For the Love of Starbucks

I’ve embraced a lot about the European lifestyle. I get that a proper café au lait should be consumed sitting down with a ceramic cup and a biscuit. That cappuccinos aren’t ordered after noon in Italy. That the espresso closer comes not with but following the dessert and before the after dinner liquor. But sometimes you just need a strong Grande filter drip coffee TO GO before 9am. And after four years of dating around it’s probably ok to admit you prefer the familiarity and personality of Pike’s Place Roast.

So … I may have a habit of occasionally driving unnaturally long distances on a motorway to one of the only two Starbucks in Luxembourg, specifically the one AT THE AIRPORT because it opens at 5am. As far as I can tell it’s also the only place in Luxembourg that isn’t a hotel or gas station serving coffee before 8:30am. The excursion takes both commitment and courage. You must park in the short term parking lot, jog lightly to the terminal, pray for a short queue and not be distracted by the Duty Free Shop or the fact that you are mingling with passengers in their traveling finest while you’re barely one degree past pajamas.

As a straight up filter girl without the need to burden the coffee bar, I usually can get ‘er done before my €5 filter coffee all of sudden jacks up to €7.50 at exactly minute sixteen. (There is no grace period where parking lots, parking meters or parking dials are concerned here.) But I’ve also learned to abort mission when the line is too long or there are obvious SBUX rookies ahead reading the menu or trying to find the tea selections. I also know I’ve been in line too long when I dare to want to try the pumpkin bread or muffin again, hoping for a better (butter) outcome.

This morning I made the trek through traffic – for the love of Starbucks - after I dropped the boys off at school. There was no queue which means I had time to have my beans ground and because I was dressed presentably even pop into Duty Free for a squirt of perfume. Now awake and smelling lovely, I situated my Grande drip in my car cup holder for the journey back across town for some errands at a local mall. I drank slowly, savoring every sip, extending my TO GO pleasure into the mall.

I know this may sound like an exaggeration but this was my first time grocery shopping in Luxembourg accompanied by the green and white Siren cup. It was such a little pleasure and reminder of home. But in a culture where coffee is a ritual and not something to be multi-tasked, grocery carts don’t come equipped with handy cup holders. As it turns out, navigating a cart and a hot cup of coffee requires more coordination than I’ve been gifted so I shortened my list and persevered all the way to the cash wrap.

One of the funny things about Luxembourg is that in the big hybrid grocery/homeware stores like Target you must do a bag check at one of the two main entrances before entering. They aren’t looking for weapons, they’re looking for openings. Whatever bags you’ve accumulated while shopping at the mall are either stapled shut or vacuum sealed or put in another bag that can be stapled shut. And while it doesn’t happen every time, they also mark any plastic bottle you walk in the store with. They are very serious about this business which presumably is intended to prevent theft and for whatever reason(s) has spilled over into water bottle vigilance.

Without any consideration that I could have possibly broken any rules, I show up to the cash wrap with this cup. It doesn’t take a close inspection to conclude:
a) This paper cup with a well-protected US based logo has not been been stolen from this store.
b) It has clearly been through an ordeal to get here.
c) Someone went through the effort to put on lipstick this morning.
d) It cannot be stapled.

But it wouldn’t be a story if the cashier didn’t inspect my cup. She did. I didn’t follow everything she was saying because it was in Luxembourgish but it was clear I had missed the mark in understanding this cultural norm of bag checking extended to paper cups. It wasn’t a big deal – and it made me laugh a little – but I left feeling a mixture of how stupid a rule and how embarrassing to be called out. Four years after moving here.

I can’t help but think of others living in places as visitors like me, especially the refugees, where the cultural norms are drastically different and therefore the potential for misstep and embarrassment even greater. How when we have grown up in a place that like the cashier we would be quick to point out, with justification and in our language, what the rules are. The lengths I went to for a silly cup of coffee, a piece of home, are small but what the cashier missed – what I wonder if we all can sometimes be guilty of missing is that embracing a new place takes time and patience on both sides.

Yes, we need to follow the rules. We also need to give THE OTHER the benefit of the doubt. Most people other from us aren’t trying to lift what isn’t theirs. Anyone who has left their homeland has been through an ordeal to get here and if that move was forced upon them, chances are good that ordeal has come with a lot of cost, sacrifice and suffering. Lipstick may signal that I’ve shown up ready for the day but effort comes in a million different forms. You had to be looking closely to notice the lipstick just like we have to look closely for how people are putting their best foot forward. Staples may be a strategy to try to keep things contained but some things – like a sloshing cup of coffee or a messy soul in a constant state of being emptied and refilled – cannot be stapled shut.

E-Bikes and Marathons

This summer I rode an electric bike for the first time. Are you judging me? Because I was judging me in the same way I’ve judged every mall cop and city tour group on a Segway. It sounded gimmicky and dumb when a proper, human-propelled bike would do just fine. Not that I’m some kind of biking purist but please … does everything really need a motor?

As these things often go – doing something you swore you would never do – it started with a need. I was staying out in the French countryside alone with my two younger boys and without a car for several days. The nearest town with services was 10 kilometers away. Though I love walking, it seemed prudent to have a transportation solution in case of a baguette or other more pressing emergency. I therefore went in search of a bike rental as there were no close car rentals. The only rental option I could find was an electric bike. Why there wasn’t a single road bike or run-of-the-mill cruiser bike with a cute French basket to rent in the host country of the Tour de France remains a mystery.

