Summer adventure 2014: the Caribbean

Year Two in our project to travel the world in our frugal way with two young children: St John, USVI, June 11-25.

In many ways this year's adventure was the inverse of last year's. In fact, I realized that St John and Ireland have a lot in common: they are both isolated, rocky islands on the edge of the vast ocean; they both have somewhat unforgiving climates that make fresh food scarce and expensive; and they both have crazy, narrow, twisty roads in which people drive on the left side with little regard for prevailing laws. But the weather and water are, of course, very different, and that's the main reason we plumped for St John this year. We had never been to the Caribbean before and we wanted to see what it was about. A majority of the island of St John is a national park, so we knew there would be a lot of nature and not too much "nightlife" or touristy stuff. And we could stay cheaply by camping and staying in an eco-resort tent cabin. Having learned last year that we did not enjoy stressful driving situations, we did not rent a car, even though (as in Ireland) "everyone" says you must. Once the kids are old enough to be on the go all the time and wanting to be very active, I can see that a car would be great-- you can drive to many different little bays and hiking trails around the island. But for us, short, nearby walks and repeated visits to the same (amazing) bay were fine. There were many sights we didn't see, and that was okay with us. We saw plenty, relaxed a lot, and generally had a fantastic time.

oatmeal for breakfast

The first four nights we stayed at Cinnamon Bay Campground, in the national park. This was a cinder-block cottage, one room, open (screened) at the front and rear, with four cots inside and a camp stove and table and chairs on the front porch. There was a shared bathroom down the pathway. 

Agatha on her cot

table on our front porch

our view from that table

The absolute best thing here, of course, was that the beautiful sandy beach was just a few steps away. Having never been in the Caribbean before, I couldn't believe it when I stuck my face in the water, just right at the edge, and saw that-- holy smokes, there were fish everywhere! There was a little reef on the left side of the beach, so we could snorkel and look at beautiful fish without going anywhere. If the kids floated on their rings with their faces in the water, Michael and I could steer them along and we could all snorkel together (later, we realized that wearing their lifevests as a floatation device worked well, too). Even in that small reef, we saw spiny lobsters, a spotted moray eel, and lots and lots of fish. Most of the beach was shallow and sandy, perfect for the kids to play in. The other people at the campsite were so nice; most of them had been coming to Cinnamon Bay for years. It was just a really great place. 

ready to take out the inflatable kayak

This whole trip was Michael's idea and he made all the arrangements. One of the craziest things he did was buy-- and schlep along with us-- an inflatable kayak. This is a boat that, with its seats and folding oars, fits in a large duffel bag, and yet when inflated our whole family can fit inside. It was terrific at Cinnamon Bay: we could just leave it, inflated, at our campsite and carry it down to the beach in a few steps. We could paddle all around the large, calm bay, or out to a little island (where Henry and Michael raised the alarm of dozens of nesting birds). One day we paddled around the point to nearby Maho Bay. Since we didn't have a car, it was super fun to get to a new location by paddling. That bay has a seagrass bottom, which means it has turtles. I watched a turtle from a couple of feet away as it munched the grass, and the kids and I saw another one being hassled by a strange, yellow fish that we never did identify. I also saw a porcupine fish there. 

After four days there we moved to Concordia Eco-Resort for the remaining nine days. We took an open-air taxi along the crazy, winding roads-- I cannot convey how twisty and steep the terrain is there. Michael was concerned that Cinnamon Bay would be too rustic for us, so he didn't want to book us too long there, but in fact I would stay longer next time. But the canvas tent-cabins at Concordia were fantastic (you can see a gallery of them here: http://www.concordiaeco-resort.com/unit-gallery/premium-eco-tent/). Halfway up a mountain, with a sweeping view of both a beach with crashing waves and a calm bay, with the tradewinds constantly blowing, the cabins are connected by long boardwalks that traverse the hillside. There is a pool and a little store, and a yoga pavilion where they show family movies three or four nights a week. 

