This is an sample category description, which can be used to boost SEO rankings. Make sure you enabled this from the Edit Category screen in your dashboard.

Taking Things Slow

/in ,
slow

When we finally got to Starbucks, the kids chowed down.

The sun has been setting super-early here in recent weeks, which has forced the girls and me to devise new strategies for play sessions after R’s nap. Some days, the girls and I take a bus to someplace fun and explore by the lights of the city. On super-cold days, like today, we stay closer to home, often wandering around the neighborhood, just for the sake of getting out.

These excursions are less about where we’re headed and more about the journey itself. As we wander, the girls jump off stoops, inspect fallen leaves, sing Taylor Swift songs (yes, really) and point at helicopters flying overhead.

And, as you can imagine, with so many activities and distractions, we don’t move very quickly. In fact, we make slugs look speedy.

Tonight, for instance, a “simple” stroll to the local Starbucks, eight blocks from our flat, took 36 minutes. To put that into perspective, in the same amount of time, we could have watched an entire episode of Seinfeld AND made a grilled cheese. I also could have written this blog post.

Some might be bothered by this pace. As for me, I kind of love it. My job keeps me up late every night. I’m up early to get the girls ready and drop L at school. Every day—even weekends—has lots going on.

And that’s precisely why these ambles with the kiddos are so damn fun.

I’ve written posts that touch upon this notion before, posts about the benefit of nothing on a family trip. I can’t stress the importance of slowing down strongly enough. At a time when so many of us family travelers are rushing off to see this museum or that famous landmark, an era when so many of us moms and dads program ourselves to shuttle kids from school to football practice and ballet, having a few hours just to be with the kids is a wonderful gift.

Even if these walks force me to wait for my triple tall Americano, even if they make us human icicles by the time we get home, the aimless strolls I take with my girls are a critical component of bonding as a brood. I’ve got all the patience in the world to move at their pace. After all, who knows how much longer they’ll even want me to come?

 To what extent do you factor in “nothing time” with your family when you travel?

What a Pisser

/in , ,
Where does the urine go anyway?

Where does the urine go anyway?

We saw so many memorable sights this weekend in London: Families frolicking on an ice-skating rink near the Tower of London, little boys and girls marveling at holiday lights in Old Spitalfields Market, even “elves” working overtime at Hamley’s toy store.

Oh, we also saw a bunch of grown men urinating in public.

Sorry if that last sentence struck you as a bit of a shock. The reality is that it shocked the hell out of me and my wife, too. Especially since the urination was happening at a fiberglass urination station with four urinals, set up in the middle of the sidewalk across the street from a popular bar near Leicester Square.

Thankfully, we were sans kiddos when we witnessed this debacle. Still, the scene raises some questions:

1. What would we have said to our girls if we had seen the urinators with them?
2. Why was there a place for grown men to wee in public anyway?

I could go on and on with my outrage about these things. I also could write pages about my ire over the gender bias they represent. (Why don’t women get a place to wee on the street? I mean, when they drink beer they have to wee as well. Are their bladders not worthy of such convenience?) Heck, you could even argue that these public pissers are so improper that they actually are anti-British.

I’ve chronicled my complaints in a letter to the Westminster Council. I’d share it here, but, trust me when I tell you: The missive ain’t pretty.

Instead, because this is a family travel blog, in these pages I’ll stick to the bigger issue: When you’re traveling with the entire family, it can be *really* uncomfortable to explain certain sights and sounds to your kids. Even if you are the most quick-thinking human on Earth, there usually is no easy way to do it. Nor should you have to.

Powerwoman and I are big supporters of tackling issues head-on; if we had seen the urinals with our girls, we likely would have justified the scene as some sort of overflow bathroom.

Still, I must admit: This is NOT the kind of thing I wish to have to explain to my little girls. Ever.

To my knowledge, these public urinals haven’t made their way to the U.S. yet, and that’s a good thing. If and when they do, we’ll be ready to fight them and keep urinals where they belong: In the men’s room.

How do you explain uncomfortable and inappropriate sights and scenes to kids while traveling?

Soaking Up the Holiday Spirit

/in , ,
Little R, mesmerized by a window display at Selfie's.

Little R, mesmerized by a window display at Selfie’s.