But c’est la vie. At least I had a workable solution. I could cover ground quickly if one of my children needed stiches or I needed a bottle of Rose.

For those of you not familiar, electric bikes have an electric motor and rechargeable batteries but unlike a Segway or moped what makes them unique is that the rider retains the ability to pedal. It can be a free ride but they aren’t designed with that in mind –the expectation is that you will pedal. So the experience is exactly like riding a conventional bike except you have the option to turn the battery on when you want an extra boost. You can set the battery to low, medium or high. It’s best to save high power – which drains the battery fastest – for when you really need it. After a certain range, like an electric car, the battery needs to come home to be plugged in and recharged.

Funny thing is I expected the E-bike to look different but really it looks like a normal bike that makes a little whirring noise. My E-bike rental even came with a cute French basket. It wasn’t so different in appearance and yet its performance was well … totally awesome. Zero-emissions. Minimal sweat. Major help getting up hills.

I confess. It was like switching from US butter to French salted butter. One spread is all it takes to never want to go back to the old stuff. On the E-bike, you could cover more ground in shorter time, move at the speed of traffic on country roads and through intersections, take short breaks from pedaling when you wanted to take in the view, but also get a workout when and if you wanted to. It was the perfect blend of assisted and unassisted riding where you set the tempo and were in control but your range was limited by the need to recharge.

I think the spiritual life is a little like riding an E-bike. Before you try it, you might judge it as gimmicky especially if self-propulsion has worked just fine. In my case with the E-bike a seed was planted weeks before by a friend – an extremely able-bodied, fit friend – who surprisingly gave the E-bike a thumbs up. She didn’t seem like the E-bike convert type. So when the E-bike turned up as my only option, I was slightly more willing. I wouldn’t have given the E-bike a chance had it not been because of a need. In the same way, true religion only has a chance when it is entered into out of need. It can be abused as a free ride but the intention of true religion is that it be a mix of sustained effort with divine bursts of power. So while we have free will to control our own bike we also have the invitation to pedal with or without assistance.

I thought again of that E-bike when I was running the Berlin Marathon last weekend. I had done by part by putting in the miles and the training up to 20 miles but the last 6.2 miles were uncharted territory for my body. In the end it was those last 6.2 miles that were my favorite to run. Not because they were the easiest or fastest but because that’s the place where I felt my effort mingle with something outside myself. Often I find that outside myself is the divine working through other people.

The burst of power that wasn’t related to the power GU or sports drink came from remembering my Dad fight on with his Parkinson’s Disease and remembering the Syrian refugees for whom the money I raised was going to support. It came from the first 5 miles with my running partners who encouraged me to start slow so I could finish strong. It came from being surrounded and in the fellowship of other runners who were at the exact same place in their journey as I was. It came from my son with 3 kilometers left running alongside me on the course saying, “Mommy, you can do anything for 15 minutes.” And it came from hearing the lyric of a song shuffled on my playlist with 1 kilometer left: “When the waves are taking you under, Hold on just a little bit longer, He knows that this is gonna make you stronger, the pain ain’t gonna last forever, the things can only get better, believe me this is gonna make you stronger.”

And with that lyric and a last celebratory cheer from my husband and son in the final stretch, I crossed the finish line …. not entirely to my surprise … 15 minutes faster than my best hoped for goal.

Berlin Marathon Weekend is Here!

Finally! The Berlin Marathon is this Sunday. I’ve done the training with Maureen and Holly but now all sorts of pains – both real and phantom – have been creeping in. A course of Advil is helping as is thinking about this:

My dear Dad has been living with Parkinsons for over 12 years. David Olmsted, the strong Army Officer who was always in PT ready shape my whole growing up. Though he is resilient and still playing some respectable golf, there are many, and increasingly more, hard days. Recently he has been having trouble walking and more specifically, stopping. He tells his brain he wants to stop which causes his legs to slow to a shuffle but his upper body doesn’t seem to get the message, intent instead on keeping the forward motion. It’s like a freight truck discovering too late the brakes don’t work.

But as people who love you do, before I could swallow the latest devastation of his disease, he brightly told me he found a work around. He said as long as he tells his brain to “stride out” instead of “stop" his lower body keeps from shuffling and he is able to stay upright through a stop. This simple instruction to his brain has made a huge difference. It reminds me that our brain is a powerful thing with more connection to our bodies than we will ever understand.

If my heroic Dad can find a work around surely I can too. Conventional wisdom might suggest that short choppy steps of a shuffle might be more cautionary and appropriate when you see a road block ahead but the upper body – the residence of the head and heart – have other ideas. Whether it’s a progressive disease like Parkinsons, a task beyond your capability like a marathon, a dream with no discernible progress -- when stopping is all you want to do – the better thing to tell yourself (assuming you are not directly facing a brick wall – “the imaginary wall” does not count here) is to stride out. It just might be the difference between a graceful finish and a broken rib.

Thanks to all those who have supported me through donations for the awesome cause of World Vision, friendship runs and encouragement. It means so much! And Daddy, I’ll especially be thinking of you as I stride out those last miles on the pavement.

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I'll be running with Team World Vision! 

