To Prague! (Finally!)

Posted on February 2, 2016 by admin

It was our last hold out. Of all the places we’d had on our “must visit” list before we came to Vienna, Prague was the only one we hadn’t been to. It’s supposed to be lovely, it’s close to Vienna, and everyone who goes just loves it, so of course we were planning to go.

In fact, we’d planned to go 4 different times since we’ve been here. I no longer remember all the reasons our previous trips have been cancelled. I know that at least one was because the boys were sick, and I’m fairly certain another was because Dan had something come up at work and we couldn’t go away. I vaguely remember that one time there was an issue with train tickets being sold out on the dates that we had planned to travel, but that might have been a different trip. Regardless, it was past time for us to make a trip to Prague.

And so, last June, we finally went. We found an apartment, booked our train tickets, did a minimal amount of research (I hadn’t realized where, geographically, Prague actually is until about 2 years ago — it’s actually WEST of Vienna). And we were off, on another travel adventure, to a new country.

We traveled by train, which was something we hadn’t done over a significant distance in quite a while, and we found it, again, to be fun and easy compared to our more recent air trips. I love the train, because we don’t have to be there 2 hours early, we don’t have to worry about which luggage gets checked or carried on, we don’t have to wait in line for security checks (though that might not always be a good thing, I suppose). All we have to do is show up and get on. We got a spot in the “family friendly” carriage, so we were not the loudest or the crankiest passengers, and our table top at our seats had a board game built into it. (The conductor dropped off the playing pieces when he checked our tickets.) The trip from Vienna to Prague was uneventful and pleasant, and no one was interested in checking our travel documents (which is what we’ve gotten used to within the EU . . . though that may be different these days). Our plan for getting from the train station to our rented apartment involved taking the tram, which was slightly complicated, because we don’t speak Czech, and were completely unfamiliar with the tram system, but we sorted it out once we arrived in Prague, and it was actually incredibly easy and relatively user friendly. (Though we struggled, throughout the weekend, with figuring out how to use the automated ticket machines for the tram system.) We managed to pick an unusually hot weekend for June, which was slightly inconvenient, because we had also selected an apartment without air conditioning or ceiling fans.

Once we arrived and were settled in, though, the heat provided extra motivation to get out and explore the city (since it was hotter inside than outside). Our first destination was the Prague castle, high on the hill overlooking the city, and we got there (again) by tram (though at this point we were mostly catching on and we found it progressively easier and extremely convenient to navigate the city this way).

We were struck, almost immediately, by how friendly people are in Prague. People actually smiled to us at they passed (which I found unnerving, initially, until I realized just how much I’ve adapted to living in Vienna). When we had trouble with the ticket machines for the tram, passersby stopped to help. And in addition to being generally friendly and outgoing, almost everyone we encountered spoke truly excellent English. We were worried that since we were traveling to a country where we spoke not a word of the language (apart from what we studied in the Rick Steves guidebook on the train on the way there) that we would have trouble communicating, but we absolutely did not. It wasn’t an issue at all.

Now what WAS an issue was that, by the time we sorted out where we were going, got off a stop early accidentally, and walked the rest of the way up the hill, we had one very, very cranky and tired 4 year old with us. He fell asleep on the tram, and by the time he got up, he didn’t want to walk, he didn’t want to see anything, he didn’t want to be there. We found a quiet place at the top of the hill (behind a monastery) and sat to check out the view and give Liam a chance to rest.

Prague really IS as beautiful as everyone says. The bridges over the river are picturesque, the winding, cobbled streets are romantic, the view from the hill down over the city is lovely. As we abandoned our post overlooking the city, and began to walk down towards the castle, we came upon a procession in celebration of Corpus Christi (which was apparently the day we were there).

By the time we got into the actual castle grounds, many of the buildings were closed for the day (it was late afternoon), but that was actually ok, because the kids wouldn’t have been up for much historical study at that point. Instead, we explored the grounds in near privacy, the kids got to run around a bit, and we found a spot to enjoy the view from a slightly different perspective. We took the tram back to the center of town, and went for a quick stroll to the Old Town Square after a lovely Czech dinner, but we were all tired at that point, and a more extensive investigation would have to wait until the next evening.

Our first day in Prague, though tiring, was just as lovely as we’d come to expect from other travelers’ stories. So often, when people enjoy a place so much, it doesn’t quite live up to its reputation. (Plus, we’ve become a bit jaded with our extensive travel history. We’ve seen a lot, and we’re getting a bit harder to impress these days.) Prague, if anything, exceeded our expectations. Journeys are always a bit more tiring than we expect, and the heat certainly took some of our energy out of us, but we got to see an impressive part of the city just in our first afternoon, and we were very much looking forward to our further explorations.

Schneeberg revisited

Posted on January 20, 2016 by admin

When people think of Austria, they think of the Alps. And rightly so. The vast majority of Austria is mountainous (over 3/4 of Austria is in the Alps), and a good bit of it is uninhabitable due to the height and steepness of the peaks through the center and west of the country.

Vienna, however, is in the far east of Austria, and, rather than being in the mountains, it is located in the gently sloping valley carved out by the Danube. Vienna is hilly, but not mountainous (my apartment is only at 186 m above sea level, for example). So, if we want mountains, we have to travel. We’ve been all over Austria’s central mountains (including very near the highest, the Grossglockner), through the Italian Alps on a train (which resulted in a bit of a shock when we woke up and saw ourselves surrounded by snow), and have visited both of Vienna’s “local mountains”, Rax and Schneeberg. Though we spent lovely days at both of the local mountains, the trip back and forth to Schneeberg was definitely simpler, so this past May, when winter was behind us and we felt like getting out to the mountains for a bit, we went back to Schneeberg.