You don’t need much of a sightseeing itinerary when traveling during holiday season; all you need is time to explore.

I’ve been reminded of this simple fact numerous times over the last week or so here in London. Every time I head into the city for a day of big plans with L and R, we are sidetracked by a bunch of decorations.

One day, we spent two hours watching a carousel in front of the Natural History Museum. Another day, we spent 75 minutes admiring the windows in front of Selfridges. Today, little R and I counted giant ornaments in St. Christopher’s Place (which, by the way, has the best shopping in the West End). I’ve already blogged about some of the fun we had with my folks at a decked-out Covent Garden Market.

Later this week, our plan includes dragging Grandma and Grandpa with us to South Kensington to marvel at decorations at Harrods and Harvey Nichols.

Throw in ice-skating rinks, Christmas trees, caroling extravaganzas and holiday lights pretty much anywhere around the city and I’d say we’ve got enough to keep us busy from now until we head home Dec. 23.

Oh, and unless we ride the carousels or do the ice skating, all of the stuff is free.

The lesson here, of course, is that especially when kids are young, it doesn’t take much to create a fun day of experiencing a new place during the holidays. I like to think the equation looks like this:

Spectacle + Snacks + Public Transit + Downtime (when necessary) = Smiles

I know this equation isn’t universal. And I’ve been doing this family travel thing too long to know that this equation isn’t going to work all the time. But with the right weather and the right attitude (and the right snacks, I guess, and no public transport delays), it sure puts family travelers in a good position for a day that everyone will remember for all the right reasons. And it hasn’t failed us Villanos yet.

What is your equation for a good family travel when traveling during the holidays?

4 Things to Love About Intergenerational Travel

/in ,
Grandma and L hit the park.

Grandma and L hit the park.

My parents have joined us here in London, essentially transforming the next 11 days of our experience into an intergenerational family trip.

At first, both my wife and I were concerned about the length of their stay: Eleven days is a long time for a visit from anyone. After the first 48 hours, however, those concerns have disappeared completely. We are delighted to have my folks in town, and we have identified a number of benefits to the notion of traveling with grandparents.

Benefit 1: Extra hands
If two hands are better than one, it stands to reason that eight hands are better than four. Translation: Adventures with the extended family are much easier because we’ve got two extra humans to pitch in.

From a logistical perspective, this means we’ve got four extra arms to carry children, push buggies, lug bags and/or help getting on and off the Tube. From a practical perspective, it means Powerwoman and I can breathe a little easier when we’re out and about and tired of schlepping around a bunch of crap.

It also means negotiating buggy time isn’t nearly as difficult as it usually is. Normally, when the girls are tired, we give each daughter ten minutes in the one-seat stroller before making the two of them switch. With two extra humans, however, there are three times as many options for carrying tired girls (and, subsequently, three times as many options for resting tired arms). That keeps everybody happier.

Benefit 2: Additional perspective
Our elders have been around a while, which means they’ve had plenty of time to get pretty smart. On a family trip, the addition of this perspective helps couch everything in a different light—a reality that usually enhances the experience for the kids.

During our first few days as a family of six, Grandma and Grandpa have pointed out stuff that Powerwoman and I never would have noticed. Animal statues! Men dressed in gold! M&M’s in footguard costumes! Dancing flautists!

It’s been a treat watching the girls see new stuff around London at the behest of such fresh perspective. It’s also helped Powerwoman and me recalibrate our own respective radars to be more aware of sights and sounds we otherwise might have overlooked.

Benefit 3: New dynamic
Normally, the dynamic in our tiny family involves four; when my folks (or my wife’s folks, for that matter) are around, that number increases by two. Extra humans in the mix mean a multiplicity of additional potential interpersonal interactions. Put differently, having grandparents in the mix simply changes up the vibe.

Admittedly, sometimes (especially when the kids are tired) these extra bodies can make things stressful. But most of the time, life as a party of six is more unpredictable, more lively, and—as a result—more fun.

Like when Baby R got silly during a diaper change and had her grandmother crying with laughter. Or when L forced her grandfather to watch her favorite episode of “Peppa Pig” and he spent ten minutes snorting like a swine. Long after my folks fly home, these are some of the moments I’ll remember most. So far, they are my favorite moments of this extended visit.