Our big boy is off to college!

As this space has become my journal of our life abroad, it would be incomplete without mentioning the monumental event of our first born leaving for college.

Graduation Day: June 4, 2016 @ International School of Luxembourg

International School of Luxembourg Graduation Day, Part 1: The Ceremony. 94 graduates representing 25 countries. Well done on completing the IB program graduates! Part 2 Dinner and Dance to follow.

Father/Son Weekend: June 19, 2016 @ Austrian Alps

I think he's having a good Father's Day.
In the mountains (somewhere in the Austrian Alps) on a bike with his son right now.
Thank you Brett Ballbach for giving us this life of adventure.
We ❤️ you.

Drop Off Day: August 18, 2016 @ University of Southern California

Move in day for Quinn.
We are all here.
The sublime work of parenting is a steady diet of letting go but this release takes your breath away.
Even when you know they are ready.
It's like having their past, present and future all come into sharp focus and auto play at the same do-not-blink moment.
Diapers to diplomas to discoveries.
And because of that overactive sense of time, you try to keep it together with small talk and too many questions about what they still need for their room (a coverlet?)
But ... Because your 18 year old child's heart has been shaped by you, and you them, they won't be fooled and will know to smile at your nervous questions, hug you really tight and send you off with a short Amazon shopping list.
And you will also know to not, under any circumstances, add a coverlet to that list.

Re-entry Day: August 24, 2016 @ Luxembourg

Here's what not to do when you get home jet lagged without your husband less than 18 hours before your children start school: walk into the room of the child who has just left for college.  It was the Steph Curry posters that did it. An ugly cry so loud it traveled the apartment.  But then there appeared my sweet, freshly showered 9 year old at my side. Gently he wiped the mascara off my face and said, "It's ok Mom, you still have me. And you're only half way done with me."  I may not have back to school supplies yet or clean laundry or well rested kids today, but our long group hug and conversation in big brother's bed last night was maybe the best way to kick off a new school year.  And it's a bonus that I'm up at 5am. 4th and 8th grade start today and both have found a clean outfit.

Greek Isles, Big Smiles Part 2: Naxos Travel Guide

The more we travel the more I agree with my friend Megan who says “the thing we will most take away from our experience is less WHERE to travel and more HOW to travel.”  That is until it comes to Greece.  This is where I get on my high horse and tell you WHERE to travel.

I did that with the Greek Island of Paros which has turned out to be my most read blog of all time and my only post that still gets daily visitors.  Enough people have taken that trip now that Chrys from the Paliomylos Hotel in Naoussa recently sent us a gift by way of one of Brett’s London colleagues.

NOW WHERE, NAXOS?

While we would have gladly gone back to Paros for a third time, this summer we decided to mix up the magic by heading to the neighboring island of Naxos.  We’d heard glowing reviews about Naxos from people who also knew and loved Paros and so it seemed the natural next destination among the Greek Islands in the Aegean Sea.

More than one local explained while beautiful neighboring Santorini and lively Mykonos have both been overrun by tourism - “the Disneyland of the Greek Islands” they said – Naxos and Paros are tourist friendly but have managed to retain more of their Greekness.   Naxos in particular is the largest and most fertile of the islands with a good supply of water allowing it to be self-sufficient from an agricultural point of view (think beef and cheese not just fish!)  As if to signal the historic appeal of the island, the looming ruins of the Temple of Apollo welcome you to Naxos Town (also called Chora.)

2 for 1: BEACH + CULTURE

There are lots of places you can go in the world to find a beach but the additional opportunity for culture makes a trip to a place like Naxos something extra special.  In our nine days on the island, we witnessed small examples of the Greek love for family, their care for others and their glass half full approach to life. 

There was the young woman at the local bakery in Agios Prokopius who lovingly described in great detail all the baked goods her Mother had made and offering us tastes of something new each morning.  Her mother’s not-too-sweet baklava was hands down the best we’ve ever tasted, something we would have missed had it not been for her proud daughter.  

There was the smiling bus driver who stopped for two very late people running to catch it when he clearly didn’t need to and in many other countries would not have, a small kindness met with large appreciation. 

There was the informal and friendly exchange each morning where dark-skinned migrants would clean the trash off the beach in front of the restaurants and beach bars and then come in for a coffee and small amount of money.  

There was the owner of Meltemi, a restaurant in Naxos Town since 1970, who we watched patiently, unmistakably teaching two young inexperienced waiters the higher calling of service as if they were his own sons. 

WHEN TO GO:

June and September are the absolute best months to go.  July and August are the busiest and most expensive months.  Locals told us August can also be quite windy.  Naxos is heavy with Scandinavians in June, Greeks from Athens in July, and a mix of Europeans and a smattering of Americans in August.

LODGING:

Initially our goal was to find a place within walking distance to Naxos Town.   We had done that in Paros and really enjoyed the proximity.  A travel writer I know had highly recommended the Niassaki Beach Hotel.  (Travel Babbo spent three weeks with his family on Naxos and wrote about it here.)  When I tried to book there they had told me they were changing their policy and not accepting any children under 12 years old.   They have since reversed that policy but in the meantime I booked elsewhere.  It looks like a great hotel if you hoping to be within walking distance to town.

