What I Learned On My Summer Vacation

We went to the UK and Ireland for almost a month, from June 10 till July 4. It was great! And also, difficult. I had the idea to do this because, when I traveled to Naples and Rome last summer for work, all I could think of was how much I wanted to share that experience with my family. Mom had always wanted to go to Ireland, and Ireland is an English-speaking country (mostly), so I thought that would be a good place to try our first experience living abroad with the children. In two years, we will be on sabbatical and I would like to live some of that year abroad, so I wanted to get a taste, learn, and introduce the children to the experience. Also, I needed to go to the UK for work, so Ireland could piggy-back on that trip and my airfare would be paid. Michael used miles for a free ticket, and renting a house is inexpensive in Ireland right now, so it seemed affordable. Here's what I learned on our summer vacation.

1. The plane ride is no big deal. I was worried about doing the flight with the children on my own (since Michael was getting a free ticket), so much so that we bent over backwards to find a flight that all of us could fly on together. I needn't have worried. The children loved the airplane, adored the personal video players in their seats, and couldn't believe that nice people kept bringing them drinks (even soda!) and food (in tiny wrappers and compartments!). They only slept about three hours, but they were great the whole time.

our London flat

2. VRBO is the way to go. I've booked houses and apartments all over the world through them for years now, and I've never been disappointed. We stayed in a beautiful, spacious, three-bedroom flat in London for about what it would have cost for a single hotel room. It was super quiet and we all had a dark, private room in which to sleep off our jet lag. The kids did great at that, too, sleeping 12-14 hours straight the first night and pretty much getting over it in one fell swoop.

3. In cities, you must visit a playground every day. We stayed three nights in London. While I went to museums and a meeting, Michael took the kids around the city. The first morning, we tried walking around Whitehall and showing them Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, and the Thames, but... it was not good. They didn't really care, it was busy and we had to watch them like hawks on the streets, and we had to ask ourselves what the point of this was. After that, Michael took them to the food hall at Harrods, where they bought Turkish Delight; they rode a double-decker bus; they went to Hamley's, the largest toy store in the world; they visited the Tower of London; and they looked at the gems and dinosaurs in the Natural History Museum. Even these sights were challenging at times. Poor Michael did not see a single work of art in London. By the time we got to Port Sunlight (near Liverpool), Michael had schooled me on the pace and destinations we could handle with the kids.

playground at Port Sunlight

4. The children are good travelers. Despite our disappointment (at times) at their inability to take in even sights (like castles) that we thought would be interesting to them, the children were generally adaptable to the many new situations we put them in. They slept well-- although I had also gone to great lengths to book lodgings in which each person had his or her own bed, and usually his or her own private room. They enjoyed talking with people we met, and they instantly made friends on every playground. Although they were balky some days about going off on the next adventure, they were also wonderfully eager at times.

After three days in London, we took the train up to Liverpool, to a nearby town called Port Sunlight, where I had a research appointment at the Lady Lever Art Gallery. Port Sunlight is a mock-Tudor model village built by a soap magnate in the late 19th century for his workers; his company is now Unilever corporation. We stayed in one of the little houses in this "chocolate box village" (as the English call a cute town). We could walk everywhere, and besides the playground we went to the local pub for lunch and even to an ancient church on Sunday. It was lovely, but the children were a little too attracted to the giant fountain in the park outside our house. We got scolded for letting them wade in it. 

5. It is windy in Ireland. And chilly, and gray and misty at least half the time. Here we are on the ferry crossing. It was so windy crossing the Irish Sea, we could lean into the wind and it would support us. These outfits we are wearing are in pretty much every photo of us on the Irish portion of our trip. The weather every day was in the high 50s or low 60s, with alternating mist, light rain, cloud, or breaks of sun. Our windbreakers and jeans had molded to our bodies by the end. 

After three days in Port Sunlight, we took the train to Holyhead and the ferry to Dublin. A taxi took us to the rental agency, and then we drove out of Dublin down to Cashel, Ireland, for our first night. This trip only took about 2.5 hours, but it was hairy. 

6. I don't like driving vacations. I don't think I have a single photo of our car, which is a telling omission. Driving in Ireland was stressful. I'm not practiced at driving a manual shift, the driving is on the left side, we had a wide vehicle, and the roads are very narrow and without shoulders. I knew all that going in, of course, but I thought it would be fine (other people seem to do it, so why shouldn't we?), and that we wouldn't be driving every day-- we had purposely arranged to have a full week in two different locations, taking a slow, non-sight-seeing approach. We figured we'd do outings some days, and the other days we'd take walks nearby or just be around the house. But in fact, we drove every day, for two reasons. I'll explain more below, but first.... 