Our only significant complaint about our last trip to Schneeberg was that, due to a lack of detailed planning, we didn’t get enough time to explore. So this time, knowing that the trip there was long-ish, and that in order to maximize our mountain hiking time, we’d have to plan our connections (3 different trains, not including Vienna’s public transit) carefully, we planned ahead. The desire to plan ahead was tempered by our desire to have at least decent weather at the top, so though we planned ahead, we didn’t want to buy our actual tickets too far ahead. But we were (theoretically) prepared. The morning of our trip, we got up early, and left the house with nearly an hour to catch our train (the trip to the train station is less than 25 min) … and yet, we somehow missed our train.

I’m still not entirely sure how it happened. We left the house with plenty of time. We had to wait a while for our first U-Bahn, and then a bit for the second, but sometime shortly after we got on that second U-Bahn, I realized we were, at best, barely going to make our train. As soon as we got to the train station, we started running. It’s a big train station (which was part of the miscalculation — I had counted “arriving at the train station” as “being at the tracks”, which is about a 10 minute underestimate when traveling with kids), so we ran across the whole thing. I still had to print our tickets, too, and I was shaking with the stress and adrenaline, so I entered the confirmation number incorrectly. And that was it. Dan and the boys had run up to the tracks to wait for me, but I never even got up there. They were on their way back down, having seen the train pull away, before I got there.

It wasn’t really a big deal — the next train was in an hour — but I was so disappointed. I felt awful for dragging us all out of bed extra early for no good reason. I was embarrassed that I had failed to allow for enough time. I felt guilty that I’d made my kids sprint through the train station for no reason. I felt terrible that they felt stressed and worried about our day. So I cried (which did not improve the stress and worry situation, which made me feel worse). But, all was not lost, and so I went into the ticket office and got us new tickets for the next train. I found out when our new connections would be and we crossed our fingers that we’d be able to change our reservation for the Salamander train that would take us up the mountain. Then we got breakfast, regrouped, and got on the next train without a problem.

If you make the connections properly, it’s not a long trip — only about 2 hours from the center of Vienna, and quite lovely. First, you take a big train to one of Vienna’s outlying suburbs, and then a tiny electric train (which honestly feels more like a bus) out into the countryside and to the base of the mountains. When we arrived, we were scolded a bit for missing the train we had been booked on, and informed that we were lucky to get a spot on a later train, but we did get a spot. Because of our less than ideal departure from Vienna, we ended up with nearly an hour of downtime until the special Salamander train up the mountain. (For those keeping track, that means we would get to the top of the mountain 2 full hours later than we had intended.) But, no worries. To fill the time, we got some coffee (for Dan & I) and made our way to a nearby salamander-themed playground (for the boys).

At the appointed time, we went back to the train station and got on the Salamander train for the 45 minute ride to the top of the mountain. At the bottom of the mountain, it was late spring, nearly summer. Everything was green and lush, the kids didn’t need their jackets, and I was thinking I may have over-prepared for our adventure. As we ascended, however, things changed quickly. By halfway up the mountain, our surroundings looked more like early spring than late May. The trees were just budding, the wildflowers just starting to think about blooming, and, as we ascended, there was more and more snow everywhere. Rather than being over-prepared, I started to worry that we might be under-dressed in our fleeces and raincoats.

At the top, it felt like early March, rather than late May. The kids climbed on massive snow piles, and most of the play area at the summit was unusable due to the amount of snow cover. The wind whipped around us, dark clouds hung overhead, and banks of fog curled around the rocks. It did not feel like it was nearly summer. It was winter again.

Undaunted, we began our hike. Our plan was to continue along the path we had started on our previous visit, and then to go further, possibly as far as one of the two peaks. But though we were (relatively) enthusiastic (me and Dan more than the kids), we just weren’t going to make it that far. It was cold and windy. Very cold and windy, and slightly misty. We had come prepared for a springtime hike, but not for a winter one.

But though we accepted we would not be going as far as we’d planned, we were still going to enjoy our mountain adventure! So, after about half a mile, we stopped into an Almhutte for a break from the wind and a warm treat (goulash and hot chocolate) before continuing on. We were not, at all, the only people put hiking, though we may have been the only non-Austrians).

After a bit more hiking, we came upon a fun discovery — one of several sources of Vienna’s lovely drinking water. I knew that our clean and tasty drinking water came “from the mountains”, but I didn’t realize that one of the sources would be a big pile of snow (presumably over a frozen lake or spring), surrounded in less than intimidating barbed wire, along the side of a wide hiking trail. (There was a young girl who had climbed down into the snow pictured here, but that seemed like an extraordinarily bad idea, so we wouldn’t let the boys join her.)

But after that, we were pretty much done. Our vision of an entire afternoon spent hiking several miles was overly ambitious given the conditions (or at least due to our level of preparation). We were just thwarted by the cold and the wind … and the fact that it was basically still winter up there. And though we enjoyed our colder-than-expected hike on the mountaintop, we definitely learned that late spring is still a bit early to hike in the high Alps. On the bright side, as it turned out, my morning miscalculation didn’t really cost us any precious mountain time (because we wouldn’t have stayed longer anyway, and we got to be there in the “warmest” part of the day, relatively speaking). In the end, it was another adventure, and another learning experience, and I think we’ll save our next mountain hike for summer.

