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Channeling family travel excitement

The book. By Mommy.

The book. By Mommy.

Ours is a house of artists. I use words to express myself; Powerwoman and our daughters use images. My wife and older daughter in particular turn to drawings and sketches when they wish to express deep and personal thoughts. This means pre-trip excitement often sparks a ton of art time.

Usually L is the queen of this handiwork, cranking out single sheets and books about the things she thinks we’ll experience on the road. (To R’s credit, she’s still working on the whole hold-a-marker-the-right-way trick.)

This week, however, my wife has run point.

The fruits of her labor: A book about our August trip to Walt Disney World. Because we’ve never been there as a family (we’ve only taken the girls to Disneyland), the girls have been pestering us about what it’s like and what they’ll see. Yes, we answer them when they ask. But to sweeten the storyline, Powerwoman started a book (quite literally) to illustrate our replies.

The first page of the book presents a map of Fantasyland, complete with images of the carousel and the iconic Cinderella Castle. A rough strategy for subsequent pages include a rendering of Arandelle (our girls, like all girls, are obsessed with Frozen), Epcot Theme Park, and more.

As of today, the expectations were for Powerwoman to create one new page a week. You better believe the girls intend to hold her to this schedule. The penalty: Incessant nagging.

In all seriousness, the book has been a huge hit. It’s also been a great inspiration—as if L and R weren’t excited already, the book (and discussion about it) has jump-started their interest in a big way. By the time August rolls around, the girls likely will be bursting at the seams for the conclusion of their pre-trip primer. I’m also looking forward to using it as a distraction tool on the six-hour plane ride to Orlando.

This whole process has taught us a valuable lesson: It’s never too early to get your children excited about upcoming family trips. Anything that sparks their imagination, anything that triggers and encourages excitement about travel, is worthwhile. Especially if it involves creativity, too.

How do you get your children excited for upcoming family trips?

Great family travel blog from Down Under

The Delaneys, hanging out Down Under.

The Delaneys, hanging out Down Under.

I’m always eager to promote the work of other writers whom I admire. Especially when they’re not professional writers.

That’s precisely why I have been LOVING this blog, by my friend, Matt Delaney, and his wife, Allison. Earlier this month, the duo took their two kids on a three-week vacation to New Zealand and Australia. They rented an RV and are touring the region. And they’re chronicling their adventures for everyone to read.

The posts have been detailed, honest, humorous and informative. They also have been thoroughly engaging—especially with all of the family photos they’re posting from along the way.

What’s more, I applaud Matt and Allison for taking this trip in the first place—their kids are not much older than L and R (I met Matt, a financial planner, while serving on the Board for the kids’ preschool), and a three-week road trip in a foreign land with two kids under the age of 8 is hard-core.

(Actually, the trip fits perfectly into this “storybook” campaign I’m doing with Expedia.)

In any event, take a few minutes and read up on the Delaneys’ adventures Down Under. They’re over there until June 8 or so, and I suspect they’ll publish a number of other posts between now and then.

If you could go anywhere on an epic family trip, where would it be and why?

Family glamping, Ritz-Carlton style

The goodies inside a Ritz-Carlton tent.

The goodies inside a Ritz-Carlton tent.

In most circles, the notion of “glamping” involves sleeping outside in a really fancy tent. At The Ritz-Carlton, Lake Tahoe, however, it has a slightly different meaning—yes, it involves a really fancy tent, but the tent is just for kids, and the little canvas oasis gets pitched INSIDE your room.

The resort calls the package its “Just for Kids Indoor Campout.” For $100 per child per stay, the promotion includes a 4-foot-by-3-foot tent complete with Ritz-Carlton linens and featherbed, an activity book with crayons, a camp light (which kids can take home and keep), a teddy bear, and a s’mores kit that can be enjoyed by the whole family at the Fire Pit.

Sounds cool, right? We thought so. Which is why we booked it for visit to the property next month.

Our girls love indoor camping here at home; we usually spend at least part of most rainy (or exceedingly hot) days doing precisely that. Sometimes I break out my backpacking tent. Sometimes we use a special princess tent I bought the girls for Christmas in 2013.

