It’s been some time since I’ve updated this blog. COVID has taken its toll on my traveling adventures, as it has for most of us. But beyond that, I also became pregnant with my first child (Hello, COVID baby!). So we’ve been keeping our adventures a little more low key and way more local, while we’re letting this bun cook in the oven.
Matt and I intentionally waited to have children until later in life (Read: When I’m of “Advanced Maternal Age” according to every physician I have seen. Rude.). We wanted to be sure that we were ready for the challenge and would be financially, emotionally, and mentally ready bring our kiddo on as many adventures as possible. We want him to see and experience the world!
Surrounded by people who know my love of and deep experience with travel, I comfortably shared our desires to travel early and often with Baby Sprout (the temporary name we have given our unborn child). I spoke about the research I had done, knowing that it won’t be easy or the same as it was pre-baby, but that it’s such an important part of how we want to raise our child. However, rather than being greeted by support and helpful advice, I was largely told I was crazy and that it was impossible. I was even told by one friend that it’s “a fine delusion to live with…for now”.
Since then, I have also been told many things I “cannot” do and things I “must” do once I’m a mother.
Under NO circumstances, will I be able to:
Ever have anything for myself
Ever travel without the child guilt-free (especially for work!)
Ever travel with the child and be sane
Ever have anything in my house that isn’t covered in toys, snot, and / or poop
If I want to be a halfway decent mother, I MUST:
Have a play room: an entire room of my house dedicated to just toys. Note: This apparently cannot be the nursery.
Prepare myself to not want to go back to work. Note: My amazing husband being a stay-at-home dad will apparently not be enough.
It’s as though everything people have known about me for the first 35 years of my life has ceased to exist as I grow this tiny human inside me. đ¤
My Take:
I don’t believe in telling people what they can’t do or what they have to do. Is it going to be hard as hell to bring Baby Sprout on international adventures? Will I miss him when I’m getting back to traveling for work? I’m sure! I have no qualms admitting that I have never done this before and I can only imagine how hard it will be. That’s why I want some advice and helpful tips!
But impossible? F-no. People do it. All. The. Time.
So, something that might prove to be more useful moving forward… having experienced parents support new parents with helpful advice, listening to their individual dreams, and cheering them on for doing things they may not choose to do themselves.
In the meantime…
Matt and I are preparing some epic adventures for Baby Sprout:
Year 1: Chicago, California, and Florida
Year 2: Europe or Asia
I’m sure there will be exhaustion and tears (his and ours). But I’m also sure that we’ll figure it out together, and experience the wonder and difficulties that come with travel.
One year ago, almost exactly, I stepped foot on my seventh continent and I was overwhelmed with emotion. Truly overwhelmed. I felt proud of my accomplishment, nostalgic about the places I had been, excited for the journey ahead, and just pure, simple joy. But what I didn’t feel was a sense of calm or completion. In fact, almost as quickly as I stepped foot on Tanzanian soil, I realized that this wasn’t the completion of a lifelong goal, but rather the start of a new adventure. I realized that I will never be “done”. And my thirst for travel cannot be quenched. Because travel isnât about a goal for me; itâs the very lens I take on life. Itâs the way I define who I am. Itâs the thing that motivates me every single day. Itâs my obsession. I canât imagine what my life would be without planning for an upcoming trip. I canât imagine what kind of void I would feel if I didnât have a list as long as I am tall of all the places I want to go and the things I want to do. And I canât imagine what my bank account would look like if I wasnât constantly putting it toward my latest trip.
But my travel obsession has often called many of my lifeâs priorities into questionâ specifically, when Iâll âfinally settle down”. And Iâve always hated that notion. What does settling down even mean? And why is it important? Does it mean accepting life as I get older and the required responsibilities ahead? Does it mean being content with where I am and what I’m doing? Does it mean buying a house? Does it mean having kids? And why isn’t it possible to still travel the world and have these things, if I so choose?
Because the fact of the matter is, I hope I never settle down. I hope that I always keep my explorerâs heart and I hope I pass that on to my kids one day. I hope that I take my family on crazy adventures. And I hope I continue to take adventures of my own. I hope that I keep my fearlessness and push myself to do things I previously didnât think was possible. I hope that Iâm never done, no matter how complicated life gets or how many responsibilities I have.