Benefit 4: Built-in babysitters
Finally, one of the best things about having my folks here is that we’ve got built-in babysitters—babysitters with whom the girls are completely and totally comfortable.

This will come in handy in the early part of this coming week, when I will call upon Mom and Dad to watch the girls on a few afternoons while I furiously wrap up a huge guidebook project. Later in the week, as Powerwoman and I celebrate our birthdays (which fall six days apart) with a romantic three days/two nights of solo time, the girls’ grandparents will come to our flat for some live-in help.

Could I/we survive without my folks watching the kids? Somehow, yes, I’m sure we could. That said, it sure is nice to know they’ve got our backs. And it sure will be wonderful to savor some Mommy & Daddy time for a change.

What are your favorite things about intergenerational family travel?

Feeling Our Way in the Dark

/in ,
Sisters. At St. Luke's Garden Playground. In the light.

Sisters. At St. Luke’s Garden Playground. In the light.

The conversion to Standard Time from Daylight Savings Time always is a dicey one for parents with young kids. Little ones wake up earlier. They’re crankier before dinner. Midday naps can go horribly awry.

Thankfully, here in London, we’ve experienced none of these usual problems. Instead, we find ourselves faced with another challenge: Exploring in the dark.

It’s a matter of logistics. R naps from about 130 p.m. local time to 330 p.m. local time every day. Once she wakes up, the process of changing her diaper, feeding her snack, getting her dressed to go out and actually clambering down three flights of stairs generally takes about 45 minutes. This means we’re headed out for our afternoon/evening adventures around 415 p.m.

Which gives us less than one hour of post-nap sunlight to do stuff every day.

On Monday, for instance, we arrived at a local park just as the sun was setting, and proceeded to stick around until it was so dark we couldn’t see the ball we were trying to kick. One day last week (we set clocks back Oct. 27 here), a simple errand to the local pharmacy required the extra purchase of a flashlight to see the way home.

Perhaps the biggest adjustment has been with playground time; because most playgrounds here are run by the city, they close before the sun even begins its descent—at 3:45 p.m.

Of course we learned about the playgrounds the hard way. That fateful day, as I tried to hide my disappointment from the girls, a mom walking by smiled and cheerily offered, “Welcome to London in winter!” I was not pleased.

So far, our solution has been to create a new schedule. On days when the girls want/need playground time, we push back R’s nap to get in an hour while it’s still light. On days when R goes down at regular time, we have what I’ve started calling, “Walkabout,” which consists of nothing more than putting on hats and jackets, taking the flashlight and wandering on foot.

As the temperatures drop, I imagine we’ll transform these evening strolls into evening bus rides or something like that. Nothing like feeling your way in the dark.

How has the time change impacted your travel experiences?

There’s Something About Nothing

/in ,
L, surveying the scene at a Connemara beach.

L, surveying the scene at a (chilly) Connemara beach.

We’ve just returned to London from six days in a rural stretch of County Galway in Ireland. In short, they were the best six days in a long, long time.

And we did copious amounts of nothing. The whole time.

Sure, there were moments of wonder—I’ll write about those over the course of the next week or so (Hints: They involve pubs. And castles.). But, for the most part, we just were.

Our base for the week was a three-bedroom cottage on Gorumna Island in a tiny town called Leitir Moir—basically in the southwest corner of the Connemara region. The name of the cottage was Sonas, which means “peace” in Gaelic. Donkeys and cows and horses outnumbered our human neighbors by a ratio of at least 3:1.

For those of you who’ve never been to this part of the world, I’d describe the topography as Coastal Maine on steroids. Lots of tidal inlets. Lots of bays. Lots of granite. And, every now and again, a house or two.

In this environment, we encouraged the girls to let their imaginations run wild. This meant daily walks along the one-lane road to and from the house—with the express purpose of getting into staring contests with the local animals. It meant journeys to harvest the tiny “flowers” that grew from the rocky hillsides. We also a) caught raindrops with our tongues, b) watched the sun rise and set, c) collected a carry-on suitcase full of shells, and d) engaged in rock-throwing contests toward the sea.

These, of course, were just the outdoor diversions.

Inside, we spent our time making fires out of turf (apparently, that’s what the industrious people in this part of the world burn), playing Ker-Plunk (yes, the board game from the 1960s and 1970s; they had it at the house), and listening to the rain plonk on the roof of the conservatory.