sunrise view from our porch

eating pineapple on the porch-- a rare piece of fresh fruit

We had a propane stove indoors and our own (composting) toilet and solar-heated shower. Deluxe! But here, we were even more remote from civilization, so it was good that I had packed as much of our food as I did. Because we had 4 free checked bags and I knew we'd be without a car, I'd decided to bring a lot of our food so we could eat well (and cheaply) without me having to worry about procuring food. That turned out to be an even better idea than I'd suspected. In fact, I brought about two suitcases worth of food-- when we returned home, we put two smaller bags inside two larger ones and returned with two fewer bags! We thus had an inadvertent two-week Ayurvedic cleanse: every day we ate oatmeal for breakfast and kitcheri for lunch or dinner. (Okay, there was a little rum every evening, too.) I had brought all my spices with me, along with lovely organic lentils and mung beans and basmati rice. For variety, I spiced the rice and beans with chili instead of Indian spices, or we ate pasta. Michael made two excursions to the small market a couple of miles away for a few extra items. (When we were planning the trip, two miles along the road sounded like nothing to the half-marathoner, but the heat, strong sun, and steep terrain made a two-mile walk no joke. Luckily hitchhiking is common there and he got a lift on the way home.) We all ate heartily and felt great. When you're camping (even deluxe camping, like we were), food just tastes better. We all felt that our simple diet sharpened our senses, and we've vowed to repeat the experiment later this year at home (with the fast followed, of course, by a huge feast). 

our cabin (note solar-heated shower)

me at the stove, with solar/electric cooled ice chest at left and ladder to the kids' sleeping loft

We mostly swam in the bay once a day, and then either went for a walk, went to the pool, played cards, or all of the above. We did have a few unusual days: one day we took the jouncing bus all the way across the island to Cruz Bay; and one day we went for a long walk to a neighboring bay, Lameshur. 

the walk to Great Lameshur Bay

so many hands of Crazy 8's...

The kayak stayed packed away at Concordia, because the terrain was too steep to carry it down to the bay and back. But what was a lot of fun there was the fishing pole. Just before we left for the trip, I'd noticed that there were no licenses required for fishing in the USVI, so we packed a fishing pole at the last minute. On Michael's fourth cast into the water, he caught a large redfin needlefish that leaped and jumped out the of water as he was reeling it in. We later watched another one do this that was able to free itself from the hook.

Henry was the photographer here, because only he and Michael went fishing that day

Unfortunately, we didn't catch anything else after this stellar beginning! But it was still fun to have the pole.

We had some low moments, of course. Though we went to sleep at dusk and rose at dawn, this was still about an hour less sleep than Agatha (and sometimes Henry) needed, so she got progressively more sleep-deprived as the trip went on. They occasionally napped, but they still got cranky some days, and the hiking conditions were sometimes tough for Agatha to handle. I did come to feel, though, that two weeks was the right amount of time to be away. It takes a long time to wind down and step out of that to-do list mindset. Around day 8 I felt I had experienced everything and was ready to come home, but in staying longer I was able to progress to another level of detachment from being driven and goal-oriented. Instead of anxiously cataloguing things to do and slotting them into order on the list, we just started existing there, swimming if we wanted to, reading or playing cards if we didn't. By the time we got to departure day I felt I could have stayed much longer. As a very efficient, driven person I really valued that time to be completely detached. We had no devices of any kind, no internet, no TV, no phone. We just read and talked to one another, or watched "Pirates of the Caribbean" down at the pavilion with the Boy Scout troop that was visiting. Not that I wasn't happy to get home! The first thing I did was stock up on groceries and cook up a huge feast of hamburgers, vegetables, and fruit. 

J'étudie le français cet semestre

I am a student again, and it feels so good. I've been wanting to improve my French for a long time, and now that Agatha is in kindergarten, I felt I could schedule the time to take a French class. I'm in 102, the second semester of the language. I took a year of French in grad school in order to pass the language exam for my PhD, and I've even read 18th-c French fashion journals in Parisian libraries for my research, but I really can't speak it, write it, or understand someone speaking it much at all. So this class is a big challenge.

But oh, the joy of being a student! To know what your assignment is, plain and simple, and then to do it. To be the recipient of all the interesting activities and stimulating assignments carefully planned by your professor. To enjoy camaraderie with my fellow students, who treat me as one of them-- "tu"-ing me and muttering, after I flub an answer, "good try." (Except for the young man from Kenya who is so polite and deferential to me as a professor, always smiling and bidding me "au revoir, Madame.") To have that feeling of borders expanding. At a time of my life where my responsibilities seem (at times) weighty and amorphous, where I have to figure out the task before I can even begin to accomplish it, where success is contested or difficult to measure, and where some jobs are never-ending, being a student again is such a deep pleasure.

I had my first quiz on Friday. It was so hard! I reveled/complained to Michael at lunch afterwards about how, in order to fill in the blanks in a section on a traveling cousin, I had to know the correct gender of the countries mentioned, as well as the rule about countries vs cities having articles or not, as well as the correct preposition used to express going TO that country or being IN it, as WELL as what the different contractions of preposition + article looked like. I had studied all those things individually, but to be required to reproduce them all in the correct combinations, well.... I took a stab at it but I felt like it was a level of competence just beyond my grasp. I marveled, as if for the first time, at the way a test forces you to confront the shallowness of your knowledge about a topic. I vowed to study harder, to make myself write it all out next time, and not just to read the textbook and feel that was close enough. I also knew I'd blown the correct gender of champagne in another section that completely depended on getting the gender of that word correct. Le sigh.