It wonât be easy. But it will sure as hell be fun. Because this world is way too big and beautiful to call it quits.
And that’s why my latest tattoo quite literally represents my explorer’s heart: seven birds for seven continents reached, but always always miles to go.
In all of my travels, I’ve found one thing to be true: if you travel for nature, it will nurture your soul. And lately, I’m feeling well nurtured.
You see, last weekend I went to REI Outessa. If you don’t know what that is, it’s what I would describe as adventure camp for women: camping, hiking, rock climbing, kayaking, mountain biking, etc. All the things I love or would love to do, if only I knew how (Except for mountain biking. That shit freaks me out.) And based on the sage advice of a stranger who had traveled the world, I not only signed up for this little excursion, I decided to go it alone.
Now, I get it. It’s not as though I traveled to Botswana on my own (although, maybe someday?!). It was in the beautiful Sierra Nevada mountains. But it still meant that I would be spending 3 1/2 days on my own, doing a bunch of things I don’t know how to do, in front of a bunch of badass women who didn’t know me, in a place I had never been, and at an altitude that would make physical exertion a bit tricky. Intimidating? I think, yes.
But it wasn’t.
Because on my drive in from the Reno airport, you know what I saw? The mountains. And the mountains were why I went in the first place. The mountains both make me feel like I’m at home and intimidate the crap out of me. And I find that to be the perfect balance of life. So whatever else this weekend was going to throw at me, it didn’t matter. Because I was there for the mountains.
And the mountains were there for me.
The mountains became my literal home. I camped on the bunny hill of the mountain resort. The darkness, the stars, the sounds, the breezes, and, yes, even the bugs became part of my home. And although I discovered that camping on a slope is the WORST, I figured out how to adjust and kept that beautiful spot.
I was one of the first ones there to set up camp
So proud of myself đ
The mountains became my playground. I climbed rocks, hiked steep (STEEP) paths, and kayaked and stand-up paddle boarded through its lakes. I cut my arm, bruised my legs and fell at least twice. And while doing that on the streets of Chicago would have me cussing under my breath (or a bit louder, depending on the situation), somehow there, I wanted to thank the mountains for giving me battle scars that proved my hard work.
After my first big hike
Climbing the “chimney”
The mountains became my source of inspiration and rejuvenation. There is nothing like waking up in the morning and seeing the sun rise over the mountains. Or eating dinner with a view of them. I mean, c’mon. Just look at them. My mood was lifted 1242432432% just sitting there, not moving a muscle. Honestly, my mood is lifted right now just looking at the pictures.
Dinner Saturday night was insane. Look at that view!
And while I learned serious outdoor and survival skills while I was with the REI crew and met some of the most incredible, badass ladies I could have imagined, that’s not why I went. I went because the mountains were calling.
I needed to stop staring at my computer screen for a minute. I needed to see that my issues are largely insignificant in the grander scheme. I needed to feel challenged and scared and outside of my comfort zone. I needed to feel strong. And I needed to realize that I too was actually one of the badass ladies on this trip.
The famous wilderness preservation advocate, John Muir, once said “The mountains are calling and I must go.” And no quote has ever spoken more to me. The mountains are why I went on this trip and so many others. And it’s why I decided to pick  up my entire life and move to Colorado later this week. I started paying attention to the mountains. And I must go.
So whether the mountains, the beach, the river, the woods, the desert, the rain forest, the sea, or anything else calls for you, pick it up and just go. Trust me, it’s always worth it.
“I’m sure you’ve been in some scary situations when you’ve traveled. Even been made uncomfortable. Travel can’t be all rainbows and sunshine, right? Haven’t you regretted going to some of the places you’ve been?”
This is what my grandmother’s very inquisitive friend asked me a few weeks ago as I was visiting her assisted living facility.
How did we get to this point? Well, you see, my grandma is 95 years old and a social butterfly. And every time I visit, she introduces me to a new friend. But this time was different. This time I had just gotten back from Antarctica. So this time she stopped every person she saw and introduced me by saying, “This is my granddaughter who just got back from Antarctica. Isn’t that neat?”. (OMG, swoon).
Most people nodded along. Some people were surprised that you could actually go to Antarctica. But one woman in particular had a lot of questions. Not so much about Antarctica, but mainly about fears and regrets about traveling. This seemed odd. But, to be fair, yes, I have been in some scary situations while traveling. Yes, I’ve for sure been made uncomfortable. And yes, I guess travel isn’t always rainbows and sunshine (here’s looking at you jet lag and flight cancelations). But I was thrown by her question on regret. It was never something that had crossed my mind.