7. The children loved the B&B. The first night in Ireland, we stayed in a B&B in Cashel so we wouldn't have to drive all the way to Dingle the first day. This is Henry with the resident pooch, Tipsy. We all stayed in a "family room," and Henry especially was so entranced by the B&B concept. He loved that we went to somebody's house, got to sit in their living room and watch their TV and play with their lovable dog, and they gave us a bed, and then the next day, they cooked us breakfast! Including pancakes and bacon and black-and-white pudding and an extra pancake when he requested it. It was such a thrill, I have resolved to visit some B&B's here at home.

8. Although it has a long, storied, and various history, there are not many material remains to see in Ireland. This photo is from the hilltop at the rock of Cashel, site of an important castle and church. This was indeed a majestic ruin, but a ruin nonetheless. Between the harsh climate and the even harsher history of conquerors sacking and razing cultural monuments, only ruins remain at the most historic sites. Perhaps the most extreme example of this was on the island of Inishboffin, where we went to the site of St Colman's monastery. (He was largely responsible for preserving Christian culture during the "dark ages.") There was nothing there (to our eyes) but a small, ruined stone church, filled with weeds. We ate our picnic there, in the driving wind. There wasn't even a plaque. I came to realize that Ireland's history is really in its literature and stories.   

Henry outside our cottage in Kilmalkedar, Dingle

Our local beach: wide, shallow, and totally deserted

9. We loved walking. We discovered that we have the capability to do walking outings of about 2 hours duration, provided Michael carries Agatha part of the way on his shoulders. Everyone enjoyed this kind of outing-- we all got exercise and fresh air, the children could run and explore, and we could take in the glorious scenery. In Dingle, our cottage was next door to an important 12th-century ruin, and a walk called the Pilgrim's Way passed right behind the house. These photos (above, and the two below) are from that walk. Below, our snack atop the mountain behind the house. The walking was through sheep pastures, over stiles. We couldn't get over how sopping wet the whole country is. Even on the side of a mountain, your feet would get wet. The entire country seems to be a rock covered with 18 inches of wet sponge. The locals go walking in wellies and with a walking stick, to keep balance over the uneven hummocks. It's not like any terrain I've ever experienced.

Reason #1 we drove everyday: there are few roads, and those there are are shared with trucks, buses, cyclists and walkers. This picture above is both the designated route of the Pilgrim's Way walking trail, and the main road across the peninsula from Dingle Town. It was not relaxing to walk on the roads, as you can imagine. We had to keep hold of the kids at all times, and be ready to spring into the hedges if a tour bus passed by. And yet, unlike in England, it was not possible to just walk off through the pastures. Ireland doesn't have a walker's right of way, and the terrain is rough. You really have to go on the designated trails, and we only wanted to go on those trails that were not also roads for vehicles. Thus, we drove every day to a new location to take a walk. It was usually only 15 or 20 minutes' drive, but it still required planning, getting everyone out the door at the same time, and dragging out the door anyone who wasn't exactly in the mood to go out at that particular moment. 

But when we did drag everyone out, we saw things like this (the Gallarus Oratory)...

within 20 minutes' drive of home, there were dozens of deserted beaches to visit, walks to take, and boulders to climb

hey, there's our car! on Conor Pass

alpine lakes, boulders, and children

Our cottage was in a nice mowed, enclosed yard that it shared with another cottage (visible above), which was inhabited by a nice German couple and their wonderful dog, Fenris. Our kids, especially Agatha, got over their inhibitions with dogs in Ireland-- large, friendly dogs were everywhere. Every time we were all home, the children and Fenris were outside together playing catch. There was a small rope swing in the yard, and they developed a game called Tarzan that involved swinging out and jumping over the patient, trusting Fenris. Plus Frank and Daniela were always giving them German chocolate bars. 

Henry reading in the stone windowsill

10. Ireland is not for wimps. Despite all these idyllic pictures, I have to say that the living was not easy in Ireland. The roads require a constant state of high alert. The cottage was picturesque, but somewhat mildewy. The weather was chilly and windy. The beautiful, deserted beaches had icy water; even though Michael brought a wetsuit, he could only swim for a few minutes. Food often seemed scarce. In Dingle, the nearest supermarket was in Dingle Town, less than 10 miles but about 30 minutes' drive away. Down the road a mile was Mike and Rosie's general store, which was literally a room of their house stocked with goods. I learned to get creative with canned salmon, frozen spinach and self-rising flour. Even the peat fires were a challenge: hard to light, smoky, and ultimately not yielding much warmth. I tend to think of myself as tough and capable, but even I felt beaten down and defeated from time to time. It is an unforgiving landscape in many ways. Beautiful, but austere. The melancholy history and culture of Ireland came home to me in a whole new way.