Heck, sometimes, the kids collect all the blankets in the house and use them to build tent-like structures of their own.

At The Ritz, of course, the “camping” experience should be a bit more posh. (The featherbed alone sort of makes me wish they offered “Indoor Campout” packages for grownups too.) The best part: If either one of the girls decides she *doesn’t* like the tent, we can either unfurl the pull-out sofa or use the tent linens to set up a bed on the floor.

Don’t get me wrong; we don’t intend to spend the whole 4-day excursion partying in indoor tents. The girls never have been to Tahoe, and we’ve planned our adventure around hiking the Tahoe Rim Trail, swimming in the lake, and hanging out with friends who rent a house nearby.

(I also will be reporting a story about kids clubs; the Ritz Kids Club, which incorporates educational activities designed by Jean-Michel Cousteau’s Ocean Future Society, is one of the best.)

I can’t think of a better way to kick-off summer.

When you stay in a hotel with kids, where do they sleep?

A rare look behind the curtain

Moi, age 2. I got an early start.

Moi, age 2. I got an early start.

Every now and again I like to indulge myself with an “Inside Baseball” type of post about writing or freelancing or both. Consider that a disclaimer; this is one such post.

It’s actually part of a “Blog Hop,” something that buddy (and fellow writer/blogger), Amanda Castleman, asked me to do this week. As Amanda explained to me, the rules of this exercise are simple: I have to share my views of the writing life by answering four basic questions that all participants must answer. That’s it.

Next week, two other writers will share their insights (don’t hate me; I’m still figuring out whom to ask). And to read Amanda’s entry for the “Hop,” click here. For now, however, it’s my turn. If you’d like to hear more about my replies, give me a shout in the comment field following the piece.

What am I writing or working on?
The answer to this question differs every day. During most weeks, I’ve got an average of 5-8 assignments to tackle. Lately, my schedule has been hairy, and I’ve been averaging 8-12 stories per week. (Yes, if you do the math, this means I write anywhere from 32-40 stories per month.) Constants on the schedule include blog posts, editing and social media promotion for the Expedia Viewfinder (I’m senior editor there), and monthly gambling and family travel columns for the San Francisco Chronicle. Beyond that, my workload usually is a mix of family travel features, business writing, copywriting, guidebook-updating, and corporate work. (For more on my freelancing business, please visit Whalehead.com.)

How does my work differ from others of its genre? 
I’d like to think that was distinguishes my writing is my voice. I try to write in a clear and concise fashion—similar to the way I’d speak. I also try to present hard-to-explain things in easy-to-understand language. I’m not saying I embrace the Lowest Common Denominator philosophy, but I *am* saying that I actively attempt to avoid pretension in my work. Nothing irritates me more than a travel story that focuses on the author more than it focuses on the destination or the people who live there. Who cares what we writers think? We should be conduits. At least, that’s my perspective. This ties into a bigger picture for me; something else I’d like to think distinguishes my work. Many other writers approach their craft with this sense of artistry and elegance and entitlement. I don’t want any of that. I like lyrical prose as much as anyone, but I write because I love the process, not because I think I’m some sort of national treasure or the next Sebastian Junger. I’m not interested in reading my own work or grandstanding about it in front of editors. My plan is to work my ass off writing stuff I love. If people recognize that and take interest in what I do, great. If not, that’s fine, too, because I’m going to keep doing it regardless.

Why do I write what I do?
First let’s talk about why I write at all. I write because I love to communicate, I love to tell stories, to help people understand (or learn about) stuff they might not consider otherwise. I’ve always loved telling stories, from the time I was L’s age (I wrote my first “book” when I was 6.) With that said, I write about family travel (predominantly) because it’s my reality. Before I became a father, I explored the world religiously and wrote about my experiences as frequently as possible. Once I became a father, I vowed not to let my kids slow me down or change my approach. Adventure travel stories became family travel stories. Solo trips became trips for three (and, later, four). Yes, traveling with kids means I might not get to explore destinations the same ways I always have. It also means I might get to experience certain places and people in new and exciting ways. There’s always fodder in that.