So I quickly scanned through some of my more unsavory travel experiences: when I was very embarrassingly scammed out of $250 in Shanghai, when I was consistently stared and gawked at in Mumbai, when I was pick pocketed in Beijing…by a 5 year old, and when I was briefly worried that my parents had been kidnapped in Quito (luckily, it was just a silly miscommunication).
But the answer couldn’t possibly be anything other than “No way”.
Why would I think about being scammed in Shanghai when what I remember most is the first time I walked along the famous Bund? Why would I give a second thought to the gawking in Mumbai when I was also amazingly invited to be an honored guest at a local cricket match? And why oh why would I care that a needy five year old pick pocketed me for $100 when I had just climbed the Great Wall of China?
So the answer was clear. No. I absolutely do not and could not regret going to a single place I’ve been. Each place has helped me grow, become more savvy, become more empathetic and become a better person.
Ah, it all seemed so poetic.
But wait, what also became clear is that I did, in fact, have some other types of travel regrets. Ones that only rose to the surface after sitting on it for a bit. Dammit. Regrets like:
Constantly working while I was on vacation in London. Wasn’t the Tate Modern amazing? Nah, just a blur of shapes and whatever other reflections I could see off of my phone.
Buying that effing Crate & Barrel couch for $4000 that I “just had to have” instead of spending that money on a trip to Iceland or Switzerland or Brazil or anywhere… The couch is uncomfortable by the way. I’d rather have a bean bag chair and memories from one of those countries.
Not going sledging in New Zealand. You know, sledging? Basically, white water rafting without the raft? I had it all scheduled, but the weather was bad. I likely could have pushed to do it, but I chickened out. Lame.
Not planning anything over Memorial Day or Labor Day weekends. I get 4 days off each. 4 days! Do you know where you can get to in 4 days? Yet I have two long weekends in recent memory where I basically only binge watched TV and barely even changed my clothes. Yes, sometimes that’s needed. But it’s definitely not needed more than a weekend getaway.
Not saving enough money. I eat out for lunch almost every weekday. That’s $200 per month or $1200 just on lunches. If I could get my act together, I could go on a whole other trip by just making my own damn lunch. Blargh.
And the list goes on…
Well, it turns out that I do have travel regrets. I regret the places I haven’t yet been able to go, not the places I have already been. And all I can do is try to shrink that list by spending less time and money on the things that pull me away from travel and spending more on the things that lead me to it. It won’t be perfect. It will be uncomfortable. But it will also be a wonderful experience that will continue to shape who I am.
As I left my grandma that day, she said “Honey, you’re living the life I should have led. I’m seeing the world through your eyes.” Well, Grams, I hope to show you as much as possible of it. And to live a life of few regrets.
In case you didn’t know, I’m on a mission to reach all 7 continents.
While I could gush for hours about each one I’ve been lucky enough to visit, I most recently made it to Antarctica and it holds a very special place in my heart (and a special hole in my bank account). Some of you crazy folks may also have this spot on your list while others who are more sane may be asking yourselves, “Wait, you can visit Antarctica? What is there to do there? Where do you stay? Why would you go?” Regardless of which group you’re in, this countdown to the 6 most badass things about Antarctica should give you a good perspective about why it I think it’s so….well, badass.
The 6 Most Badass Things About Antarctica
6. The wildlife.Â
This probably seems like the most obvious point because people generally know that penguins live in Antarctica. And penguins are arguably one of the most adorable creatures alive (albeit also one of the smelliest). See evidence below:
Chinstraps at the ready.
Cuddling penguins.
Waddle this way.
However, the wildlife was actually one of the most surprising things throughout the trip.
First, the penguins. I was lucky enough to hang out with two types: the cute and playful gentoo that nipped at my pants and ran between my legs and the chinstrap that always looked ready for a wrestling match. It’s just a fact that walking around with penguins never gets old.
