We currently live near the Portland airport and the Portland Air National Guard is based there. There are many moments throughout the day when you can hear the rumble of planes flying overhead. A deep rumble, almost as if the sky has hunger pains or feeling that there is thunder on the horizon and it’s audible for all.
This is my current back drop as I move to write more about our trip around the world. I have been writing in chronological order as my anxieties and obsessive nature bids me to. I have so much more to write and I will. However, I should note here that while being back for five months has illuminated a deep nostalgia for this trip and sadness that we are currently rooted.
I am mourning for the road and the adventures we had there. It’s a bit odd because, it wasn’t that we did toursity things every day but, I suppose, because I feel most comfortable with these memories and find myself drifting back, walking down many of the cobblestone roads or squinting across the dusty verandas we saw. Now they weave in my memories every single day.
I find I feel more comfortable ‘over there’ in many ways. This is not because of all the politics happening now (although that can certainly effect it) and I was happily born here in the US and I was raised in a small, rural town in Southern Idaho. From an early age I looked at our atlas and traced my fingers over countries that I wondered about. 
Two days after my high school graduation I shot out of that small town and only made visits ‘back home’ after that. Currently, I am a person with no living parents and have siblings scattered in differing cities.
So, I don’t have large, encompassing family reunions or holidays where we have to strategize who we need to see and where to go. My in-laws connect with us (as you’ll continue to see in this post) when we have travelled and I think that would be the same if we left again. I happily see my siblings and their families but, it’s not in a giant coordinated effect. We all find our way in our own family travel plans. 
I built a lot of my life out of my experiences I had while being overseas starting at age 19. I have had my heartaches and delights. I see cups of coffee on brisk autumn days in small student flats furnished with mismatched furniture, piles of books, incense burning and still feel the desire to learn more or be well-read.
From ages 19-25 I spent three years overseas. They say your prefrontal cortex, your critical thinking part of your brain, doesn’t fully form until you are 25 so, I suppose I did a lot of my first adult thinking navigating different experiences outside the US. Maybe that is why I still seek it. It is hardwired in my brain.
In any case, I am reliving my adventures here as they soothe my soul and inspire me to plan more and now, with the added intention of exposing my kids to their future adventures.
One son has ‘bought in’ to my lifestyle and dreams of travel. He’ll clutch my arm when a screen saver moment flickers by on my screen saver that he too remembers. He’s sketching out plans for future trips for he and his friends with itineraries that make me envious. I am invited to join for now but, know that he will need to make his own journeys someday without mom in tow. And likely when he can pay for them on his own!
The other son endured our travels. An introvert who seeks time on his own, drawing, luxuriating in his imagination and being completely fulfilled by an afternoon of sliced apples and colored pencils.
He found the animals and tall buildings provocative but, dislikes anyone paying too close attention to him. Especially hard when you are a caucasian boy the blue eyes and a soft American accent in a place where there are not a lot of these kind of kids.
And so, I write to make sure I do my due diligence in documenting our adventure but, also for me to continue to feel connected to its story which is many people’s story. In our iteration or someone else’s. This is our story. Thank you for reading. It helps me keep it alive.
The end of middle of May we left Norway to go to Ireland. We wouldn’t have likely chosen to fly to the United Kingdom the day before a royal wedding but, our Schengen Travel Visas were about to expire. This rule means that we, as American citizens (and many other none European passport holders), have 90 days within a 180 day period to spend in the 26 countries comprising the Schengen Area. 
It is not restricted to or inclusive of the EU countries either (22 of the 28 countries participate).
After all, we were coming from Norway which has strongly been outside of the EU but, joined this gathering of countries in order to find more ways to track travelers and, by default, migrants. Also, it creates more seamless borders in a geographic area that one could easily drive through seven countries on a weekend road trip.
We had reached day 90 (with a lot of planning and foresight mind you) by landing in Ireland. Ireland, along with the all of the UK does not take part in the Schengen Area. That meant for us, that our travel clock started over by the tracking of Irish and later, British authorities. They generally allow a six month visa.
