In
a bout of early morning insomnia brought on by Cedar peeing in her sleeping
bag, I began to think about the challenges and serendipities that come with
extended, semi-improvised family backpacking. Here’s my list: (Note to my Mom:
It reminds me of the time Dad kept a list of my complaints when we first
arrived in Israel for our sabbatical in 1986!)
Challenges:
1.
Spending
more money than we’d like to. Things come up. ‘Nuff said.
2.
Orienting
ourselves to a new place every 3-7 days: municipal transportation systems,
currency exchanges, city layouts.
3.
Abandoning
any sense whatsoever of sticking to routines that help our kids behave in a sane
manner: naps, bedtimes, meals, etc.
4.
Days
with little or no social connection with other people.
5.
Trying
to still our loud, spirited children on busses and trains, in museums, in the
grocery stores, you name it.
6.
Being
in semi-public view while staying in friends’ homes: dealing with tantrums,
bedwetting, and bedtimes.
7.
Running
out of hair conditioner. Seriously. My hair feels so dry, and my scalp really
itches. Why don’t I just buy some damn conditioner?!
8.
Trying
to find toothpaste your kids will like. (This makes me feel like an Ugly American
to even admit, but before the trip, my biggest fear was what I would do when we
ran out of the kids’ toothpaste. My fears have come to fruition, and we are now
on the prowl for Max-and-Cedar friendly dental hygiene products! I don’t think
the kids have used toothpaste in a week.)
9.
Having
less control over our physical needs than we usually do: food, sleep, exercise.
Toothpaste, obviously.
10.
Being
with our kids 24/7. See #4. We’re our kids’ playmates. A LOT of the time.
11.
Watching
the kids bicker. I can’t complain though. Until they spent 24/7 time together
for weeks on end, in close quarters, they had no history of fighting. Really.
1.
Open-faced
sandwiches. Good stuff on bread or crackers. ‘Nuff said.
2.
Unplanned,
serendipitous connections with people. Bo and Marianne in Copenhagan. Hans and Ingelise in Toftland. Niels and
Kristin (of the witchy coven of musicians’ wives!) in Sundeborg. Alexandra and
Tommy in Varberg. Anders and Anna-Kirin in Varberg (and their son Oscar, who
Max may well visit next summer!) Nema and Simon in Kongalv. Audun and Jugud in
Oslo. Etc.!
3.
Watching
our kids find ways to amuse each other.
4.
Reading
Max’s sci-fi book after he’s through with it; Max frequently checking in with
me to see if I have any questions about what I’m reading. Doing math with Max
on busses, trains, and ferries. Developing team-building activities together:
Solid Fire Consulting and Son!
5.
Holding
Cedar real, real close. Staring at her freckled nose and making her day by
pretending she’s the baby bird and I’m the mama cow. Here’s a poem I wrote
about my lovely girl a few days ago:
She eats a peach
with determined
concentration
Naked, on the
Swedish porch.
Juice runs down
her chin, into the recess of her chest,
over her belly,
Tracing her
leggy 4 year old curves.
She is part
antelope and part Coppertone girl,
a volcano child
with shiny, piercing eyes.
OK, that last
line doesn’t really work with the rest of the poem, but she IS a volcano child!
6.
Going
to the Bygdoy beach in Oslo after a day at the open-air Norsk Folkemuseum and
Viking Ships museum. Two places Andrew and I loved so much from our travels 20
years ago. The beach is unexpected, however, and is all light and waves and
rocks.
7.
Tromping
around the Sagnlandet Lejre living museum. So many sensual details: salmon cooking
on wood planks over a smoky fire, heavy woolen clothing, rolling green fields,
iron-smithing, whittling.
8.
The
vast moonscape of Iceland.
9.
Riding
bikes in Copenhagen. Alongside everyone else in the city. So safe, so relaxing,
so expansive. A totally different approach to city life.
10.
After
a 20-plus year wait, finally getting to amble around Christiania, a quasi-free “state”
in Copenhagen. Sure I only got a tourist’s brief glance, but I found it deeply
inspiring and exciting. I wish we could all live more like this.
11.
Discovering
that the dining car on the Oslo-Bergen train is EMPTY and lounging about on the
padded seats, writing, and eating skillingsboller (cinnamon-cardamom rolls).
12.
Being
unequivocally welcomed into friends’ homes, many of whom we had never met prior
to our trip.
13.
Doing
work as I travel. It’s satisfying and balancing and provides unquestionable
justification for taking time for myself!
14.
Being
a family together 24/7 without any exterior rhythms imposed upon us. Creating
our own travel culture together.
I’m
starting to develop a line of thinking that has been bouncing around in my
non-verbal reptilian core the last few weeks.
Travelling for this long makes me feel a little bit like a sleepwalker. The
word "somnambulist" keeps popping into my head. I think it's because
I'm experiencing time, my body, my family, and my career in a different, slower
way than I usually do with the usual daily grind back in Brooklyn of getting up
too early, getting the kids and myself ready for the day, running them to
school, working, dealing with pick-ups and afterschool activities, making
dinner, playing together and taking care of household chores, getting the kids
to bed, finding some time for myself and with Andrew, going to bed, and beginning
again in the morning.
I
don't think I'm sleepwalking at all, actually. I think I'm decompressing from a
busy New York City professional mama life, and I LOVE it. The decompression and
the life I’ve put a temporary pause to. Now I think I know what the most
significant souvenir of the trip will be for me!