Bratislava

Posted on November 18, 2015 by admin

Bratislava, the capital city of Slovakia, is just a short trip from Vienna — the closest capital city to where we are. (I also recently learned that it’s the only capital city in the world that borders two independent countries — Austria and Hungary — so that’s pretty neat.) It’s an easy trip, and we’ve always meant to go, but somehow, in our years of travels, we’ve never gone. We’ve planned to go many times, gotten as far as booking hotel rooms and transportation, but never actually made it happen.

This past May, we finally went. It’s close enough, and small enough, that we made a day trip of it (after some degree of deliberation) and opted to travel by boat, rather than by train or car. The idea of a boat trip seemed really fun, and we did a bit of research to try to find the best (and most cost-effective) way to get there by boat. (The MOST cost-effective would have actually been the train, but we were set on the idea of the boat.) We settled on taking a Slovakian hydrofoil boat (rather than the more expensive, and more centrally located, Austrian boat). The Slovakian boat would leave from a pier on the Danube, while the Austrian boat went from a spot on the Danube canal (much closer to where we live). The Austrian boat had several daily departures and returns, while the Slovakian boat had only one. The Austrian boat definitely would have been more convenient, but we decided to be adventurous (plus save a few Euros) and try the Slovakian boat. Though we had planned to buy the tickets ahead of time, we didn’t, and so our goal was to arrive a few minutes before departure and (hopefully) buy our tickets there.

Of course, we’ve pretty much never been early for anything, so instead of arriving early, we got to the boat just minutes before the scheduled departure, without tickets and without time to stop for cash. We were hoping we could pay with a card, and when we arrived at the dock, out of breath from our jog from the train station, we tried to enquire about purchasing tickets. While Dan tried to find out about tickets, I questionably eyed the boat, which looked a bit more worn than the pictures we’d seen online. Time was short, though, and one of the staff waved us inside. We thought we were going in to get tickets, but no. There was no way to buy tickets on the boat, so we were to ride to Bratislava, and then buy tickets at the boat station on that end! This was all a bit hard to understand, though, because none of the crew spoke German or English (and we don’t speak Slovak), but we eventually got it sorted out, and we were on our way down the Danube!

At first, we were slightly disappointed that there was no outdoor seating (which we had seen on advertisements for the Austrian boat), but once we got underway, it was clear why — we got going WAY too fast for it to be safe for anyone to sit outside. The boat was comfy enough, with a little snack shop (we got some coffee and some Slovakian treats), and there was a protected outside spot to stand and see the scenery. Our choice of boat (and route) was completely affirmed, though, when we got to ride through one of the gigantic locks on the Danube. (The Austrian boat, which moors on the canal, comes out downstream of the locks. Thus, that boat has a 15 minute shorter trip, but the long way was totally worth it.)

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Our boat pulled up into a giant holding area, a massive set of gates rolled closed behind us, and, very gradually, the water leaked out of the holding area and we watched as the walls of the lock, at first level with our eyes, gradually rose far above our heads. Finally at the lower level, the huge doors in front of us opened, and we got underway again.

After that, our 90 minute journey was pretty uneventful, and we were soon in Bratislava, Slovakia. (A new country for all of us, and, for three of us, our first time behind the former iron curtain.) Our first task was to purchase our tickets for our trip, but other than that, we just wandered around the city. We weren’t entirely sure what to expect. We saw a very old-fashioned looking tram system, some very interesting urban art, and a group of Hare Krishnas parading through the streets. We loved Bratislava’s winding streets, enjoyed some fantastic hot chocolate, and tried a very Slovakian lunch (well, Dan & I did — the boys had schnitzel). We indulged the boys in ice cream, as is our travel tradition (even though it was chilly and rainy), walked by the American embassy and played in a park. I liked the feel of the city — a bit smaller and less opulent than Vienna, but definitely European . . . and not as “Eastern European” feeling as I was expecting. My favorite thing was the series of birdhouses stationed throughout the green space in the city center. Before we knew it, it was time to head back to the boat (by way of a Slovakian grocery store to check out the local treats).

We saw a lot of Bratislava, and definitely enjoyed our time, but our day there was not quite long enough. I think we may have to go back another time, to see the castle and explore some more (and maybe to do some shopping, since I believe there are some British and American shops there that we don’t have here). Our trip back to Vienna was lovely, and slightly more peaceful (our kids were worn out a bit from our day), and we got to go through the lock again, this time watching our boat lift up to the shoreline from far below. Though there wasn’t a lot to DO in Bratislava, we certainly spent a lovely day there, and I expect we will return. It’s a fun and easy day trip, and honestly, I think the journey alone was worth the effort.

London with Elaine!

Posted on November 7, 2015 by admin

I am woefully behind (as usual), but I have been putting bits and pieces of this post together since the end of April. Back sometime in the early spring, my friend Elaine mentioned wanting to go back to London sometime for a girls’ trip. It wasn’t a hint — she was just talking. She didn’t expect that I, a mom of 2 with a busy schedule, would be willing to drop everything and go away for a weekend. But I totally would. So, excitedly, we (she) started planning (she handled all of the arrangements, my part was mostly to coordinate my proposed absence with Dan). In the course of a single afternoon, mostly via Facebook message, we had coordinated, planned, and booked the tickets. We were going to London!!!