We got back our quizzes yesterday, though, and I got 88%! Yes, I messed up the champagne, but I guessed correctly on the "en" "au" "le" and "à." I huddled with my fellow students in the hallway to discuss. They, unfortunately, had not guessed correctly. In fact, they had not realized that the prepositions needed to be there at all, and so they failed that whole section. And the complicated manipulations of the champagne-- and how the preposition is not conjugated when it is a negative statement-- they didn't get that either. "Oh, I know, that was so hard!" I agreed. But their outrage was directed against our professor, the charming Roderick. "Champagne wasn't one of the words on our vocab list!" "I studied so hard. The worksheets were so easy! This was nothing like our homework." "I memorized all the verb conjugations; why weren't we tested on that?!" I was startled. "Well," trying to redirect, "let's ask him for harder homework, then, that will prepare us for the tests." They agreed there would be some indignant conferences in Roderick's office forthcoming.

I guess much of this is the difference between being dix-huit ans and being quarante-et-quatre ans. Right now I'm immersed in a complex political issue at the college, an issue I care about and on which I got steam-rolled last year by superior political operators. I was naive, and I made mistakes, and the right thing (in my view) failed to get done. This year, I have another chance and I'm trying to make the right moves at the right times, and to learn from what went wrong last year. When I screw up as a grown-up, I have to figure out how to do better next time. I can't ask my opponents to just change the test, or to make my path to victory easier. The sooner mes copines learn this, the better for them. However, I also understand the deep, deep comfort in accomplishing clear, straightforward tasks. I guess they should enjoy it while they can. And my success is right there in black-and-white: 88%.

A big day

There's something so funny about this picture Mom took of Agatha birthday-shopping the other day-- is it the contrast of blue vs all the pink? The orderly racks that fill the whole frame stacked with cheap but oh-so-desirable pink junk? The way Agatha seems to be signaling: "Buy me this Barbie lipgloss or else: don't let the floppy hair bow fool you-- I mean business"? I'm not sure, but it's a terrific picture, Mom.

But I digress. What I meant to say was: Happy 5th Birthday Agatha! Today was also the first day of kindergarten, the first day of second grade, and the first day of classes at Franklin & Marshall. So everyone was a little stressed, excited, and apprehensive today. 

Henry was probably the least nervous of all of us. He was trying to act cool, but he was so happy to be back at school with interesting things to do all day long. He loves to be home with open stretches of time to get lost in what he's doing, but after a summer of that, he was itching to get back to school. Yesterday he came with us to Aggie's orientation and hugged seemingly every teacher in the place-- this from my non-huggy boy. He's joined the running club, too, which is the first after-school sport he's now eligible for as a second-grader-- that will start next week.

For Agatha, it was a little more scary and uncertain. She has to learn new rules and procedures; like Henry when he went to K, she doesn't like that she can't just get down work off the shelves and do what she likes when she likes. I know from Henry's experience that she has the most wonderful teachers and I'm sure she'll come to love it there, but it will take time to get used to doing such "big work." I see in these pictures still a very little girl, slightly baffled by gingerbread-boy nametags and handwashing procedures and morning meetings. 

But she was happily chattering away when we picked her up; the first two days are half-days, so we took her out to lunch to celebrate at (her choice) an Indian restaurant.

I'm so proud of both of my brave, bright, eager learners, and so grateful we have a good school to send them to, full of dedicated people who are so happy to see them each day. Teachers! They are the best!!!!

The Queen of Pluto

For at least six months, Agatha has been telling us about the planet that she rules in her off-hours: Pluto. Not the regular Pluto that *we* know, but a tiny Pluto, Speck-Pluto, that is smaller than a speck of dust but contains a whole planet. It is freezing cold (like the real Pluto), which is good because Agatha needs cold and finds our planet, Earth, too hot. On Pluto, everything is made of ice. She is the queen of Pluto, but she also says that on Pluto, everyone is royal-- everyone bosses themselves around. And yet she remains first among equals.

For one thing, she has defeated her arch-nemesis, the Mysterious Bear. She routinely marshals her people to battle the bear; she is an archer and shoots golden arrows at the bear. Agatha flies to Pluto at night, while we are all sleeping, so we don't notice she has gone. While there, she visits her real mother, Mother Sun. Her father is Father Moon. She has two invisible brothers, Luke Skywalker and Harry Potter. They are often with her on Earth, as well as on Pluto, but we can't see them because they are invisible. They are nice brothers and always want to play with her. Through Mother Sun, Agatha has a special channel of communication to the weather and commands all living things to grow. One thing I wrote down in early May was: "Mom, you know who my REAL mother is, right? Mother Sun. It's really hard to play hide and seek with her, though. When she goes behind a cloud, I can't find her, and when she's out, she's everywhere!"( I wish I'd written down more gems over the last few months...)