After a week on Dingle, we drove up to Galway and picked Mom up at the train station, then drove out west to the town of Clifden in the Connemara area. We dropped Mom and kids at our (second) stone cottage, then drove the two miles into Clifden town. Behold, right on the edge of town, with convenient parking, a wonderfully-stocked, bargain-priced Aldi store. I shopped like a mom who has been rationing food for a week:

our trunk filled with 100 euros worth of food

The Connemara stone cottage was more posh than the Dingle cottage, so it was good that Mom joined us for the second week, not the first. No mildew, very clean and well furnished. It was near the end of a long, unpaved, hilly, twisty road, and our view was of sweeping mountains and sheep pastures as far as the eye could see. This road is actually an ordinary secondary road on the maps, with a posted speed limit of 80 kph. I kid you not. Again: Ireland, not for wimps.

Despite the fact that our party ranged from 4 to 74, we were still intrepid and capable walkers. We developed a routine of taking picnic lunches so that we could give the kids more time to relax and watch Irish kids' TV in the mornings before we headed out. (They sometimes watched it in Gaelic if they didn't like what was on the English channel.) We ate a LOT of smoked mackerel and Heinz baked beans.

 11. Never go anywhere without digestives. English-style digestive biscuits, that is. I learned to bribe the children with them for pretty much everything: getting them out the door, moving down the trail, or keeping quiet in the car. A 99-cent lifesaver.

the weedy, ruined remains of a newer (12th century) church on the site of St Colman's monastery, Inishboffin

these ladies were troupers! even on a chilly, cloudy day after a queasy boat ride

Kylemore Abbey, a 19th-century castle wannabe

12. Understand the difference between a vacation and an adventure. This is reason #2 why we drove every day: we had a hard time not going out and sight-seeing. Even though we went with the idea of taking it slow, one week per location, once we were there we still felt compelled to take advantage of being there and seeing the local sights. The day trip to Inishboffin was a good example of a day it might have been better to just stay home and read books: it was rainy, cold, windy, the sea was rough and made us seasick, and when we got there it was just another series of beautiful, deserted beaches and picturesque ruined cottages. And why weren't we appreciating it more because it was so beautiful and special?!? The most relaxing vacation I ever had was when we went to Broadkill Beach, DE, and there was nothing to do except go to the beach-- no nearby town, nothing to buy except fresh fruit and vegetables from the farm stand, no attractions, plus it was terribly hot so during the middle of the day we stayed inside and read, did crafts, and played cards. We swam morning and evening, then had cocktails. Ireland was a great adventure, but it was a bit too long for so much hard work. Somewhere between these poles is a happy medium.

Bernie the boulder-climber

13. For every week of adventure, plan for one spell of babysitting. 3.5 weeks of 24/7 togetherness is a lot. We had planned that each of our three Sundays abroad would be a day of rest, and that we would only do one major outing per day, with enforced quiet time each day, but still, the pace was somewhat relentless. During our week in the Connemara, one afternoon we went to the national park and ate our picnic lunch. There's a playground there, and while Mom stayed there with the kids, Michael and I scaled Diamond Hill. It is the only mountain in Ireland to have a tracked trail all the way to the top-- even though at times that trail was stone steps up the steep mountainside. It was so restorative to have that break from the children, to go as fast as we wanted, to do something big without having to say, "maybe when the kids are older." It was a stunning view of the whole Twelve Bens mountain area, and it felt great. That evening we had another break and went into Clifden for a seafood dinner while Mom put the kids to bed. A little break allows you to refresh your spirit and sense of adventure.

steep!

double self-portrait at the top

our sunniest, warmest day at the beach-- maybe 60 degrees? note Michael in wetsuit

14. The trip made me appreciate home. I guess traveling usually does, but I had specific realizations about the wonderfulness of the USA, and of Lancaster County. We loved the walks there, but we can walk in beautiful places here. Ireland is gorgeous, but so are Wyoming, California, and Maine-- maybe we'll plan a trip there sometime soon. I've already adapted the routine we developed on the trip to outings here at home: last weekend we went for a nature walk at a nearby reserve, then stopped in a lovely Chautauqua village for an ice cream. I'm grateful for our delicious, abundant, fresh fruit and vegetables here in Lancaster, and the hot summer and the bright blue skies and puffy white clouds. It's great to be home.

15. I love traveling with the family and I want to do more of it. There are hard and dispiriting times traveling with the children, but the moments of joy and discovery are so, so sweet. I've already started planning next summer's adventure-- maybe to a destination with warmer water, more sunshine, and where we will not be renting a car!