Prior to April of this year, I had been away from the kids overnight exactly once (not counting when I went to the hospital to have Liam, which does not count as being “away from the kids”). The first time I went away, I found it hard to be away from the kids, but I also really enjoyed myself, and I was game to try again.

Elaine truly handled all of the planning. She asked for my advice and input, but she arranged everything — all of the reservations, the flight, the hotel, all of the scheduling. That, alone, was like a vacation for me — I’d never before taken a vacation and had to think about so little!

As the day approached, I packed, I did tons of laundry, and I stressed. Would everything be ok without me? Would they all have enough clean socks? Would Dan be totally overwhelmed? Would I even enjoy myself in the face of all the worry over things at home? As usual, I spent my first few hours unable to relax. Between guilt over having left the kids, stress about catching the flight (this time, like almost always, unwarranted), and a constant feeling of having forgotten something important (where are the kids?!?!), I found it hard to initially embrace the whole “girls’ weekend” idea. Thankfully, for both Elaine & I, I was pretty well adjusted by the time we landed.

Our first evening was pretty much taken up by a Tube ride to our lovely hotel in Kensington and a mad dash to find something tasty to eat before everything closed. We found a yummy Indian place close to the hotel, had a quick dinner and called it a night. We had a full parade of shopping and dining planned for the weekend — exactly the kind of stuff I struggle to get to do while traveling with the family, so I was really looking forward to it. In addition, I was excited to keep up my good fitness habits by running while on vacation (something I generally skip, but I’m feeling a bit more dedicated these days, and not having to tend to anyone else’s needs first thing in the morning helped get me out the door). So, the next morning I rose early and ran over to Kensington Gardens in the rain (which felt extra impressive). I got a little lost, saw some swans, and felt very proud for having made a point of exercising.

239 Saturday’s plan was for shopping and eating, and we started with a ride on one of London’s ubiquitous red buses (top level, of course, for extra tourist points). We visited Whole Foods, stopped by some clothing shops, and even saw the T.A.R.D.I.S. at Earl’s Court! After that, we went and had a lovely (and very fancy) tea at The Connaught, where everything was delightful! We shopped at Selfridge’s, walked through Soho and Covent Garden, and shopped a little more! Then we finished our day with tasty cheeseburgers and milkshakes — both of which are surprisingly hard to find (made properly) in Vienna.

I started the next day with another run to Kensington Gardens (and since I didn’t get lost this time, I had more time to actually ENJOY the gardens). We then went and had fantastic Dim Sum (along with Chrysanthemum tea, which I had never had before), shopped at Hamley’s, and took another self-created impromptu bus tour of central London. We had time for a bit more 268 shopping, and finally some really yummy Eggs Benedict (which Elaine and I have bonded over) at a restaurant where the waiters aren’t allowed to take pictures (in case they might accidentally capture someone who would prefer their photo not be taken!). We also decided to sample a few macaroons, which were even better than they looked!

Our time was quickly winding down, so we hurried back to the hotel to collect our things and head to the airport. It was a wonderful, whirlwind weekend, and I’m amazed at how much we fit in. I was also so pleasantly surprised to find that Elaine is not only a dear friend, but also that we are remarkably compatible travel companions. We had a busy, full, grown up, girlfriend trip, and I came back refreshed, reenergized, and ready to get right back into things. I missed my boys, of course, but I also felt truly grateful to have had
some time to remember how it feels to be the part of ME that is separate from being a mom — the part who likes spicy Indian food, clothes shopping (including actually trying things on before I buy them) and having conversations that don’t involve being interrupted every 8 seconds. It was a definite success, and I’m so very glad we went.

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Another visit ends

Posted on August 12, 2015 by admin

All good things must come to an end, and so it was with our trip home for Christmas last year. Just like the year before, we got treated to a significant snowstorm the morning of our flight out, but unlike last year, I was mentally prepared for the possibility, so I was able to enjoy it a bit with the kids instead if just stressing about how wet everyone’s snow pants were getting. (Good thing, too, because we had another disappointing snow year in Vienna this past winter, so it was nice to get some kind of chance to play in the snow together.) And again, our flight was delayed (though not as badly as the previous year), but before too long we were trekking through the snow to the airport to return to Vienna.

I hate leaving. Every time. Doing it repeatedly does not make it easier. Our time here has gotten long — longer than any of us counted on — so leaving is hard, because part of me feels like we shouldn’t be leaving at all. But we did. With help from our family, clear and safe roads, and our boys, we collected up our things and prepared for another transatlantic journey.

Because of a different seating configuration on the plane, we sat differently than we usually do. Whenever possible, we sit in the middle of the plane, 4 across. When that isn’t possible, we sit 3 across at the window with one on the neighboring aisle. This particular plane had only 2 seats near the window, though, so Dan & B sat there, and L and I sat across the aisle in the middle section. No problem.

Except that it was a red-eye, and when it came time for sleeping, we had a problem. It’s never easy to do a red-eye with kids. No one ever enjoys sleeping on a plane, and kids can get progressively less adaptable as they get more tired. When my guys are a bit older, they might think it’s fun to stay up all night and watch movies as we fly over the ocean, but not yet. B leaned up against the window and fell asleep. Dan dozed next to him. Liam, with no window to lean on and no family member to bookend the other side of him, could just not get comfortable. We tried putting him on the aisle with me in the middle seat, and we tried me on the aisle and him in the middle. Whatever we tried, he ended up either sticking an appendage into the aisle or kicking the woman sitting next to him (the one that wasn’t me). He was so tired. He cried. He tried to lay on the floor of the plane. He could not get comfortable and he could not sleep. He finally dozed off, laying across me, for maybe 20 minutes when it was nearly “morning” (meaning it was still very much the middle of the night for us). I didn’t sleep at all. It was a rough flight.