Agatha talks about Pluto A LOT. It's her way to participate in any conversation. If you were to say, "I really need to vacuum," she might reply, "You know, on Pluto, houses vacuum themselves! They pick themselves up and shake themselves out and all the dirt comes out." I made a mental note back on May 24th when Agatha said slowly, "You know, Mom, all that stuff about Pluto? It's not all true..." I thought: there it is, the end of the imaginary world. But no, Pluto had a resurgence. All summer it was going strong. Pluto is a place of justice and control, bravery and generosity. Agatha is fully independent there, yet supported and sheltered by the other planets and her loving people (for example, her bed on Pluto is giant-sized-- and yet, of course, speck-tiny--and all the people of Pluto sleep in it together). She is a brave warrior, and a benevolent ruler: the queen of Pluto.

The last days of summer

I may have over-scheduled the kids this summer; they have been in summer camps every week since we got home from Ireland, six weeks in a row. I have certainly welcomed the quiet time and the work time, but it has made our days a little busy, trying to get to places on time just like during the school year. Note to self: yes to camps right after family vacation (for parental recovery purposes), but do leave a free week in there somewhere for the children to recharge a bit.

Henry's favorite camp this summer was Camp Shand, the YMCA camp up in Lebanon County where he spent all day in the woods. He's got what I fondly call "Uncle Tim Symdrome" (named after the way Uncle Tim would recount his adventures at Boy Scout camp): Henry will first tell you every negative thing about his experiences, recounting each fall, bump, injustice, mistake, and disappointment. Then, after awhile, the good things start coming out. "Mom! We got to take out a canoe by ourselves and paddle around the island twice! We got stuck in the shallows and had to get ourselves out!" The first day of Camp Shand his "Trading Post" money hadn't come through, so there were no Doritos at the end of the day: disaster. The second day a branch he was leaning on broke and he tumbled and bumped his head: also disaster. But I guess it improved after that, because he says it was his favorite. It's also one of the easiest for Mommy: I put him on a school bus at the local Y, about four blocks from our house, at 8 am, and he comes home at 5 pm, having been fed a hot lunch (generally of the chicken nugget variety, but still). Excellent! Maybe he'll be ready to sleep over there next summer.

Agatha's favorite camp was Farm Camp. Friends had raved about this place last year, but I thought, "how great can it be? they can pull weeds and plant seeds at home." Well, it is pretty great. Agatha loves taking care of the animals, which include pigs, goats, guinea pigs, rabbits, and donkeys. They spend the entire day outside; a garage has been converted to their "classroom" but it is open to the elements on one side. The farm is a quarter mile off the road, so the children can run freely barefoot all day long without having to be monitored or having to fear vehicles. There's a shallow creek to play in, a bamboo forest to hide in, and a slip-n-slide on a steep hill for the end of the day. The woman who runs it is a former Waldorf teacher, which means there is a lot of singing, observing nature, and allowing the children to do dangerous climbing. [The kids also did a week of camp at the Waldorf school (their favorite camp last year), which they fondly refer to as "the camp where they let you take off your shoes and climb trees."] Plus, the camp ladies cook the children a hot lunch from fresh, local food, often food they harvest and tend themselves-- and the children eat it! Potatoes, carrots, quinoa salad, homemade salsa... and melon, granola, and berries for snacks. Yesterday they came home with wooden bluebird houses they screwed together themselves. Agatha loves farm camp so much, she's having her birthday party there next weekend.

I had a frustrating summer of working on my interminable article on Emma Hamilton, the Bacchante, and Naples. I thought I'd finished it, decided it wasn't quite ready, completely reorganized it, and... it still isn't quite ready. I'm not sure if I've improved it or just made it different. It's also incredibly long, which means that the stakes are high and only a few places will take it, and... I've decided to take a break from it. Summer is ending, and I need to switch to a new project. I was unable to wrestle the bacchante into submission this summer, but I'm going to try to sneak up on her from behind in a couple of weeks. Wish me luck!

Speaking of which, in two weeks it will be a very big day: on August 28, Agatha turns five, and all of us have our first day of school, including Aggie's first day of kindergarten. I'm looking forward to having next week home with the kids to make the final preparations. Welcome, fall, and welcome to this new phase of our lives.

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!