Dipping a toe back into blogwaters

It's May, and I haven't even downloaded pictures from my camera since Christmas! But here are a few good ones. More soon, I hope...

The September Schedule

Back to school! This is Henry on his first day of first grade, and Agatha in her fairy costume for a friend's fairy-themed birthday party. 

Everything started up in September: We are more highly scheduled than ever before. Now Henry's in school 8-3 every day, and Agatha's in from 8:30-3 four days a week; Thursdays I pick her up at 11:30 am. Michael's and my teaching started up as well, of course, with its own schedule of obligations, plus Michael is now chair of the department and I'm on the tenure and promotion committee. Henry started soccer (practice Monday evenings, games Saturday afternoons). Agatha started dance class (every Tuesday at 4). Even Sunday is not immune: the new year of Sunday school has started, with its own schedule and curriculum. Because I feared the million details of chairing the department would take over our lives, Michael and I crafted a precise and elaborate schedule of how many and which hours he would work, emphasizing that the home hours were to be focused on our family. Of course we also had to schedule in exercise, because when one person is exercising the other is caring for children-- and that is no small item to fit in, since Michael is training for a half-marathon. After a couple of weeks of feeling completely stunned by the pace of things, we are now getting habituated to it and all is going well-- except the house was not getting clean, so last weekend we made a schedule for that, too.

(Sigh.)

Although this truly sounds crazy, both Michael and I feel much calmer when we have slotted in time for everything to get done. It's when you don't know how things will get done that we get really stressed. But I think our tightly scheduled lives are the main reason we are contemplating-- planning, really-- for a long, unstructured sojourn in Ireland next summer. Three or even four weeks, nothing to do but take walks and bike rides, read, visit the pubs, and stoke the peat fire. Who's in?

Four Years Old!

 This really says it all. Killer 6-year-old photo bomb. 

I especially like how I have a saintly halo.

Agatha is four today! Here she is on her birthday outing with Gran. Earlier this summer she and I went to Claire's at the mall because she wanted a new headband, and she was bowled over by the glittery, girly merchandise. She started calling it "the birthday store," because everything she wanted for her birthday was located there. So today, Gran took her shopping at Claire's and she got to pick out several exciting items: glittery stretch bracelets, princess-themed lip balms that fit into a handy metal carrying case, tiny figurines of Snow White and Prince Charming, and, the most exciting gift of all: a child-size Hello Kitty umbrella. She's wanted her own umbrella for a long time and she is absolutely thrilled with her presents. Afterward, Gran took her out to lunch and she got to blow out a candle in her ice cream.

At the "birthday store" this summer she had seen a barbie-sized doll of the movie character from "Brave," and absolutely loved it. The doll has red, curly hair and a blue dress and shoots a bow and arrow. Agatha called it "warrior barbie." Of course I got her Warrior Barbie for her birthday, along with a lot of other glittery, magical stuff like a decorated treasure box and filmy lavender fairy wings with a matching wand. We always think of Agatha as a magical wood sprite, so it seemed fitting.

Happy birthday to our joyful girl, so full of warmth and so able to take pleasure in the world. The day you were born was one of the happiest of my life.

July Update

July was a month of travels, punctuated by a big week of work. Early in the month, we spent a weekend in Berkeley Springs with our dear friends, the Howell-Brogan family, and Meagan and I celebrated our birthdays. Then the kids had a couple of weeks of summer camp. The second week was a "WoW" for Mommy: a Week of Work, the culmination of my summer of research in which I tried to bash my article into shape. I mostly succeeded, although it still isn't really finished. I hope to keep working on it after classes start and send it off by the end of the fall semester. During that week, Agatha had camp in the morning and a delightful babysitter in the afternoon, and Henry spent the week at Camp Shand. This is a wonderful YMCA-run camp out in the woods, around a lake, about 45 minutes drive from Lancaster. It is a sleep-over camp, but he participated in the day-camp this year. Each morning we dropped him off at the Y a couple of blocks from our house by 8 am, and he rode a school bus out to camp and spent the whole day swimming, playing games, doing arts and crafts and visiting the "Trading Post," then rode the bus back home where we picked him up at 5:30 pm. It made for excellent, long days in the office for Mommy, and he seemed to love it, too. Next year, maybe we'll try it for two weeks!

