Our flight is delayed by almost three hours; these "found hours" feel like cement blocks - I have spent too much time preparing to leave already - trying to make sure that everything anyone might need is packed (while keeping each bag light enough for its owner to transport), that the house is in order, that we have touched base with all the great folks helping with the house while we are gone (do our cat foster parents have the right cat food in the shipping queue?, etc.) - I do not need three more hours to fret about consider other tasks I should undertake!
Miraculously, my mental toughness kicks in and while I am aimlessly wandering the house, I take a few minutes to think about the actual trip instead of just the logistics leading up to departing. I ponder the values and purpose of the adventure. Why are we going on this trip? What do we wish/anticipate/fear will happen? What do we hope we will be like and feel like when we return? Will it all be worth leaving my job and taking the kids out of school and away from their hobbies and friends?
As background and for posterity: I left my job with the City of San Francisco in May, Scott has reduced his work hours, and we've taken our three kids out of school for the 2023-24 school year (4th and 7th grade) to spend time a lot of uninterrupted time together, to tutor the kids, and to travel. Our general itinerary for the first ~5 months is UK, Ireland, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Spain, and Portugal, but we want to be flexible and open to deciding to stay in one place for a longer or shorter period, so I will not be surprised if this outline does not exactly hold. The 'plan' for the subsequent 6 months is even less sketched out.
Sketch Travel Plan, July - Dec 2023
(fly UK-Italy, Turkey-Spain)
On the way to the airport on the exciting Bart train (umm, when you are 9, trying to do pullups on those bars that are definitely not for exercise does NOT get old even an hour into the ride!), I consider asking my traveling party these questions, to have a record of our hopes and dreams that we can look back on in a year. Once we are settled at the gate, we talk generally about our predictions for the trip (which I think is a good prelude to talking about hopes and dreams) and that conversation quickly degenerates into light ribbing, "How many times during the trip will Daddy say, 'we overpacked guys, we've OVERpacked' and How many times will Katie say, 'Let's stay here, I want to LIVE here!' I dutifully recorded our predictions (between 1 and 40 on the first and 3 and 6 on the second, among others).
Our overnight flight to London was just fine. The looonggg tube to our hotel, which is about 45 minutes northeast of Central London, in Stratford was a bit rough on so little sleep. After some walking, park play time, and sunlight, we all mercifully were able to lie flat in beds. Scott and I of course woke up in the wee hours of the morning and tried to keep pretending to sleep to allow those wonderfully-flexible kids to keep slumbering as though we hadn't just been on CA time 36 hours ago (oh to get over jet lag like a 12 year old!). As we fake-slept, Katie talked in her sleep. Luke lightly snored. Alex - having awoke cold and discovering that the blankets were fully under and over his bed-partner - sat up in bed and, after tugging on the blankets a bit and meeting resistance, urgently and seriously whispered, "I have.... nothing!"
I lay in bed thinking. I don't know the answers to my deeper questions about the whys and the hows of this trip.. But I sorta know that mornings like this - having the luxury of time to listen to your kids sleep-bicker, without any anxiety about wasting time, is some important part of my answer.
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| Kicking it on the Left Bank. |
