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!
This includes celebrations of street fairs, music, food and drink but, it also has what could possibly be the worlds largest swap market/yard sale.
new house sitting assignment in La Trappe. It was daylight savings time and our host graciously picked us up at the nearest bus station a 50 minute drive away from their farm and at 5:30 (really 4:30!) in the morning.
On this trip, we try to be as economical as possible while we move around the globe. That means trying to find the cheapest way across a country. The bus to SW France felt like a red-eye flight but, we recovered soon enough.
I was completely mesmerized by the convenience, cleverness and cheekiness of vending machines in the French countryside that sold baguette. It was funny, as sometimes you might find competing companies with machines within several hundred yards of each other but, then none for many, many miles.
In all our travels around the world, France was the place lest likely to find someone who spoke English. Or was at least willing to speak English with us. We would ask (in French) if they spoke English and they all, every single one, said ‘no’. They could a little but, didn’t want to be thought of as having a good command of the language or so we think.
three weeks with just the four of us for company. We really enjoyed our hosts (English retirees) when they returned.
goodness for Google Translate!
activities outside of those official time frames. Too bad!!
Paris is a beautiful city and what the world mostly thinks of when one thinks of France, however, most resident people we met have either never been there or have only been once or twice. There are many rich and thriving cultural experiences outside of the capital.
chickens, sneaky cats and a lovable dog named Zara in a 200-year-old farm-house.
We arrived in Brussels on a blustery March day after a daylong journey from Hamburg, Germany via Koln. It is delightful to experience the German precision timing of the trains complete with markings to let you know exactly where you need to get on your train compartment.
Our continuing world schooling agenda was punctuated by a visit to the 
We had been doing this for awhile. Learning please, thank you and the first 10 numbers whenever possible. In Belgium, my effort stalled when we met French speakers as my French is very, very, very, very weak but, folks were very accommodating to my Dutch.
Ahhh, it was delightful. The sampled frites, organic markets, gorgeous chocolate and sumptuous coffees not to mention the beers. Connecting with long time friends and hopefully, creating some connections for our kids in making friends that I hope will last their life times. That is part of the purpose of this trip.
I learned things I never knew before or at the least expanded on my limited knowledge about Hamburg.
As we wandered around with our walking guide we learned another extraordinary fact was that Hamburg was bombed relentlessly during the 2nd world war. So much so that bombing raids in July 1943 by the Royal Air Force killed over 43,000 civilians and injuring 37,000 more with another million having been evacuated after the raids. It virtually destroyed the city.
Anyway, like the rest of us…Hamburg is much more than it’s worst story and we did find this city to be delightful. Even though many buildings were destroyed there were a lot of unique structures to explore.
The farm was the home to a couple who taught us a lot about Danish Hygge. One who worked part-time as a butcher and the other a foot and physical therapy (not to be mixed!). 
Their farm-house was nearly 140 years old, had two floors and easily six bedrooms. Wonderous views from each direction through windows and skylights showed us the ever-changing sky.
dozen chickens including five roosters, three of which became dinner…more on that later. 
After months of being in tropical weather and convinced we would not have a ‘regular’ winter we were treated to several winter storms, snow flurries and downright blizzards. We were overjoyed to make snowmen, slide on some ice and have snowball fights. I was more an observer but, we all very much enjoyed it.
We consumed cup after cup of coffee or tea several times a day and often pared them with Danish baked goods found in neighboring villages. We had farm fresh eggs (up to 12 a day!) as well as dark, thick bread that after toasted only needed a smear of butter to become a slice of heaven.
We had been away from a fully supplied kitchen and we relished in having the ability to make breakfast, lunch and dinner on site, warm ourselves by the fireside while wearing the handmade wooly socks made by our host. Can you say Hygge? Ib and Ann offered up all their coats, boots, gloves, hats, scarves (even a Gryffindor one much to Oakley’s delight) and overalls as well as their car to supply us with the tools to journey around the property and the Island of Fyn.
Our experience with the Danes as a people was also warming. They won’t walk up to you to introduce themselves in grocery store, however, once introduced they proved to be some of the warmest, friendliest people I’ve ever met.
We decided to stay at the Legoland Hotel which has themed rooms with scavenger hunts, Lego characters walking around, life-size Lego mini figures, characters walking around and LEGOS everywhere to play with. Big blocks and little blocks.
It was so sweet to see joy on so many faces. Not just ours but, the plenitude of families from all over. There were families there from India, China, and all over SE Asia. We were definitely the minority as we would nod hello to another ‘Western” family from time to time.
French Pastries with Chinese Congee porridge with dried fish on top? Or a traditionally poured spiced chai, watermelon juice, white coffee or full cream milk?
Asia are constructed to impressive, minute detail. Even the scooter accidents with media and police presence on the street. I could have spent hours here. It was super hot so, we melted as we perused even with the welcome mister machines nearby.
A BALANCE OF TRAVEL AND FAMILY 
It has been a delightful place to see albeit a bit further removed from our more hands on experience in Bali. A bit of an adjustment after Bali as we are on the 16th floor of a shiny apartment and not even a third of the scooters we have been used to seeing whizzing past.
In our world-schooling lesson we had a long lesson on mosques and Islam. It is always fascinating for Kelvin and I to see things and think they are a big deal and then have the boys just accept all as ‘normal’. People doing their everyday tasks, working as a nurse, checkout person at the grocery store, kids jumping on trampolines or on school trip at the park – all in their hijibs. So many colorful varieties.
amusement park of 
This is out of the ordinary for us but, one turning 10 is a pretty big deal too.
For an eight year old and newly minted ten-year old it was the ‘bees knees’. My words, not theirs. Theirs included ‘This is sick!’ and ‘What the ‘bleep’ (yes, they say actual word bleep).
Which was good as Oakley had a fever the first day and he and I hung out at the house with the dogs for the day while Kelvin and Canyon adventured.
Southern Hemisphere. It was a great way to get some perspective when getting ready to leave an area.