How does my writing process work? 
I’d describe my writing process as efficient and utilitarian. I’m not one of those creative types who sits around and agonizes over every word and sentence. I’m a slogger. I don’t let myself get bogged down by writer’s block. Most of this is out of necessity—because I’m working on so many stories every month, there’s really not time to dillydally. Also, because I spend most of every weekday with L and R, I need to maximize the work time I do get (which usually is between the hours of 10 p.m. and 2 or 3 a.m.). I will say this: I find inspiration for story ideas everywhere. At the coffee shop. On my nightly (yes, I run at night, after the girls go to bed) runs. When I drop L at pre-school. From a simple scan of Facebook or Twitter. My favorite demonstration of this resulted in this piece, for American Banker magazine. I learned about the subject while half-asleep on my couch, pretending to watch the Giants game (during which he was serving as a “ball dude”). Three days later, I had sold the story. Boom.

All potty, all the time

Potty. At Gott's in St. Helena.

Potty. At Gott’s in St. Helena.

We’re deep into potty-training here this month, as we’ve been trying to get R to ditch the diapers and embrace the toilet like the rest of us. She got the whole peeing thing down quickly. Poop, on the other hand, has proven to be a significant challenge. As in, we’ve lost an average of five pairs of undies a week.

This explains why Powerwoman and I have been toting a portable potty with us wherever we go. Into town. To the doctor. And, yes, even on road trips.

Case in point: today’s pre-Mother’s Day excursion to St. Helena, one of the fanciest towns in the entire Napa Valley. While tourists enjoyed hamburgers and milkshakes at Gott’s Roadside, I was looking for a place to stash R’s portable throne. While other visitors wandered up and down Main Street in Prada and Vera Wang, there was yours truly, pink potty under my arm.

A handful of passersby (mostly younger folks) were oblivious to my accessory. The rest, however, looked at it quizzically, then glanced at the girls, and smiled.

The smiles revealed a certain familiarity; it was as if many folks were saying, “Dude, I was there, too.”

On one hand, these knowing smirks reassured me that our recent lives of Potty 24/7 are not that unusual. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but wonder: Generally speaking, why don’t I see more parents schlepping around potties in today’s day and age?

I’m being serious here, people. Every kid learns how to use the potty; why isn’t potty training more of a common sight with regard to family travel? Is it just that families don’t travel when their kids learn? Do most parents prefer just to put their kids in pull-ups when they’re on the road? Are we the only ones ridiculous enough to lug around a full-on potty (instead of a potty seat R can just use in a rest room)?

Obviously, I’d love your input on this issue. In the meantime, I intend to stick to my guns. The girls and I have a picnic date on the Sonoma County Coast this Tuesday. I’ll be the guy with the pink potty.

Dream family travel destinations, by RV

One potential set-up (thanks, GoRVing.com, for the photo).

One potential set-up (photo from Go RVing).

Summer is road-trip season in our family, which means we’re in the midst of planning where we’d like to drive this year.

Considering the breadth and depth of this planning process, when Go RVing (and my friends at Scholastic Parent & Child magazine) recently asked me to blog about RVing, I jumped at the chance. The only problem: I’ve never actually been anywhere in an RV. So instead of writing about adventures I’ve taken in a recreational vehicle, I decided to write about trips I’d love to take.

No. 1 on my list: The Alaska Highway, the 1,700-mile road that connects the contiguous United States to Alaska through Canada (by way of British Columbia and the Yukon Territory, both in Canada). This road, also called the ALCAN, has intrigued me since I got my driver’s license back in 1992. Scenery is spectacular. Wildlife is abundant. And side trips—to places such as the otherwise-inaccessible Tok!—are second to none.

Obviously this would be the choice if time were no object. It also would be a heck of a lot easier if the girls were a bit older; the trip is beautiful but can get monotonous at times.

