Tis the Season

It’s easy to get preoccupied with logistics when you have a big life event like a m-o-v-e on the horizon. So many of you have asked how the boys are doing with the upcoming move to which I’ve consistently answered, “Great!” It’s true they are excited but also…

My 10 year old told me this week: “At school we were talking about if we won a prize and could have anything, what would it be? My answer was a week in Luxembourg with my big brother, my cousins and all my (extended) family. I thought that would be better than a mansion, a Lexus, or a lifetime supply of fruit.” Because who wouldn’t consider a lifetime of fruit? But much more than the punchline, Lawton understands that when we leave a place we want to savor it with those we love so they will know the backdrop for the stories we will tell long after we’ve gone.

And tonight my 8th grader told me: “I’ve been thinking about how I’m going to be different – like how I am going to change my personality - at my new school.” And when he spoke it I had this flash of a memory that somehow hadn’t surfaced until now. I too moved in the middle of my 8th grade year – moving from White Sands, New Mexico to Norfolk, Virginia – and had that exact same conversation over and over with my 13 year old self. I had no idea what logistics my parents were dealing with but I was acutely aware of the fact that I was being handed a golden opportunity to redefine myself (or so I thought.)

Ohhhhh. To really understand your child, my Colin, exactly where they are - even for a moment - is such a gift.

And because I have walked the path he will be walking so very soon, I was able to suggest that there is a gift waiting for him too. That while he will be able to make a new first impression and emphasize or de-emphasize certain parts of himself, it is impossible to rewire a personality (I tried it and failed.) We are who we are and not only are we beautiful but we’re also equipped in a certain way for the work only we can do. When I told him I didn’t think he needed to change anything about his personality he responded with a multilayered, “Thanks.” Because when you’re 13 years old, your insides are raging and awake while your outside self is working hard to keep it casual.

To know your child is on the brink of an experience that will mean more than your inadequate words ever could … is yet another gift.

Tis the season to behold all that is good.

Visas and Other Setbacks

Have you ever had a setback where the thing itself has been discouraging but your ungraceful, arms flailing response to it has taken you even further down the rabbit hole? Where you thought you were engaged in an interior practice to prepare you for moments like these only to discover that freaking out comes more naturally to you than breathing in?

That was my week. It started in Paris of all places. At the UK Visa office. It’s a long and complicated story and not worth rehashing here except to say that we’ve had a major setback with my Visa after weeks of preparation and a 70 page application because I didn’t have one extra page in my passport. My husband tried to problem solve. I freaked out and only freaked out. Significantly enough for the woman at the Visa office to offer me a cup of water while a room full of people looked on. [Here’s where I’ve written and deleted the rehashing I promised not to do.]

Suffice it to say it was (and is) a legit setback that comes with a lot of rework, time, trains, money and risk to our scheduled move date. Plus cancellations of good things like my Going Away Brunch next Friday which I was so looking forward to. But here’s the thing: in the end, my problem is a paperwork problem. Chances are good that a few of the people who watched my freak out will have more than a paperwork problem. And yet.

Knowing that you’d think I wouldn’t have to move through the stages of grumbling but there I’ve been on the lookout tower waiting for strike two, three, four … finding them (of course!) and counting very loudly. For example, we were called to present ourselves at the Local Police Station at 2pm yesterday for an unpaid speeding fine that we never actually received … but that’s a story for another time.

We like to think we are sufficiently geared up to weather a storm so when we find ourselves unsteady in a rain shower it can be really discouraging. The discouragement can be strong enough to keep you sloshing around in sandals or hidden in your lookout tower. We seem to think if we didn’t have our big girl rain boots on when the rain started our lack of preparation has ruined us until this shower has passed.

It’s still drizzling over here but I’ve traded my sandals for big girl rain boots by doing a few things. I remembered how certain life events – the birth of a child, a marriage, a new job, a health crisis, a MOVE (ding, ding!) – are natural stressors and so our responses to big and small events around them will be understandably exaggerated. These are the stretches in life where it’s best to keep your rain boots on at all times and double down on your commitment to give yourself grace. Telling myself I’ve already made one international move and so this one should be “no big deal” or telling yourself the second kid should be easier because you’ve already had one is like trying to claim immunity from life.