Instead I booked at the Naxian Collection Luxury Villas and Suites.   It’s a countryside setting two miles from Naxos Town and less than one mile from the nearest beach (Agios Prokopius.)  We ended up loving the privacy, views and private pool which more than made up for having to get a car.  It’s a truly fantastic place to stay for a family.   The owner Maria who is also a high school teacher has created a modern, authentically Greek villa retreat and she loves Americans.  Her husband and co-owner is the mayor of Naxos and their staff is wonderfully warm.   Antonio, one of Maria’s high school graduates, was especially kind and also impressive as he was on his way to take a job with the Prime Minister of Greece in Athens for 2 years in the fall.   No egg order is one too many for the women who serve the included and excellent breakfast every morning.  Opened in 2010 and recently visited by Anthony Bourdain, the Naxian Collection has 8 villas each with their own pool and 8 suites.   Everything is done well.   If I had any complaint at all it would only be that the initial booking and communication was a little spotty (but I now know they have other jobs out of season) but once there the service is very attentive and they love kids. 

While we were there they had just opened a sister hotel, Naxian on the Beach.   It’s an adults only hotel with 10 suites just 10 meters from the quietest part of Plaka Beach.   One of the perks of being a guest at the Naxian Collection Luxury Villas and Suites is that you are able to use the sun beds and services at their sister hotel which we took full advantage of.

If you click on their website or read their reviews, you’ll understand why you might be hard pressed to find a better place to stay on Naxos. Book well in advance as they have a large repeat customer base.

TRANSPORTATION:

You’ll need and want a rental car if you stay at the Naxian Collection.   When we arrived at Naxos Airport, we assumed we’d be picking up the rental car from there.  That would not be correct.   The Naxos Airport is smaller than the average house in Seattle.  Instead there was a car waiting for us from the Naxian Collection who took us to the hotel and Brett into Naxos Town to pick up our rental car from Sixt.  We noticed during the week that many of the rental car companies will actually come to the hotel and deliver the car to you in the event that you only wanted to rent a car for a few days.  You get the rental cars without gas and are expected to return them that way.  We made the mistake of filling up the gas tank of our rental car (one of the only 7 seat cars on the island) on the first day and using a quarter of a tank in 9 days.  It’s a big island but when the beaches are as good as they are nearby there isn’t as much incentive to drive to the other side of the island.

BEACHES:

Different than Paros where the beaches are spread out, many of the destination beaches in Naxos are clustered along the western coast and are connected – a great thing for those who enjoy long walks on the beach.  This website describes all 18 beaches in great detail but these were the ones we liked:

Plaka Beach.  Because of the access to our hotel’s sun beds we spent most of our time on Plaka Beach.  It’s significantly less crowded that neighboring Agia Anna and Agios Prokopios and partial organized with sun beds and umbrellas.  Much of the beach has sand dune behind it which make it feel more remote than it is. You should be aware that the last, most southern section of the beach has a lot of full-on nudity.  Grandpas and all.

Below: Beach Olympics on Plaka Beach with our good friends from Norway.  5 events: long jump, plank, hit the target, beach tennis, and egg toss.

Migra Vigla Beach.  Our second favorite beach was Migra Vigla.  It’s visible from Plaka Beach but it takes 35 minutes to drive around to get there.  With much fewer services and a little rockier sand, a portion of the beach is for wind surfers and the other portion around the rocks is great for swimming and snorkeling.  There are more Greeks on this beach.  There is a small town with a grocery store which we used to have a picnic lunch on the rocks.

Agios Prokopios Beach.  This was the beach closest to our hotel.  The sand, swimming and services are great and it’s beautiful but also crowded.  Unlike Plaka Beach there is not rock shelf as you get into the water which makes it very family friendly.  No nudity.

Even though the interior of Naxos is mountainous, the continuation of Agios Prokopios Beach to Agia Anna Beach to Plaka Beach make for great, flat running along mostly paved and dirt roads.  There is also a fabulous, easy walk from Agios Prokopios Beach heading north around the point along a rocky trail.  You’ll have to walk past some stinky salt flats to get there but don’t miss this.   You’ll even get to see a ship wrecked from 20 years ago that is still on the rocks.

EATING:

Naxos is proud of their food and local ingredients.  We had some really good meals and only a couple of misses.  Here is our top eating out picks:

Antamoma, Naxos Town.   Modern Greek restaurant with view of water but not on harbor.  Opened two years ago it’s an informal atmosphere with patio setting and a definite modern vibe.  Closest to a “special meal” we had. The chef is from Naxos but went to Athens for cooking school for one year, returned to Naxos and now cooks with his Mom.  The menu is smaller and dishes a little more interesting than traditional Naxian food like homemade pasta with smoked pork and risotto with vegetables and Naxian cheese.  Great starters and house wine.  It was the only place we went to twice.

Meltemi, Naxos Town.  Solid traditional Greek restaurant in center of town without views.  Best dishes we had were the kleftiko (veal, pork and lamb cooked in paper with eggplant, tomatoes and peppers) and excellent cheese pies with herbs.   

Mythodea, Naxos Town.  Family run tradition Greek restaurant slightly off main part of harbor with spectacular views.  We ordered off “Mama’s Specials” which included lamb in yogurt sauce and lamb in grease paper with peppers.  Best Greek Salad for our trip. 