Another trip on the list: Interstate 10 along the southern part of the United States. This drive, which stretches (west to east) from Santa Monica to Jacksonville, Fla., is another one I’ve just always wanted to do—since it spans a number of states neither I nor my daughters ever have visited (namely, Mississippi, Alabama, and New Mexico).

It’d also be a great opportunity to introduce the girls to New Orleans, and beignets.

Finally, of course, is a drive MUCH closer to home; a drive I’ve actually done before: the California Coast. I’d start in the north, near my home in the San Francisco Bay Area, and work my way south, past Half Moon Bay, Santa Cruz and Monterey.

From there, we’d hit the central coast, stopping to check out Hearst Castle, to see friends in San Luis Obispo, and to marvel at the big boulder in Morro Bay (which, by the way, has a great tidal flat).

We’d end our journey in the heart of SoCal, with family in the San Diego area. Before returning the RV, we’d spend a day at the world-famous San Diego Zoo, and at least a day at LEGOLAND California, which my LEGO-obsessed daughters would love.

Sure, these destinations would be *part* of the fun. But because we’d be in an RV, the real joys would be in the journey—in driving leisurely to enjoy the sights, in spending nights at parks and campgrounds, in having the opportunity to bond as a family in style. Yes, we can do these things on a road trip in Powerwoman’s Prius. I just think they’d be more fun in an RV.

Where would you go if you had an RV and one month worth of vacation time?

The ultimate family travel splurge

The pic (from our nanny) that inspired it all.

The pic (from our nanny) that inspired it all.

It’s fun when you’re traveling as a family to indulge in something unusual. For some clans, the splurge might be a larger-than-normal hotel room. For others, it might be pay-per-view movies, a double-wide pushchair, or mani-pedis for everyone.

For us, the biggest indulgence usually is room service.

I’m not entirely sure why this has become our go-to splurge. Maybe it’s because neither my parents nor Powerwoman’s parents ever sprung for it when we were kids. Maybe it’s because it’s hard to justify $20 for a hamburger. Heck, maybe it’s because the whole notion of having a meal delivered to you IN YOUR HOTEL ROOM is so utterly decadent.

Whatever the reason, we *love* rocking the room service. And we do it at least once on every family trip. (Even if the room service isn’t that great.)

Thankfully, the girls don’t take it for granted; instead, they see it as a total treat. On some vacations, they plan their room-service meals days in advance. On others—especially this one, with L—they order stuff they never normally would order during particular meals (example: French fries with breakfast).

L and R also know that if they misbehave while we’re traveling, room service is the first to go.

Two separate incidents this week reminded me about our love of in-room dining. The first: A Twitter chat on behalf of Expedia (the weekly #Expediachat), during which a few listeners and I talked about the wonders of splurging on dinner under the duvet. The second: An Instagram photo from our nanny, who just this week took her 10-year-old daughter away for a) the girl’s first plane trip and b) her first taste of room service.

In short, for us, family travel wouldn’t be family travel without the once-a-trip splurge on room service. In our clan, the ritual is a celebration of the wonders of being away from home. It’s another way in which we attempt to get the kids excited about something new. Most of the time, it works like a charm.

On what do you splurge when you’re traveling with kids?

‘Storybook’ Yosemite post comes to life

Little R, seeking a cozy hideaway.

Little R, seeking a cozy hideaway.

As I have noted here in the preceding weeks, we’ve just come back from our biggest trip of 2014—a family excursion to Yosemite National Park.

We took the trip as part of an assignment from Expedia, for whom I serve as (senior editor and) a contributing writer to the Expedia Viewfinder blog. Now—finally, IMHO—my main narrative piece from the trip has been published for all to read.

The piece, titled “Family adventure in Yosemite” appeared on the Expedia blog today—just one day after Earth Day.

It kicked off the blog’s “Storybook” campaign.

In the story, I detailed the best parts of our four-day excursion from our home in Northern California to Yosemite. Some of these highlights:

  • Our day “hiking” with the girls to Mirror Lake
  • Our game of “Pooh Cones” in Tenaya Creek
  • Our trip to Lower Yosemite Falls
  • Our rock-tossing session on the banks of the Merced
  • Our nighttime stroll under the starry sky

Perhaps the biggest personal milestone: The trip was the first time the four of us had visited a national park as a family, and the first time my lovely bride ever had stepped foot in the park (considering she has spent nearly half of her life in California, this is a big deal).