Then we left for 10 days of vacation. We spent the first two nights on a horse farm in Virginia. We had planned to spend a day at Colonial Williamsburg, but it was just too hot-- over 100 degrees and humid that day. And the farm with its chic little guesthouse was so comfortable. So we just stayed there, petted the horses, chased the chickens, played the guitar-- and the Wii video game-- and relaxed. Henry befriended three boys his age whose gran took him along for pizza and bowling. Then, we drove on down to the Outer Banks of North Carolina for a week of vacation on the beach.

We had a great week. It was super hot the first day, but after that it was manageable. The water was warm, although Agatha was too scared of the big waves to go in the beach right by our cottage. There was a state park a mile away on the calm, sound-side of the island, so we went there most days so the kids could wade way out on the sand bar and we could catch crabs and little fishes. One day we drove all the way down to Ocracoke Island on the end, taking the ferry there and back.
It was lovely, but as usual we were all ready to come home. Now it's Monday, August 6, and the internal calendar is turning from summer and beaches and novels back toward fall and school and classes. I don't lament it; I love school and I love the "back-to-school" time for my kids. The kids have two more weeks of morning camp so Michael and I can get back into the office and finish up summer projects and begin fall ones; Henry's first day of school is August 23. Plus, there's lots of canning to do before then! Housecleaning/redecorating and canning are the afternoon projects for the next two weeks, along with some trips to the library and the pool. (Henry is reading anything and everything now; his latest obsession is the "How To Train Your Dragon" series.) And very soon my little girl will be four!

Lawbreaker

I told Henry the other day: three-year-olds are lawbreakers. He thought this was hilarious, having become quite the law-follower (and enforcer) himself. It wasn't so long ago that I despaired of his lawlessness and the way he ruthlessly tested every single rule, guideline, or suggestion. Now I realize that he was just in a more-intense phase of the standard 3-4 year old modus operandum, the same place his sister is now in.

The other day was a good example: at the end of a long day of camp and then the public library, the kids were tired, needed a break, and I wanted to start dinner. "Each of you," I proclaimed, "can choose one episode of a video to watch together." Henry immediately considered this offer and made his choice: "Pound Puppies!" he said. Agatha's response, as it is to most things these days, was: nah, I'm not doing that. "Two episodes," she countered, "no, four."

I got so used to Henry's intense resistance that I'm still surprised at how well he does in all organized settings now. Not to brag, but his teachers love him. After three years of the same two teachers at preschool, this past year it was a teacher boom: he acquired four kindergarten teachers (two homeroom, two in the partner class), specialists in Spanish, computers, art, PE, and library who all know him well, several Sunday school teachers and now three or four teachers of summer camp. His teachers love him, I think, because he is an excellent student, pays attention, never (or almost never) gets in trouble, understands and follows the rules, and is enthusiastic about everything. When a teacher (or neighbor, because he's developed independent relationships with several of them, too) approaches me and begins, "I just wanted to tell you..." I still flinch, expecting them to talk about Henry's recalcitrance. But no. My chief lawbreaker now looooves the law, although he does sometimes delight in the anarchic amorality of his crazy sister.

Italian Adventure 2012

Well, this is your tax dollars at work: I won an NEH grant and used (some) of the money to spend 12 days in Naples and Rome this month. I traveled over and back with three other women, all classicists, and one of them my good friend Alexis. We stayed together in Naples for three days each at the beginning and the end of the trip, and for the five days in the middle I met my dear old friend (and college roommate), Cynthia, in Rome.

Naples was beautiful, gritty, and full of personality. It gets a bad rap as "dirty" and dangerous, but I never felt in jeopardy. Hundreds of massive churches, many of which are not even regularly open. Just too much patrimony to manage. They are nonchalant about it.

The antiquities of Herculaneum and Pompeii, as well as the Farnese marbles, are in the archaeological museum in Naples.

That's Vesuvius and me!

We took a day trip to Paestum, a Greek city later taken over by the Romans, which still has three standing temples, very archaic in style. Beautiful and amazing. I had never seen a real Greek temple before (just the one in Nashville!)

Traveling with Cynthia was just as easy and fun as it was 23 years ago when we toured Europe together. She is so game and interested in everything, so much fun and easy to get along with. We need to start planning our next trip together! It felt like a special gift to spend this time together and revisit some of the same sights we saw together at age 19.

Dumb art history professor pose.

On my way back to Naples I stopped at Caserta, home to a massive palace and garden.

My mom helped so much with the kids, but the biggest thanks go to Michael, who spent pretty much the whole time I was gone doing things with the children and taking care of things at work and home. He took them to wade in a local stream, built bark boats, took them to a revolutionary war re-enactment (the indians did not wear any pants!), and many other treats. I came home to a spotless house and happy children, and thus did not have to shoulder guilt or make up deferred maintenance as the price for my wonderful escape. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Michael!