1739, Naxos Town.  Rooftop bar opened in July 2015 and recommended by Travel Babbo.  You climb up from main town and get a nice view of harbor.   Worth the trip up to watch the sunset.   The other bar we didn’t try but the swank vibe and setting looked really nice was 520 Bar.

The restaurants we might recommend skipping were Typografio in Naxos Town and Metaxi Mas in the Old Town.  The first was overpriced and the second was just ok.

Palatia, Agia Anna Beach.   Recommended to us by a father/son who worked in a grocery store.   Lovely, rustic setting right on the beach where they specialize in locally caught fish.  The night we were there service was more relaxed (slow) than normal but the grilled dorado, grilled sardines, salad with octopus and calamari with tomatoes were all excellent.   At the end of the meal the waiter brought out free cake and shots.   Right next door is the Banana Beach Bar which looked to be a very popular spot.

Patatosporos, Agia Anna Beach.  Another beachside fish restaurant on the other side of the Banana Bar.   Better service and pacing than Palatia and most importantly, the simply grilled dorado and sea bass was even more delicious.  Ditto that for the zucchini balls and fried saganaki cheese.   Kids got the ocean basket, fried king prawns, calamari and fish fillets with fries.    Stick with the fresh fish options.  Though the early reviews on Trip Advisor were mixed the more recent reviews have been better.

Kahula Bar, Agios Prokopius Beach.   A great spot on the beach for a coffee in the morning or a drink in the evening.  It's the last place along the restaurants and bars on Prokopius beach.  We much preferred this bar to the more talked about (and smokier) nearby Mojito Beach Bar.

Petrino, Plaka Beach.  Focus on Naxian dishes with local products on the far end of Plaka Beach.  Vine clad terrace that is more restaurant than beach bar.  You pick from case with specials of the day like spicy meatballs wrapped in eggplant or fisherman’s rice plus three different slow roasted meat options.   Good for lunch or dinner.  They also opened a terrific homemade ice cream shop called Mitatos run by a husband and wife right next door to Petrino which is better than the one that everyone talks about in Naxos Town called Milkato Gelateria (which is also good.) 

Souvlucky, Plaka Beach.  Great pork + chicken gyros made to order with the I-still-don’t-understand topping of French fries.  Family business.  Clean, well located along Plaka Beach.  Can sit in with your bathing suit or better to take away and hope the sand stays out.  €14 for 6 gyros make it a very budget friendly lunch.  According to two local teen boys we asked, best souvlaki is in Naxos Town at either The Spitiko or Kozi.  

Picasso, Plaka Beach.  I know it sounds sacrilegious to suggest Mexican food but the setting and margaritas make the busy Picasso a worthwhile lunch stop to mix things up.   The clearly beloved Picasso recently had their 20 year anniversary.  Ample seating, kids area for playing, shade for margarita sipping.  Right next door to Souvlucky.

GETTING THERE:

It takes a long time to get to Naxos.  For this trip, we decided to skip the ferry and fly one of the small planes from Athens to Naxos.  It was totally worth it.   It was an easy, not turbulent, absolutely gorgeous flight.  And it saves so much time as it’s hard to get around overnighting in Athens if you are going the ferry route.  The connecting flights from Athens to the islands book up fast so don’t leave this until the last minute.

NAXOS OR PAROS:

I know this will sound like a cop out but my advice between Naxos and Paros is this:  Do both.  If you are already making the effort to get to the Greek Islands, you should split your time between the islands.  It’s only an hour ferry ride between the two islands but you’ll want to overnight in both places and not just go for the day.  Naxos has more to do and better beaches but Naoussa in Paros is a bit more charming than Naxos Town and the restaurants are better overall (especially for fish lovers). 

Anticipation: Where's your next trip?

Few things live up to the excitement of waking up on Christmas morning when you are a kid. Buying a plane ticket for a vacation, the grown up version of Santa’s big gift under the tree, might come close. People care not for the airlines but there is an undeniable tremor of delight every time you book a trip (business and bereavement travel excluded.) Once your flight is booked or some other measurable (ideally non-refundable) step is taken towards planning a trip, anticipation sets in and carries you toward your departure date. Even the airlines stoke our excitement by believing we may have as many as 6 email addresses to share our itinerary with.

As Thomas Swick says in his excellent travel book The Joys of Travel and Stories that Illuminate Them: “Anticipation is to a journey what infatuation is to a romance: an uncritical but crucial prelude to reality.”

Anticipation may be the least documented portion of your journey but it’s no doubt the frame in which your experiences will fit into. Planners will engross themselves into guidebooks and maps and travel underwear. Dreamers will immerse themselves through books, music, or movies set in their destination. Connectors will reach out to their friends and friends of friends and the grocery store clerk for tips. Fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pantsers will assume their travel companion is taking care of things. Most everyone will look at pretty pictures, choose one as their screen saver, and drool until touch down. Social media junkies will then “check in” at the airport and continue to do so daily until they’ve returned to work.