I’ve also experienced how when we unload our frustrations (and failures in dealing with our frustrations) to our friends it’s like coming under their umbrella for a brief respite. Not only are they happy to share their umbrellas with you but many will offer to go puddle jumping with you. It is reason enough to get down from your lookout tower. Friends also are the best spotters of silver linings. We need each other all the time but especially when we are uncertain and discouraged.

Finally, I’m thinking we put too much stock in our first response and that we should be less surprised when we don’t live up to our unrealistic mantras. Our raw, sometimes profane littered reactions may need improvement but if life is about growing in maturity then we can narrow the gap by recovering more quickly. Opps goes a long way. Sorry opens the door you just slammed and others you didn’t even know were closed. If you believe (as I do) that we are a work in progress until our last breathe then we should really expect an imperfect response to every problem. We might be 80% on target but there is always room for improvement. So rather than looking for the next strike we could choose instead to look for the next opening.

It’s only been 24 hours since my visit to the Local Police Station and already I’m seeing the story in new light.

It's Election Day

I’ve been wondering. How, practically speaking, do you give your all to something? Not a physical or temporal goal but a principle you’ve decided is missional for you. If you say you are All for Love or All for Justice or All for Freedom or All for Jesus or All for ________ , how do insure that you are in fact ALL IN in a loud culture full of distractions? How do you not get overpowered or keep from skimming the surface?

I think most would agree that anything worth being FOR requires both a full commitment and the long view. It needs to be strong enough to move you across the line from belief to action. It should cause your eyes to fill with tears at one moment and a steeliness to do the impossible in others. 50% Love or Most of the Way Justice lacks the aspiration needed to make any meaningful impact. It has no staying power. And, more importantly, if we want to be ALL IN for something that endures it also means we probably won’t be around to see it come into fullness. We have to be ok with being bit actors.

I don’t know the complete answer for how to truly give your all to something that matters but I read something recently from CS Lewis that suggested a good starting point: What you choose to fill your mind with when you wake up.

“The real problem comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each mornings consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life coming flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings, coming in out of the wind.”

Many of us, me included, have a habit of picking up our phones first thing when we wake up. As habits go, it seems rather benign. And yet, it is in effect blindly turning over our first thought to something we aren’t actively choosing. Even if that thing is good or neutral it probably isn’t that bigger thing we want to align ourselves with. The danger is that what we expose ourselves to isn’t simply a matter of getting informed or being entertained. Its fuel for how we will act. It therefore makes sense that we ought to buffer our intake first with the reference point we claim to be central in our lives.

I had an experience in Spain last week. It was warm and so we slept with the windows open. It was also windy and so the sound that woke me most mornings was the wind rustling through the palm trees. It was loud enough to both get my attention and still the other voices that weren’t as demanding. It wasn’t until I choose to listen past the wind that I heard a rooster in the distance, birds in cheerful conversation, pans coming out for service in the kitchen. The simple exercise of re-tuning to those other, sweeter voices didn’t still the wind but it pushed it to the back of my morning symphony.

They say you only have one chance to make a first impression. The good news is that we have a new chance each morning to decide which voice we will listen to first. What our morning symphony will be. If what we eat (or don’t eat) for breakfast sets our energy for the day, how much more does what we choose to fill our minds with set not only our mood – but our motivation and action – for the day.

The wind in the US will be howling loudly today and tomorrow. No matter the outcome, we need the ALL IN people – on both sides of the political aisle – to come in out of the wind for a moment and listen to those quieter, enduring voices that promise to speak hope into and well beyond the next 4 years.

For the Love of Starbucks

I’ve embraced a lot about the European lifestyle. I get that a proper café au lait should be consumed sitting down with a ceramic cup and a biscuit. That cappuccinos aren’t ordered after noon in Italy. That the espresso closer comes not with but following the dessert and before the after dinner liquor. But sometimes you just need a strong Grande filter drip coffee TO GO before 9am. And after four years of dating around it’s probably ok to admit you prefer the familiarity and personality of Pike’s Place Roast.