But, it was at least fast. We didn’t know why at the time, but despite taking off about 15 minutes late, we landed in London over an hour early. (We later discovered that our flight was able to take advantage of unusually strong upper level tail winds — we were traveling at over 700 mph!) Arriving early in London wasn’t as much of a benefit as it might have been, though — we were to have had a 5 hour layover at Heathrow, which would now be over 6. With a very tired family, it was a bit of a daunting proposition.

Other than rare occasions when we get a direct flight to the US, we usually connect through Heathrow or Charles du Gaulle. I don’t love either option. Both are huge airports which require commuting between distant terminals for international connections. I don’t mind flying TO those airports, but I don’t like flying THROUGH either one. This time, though, I learned to love Heathrow a little more.

We were lucky to discover that in the terminal we’d be flying out of (some 6+ hours after we arrived) there was a “Family Lounge”. We didn’t know exactly what that meant, but we decided to find out. It turns out that it was a spacious set of rooms outfitted for kids of all ages, and only accessible to people actually travelling with children. They had comfy places to sit, an indoor play area (full of foam-rubber covered obstacles to play on), a nap/quiet room and a game room with TV and foosball (for older kids). There was also a coffee machine for the grown ups. It was EXACTLY what we needed. Not only were the kids able to both run around and rest as they needed, but we were free from the typical airport worry that we were bothering any of the other travellers.

The kids started out by running around, climbing on the equipment and playing with the other kids who were waiting. Eventually, Liam layed down in the nap room for some much needed rest, and we were able to charge our phones, connect to the wi-fi, and let the kids play games on the iPad while we waited. It gave us some peace and relaxation during a very long day of travel (and has bumped Heathrow up to my most favorite airport to connect through).

The best part about flying back to Vienna from the States is that by the time we get on that second flight back to Vienna, we’re almost home. That last little flight feels so short in the overall scheme of the entire trip, so it’s not so daunting. It was another long day of travel, with another transatlantic journey accomplished, but we made it back “home” from another great trip Home.

I (actually don’t) hate Legoland

Posted on August 6, 2015 by admin

I am not a huge fan of amusement parks.

When I was 17, I went to Disney World for the first time. It was every bit as magical as I had hoped it would be, even as a skeptical teenager who was worried that I was already too old to appreciate it. I had a fantastic time. And, after college, I took a trip with friends to ride roller coasters in Ohio, and I loved that, too. In fact, going to amusement parks generally seemed like good fun when I was younger, even though each trip left me sunburned and vaguely ill. But, now, as a grouchy old adult, my enthusiasm has waned somewhat. Most of the time, when faced with the prospect of an amusement park trip, I struggle to get beyond the expense, effort, endless lines, crush of sweaty humanity, hours in the burning sun, general uncleanliness and near certainty that at least one of us will get sick after (or during) the visit. It’s just not really my thing these days.

That being said, it’s not really about me anymore. As a mom, I try to embrace my kids’ enthusiasm for such places. With one set of grandparents who live in central Florida, a visit to Disney was inevitable. We went a few summers ago, and it was EXACTLY as I imagined it would be: hot, crowded and a test of patience. I spent the day feeling like I was enduring something rather than enjoying it, and, I thought, based on the numerous tears and tantrums, that the kids felt the same way. Surprisingly, though, the boys came out of it feeling like they’d had a great day and with seemingly no memory of the misery that we experienced while we were there. (I vaguely suspect that the chicken nuggets may be laced with whatever brain chemical it is that makes mothers forget the pain of childbirth.) Regardless, my boys were left feeling like they’d had a great day, and honestly, that’s more than good enough for me.

Even so, when my in-laws suggested a trip to Legoland this past December, my enthusiasm was all for the sake of the family. I could not get the episode of “The Simpsons” where they visit “Blockoland” out of my mind. I could not imagine what Legoland had to offer that would be better than Disney. I anticipated a life-sized hours-long ad for everything Lego and not much more. I was not excited. But, I’d take one for the team. However, after the projected 90 minute drive turned into more that twice that, with a nightmare of a parking situation (whatever my gripes against Disney, they do know how to park cars), I was 100% ready to go home before we got through the gates. I was hot, grouchy and already over Legoland.

After waiting in a long line for the bathroom and an another long line for tickets, I was not happier. Plus, the very first thing the boys saw when they went into the park was a giant Lego sculpture … which was not fenced off but was not meant to be touched. Being told off by the guard assigned to protect it and then wrestling a sweaty, exhausted 4 year old off of it, I was ready to run for the hills, but we persevered. By 3:30, we had ridden on the (admittedly cool) merry-go-round (with giant Lego horses!) and had an awful $80 lunch. By 4:00, we’d ridden a water ride that got us completely soaked and had Liam in tears. I decided I hated Legoland.

But then . . . we discovered The Dragon.