Yes, regular readers of this blog have read portions of the Viewfinder recap before. But there’s new stuff in there, too. And there’ll be more; I plan to publish two additional installments over the next few weeks. Please give it a read! Please check back often! And please follow along with the rest of the campaign, as my colleagues will be writing their own “Storybook” posts between now and July.

The map of all maps

The base map for Kidsmap.

The base map for Kidsmap

Despite the fact that we live in an age of GPS navigation and Google Maps, I’ve got a soft spot in my heart for old-fashioned, fold-‘em-up-and-stick-‘em-in-the-glove-compartment paper maps. I’ve raised my kids to know them and appreciate these travel aids. Call me a dinosaur. I don’t care.

This archaic obsession of mine has prompted us to keep the folks at our local AAA office busy with requests before big road trips (or, I guess, big international air trips).

It also is the reason for my rabid love for The Kidsmap, from German cartographer Simon Schuetz and his company, Awesome Maps.

This map—which (it’s important to note) exists in physical, not virtual, form—comprises three main parts: A super-simple base map showing nothing other than continents, deserts and major mountain ranges; sheets of re-attachable stickers depicting natural wonders and indigenous animal species from around the world; and a deck of quiz cards with questions about different sites and people and lands.

Because the map has both stickers and cards, it can be used as a sticker map, or as a full-on geography game.

Of course if you’re like me, you also can use it to teach your kids about which landmasses are where.

The most delicious irony: This map isn’t available yet, and only will be available later this year if Schuetz can get the project funded through his Kickstarter campaign to do so. (In case you’re wondering, I don’t know this guy at all; I just think his project is REALLY REALLY kick-ass. And, yes, I’ve contributed.)

Schuetz is no stranger to cool maps. In 2013—also through a Kickstarter campaign—he created the bucketlistmap, a map that depicted most of the must-see places in countries all over the globe. As part of that project, he also created world maps featuring all of the best places to surf, take snow trips, and see football/soccer matches.

IMHO, this latest map—the one for kids—is by far the most awesome of the maps from Awesome Maps. In this house, we’ll stop at nothing to incorporate geography (and cartography) into the stuff we teach our girls every day. The Kidsmap is a great tool to do just that.

The things they carry (on family trips)

Just some of the stuff we'll be bringing to Yosemite.

Just some of the stuff we’ll be bringing to Yosemite.

When you leave home on an extended trip, you never know when you’re going to want to have a tin pencil case in the shape of a mummy. Or when you might need that unwrapped green straw from Starbucks. Or when you’ll be looking for a ladybug eraser.

But if you’re one of my kids, you bring these items anyway. Just in case.

Yes, as we pack up for this week’s family vacation to Yosemite National Park, the girls have opted for some unusual items to bring along for the ride.

The mummy tin, green straw (??!!??), and ladybug eraser are only highlights. Also in the gyre of ridiculousness they plan to take: A die-cast double-decker bus, a Lego rectangle, a plastic Cinderella amulet (which sings when you depress the center), a bunch of bow-shaped hairclips, two pieces of wooden model railroad track (but, peculiarly, no trains), a Candyland game piece, a ball-pit ball, and old t-shirts that are way too small (apparently these will serves as “nightgowns” when the stuffed kitties get cold at night).

Powerwoman and I don’t really understand why the girls want to bring all of these tchotchkes—not one bit. At the same time, we recognize the familiarity our kids have with each of these items, and respect the notion of bringing some of those familiar goodies along for a trip to somewhere new.

Sure, travel is exciting. But for little ones, it also must be scary (to a point). We’re in favor of anything the girls can do to make the experience more comfortable.

And if we need to invoke ancient Egypt along the way, we’re covered. Thank goodness.

What silly/ridiculous totems do your kids insist on bringing for family vacations?