Perhaps most important, L and R became BFFs. Our daughters always have gotten along, but after this trip, it is safe to say the duo is inseparable.

Over the course of six days, they had tea parties with their stuffed animals (a Doc McStuffins for L; a kitty for R), used the markers to draw rainbows and “cooked” tasty—and imaginary—treats they called “flower snacks.” By the time we left for the airport this morning, L even was “translating” what her sister said when we couldn’t understand.

Our experience in Leitir Moir proves that sometimes, especially when it comes to family travel, less is more. Put differently, there’s something about nothing that works wonders for a wandering pod.

Don’t take my word for it; try it for yourselves.

The Importance of Being Unplugged

/in ,
Little R, exploring a castle in Trim, Ireland.

Little R, exploring a castle in Trim, Ireland.

Between this blog, my website, and my overactive Facebook, Twitter and Instagram profiles, it’s pretty obvious that technology is a big part of my life. Considering how often my family and I are on the road, that means technology is a pretty big part of their lives, too.

For most of the year, we embrace the constant presence of Smartphone cameras and WiFi signals. Every once in a while, however, we like to unplug for a while, and just be.

We embark on one of those trips Sunday morning, when we head to the West Coast of Ireland. We’ve rented a beach house in Connemara for the week. Aside from day trips to Cong (where they filmed “The Quiet Man,” one of my wife’s favorite old-time movies) and the Cliffs of Moher, we plan to do a whole lot of nothing. The old-fashioned, Luddite kind.

Sure, I’ll catch y’all up on our adventures when we’re back. I’ll also share some stories from our time here in Dublin (and the incredible Four Seasons Hotel Dublin, where I’ve been on assignment since Thursday).

Until then, for the next few days, know that the four of us are out there on the edge of the world, telling stories, dodging raindrops, eating French fries, beachcombing and singing Doc McStuffins tunes.

I can’t think of a better way to spend a week.

To what extent do you prioritize unplugging with your family when you travel?

Family Travel Public Enemy No. 1: Crowds

/in ,
The craziness that is Portobello Road.

The craziness that is Portobello Road.

While I think traveling is the most important activity a parent can do with his/her kids, I’m also honest enough to admit that family travel is rarely unicorns and lollipops.

Every parent has his or her bugaboos. For some it might be coaxing a son or daughter to pee in a public toilet. For others it might be the challenge of discipline in public places. Still other parents may struggle with the negotiations around eating.

For me, the issue is crowds.

It’s not that my girls are “runners.” It’s not that they wig out. Instead, whenever we take the girls into a crowded area, they become so completely and totally overwhelmed by distractions that their ears literally cease functioning at all. They will not listen. To anything. Under any circumstances (even if bribes of M&Ms are involved).

I was reminded of this phenomenon this weekend at the Portobello Road Market near our flat here in London. We had read that this was one of the best markets in the entire city. So I dragged the girls (and a friend visiting from the U.S.) to check it out.

Between the fresh produce, beautiful baked goods and amazing antiques, the market was indeed stellar. That said, the place was more packed than the mosh pit at a Dirty Rotten Imbeciles show.

At one point, near a stall peddling (delicious) bread products, we got stuck in a human traffic jam; literally, we id not move for two minutes. At another point, some random passerby bit into a falafel sandwich and spilled tahini on L in the stroller below.

Finally, when we were huddled up and snacking on strawberries on the side of the road, a man walked into one of our buggies and nearly sent R careening down the hill.

(I didn’t blame the baby for wanting to be carried for a while after that.)

By the end of the day, I had sweat through my t-shirt trying to navigate the madding crowds. Yes, we experienced the Portobello Road Market. And it was memorable. For all the wrong reasons. And ICYW, we won’t be back.

The lesson: Know your limits. While it’s always fun to check out new stuff with the kids, sanity is fun (and nice), too. Do some research before you schlep the kiddos to see something major. If your source of information (guidebook, Facebook, Twitter, etc.) suggests the experience might put you and the kids in an uncomfortable position, be prepared. And if the experience is far too overwhelming for you to handle, improvise.