The Dragon is a roller coaster, designed for small kids, and everyone else, too. My previous experience with kid-friendly roller coasters was restricted to tiny, carnival-type roller coasters which have not been a lot of fun (for anyone). This wasn’t tiny, and it wasn’t rickety. It was a real roller coaster, just set up to be safe and functional for little kids (as well as adults). I was skeptical at first, imagining waiting through the 45 minute long line only to have one (or both) of the kids chicken out at the end, or, worse, getting them on and having them hysterically beg to get off after it was too late to do so. The boys were absolutely determined to ride it, though, and so we did.

And I’m so glad.

It was great fun. It was exciting enough to be scary, but not so scary as to not be fun. There was no moment when I was worried that the kids were going to fly out or get hurt, but it had enough drops and turns to count as an actual roller coaster. The kids loved it. We all loved it. It was the beginning of turning our day at Legoland around.

The boys had such a blast that we ran around and got straight back in the line. We rode The Dragon several times (even dragging my reluctant in-laws on it) and had a great time each time.

After that, and some face painting, we wandered down to “Miniland” which recreates well-known sights and cities from around the world (extra credit because we got to see a lot of places we’ve actually been to). We didn’t get down that way until dusk was falling, and I think it would have been even more impressive in the daylight (though it was well-lit at night), but we all enjoyed looking at the Lego recreations of the Eiffel Tower, the Golden Gate Bridge, and the monuments and museums of Washington, DC (which is quite near where we’re originally from).

We all would have liked to have spent more time exploring the scenes in Minland, but it was almost time for fireworks, which the boys really wanted to see. On our way to the stadium to see the fireworks, though, one of us had a brilliant idea . . . why go see the fireworks from the stadium when we could try to go see them from The Dragon?!

And so we did. We ran back up the hill and through the park and into the line, hoping that our idea wouldn’t be one that everyone else in the park had already had. We were completely in luck. We climbed aboard and started our ride, holding our special Lego glasses on our faces while we rode The Dragon (again). And we were lucky enough to have an amazing view of part of the fireworks show while riding our favorite ride in the park. (The special Lego glasses made the fireworks appear to be made of Lego bricks, which is also pretty cool.)

After that, we repeated our run around to the line again . . . and again . . . and again. In all, we rode The Dragon 8 or 9 times total (including an extra bonus ride at the end of the night, where the ride operators let us all go one last time before they shut the ride down).

So, I admit it. I was wrong. I thought I was going to hate Legoland, but I actually didn’t. We had a great time, enjoyed the park, and spent some really fun time together. The park didn’t end up being just a giant Lego ad (though there were plenty of places to shop for Legos, too). In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I’d like to go again, and I’ve already started looking into the other things in the park that we didn’t get to do our first time (like Lego jousting — only for kids, though). I was pleased with the number of things they had for the little ones to do (though we did end up doing the same thing over and over again — they had other stuff) and the members of the staff that we interacted with were all friendly and pleasant. Instead of having an awful day, we had a great one. I was impressed, and we will go back. (Or, possibly, we may go to Legoland Germany instead, which all of B’s school friends have been to. They all think it’s weird that he’s been to one in Florida. I hear they have their own version of The Dragon!)

My favorite gifts

Posted on August 5, 2015 by admin

(Yep, still writing about last Christmas. I ought to be done sometime before this coming Christmas.)

This year, when I was shopping for Christmas gifts for the boys, I wanted to find a small way to incorporate more of the idea of “giving” into their holiday. Not by giving gifts to loved ones (which we already do), but something a bit wider-minded — something beyond their immediate sphere. I thought a lot about how best to do that in a gentle, positive way. I considered Heifer International, where you can buy a cow or a goat or a rabbit for an impoverished family in another country, but I worried the concept might be a bit advanced and the gift too intangible for the boys to really understand. I thought that just opening an envelope about a donation of a goat would get completely swallowed up in all the STUFF they would be focused on Christmas morning. So, maybe one day, but not yet. But I liked the idea — of taking the money I would have spent on a gift for them, and doing something charitable with it instead … without it seeming like a punishment or deprivation in any way. (My kids are certainly not deprived of anything, but the idea was to encourage charitable giving, not make it seem like a rotten idea.)

Despite my best intentions, when Christmas comes around at our house, my kids are overwhelmingly focused on the presents. (Though I get the feeling that this is pretty normal.) One unintended consequence of being able to provide so much for our kids is that they take so much of what they have for granted. And though I understand that Christmas (even for those of us who celebrate it culturally, rather than religiously) is about family, togetherness, kindness, charity and peace, somehow, for my kids, it’s really almost entirely about the presents (and also a little about visiting our family, which is a good thing). I think it’s hard for intangible themes of peace, charity and time spent together to compete with boxes of brightly-colored plastic and flashing lights packed up under the tree.

But I wanted to do a little something small to start to make a shift.

So, I kept looking, and found out that through The Sierra Club, you can “adopt an animal” at a U.S. National Park. You get a certificate, a little booklet and a stuffed animal to represent your adoptee, and the money goes towards conservation efforts across North America. It was perfect. It would accomplish the goal of giving, but still give the kids a tangible THING to focus on. My hope was that reading the booklet and playing with the stuffed animal would keep the gift in their minds beyond just the moment that I told them about it.

And, it worked. The kids loved the stuffies when they opened them, but they were even more fascinated by the idea that they had “adopted” a real, actual wild animal in a park somewhere. They wanted to learn more about the animals (a fox for L and a wolf for B), and more about where they live. They learned a bit more about US geography, too, which is something they don’t know enough of yet (because my kids know where the Alps are, but not the Rockies). They are absolutely set on visiting the parks (Glacier and Rocky Mountain National Parks) to see “their” animals. And we were able to talk about conservation and the environment and the way the animals’ survival depends on people taking care of the planet.