Whatever the method, there is a positive buzz about this stage of our trip because we anticipate all the good parts and take a mental hall pass on all the hassles, crowds, misfires and grumpy people who were not waiting with a fresh Hawaiian leis to welcome us. As Thomas Swick says, “Anticipation of travel is always more idyllic than travel itself.” Not being able to find a restroom when you need it never comes up for consideration when you are dreaming about your beach vacation. Nor do you think about (or later admit to) days like this as described by a brave travel comrade: “Kraków Day 2 giant FAIL. 2 hour wait at Wieliczka Salt Mines + 2 hour wait at Schindler Factory Museum plus torrential downpour + sleepy kids = afternoon spent in a mall eating at a super crap restaurant. You win some. You lose some.”

It almost doesn’t matter how long the countdown is as the jolt of anticipation will gladly fill the space given. “Where’s your next trip?” is also a serviceable conversation starter in virtually any social setting and infinitely more interesting than the weather. Strangely, people are often more interested in where you are going than where you’ve been. A cynical view of this might be that’s because we have short attention spans but maybe it’s because anticipation is largely all reasonably positive and retell is too many details edited either for only the AMAZING! or every horrible thing done to you in a place like the Maldives. Also there are no photo albums to endure during pre-trip conversations.

Reality should not temper the golden hues of anticipation. We need the fantasy to go through the hassle of leaving our house and handing over our credit cards. Home base is full with enough reality that you shouldn’t care if the award winning photo of your destination has cropped out a power plant in the distance or that the darling monkeys you’ve read about will cease to be cute after 15 minutes. If aware, the anticipation buildup can be a kind of goodwill that might actually come in handy when the reality on the ground isn’t mapping to the pretty picture.

Because anticipation does however raise the expectation bar, it does behoove you to KNOW THYSELF when planning a trip. If you like to be led and cared for, pre-book with a tour group. If you hyperventilate in crowds, skip Florence in July. If history bores you to tears, you won’t be cured by sacrificing a day in the Churchhill War Rooms because someone included it in a list of “Top 5 Things Not to Miss.” If you have children, remember you have children. Resilience training does not happen on the fly.

There was a widely-referenced study conducted in the Netherlands about the link between vacations and happiness and the conclusion was that the largest boost in happiness comes from the simple act of planning. Apparently the old adage “the best is yet to come” does not necessarily apply to vacations. Even though happiness peaks before you’ve reached 10,000 feet, the happiness halo returns to baseline roughly 8 weeks after a trip. While this may sound discouraging a better takeaway is perhaps to take shorter, more frequent trips so that you have something on the horizon.

Anticipating a trip is obviously easier with both financial resources and in places with more liberal vacation practices than the US.  The Netherlands study showed however that the happiness boast isn’t linked with how far, long, or luxurious the travel but rather simply planning a break away from your normal routine. While the study didn’t suggest this, my own experience proves that the payoffs for planning a trip to the overlooked and less traveled places are almost always higher. So while I can’t guarantee that planning a weekend getaway to Waco, Texas will yield an 8 week happiness halo it’s worth a shot.

Where’s your next trip?

Words to (Really) Live By

I love me a good lifey quote.  When there’s one that stops me in my tracks and gets under my skin I often write it down in my journal.  Writing it down feels like a silent activation from the page to my brain.   Of course the next day there is a new page with new thoughts and chicken scratches along with the demands of life that bury what came before.   On the rare occasion I look back over my journal, I re-encounter many of those inspirational quotes and think, “Oh, yeah. That was good.” but when I scan for evidence on how I’ve actually applied it, it’s almost always underwhelming. 

Activation of a good word in the flow of everyday life needs more than a ball point pen.

I have this ring a dear friend gave me a year ago inscribed with a verse from the Bible (Philippians 4:8) that speaks to our thought life. It says, “Finally brothers and sisters whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.”  That’s a lot of words to get on a ring, folks.   So tiny is the writing that it’s been easier to commit the thing to memory.  Aside from my wedding ring, I’ve had no consistent jewelry habits.  I can’t even manage a regular watch.   But even though this ring is nothing particularly special, I’ve mysteriously found myself wearing it almost every day for the past year.  

Wearing it feels like a kind of armor.  I instinctively touch it whenever I feel my thoughts going down a rabbit hole of negativity and the good quote activates.  It’s been a gentle, real-time reminder in the flow of life that there are many other things – at least 8 other things with a wide open “whatever” preceding them -  I can choose to be thinking about.  Although I’m still not sure I’ve had any riveting noble thoughts.  The real benefit however is when the new thinking spills over into modified behavior.  It may sound silly but I’ve noticed how the mere twirl of my ring can re-center me at the precise moment I feel on the verge of popping off into complaint or cynicism.  Not every time (obviously) but enough to be detectable.

This little piece of silver around my finger has been more instrumental in applied living than anything I’ve written down in my journal.  I imagine some people have tattoos for a similar reason.  It’s probably why I still remember putting on the Armor of God – which included a shield and a breastplate! - from my days in Sunday school.

We have an enormous capacity to remember things but our reflex to access those things in stressful situations could do with some reminding.  It’s got me thinking about the method of loci, the memory technique whereby you place information to be remembered at a point along an imagery journey route.  Typically the technique to remember something like a list of groceries uses a route through your house and you associate each room with a piece of information to be recalled at the store.  I always felt like that was a dumb example because why would anybody go through the mental gymnastics for something they could write down on a list.  I can remember milk.  Remembering to Be Kind Always, like while driving or on Facebook, needs nudging.