This doesn’t mean they don’t also ask a lot of questions at the Irish border. We flew in from Oslo with Kelvin’s parents. We shuffled and waited in a library-quiet big hall as they inspected our passports while we gazed at the new signs naming everything in English and ‘the Irish’ which we outsiders might know more as Gaelic.
It makes sense, that they speak Irish rather than English for country with hundreds of years of conflict with its Eastern neighbor and erstwhile rulers.
We rented an Airbnb in Clontarf, a friendly suburb north of Dublin City Center from where we could easily catch the bus into the city. Our time in Dublin was timed with the Royal Wedding of Harry and Meghan.
I, being a bit of a romantic royal watcher loved the idea of watching my first royal wedding in the same time zone as it was happening. Having drug myself out of bed in the middle of the night for these royal affairs starting when I was 11 years old in 1981 to watch Diana and Charles marry on a grainy, definitely not a High Definition screen TV back in Idaho.
I told this excitedly to our Irish hosts as they settled us into our place. He responded with a wit and tone that slightly insults and grounds me in a way that various Celtic tones can. I was certainly welcome to watch the marriage of one of the members of the British Royalty that oppressed his culture and country for hundreds of years and he hoped I had a good time but, he would clearly be doing something else that next morning. We said our cheery good nights and moved on.
The neighborhood was sweet and easy to navigate. We spent time wandering the coast line of the Dublin Bay. You could see the iconic smoke stacks that are present in many a U2 80s video. I heard they don’t use them anymore but, they signify Dublin so, they stay erect. 
We had two versions of our trip in Dublin. The first half with our in-laws and the second, the Gurr Original Four – Back to Basics. With my in-laws we enjoyed touring the city by bus and took a trip north out to Malahide to a lovely castle that had been in the same family for over 800 years. The cost of running a castle being what it is and not having descendants to pass it down to, the last owner passed it to at Trust to let it be shared with the community.
It was beautiful fully furnished and delightful to wander around it and had it’s share of ghost stories told by the animated guides a long the way. The northern area outside Dublin is really quite lovely to see and the seaside makes for nice views and wanders along as you see the tide change the view dramatically.
We did the requisite trip to Temple Bar and wandered around the areas where live music spilled out of doorways as you ambled on the cobblestones. There are brightly painted doors here and there which startle you as you move along.
We were present in Ireland during the historic, national vote on the right to abortion services. While in the country you could not miss the signs everywhere proclaiming the pro or con of the vote outcome. Not only that, there were people knocking on doors (they even came to our Airbnb and walking the streets making sure everyone they passed had access to information about the vote.
The vote was establishing access to abortion services for citizens for the first time ever. Information showed that tens of thousands would travel to Great Britain every year to be able to make this medical choice.
Also, that the law was so stringent that women who were experiencing a medical trauma could not have the procedure done to save their lives. So, the bios of women who have passed over the years were posted for all to see as were the arguments for keeping the status quo on accessibility.
The majority of the signs were for the Yes vote, the change. The vote ended with the majority of the country voting for change which now being implimented. A major change for this island country. 
The grandparents left in the middle of our stay. You can see the start of their flight journey below. The second part of our journey will be noted in the next post.
In the meantime, hello again and get ready for more posts to come that introduce you too some amazing folks who helped shape the last chapters of this round the world trip and let you know this family is not done moving around outside of our comfort zone and see new things and learn more about others and, in turn, about ourselves.
So, thanks again for reading and stay tuned!
I am back ‘home’ in Portland but, still my soul is floating around the earth. We have returned to our hometown and are putting down roots again….phone contracts, bought a used car, set up utility accounts and kids are now at Montessori but, we aren’t done with this journey or the next steps.
Oslo and they both offered advice, homes, meals and warm welcomes to our travel queries.