I’m really happy. My plan worked! I know it’s not much — we’re not saving the rainforests or ending homelessness — but it was a tiny step in the right direction that we hadn’t taken before. They were my favorite gifts to give this year.

Exactly as it was

Posted on August 4, 2015 by admin

I have a natural tendency to get worked up about things. I worry. I stress. I fret. I am, by nature, an anxious person. It doesn’t serve me well. Though I believe, in the deep and rarely examined recesses of my mind, that my worry and anxiety will ultimately benefit me, they don’t. Somewhere along the line, I became convinced that conceiving of, and preparing for, every eventuality would give me some influence or control over situations. It doesn’t. I read once that “Worry doesn’t rob tomorrow of its problems, it robs today of its joy.” That pretty much sums up the reality, but still, somewhere in my mind, I equate worry with control and control with happiness. Thus, I somehow think that worrying will make me happy, even though it never, ever has.

I’m also a perfectionist. (Being a perfectionist might not mean what you think. It doesn’t mean “doing everything perfectly”. It means “not being able to let go of the idea of doing everything perfectly”. Which is crazy-making, because no matter how well you ever do anything, you can always find a way that it isn’t “perfect”.) If I don’t work on it, I naturally revert to a state where I am constantly anxious about how I can make things perfect. So, I basically make myself miserable pursuing an impossible goal. And perfection isn’t even a good goal! Again, in some back room in my mind, I got the idea that perfect = happy. Also, not true. Trying to be perfect, at everything, all the time, is actually a pretty great way to NOT be happy.

I’m working on this in myself, and I’ve made good progress. I can now see that somewhere in my mind I think that worry = happy, and I can see the nonsense of that idea. I can also see that my life is actually happier when I don’t worry about anything being “perfect”. Which is great. But I’m not totally immune to it yet.

When I was preparing to go home for Christmas this year (yes, back in December), amongst sick kids, sick me, a break-in across the hall and all the usual frenzy of the Christmas season, I slipped back into this thinking. I spent a lot of time in the weeks before my trip home contemplating (aka worrying about) all the things I could do to make the holiday at home with my family go perfectly. I worried about what I would pack. I wanted to make sure we all had the right sweaters, the perfect pajamas, the best outfits that we could for our weeks at home. I tied myself in mental knots trying to figure out how to maximize every moment of our time at home so that we could see all of the people we wanted to see and do all the things we wanted to do in order to ensure a perfect holiday. I stayed up late doing laundry, wrote up complicated planning calendars of people and events, and lost sleep over things like whether or not I had packed all of the most perfectly appropriate socks.

Before I made myself sick, crazy or miserable, I got things straightened out, though. A few days before we left, in the midst of the chaos of that week, I realized that the only thing that truly mattered is that we were going home. We were travelling across the ocean to see our family and our friends. We would spend time with people that we love. We would do fun things. We would also not get to see everyone we wanted to, because time is finite, the holidays are busy and kids have a limit on how much activity they can handle happily. No one would care if we had our best Christmas sweaters or the best possible collection of socks on hand. Whether or not we made the connections on our flights was not going to make or break our trip. None of the stuff I was agonizing over was going to make the difference between having a wonderful holiday and not. What was going to make the difference was me NOT trying to make it be perfect. In trying to make it be perfect, I was going to miss the fact that it was going to be absolutely wonderful regardless. I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy it as well, and in not enjoying it, I would have gradually eroded the enjoyment of the people around me. In reality, it didn’t have to be anything different than exactly what it was to be a happy holiday.

In the end, it wasn’t perfect. We didn’t get to see everyone we wanted, and we didn’t get to see anyone for as much time as we wanted. There were tons of things we wanted to do that we didn’t (there always are when we go home). There were peaceful moments, busy moments, quiet moments, festive moments and lots and lots of love and fun. It didn’t have to be any different. It was exactly right as it was.

(I mean, really — how could we have improved on this?)

To Grandmother’s House

Posted on July 9, 2015 by admin

I’ve completely lost count of our transatlantic journeys as a family. I actually just tried to count, and can’t quite resolve the trips in my head anymore. I *think* we’ve taken 4 round-trip transatlantic trips together, plus the one-way trip that brought us here (or, if you like, you can think of that as the round-trip we just haven’t completed yet) but I could be missing one. So, we’ve done at least 9 transatlantic flights together as a family, and though I’m not sure we’re experts, we’re certainly pretty well experienced. (I mean, seriously. My kids have each made at least 9 transatlantic flights so far. I was 37 before I could say that.) But all of our experience does very little to mitigate the unscripted insanity that invariably awaits us every time we do it. Every trip has been a little different, and each one has presented its own challenges. It is, as I often say, always an adventure.

In the past, we’ve usually (always?) flown direct from Vienna to Washington or stopped in Paris. Direct is great, but pricey, and though Austrian Airlines is pretty wonderful, their planes are not always the most comfortable. Last year, we opted to fly through Charles de Gaulle in Paris so that we could fly to Washington on the new A380 — the gigantic, double-decker plane. I said I wanted to try it out because I thought it would be fun for the kids, but the truth is that my years working in aviation left me as kind of a plane nerd and *I* really wanted to try it out.