It made me wonder though if instead of the mental mapping of our house we used our bodies to remember important things.  If we took my ring example and expanded it.  Since we already carry our emotional lives in our bodies why not use our bodies to carry back signals to our brain.  So rather than associating “front door with fruit hanging from the chandelier”, “hallway with hamburgers” and “the powder room covered in toothpaste” we used our own body to evoke the things we want to practice. For example, when we touched our eye we might think about Jesus’ words from the Sermon on the Mount “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light.” and how our perspective impacts our whole body.  Or when we turned over our hands for the umpteenth time during the day we might hear the words of Mother Theresa, “Give your hands to serve and your hearts to love.”  Or when we trace a scar on our own body we might be reminded of the now famous adage: “Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.”  

If enough of these type of voices auto-played as we moved through the world in our bodies, I have to believe it would be detectable in our interactions.  It’s exciting to think about how many truths we can tuck away in the palace of our bodies.   I’m reviewing my journal now and making assignments.  If anyone has a suggestion for arm pit, I’m all ears.

Growth vs Fixed Mindset in Practice

I have no idea how far an average 9 year old can (and should) run.  Until today I might have taken the token elementary school “one-mile run” benchmark, grossed it up for good measure and said 2 MILES.  In fact I invoked that line of thinking when my 9 year old insisted he wanted to join me on my run today.  Thankfully my day’s training schedule called for a short 4 mile run so having him run HALF of that with me seemed like a worthy goal.

Training to run a marathon in a 45 year old body not wired for sustained efforts of self-discipline has a way of loudly intruding on family life.  On days when I have a double digit mileage target I’m both out of the house for hours and then talking about my recovery, requesting foam roller massages and affirmation for the remainder of it.  It’s hard for my boys to miss this Marathon business is kind of a big deal for their Mom.   They’ve been really sweet about it. 

So there we were today – earbuds in– embarking on our inaugural mother/son 2 MILE run.   Heightening this already big milestone was the fact we were doing it in the picturesque if not relentlessly hilly French countryside and aided by an unusually cool morning after a night of rain.  We started out on a confidence building downhill.  By 0.4 miles there was talk of it “being easy.”  By 0.8 miles there was the question of how far his 13 year older brother had just run on his own.  (Answer: 3.8 miles at a much faster pace than his Mom.)  By 0.95 miles, as I expected there might be, there was the bold declaration that he was not yet ready to turn back.   He wanted to go the full 4 miles with me.  When I suggested maybe 2.5 or 3 miles he would have none of it.

Given the course up to that point had largely been downhill, 4 miles seemed like an overly ambitious goal for someone, a wee-little loved one especially, who had self-reportedly never run more than 8 laps around a school track.   I also wanted our maiden marathon training to be a win/win.  I wanted him to feel successful and to enjoy running and I wanted to get my 4 miles in.  But instead of giving in to that well-meaning impulse I flashed to Carol Dweck, the Standford psychologist, talking about fixed versus growth mindset and how maybe I needed to use this experience not to help my child succeed but rather to give him the chance to grow.  I said, “Ok.  Let’s Do It.”

By 1.8 miles the “easy” talk had subsided and that’s when it got interesting.  Over the next 2.2 miles I taught him all the strategies I’ve learned.  On the steep uphills I told him about leaning forward into the hill and not letting it work against you.  When he got a cramp in his side, I suggested he have a word with the cramp and tell it to please leave him alone.   I taught him how to relax his arms.  I taught him how to slow his pace so he could go longer.  I taught him it’s okay to stop and stretch for a minute. And when he was really gassed I reminded him to focus on one foot at a time … to which he said, “Like that show Unbreakable where Kimmy says you can do anything for at least 10 seconds.”   Exactly!

And so when at 3.5 miles with a final uphill to finish my red-faced, exhausted 9 year old boy asked me in hopes of a reprieve: “Mom, are you tired?” I answered honestly, “No, because I’ve trained my body to do this … and you can do this … it’s only as far as 2 more laps around the track.”  To finish would mean he would do 8 more laps – or exactly double – his personal best.  He asked at every remaining driveway if it was “our” house but didn’t stop until I confirmed it was and my watch confirmed it was 4.0 miles.

I still don’t know how far an average 9 year old can (and should) run.  What I do know is that today mine ran further than he (and I) knew he could.  Not only that but he’s asked to go with me again tomorrow. 

We can be content to remain as we are, we can push to reasonably sanctioned limits or we can be willing to get red-faced to go farther than those around us believe is possible.   Children routinely do this better than we can so let’s give them the berth to try, pick them up when they fail and encourage them to do it again.  They have something to teach us in what it means to truly be unbreakable.  10 seconds at a time.

Camille Bloom: Luxembourg House Concert

Nowadays with time in such short supply we leave less to chance. So imagine getting an invitation to a House Concert (a what?) in Luxembourg (where?) with a musician from Seattle (who?) for Sunday night, June 19 (during end of school year/I need a vacation crazy?) You might be understandably counting the hours (and cost) and politely take a rain check. I might have too had I not been the co-host.

In retrospect, I probably wasn’t the most qualified co-host. I had never been to a House Concert. I don’t even know that many people in Luxembourg. I’m not in music circles (except in my own head.) And though I’d spent a cherished 3 hours with the way cool Camille Bloom on a layover in Luxembourg last summer thanks to a mutual friend who connected us (Cindy Randles Hagen), I had never heard her perform.

