I’m a wanderer. Even when I’m not physically wandering my mind is. Returning from one adventure I plan the next. As a kid we travelled constantly. The entourage of mother and father and five little kids must have been a sight as we tromped our way through one country after another. Sounds like a pretty awesome introduction to life but unfortunately there was a downside. Our picture perfect public image was far from a Von Trapp jovial singalong. In public we were a happy family, but privately a nightmare scene of drunken tyrants and abuse occurred.
I spent a lot of time in my head. I lost myself in books about faraway places, I couldn’t wait to grow up and get out.
Because of my father’s job we got a chance to see some incredible places. We spent a period of time in Australia, in a very old mansion by the sea. I would go to birthday parties where the mums would serve radish and butter sandwiches. Funny how certain things bring back moments long forgotten. The smell of tar takes me back to Hong Kong where my mother and I would wander the streets and window shop. I remember the opal and jade jewelry, carved lions and miniature pagodas in red lacquered paint. In Switzerland a chandelier in the bathroom of our hotel room fell on my mother’s head. I remember my father screaming and yelling that she caused it to fall, to get attention. Those were some brutally strange times.
I’m now an adult. I met my soulmate after years of being a lost self-destructive teenager. He is the most perfect father to my children, four of them. The circle has been broken.
So now life is filled with our day jobs of healing animals in our veterinary hospital and nights dreaming of our next adventure. I have this thing for islands, I’m lucky that he is content following my lead. I plan and execute, he and the children put their faith in their mother, the self-proclaimed travel agent. I can’t remember a trip that didn’t turn out great, despite the apprehension before hand.
We started a tradition a long time ago to take our young family to a different island each Christmas holiday. We wanted to escape the commercialism, make the holiday something real. We would travel light, just the necessities like a bathing suit and change of clothes. We always went into it with the idea that we would support the locals so we shopped for small gifts on the island and ate only what we could catch or buy locally. There were many Christmas days where the fish weren’t biting and the local market was pretty low on supplies. My heart would quicken by the afternoon with the realization that we may have a pretty lean dinner. We always persevered and somehow it came together. Someone would catch a fish or two, or find a lobster or conch. We foraged for coconuts and pounded our way to the sweet meat inside. We were masters of creating a feast out of whatever we could find.
We always brought along a well stocked first aid kit since medical care could be pretty hard to find. A supply of antibiotics from our veterinary clinic (the dog didn’t come with us but his prescription did), some suture material just in case…… we always had at least one situation where we were so glad to have it!
I am so proud of my children and the way they have embraced these adventures. This blog of our travels has been created for them to return to. A way to relive those childhood treks now that they are grown and navigating the world on their own. It is also a way to document our search for the remote, out of the way treasures. These trips aren’t for everyone. You won’t find flashy nightlife or hair braiding on the beach. You also won’t find gated communities, a safe oasis for many in a unfamiliar place. Instead you will find an honest quest for really good food, amazing people and remote unspoiled places I have managed to stumble upon.
Enjoy!
One of the luckiest things that can happen to you in life is, I think, to have a happy childhood.
Agatha Christie