My Norwegian friends offered to do a little genealogy research for us and when she presented us with an 80 page document before we arrived of all she found we were blown away.
She had recently opted to not run for reelection to the Norwegian parliament but, gave us intimate access to the Parliament and a tour I am sure you could not ‘book’ anywhere else.
All while high school equivalent students were running around the city in their flight suits and tricked out buses celebrating their transition to adulthood. Its called Russebuss and it is a fascinating tradition.
So, anyway…..family history found us driving (well Kelvin driving, really. We just all cheered him on from the back seat) for what seemed like 100s of miles and hours and hours.
SINGLE TIME!.
You will love it if you go and do get out of Oslo, lovely city yet, there is so much to this enormous by European standards country.
And an even bigger deal when we try to do it in three days in a country we haven’t driven in together (Kelvin was there on his own in 2001), driving on the ‘other side of the road’ for us Yanks and in a camping vehicle we have yet to rent or even select. The situation gave Kelvin and I some pretty funny conversations as we were trying to rationalize a mammoth drive to get in between locations for a place to stay.
It sounded good but, we were coming from Hawaii and wouldn’t be there for the first two days of her trip. She, again kindly, offered to make her trip work with ours so we can be her support and she ours.
It’s one thing to throw things in a backpack and dig out my passport but, an entirely different kettle of fish to be arranging four flights to another country with visa applications, baggage requirements, thoughts about timing, food accessibility, world schooling plans, accommodations and time changes for all of us.
Baby’s R Us with the crib my in-laws had bought us.
ckets that will transport our family to the other side of the planet.
Now, I don’t mean shirking my responsibilities but, rather saying yes to a time commitment that ever shrinks my sliver of ‘me time’ that have on my calendar. No one is making me do this. I do it. And I need to cut it out. Now.
I find myself surveying the room to find the ‘best’ choice or solution for all involved and meanwhile my voice, and often, my values get muffled.
p, my husband and I will talk about what the minimum expectations are (seriously shooting as low as possible), what is reasonable and achievable and then, the dream scenario.
Simple eye contact is a deeply personal, human experience.
I have memories attached to all these stamps.
arsenal of event evidence in our phones, let alone our computers. In a minute I can pull up a 1000 video snippets from the last years.
Our boys have now folded our plans into their everyday discussions. “So, next year at Christmas time, where will we be?” or “How will we celebrate Thanksgiving when we are not in America?”.
My fear would wash up inside and worry about being named as a non-doer, someone with all talk and no action and a tiny fear of superstition. If I write about it will it not happen.
holding back our dreams, choosing the slow and safe lane, redirecting our wants toward the loudest naysayers opinion.
Yes, what seems like a lifetime ago. I arrived in this big, neon city with my Dad as he had me connected to a business partner of his to do some work. We flew business class. I think it might have been the first time I had spent 11 hours sitting next to my Dad.
At this point in my life, I had left my home country for foreign places several times but, landing in Western Europe each time. There, I could find a way for my caucasian self to blend in with my English and weak Dutch. I could be on a train and most would be none the wiser until I ordered a coffee, even then I could tilt and soften my accent to draw away from my American self identifiers.
it but, I don’t want to be painted with the brush or spotlight of FOREIGNER where ever I go.
However, perhaps we can point ourselves in the direction we want to go. Like a boat on a stream…there are plenty of obstacles but, we can navigate.
That the small choices we make everyday can have small but, longer effects. We often look around us in exasperation and think, “How did we get here?” and think of the roads or choices not taken. We think big change only comes from big changes.
We had gotten to the stage of heartbeats before but, something about this heartbeat struck me and held me in such an odd moment of time. The thought of this heart beating for a long time stretched out in front of my mind. I imagined that this heart would beat for over a 100 years. The thought wasn’t just hope, that was there too but, it felt like it was fact, a truism, the future. Almost like pictures on a screen.
I send a silent kiss to wherever they are and hold a tiny piece of their souls in my heart.