I had of course listened to her gorgeous, lyrically rich music and was a fan. I also stumbled on an April article the Seattle Times wrote about her recently released album “Pieces of Me” entitled "Camille Bloom May be the Next Great Seattle Singer-Songwriter.” (Wowza! – as Seattle is kind of proud about their music) but not even that high praise can capture the surprise it is to listen to Camille perform live. They say that your first concert is always the best and the chances of having your mind blown decreases with every concert because you’ve had more experiences. Whoever said that is wrong because they haven’t heard Camille perform 10 feet in front of them yet.

John O’Donohue, the Irish Poet, said, “I would like to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.” For twenty of us on Sunday, June 19th at Eugénie Jactat Krampe's house in Luxembourg, we were carried by the goodness of Camille Bloom’s talent through a set of acoustic songs that touched on big dreams, cell phones, friend crushes, gluten, long term love and garden TV.

Her voice is soaring, her lyrics poetic, and her storytelling between songs so genuinely real and funny. In a previous life Camille used to be a high school English teacher which means she knows both the power of words and wit and how to command a stage. She also knows how to rock the polyester shirt. You might say that after performing for more than 20 years Camille knows how to connect with an audience but it’s more than that. Camille, full of a radiating joy, knows how to open up a room of strangers and make them feel like family.

Though Camille can and does play bigger venues she says that House Concerts remain her favorite because of the intimacy she can create with her audience. I doubt an artist with only talent would say that. You have to be an artist with both talent AND a spirit of generosity to give yourself over in that way. As Camille says her songs aren’t really sad or really happy, they are somewhere in between - where most of us spend our time and energy. So … imagine getting an invitation to sit on someone’s couch to listen to the stories of life performed with way more poetic language and potentially, because you are in the company of others who seem to be nodding in affirmation, an incremental shard of hope or cathartic chuckle.

Some of you reading this may have that invitation in your inbox for her last concert on this European Tour this June 24 in Haarlem, The Netherlands – so my good word to you is this: Don’t miss it! (And hopefully it’s not sold out.)

For my Luxembourg friends, thank you for coming! AND good news is that Camille is hoping to come back to Luxembourg again next summer. Eugenie has made Camille promise to let her host again.

For everyone else, do that thing you do when you want to support local musicians doing their thing and doing it their own way. Buy and listen and share and say thank you!

Camille's Website

Mumford & Son: Dusseldorf, Germany Concert Review

There is music that is fun to listen to, music you can appreciate, music you can’t escape and some music that moves you.  The music of Mumford & Sons is like that for me.  Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I most often listen to them in the forest running with the earth below my feet, a dance of light and dark flickering through the trees.  Though all bands have their haters, especially bands who make obvious musical departures like Mumford & Sons did on their 2015 “Wilder Mind” album, I know I’m not alone in saying this.

For music that routinely lifts you out of the rut of the ordinary, there is no better legit test than seeing your Band Crush play live.  I got to do that on May 14 in Dusseldorf, Germany for the second half of Mumford & Son’s Wilder Mind Tour.  Curious as to how their old folksy infectious sound of “Sigh No More” and “Babel” would intermix with the new powerhouse rock sound of “Wilder Mind” in the context of a live performance, the answer is: really good.   Like the wide arc of most their songs which take you low, high, then round again, the juxtaposition of style kind of just fits.  After opening with “Snake Eyes” and two more songs from their new album, the German crowd – demonstrating their first love - roared their belated welcome with the knee-slapping, banjo-infused, drop the F-bomb classic “Little Lion Man.”  Bouncing between the new and old material with an almost 50/50 split made for a richly varied and never boring nineteen song concert.  If anything, it left you wanting more of the songs they didn’t have time to play.

In contrast to my last recent dome-sized show with U2, this show was less about high production value with slick lighting and videography and more about the straight up music.  Marcus Mumford, who looks ridiculously like Alec Baldwin from a distance, can certainly carry a large venue with his smooth vocals and energy.  No lackey to the demands of the stage, the only knock was the band seemed like they were still adjusting to a less intimate venue.  This seemed most obvious to me when Mumford decided to crowd surf the entire arena during the song “Ditmas”which looked like both a security nightmare and watching an out-of-shape guy with a guitar run a 5k.  I noticed it again before the encore when the band played an acoustic set of “Timshel” (one of my favorites) and “Cold Arms” which was beautiful but interrupted by a few drunken fans able to hide from public hushing in too cavernous a space.

As someone who has no ear for notes or musical composition (even saying that string of words together feels like I’ve done it wrong), I do like words.  Marcus Mumford apparently does too as his lyrics matched with a rollercoaster ride of instruments invites a kind of searching.  There is a quality, not in every song, but in many of them that cause the listener to stop, listen and even yield.  Weirdly, it can happen among a community of arm-swaying people not in your own country just as easily as it can in the quiet of a forest.  When music is rooted in some reality, whether we understand the artist’s precise worldview, a redirection of spirit can happen.  Though Mumford resists the Christian label, for me whether consciously or not, his music moves me closer in my relationship with Jesus.  While I and others may hear deep calling to deep in their music, others may only hear the tambourine or a shout of surface emotion.   Regardless, we are all fans and fans love the reciprocity of a live performance rooted in something.