It was great — comfortable, quiet and convenient, and Air France has stellar service. But Charles de Gaulle is a headache of an airport, and no matter how long we allow for a connection there (we’ve connected through Paris in the past, flying to other European destinations) we always end up running for the plane, which is a crummy beginning to a trip. (Last year was no exception.)

So this year, I thought we’d try something a little different. I was fine with connecting through Paris, but I wanted to allow more time than last year, and I wasn’t set on it being anywhere in particular. As it turned out, the A380 now flies between Washington and Heathrow, too. We’ve had some decent experiences at Heathrow before, and it’s a bonus that people in London speak English. Sold! We booked our tickets with a connection through Heathrow.

We had no delays getting from Vienna to Heathrow, so I expected than having nearly 2 hours to get to our next plane would be no problem. Ha! I had never realized that connecting from intra-European travel to transatlantic travel at Heathrow makes it every bit as much of a headache as connecting through Charles de Gaulle. It was not pleasant.

We had to wait for a shuttle bus which ran only every 15 minutes, and which took 20 minutes to get to its destination. Which sounds fine, except that the entire flight of people from Vienna had to get on the shuttle, and we had to wait through 3 rounds of shuttle buses before we got on. Then we had to go through security again, and there were insanely long lines. When we finally got to the front of the line, we were told that Liam’s antibiotic (remember how we were all sick for most of December?) couldn’t clear security. Huh??? No, really. It couldn’t go through because nowhere on the bottle did it say how bit it was (though it was, quite clearly, the same 100 mL size as the children’s ibuprofen we had — which DID say 100 mL on the bottle, so that was clear to go). Apparently, it would have been ok if we’d had the doctor’s written prescription with us (but we didn’t), even though it was in its original bottle from the pharmacy, all official-looking and everything. I explained that antibiotics are the kind of medicine where it’s very bad if you miss a dose. I offered to take some of the medicine. I offered to let them gas chromatograph it. I asked Dan to find someone to call our gate and tell them we were coming while I pleaded with the (not unsympathetic, but unbudging) security guy. Our flight was due to take off in less than 15 minutes, and we still had a shuttle train to take. We had to choose between leaving the medicine and running for our flight, or staying to argue about the medicine and getting on a later plane. We ran. (Again.)

I’m not exaggerating when I say that by the time we left security, we had just over 10 minutes to get to our gate. I was 95% certain we were going to miss our plane. I figured that, at least, our seats had been given away to someone on standby at this point. We ran, flat out, to the train terminal. We ran, flat out to the gate. We arrived, with about 90 seconds to spare before departure time. The gate agent said that the only reason our seats weren’t given away is that so many people had missed their connections that there were more open seats than standby passengers. He told us that if we hadn’t called from security to say we were coming, they would have left without us. We were the last people across the jetway, they closed the door as soon as we were through it, and we were still walking down the (admittedly very long) aisle when the plane pushed back. We were red-faced, sweaty, stressed, exhausted and without antibiotic, but we made our flight. (So much for not repeating the experience we had the year before!) I wanted to email our pediatrician, to ask if she could email or fax a replacement prescription, but between the dash for the plane and the actual takeoff, there was not a single moment to do it.

The kids were great. Though it’s not great that we keep ending up in that situation, they’re at least getting used to it, and they know that it’s not a calamity. (Besides, they’re getting bigger, so they’re getting pretty fast!) The rest of the flight was relatively uneventful. The boys are definitely getting more and more accustomed to long flights. The service on British Airways was as good as Air France (though the configuration of the plane was slightly less comfortable).

And it was so, so wonderful to see our family again when we arrived. That is the absolute BEST feeling about being abroad — how magical it feels to come home again. There are all of these wonderful people that you miss SO much, and then you get to see them, and they’re just as happy to see you as you are to see them, and they don’t care too much what state you’re in when you arrive. It is the BEST. (And, we got to meet our new nephew/cousin!!!!)

But after we gave hugs and kisses, collected our things, packed everything up, got to my mom’s house and got semi-settled in . . . we still had the antibiotic to deal with.

By the time we got to Maryland, it was late at night in Vienna, so I couldn’t reach our pediatrician (though I left her a message). We had no recourse, except to go to a 24 hour pharmacy and beg for them to give us a single dose of amoxicillin (we figured we could come back with an emailed prescription in the morning, but we didn’t want him to miss a dose). If at all possible, we didn’t want to have to take poor, exhausted Liam to the ER or an urgent care place to get them to write a new prescription that night. I discovered that, randomly, I’d taken a picture of the prescription when the doctor gave it to us (I have no idea why — I never do that) so Dan was able to take that with him to the pharmacy. (It’s too bad that I didn’t realize I had that at Heathrow — he might have let us through with that.)

When Dan went to the pharmacy, he explained the situation. We were fortunate that the pharmacist was as outraged by the fact that the antibiotic had been confiscated as we were, and he refilled the entire prescription for us, based just on the picture from my phone. And so, just 22 hours after leaving our apartment in Vienna, after running through the airport, going over the ocean and through the hassle of getting Liam’s medicine, we were, finally, tucked in, safe and sound, at Grandma’s house.

Posted on April 29, 2015 by admin

I’m horribly behind on blogging (I’m still writing about November!) but luckily my friend, Elaine, isn’t! She wrote up our recent trip to London. Good times.

A Mommy Abroad

Our big adventure, as a family of three.

Category Archives: Destinations