So … I may have a habit of occasionally driving unnaturally long distances on a motorway to one of the only two Starbucks in Luxembourg, specifically the one AT THE AIRPORT because it opens at 5am. As far as I can tell it’s also the only place in Luxembourg that isn’t a hotel or gas station serving coffee before 8:30am. The excursion takes both commitment and courage. You must park in the short term parking lot, jog lightly to the terminal, pray for a short queue and not be distracted by the Duty Free Shop or the fact that you are mingling with passengers in their traveling finest while you’re barely one degree past pajamas.

As a straight up filter girl without the need to burden the coffee bar, I usually can get ‘er done before my €5 filter coffee all of sudden jacks up to €7.50 at exactly minute sixteen. (There is no grace period where parking lots, parking meters or parking dials are concerned here.) But I’ve also learned to abort mission when the line is too long or there are obvious SBUX rookies ahead reading the menu or trying to find the tea selections. I also know I’ve been in line too long when I dare to want to try the pumpkin bread or muffin again, hoping for a better (butter) outcome.

This morning I made the trek through traffic – for the love of Starbucks - after I dropped the boys off at school. There was no queue which means I had time to have my beans ground and because I was dressed presentably even pop into Duty Free for a squirt of perfume. Now awake and smelling lovely, I situated my Grande drip in my car cup holder for the journey back across town for some errands at a local mall. I drank slowly, savoring every sip, extending my TO GO pleasure into the mall.

I know this may sound like an exaggeration but this was my first time grocery shopping in Luxembourg accompanied by the green and white Siren cup. It was such a little pleasure and reminder of home. But in a culture where coffee is a ritual and not something to be multi-tasked, grocery carts don’t come equipped with handy cup holders. As it turns out, navigating a cart and a hot cup of coffee requires more coordination than I’ve been gifted so I shortened my list and persevered all the way to the cash wrap.

One of the funny things about Luxembourg is that in the big hybrid grocery/homeware stores like Target you must do a bag check at one of the two main entrances before entering. They aren’t looking for weapons, they’re looking for openings. Whatever bags you’ve accumulated while shopping at the mall are either stapled shut or vacuum sealed or put in another bag that can be stapled shut. And while it doesn’t happen every time, they also mark any plastic bottle you walk in the store with. They are very serious about this business which presumably is intended to prevent theft and for whatever reason(s) has spilled over into water bottle vigilance.

Without any consideration that I could have possibly broken any rules, I show up to the cash wrap with this cup. It doesn’t take a close inspection to conclude:
a) This paper cup with a well-protected US based logo has not been been stolen from this store.
b) It has clearly been through an ordeal to get here.
c) Someone went through the effort to put on lipstick this morning.
d) It cannot be stapled.

But it wouldn’t be a story if the cashier didn’t inspect my cup. She did. I didn’t follow everything she was saying because it was in Luxembourgish but it was clear I had missed the mark in understanding this cultural norm of bag checking extended to paper cups. It wasn’t a big deal – and it made me laugh a little – but I left feeling a mixture of how stupid a rule and how embarrassing to be called out. Four years after moving here.

I can’t help but think of others living in places as visitors like me, especially the refugees, where the cultural norms are drastically different and therefore the potential for misstep and embarrassment even greater. How when we have grown up in a place that like the cashier we would be quick to point out, with justification and in our language, what the rules are. The lengths I went to for a silly cup of coffee, a piece of home, are small but what the cashier missed – what I wonder if we all can sometimes be guilty of missing is that embracing a new place takes time and patience on both sides.

Yes, we need to follow the rules. We also need to give THE OTHER the benefit of the doubt. Most people other from us aren’t trying to lift what isn’t theirs. Anyone who has left their homeland has been through an ordeal to get here and if that move was forced upon them, chances are good that ordeal has come with a lot of cost, sacrifice and suffering. Lipstick may signal that I’ve shown up ready for the day but effort comes in a million different forms. You had to be looking closely to notice the lipstick just like we have to look closely for how people are putting their best foot forward. Staples may be a strategy to try to keep things contained but some things – like a sloshing cup of coffee or a messy soul in a constant state of being emptied and refilled – cannot be stapled shut.