To be clear, I’m NOT suggesting that fellow family travelers shy away from exploring certain stuff. Instead, I simply am suggesting that we identify those situations that comprise our personal travel hells (with or without our kids), and that we stay flexible when we find ourselves there.

How do you stomach your own personal family travel hells?

Why Free Museums Benefit Family Travelers

/in ,
Making art at the Tate Modern.

Making art at the Tate Modern.

Most museums here in London are free, and this rules for at least two big reasons.

First: It makes sightseeing cheaper.

Second, during those inevitable moments when your kids act like kids and you need to pull anchor and abort the mission, you don’t have to worry about wasting money.

I’ve come to appreciate the first reason slowly over the 40 days we’ve been here.

As for the second lesson, let’s just say I had a crash-course in learning that one on Thursday, when I took the girls to the Tate Modern museum of contemporary art to celebrate L’s first “Exploration Day.” (For more on the back story that prompted these special weekly adventures, click here.)

The trip started fine. After an uneventful Tube ride to Southwark and a seemingly interminable walk to the museum, the kids climbed on a stair sculpture out front, then excitedly proceeded to the galleries. We hit the brand new Bloomberg Connects bar first, so the girls could ease into the experience with some interactive e-drawing (the units themselves mimicked drawing on a tablet computer, only the pictures posted to a giant wall).

Because the drawing went so well, I thought I might try to expose them to some of the actual art.

This, however, is where the day went south; as we walked through room after room of paintings and pieces in various media, the kids lost it. Big time. They started rebelling with yoga on the floor. Then they hopped around, belting a song from “Doc McStuffins.” In the middle of a crowded gallery.

Finally, when R quite literally ran over and climbed up on one of the art pieces, it was time to go. So we hit the café. Then we went home.

All told, we spent about 90 minutes at the Tate—40 minutes with the interactive e-drawing, 40 at lunch and about 10 minutes in the galleries. If I had paid full-price for that, I would have felt gipped. But because everything but our fish-and-chips lunch (natch) was free, it was no big deal.

I know the thinking behind free museums is to make them available for everyone, but I think the approach benefits (adventuresome) family travelers most. You know the saying about how to roll “if at first you don’t succeed,” right? Let’s just say I’m thankful that we have another three months to get back out there and try, try, try again.

How do you determine when it’s time to abort a travel mission with your kids?

An Open Letter to the (Almost) 2-Year-Old

/in ,
Parenthood doesn't get any better than this.

Parenthood doesn’t get any better than this.

Dear Little R:

Someday, years from now, you and I will sit back and talk about this fall in London, and we’ll smile. We’ll grin at all the pictures of you pointing to weather vanes. We’ll laugh at the GoPro video from the London Eye (the one where you are chanting, “London Eye” to the tune of Springsteen’s “Empty Sky”). We’ll chuckle while we reminisce about your obsession with Big Ben.

These are the Big Moments that have characterized our trip so far, the ones we tell your grandparents about in letters and on Skype. And, indeed, they are important.

But they’re not my favorites. Not by a long shot.

No, my baby, I prefer our mornings, the three hours you and I get to spend together every day, just the two of us. We drop your Big Sister off at school. We swing by Molly’s (or another café) for a coffee and chocolate croissants. Then we just hang.

Some days we head up the hill to the playground in St. John’s Wood. Other days we take the bus to Hyde Park. Then, of course, there are the days when we do REALLY crazy stuff, like take the Tube to see the Gherkin, or hop a canal boat tour into Camden to check out those amazing locks (you know how much I can geek out over modern engineering).

I love these “dates” because they’re fun. I love them because they’re relaxing. Most of all, I love them because I get you all to myself.

Nothing against your sister, of course; I had similar solo time with her when she was your age and you weren’t alive. But because you came second, and because she’s here too, alone time with you is rare. That means I’m that much more protective of it when I actually get some.

And so, on the eve of your second birthday, my baby, I say: Thank you. Thank you for making every morning so special. Thank you for willingly joining me on these jaunts around the city. Thank you for being cool about the whole daddy-has-to-stop-and-get-a-coffee thing. Most important, thanks for being such a fun and easy-going partner in crime.

Years from now, many birthdays down the road, you may not remember much of our morning dates here in London, and that’s totally fine by me. I’ll fill you in. Because I will cherish them forever. And I’ll never forget.

Love always,
Daddy