Beyond the penguins, I was able to see leopard seals, crabeater seals (fun fact– they don’t eat crabs…),  weddell seals, fur seals (another fun fact- fur seals are actually sea lions, not seals…who names all of these species?!), all sorts of birds and more than my fair share of humpback whales. But more than just seeing these animals at a distance, I felt like I was experiencing the world with them. Not behind bars. Not in a controlled environment. I was on their turf and had to abide by their rules. In fact, I was chased by a fur seal after forgetting everything about my safety briefing. I was hissed at by a crabeater seal. I saw two humpback whales leap out of the water in the wild like you only see on a Mac screensaver. And I saw penguins “porpoise” through the water with ease right next to our ship. It was truly wildlife at its finest.
Nature, no holds barred.
5. The scale and the indescribable beauty.Â
When you’re in Antarctica, you feel like you’re on an entirely different planet. There is no frame of reference and nothing that quite prepares you for the vastness of…well, everything. Mountains are everywhere. The icebergs are as tall as skyscrapers. The clouds are so low you feel like you can touch them. It was as if the world had combined the beauty of Heaven as depicted in What Dreams May Come and the whimsy of a Dr. Seuss book.
A beautiful haze.
Our ship amidst the ice.
The changing landscape.
And as if Antarctica wasn’t showing off enough, one night the sky was so clear we not only saw the Southern Cross in all of its glory, but the entire Milky Way Galaxy.
4. The people.Â
When I was planning my Antarctic adventure, I thought I had considered everything: the ship, the safety, the landings, the gear, etc. etc. But what I hadn’t considered was that there would be 82(ish) fascinating people on this voyage with me.
The passengers hailed from all over the world. Ages ranged from 17 – 88. Occupations ranged from firefighters to retired Federal Judges. But everyone had their own reason to spend their time and their money on a ship that “wasn’t made for comfort” to get to a place with no hotels, no restaurants and no standard entertainment.
Take Ted, for example. At 85 years old, he came solo from the States. He brought 30 disposable cameras to capture the experience (swoon) and wasn’t going to miss a thing– he climbed to the top of glaciers right beside us, offered me binoculars so I could better see the Milky Way and told stories of his life of travel. I was lucky enough to meet 82 people as cool as Ted.
So while I didn’t intend on sharing this voyage with so many others, it made it a richer and more wonderful experience, creating friendships and inspiring my future travels.
A group of explorers celebrating with champagne.
3. The Drake Passage.
It’s a common saying that you have to “earn” Antarctica. And there are fewer things in life I love more than a good challenge. The main way you earn it is by crossing the treacherous waters of the Drake Passage*. Notoriously known as the roughest seas in the world, conditions can change on a dime and waves can get a bit out of hand.
While we were lucky enough on the way to Antarctica to get the “Drake Lake”, it turned out that our ship didn’t have what’s called a stabilizer, or ya know, the thing that keeps your ship from rocking all over the place. Even more, on the way back, we had to outrun an off-scale hurricane, bringing us to a level of sea roughness called the “Drake Shake”. This was when showering became an olympic sport and the ship doctor started passing out sea sickness medication at meals like she was offering Holy Communion.
The weather forecast of our missed hurricane on the way back from Antarctica.
*Another way you “earn” Antarctica is by doing the polar plunge. And thanks to the encouragement from a few folks onboard the ship (see #4 above), that challenge was accepted and aced.
2. The ice.Â
When we first got on the ship, one of our expedition staff members introduced himself as the “ice expert.” I kept thinking… “Ummm…How does one become an ice expert? Water freezes at 32°F, yeah? What more is there to know?” However, The minute I saw my first iceberg, I understood what an idiot I had been.
It turns out that I took more than 450 photos of ice. Just ice! Before the trip, I would have thought that was crazy. But now I see each piece of ice like its own beautiful work of art to never be recreated or seen again in quite the same way.
1. The silence.
One of the most startling things about visiting Antarctica was the pure silence of visiting it. And I don’t just mean because there are no cities, crowds of people, gobs of cars, etc. I also mean that there is no (reliable) internet connection, no cell phone service, no true connection to the “real” world. And I’ll tell ya what, the world truly becomes a “real” place the further you get from the “real” world. You start talking to people. Actual people. Like the people in front of you. You begin letting your mind wander. Do you remember the last time you just imagined things? Thought broadly about your future? Took in a landscape for hours just because it was that fucking beautiful? No? Neither had I. Until I got past the noise of daily life and took in the beauty of silence. And with all of its grandeur, it’s the respect that Antarctica deserves.
