a traveling producer for the TV show The Amazing Race. I mentioned that we were headed to China and she said one of her favorite places in Asia was the Giggling Tree Guest House, so we added it to our list. It was, indeed, a special place.

Amongst other unique things, they had put together a series of “flip” picture books for a number of hikes and bike rides in the area. We spent several hours wandering in the nearby hills armed only with our camera and a spiral bound collection of pictures indicating where to turn. Above is a picture of Bryce holding one of the pages indicating a left turn up a steep stone path marked by an angled tree!
We wandered through several small villages at a pace that was much slower than our experiences elsewhere in China.

Some of the People We Met On Our Travels With Our Kids Through China

As we hoped when we set off around the world with our kids, this trip is about the people we meet as much or more than the places we go. Traveling with two sons through China provides ample opportunity for conversations and interaction. Also, we elected to travel by train through China (rather than flying) and took the subway over taxis in Beijing, Shainghai, and Xian. These are photos of a few of the folks we met along the way.

Xian Mosque

I am in Luang Probang, Loas, editing photos of the boy’s encounter with the groundskeeper at one of the oldest mosques in China when I learn of the bombings in Paris. Much as the attackers of 9/11 hijacked planes full of innocents, these terrorists are hijacking an entire religion.

We came upon this kindly old man in the mid-afternoon in a quiet courtyard. We had wandered in from the adjacent alley as he was making his way across the open space. He stopped and admired the boys. He asked about the cost of travel from America. We debated which was farther Mecca, or California. He told us of his family and his eleven great-grand-kids. Our boys asked him questions and we all laughed when he made it clear that Aleix was clearly too young for me, with her beautiful smile and my white beard.

He had never been on Haj (one of the five pillars of Islam) as the cost was too great. Other than his travels to Xian from his village he hadn’t traveled in China.

I cannot reconcile our encounter with this gentleman at a beautiful and serene spot with the mayhem that men who claim to share the same beliefs are inflicting everyday elsewhere in the world.

Malone