E-Bikes and Marathons

This summer I rode an electric bike for the first time. Are you judging me? Because I was judging me in the same way I’ve judged every mall cop and city tour group on a Segway. It sounded gimmicky and dumb when a proper, human-propelled bike would do just fine. Not that I’m some kind of biking purist but please … does everything really need a motor?

As these things often go – doing something you swore you would never do – it started with a need. I was staying out in the French countryside alone with my two younger boys and without a car for several days. The nearest town with services was 10 kilometers away. Though I love walking, it seemed prudent to have a transportation solution in case of a baguette or other more pressing emergency. I therefore went in search of a bike rental as there were no close car rentals. The only rental option I could find was an electric bike. Why there wasn’t a single road bike or run-of-the-mill cruiser bike with a cute French basket to rent in the host country of the Tour de France remains a mystery.

But c’est la vie. At least I had a workable solution. I could cover ground quickly if one of my children needed stiches or I needed a bottle of Rose.

For those of you not familiar, electric bikes have an electric motor and rechargeable batteries but unlike a Segway or moped what makes them unique is that the rider retains the ability to pedal. It can be a free ride but they aren’t designed with that in mind –the expectation is that you will pedal. So the experience is exactly like riding a conventional bike except you have the option to turn the battery on when you want an extra boost. You can set the battery to low, medium or high. It’s best to save high power – which drains the battery fastest – for when you really need it. After a certain range, like an electric car, the battery needs to come home to be plugged in and recharged.

Funny thing is I expected the E-bike to look different but really it looks like a normal bike that makes a little whirring noise. My E-bike rental even came with a cute French basket. It wasn’t so different in appearance and yet its performance was well … totally awesome. Zero-emissions. Minimal sweat. Major help getting up hills.

I confess. It was like switching from US butter to French salted butter. One spread is all it takes to never want to go back to the old stuff. On the E-bike, you could cover more ground in shorter time, move at the speed of traffic on country roads and through intersections, take short breaks from pedaling when you wanted to take in the view, but also get a workout when and if you wanted to. It was the perfect blend of assisted and unassisted riding where you set the tempo and were in control but your range was limited by the need to recharge.

I think the spiritual life is a little like riding an E-bike. Before you try it, you might judge it as gimmicky especially if self-propulsion has worked just fine. In my case with the E-bike a seed was planted weeks before by a friend – an extremely able-bodied, fit friend – who surprisingly gave the E-bike a thumbs up. She didn’t seem like the E-bike convert type. So when the E-bike turned up as my only option, I was slightly more willing. I wouldn’t have given the E-bike a chance had it not been because of a need. In the same way, true religion only has a chance when it is entered into out of need. It can be abused as a free ride but the intention of true religion is that it be a mix of sustained effort with divine bursts of power. So while we have free will to control our own bike we also have the invitation to pedal with or without assistance.

I thought again of that E-bike when I was running the Berlin Marathon last weekend. I had done by part by putting in the miles and the training up to 20 miles but the last 6.2 miles were uncharted territory for my body. In the end it was those last 6.2 miles that were my favorite to run. Not because they were the easiest or fastest but because that’s the place where I felt my effort mingle with something outside myself. Often I find that outside myself is the divine working through other people.

The burst of power that wasn’t related to the power GU or sports drink came from remembering my Dad fight on with his Parkinson’s Disease and remembering the Syrian refugees for whom the money I raised was going to support. It came from the first 5 miles with my running partners who encouraged me to start slow so I could finish strong. It came from being surrounded and in the fellowship of other runners who were at the exact same place in their journey as I was. It came from my son with 3 kilometers left running alongside me on the course saying, “Mommy, you can do anything for 15 minutes.” And it came from hearing the lyric of a song shuffled on my playlist with 1 kilometer left: “When the waves are taking you under, Hold on just a little bit longer, He knows that this is gonna make you stronger, the pain ain’t gonna last forever, the things can only get better, believe me this is gonna make you stronger.”

And with that lyric and a last celebratory cheer from my husband and son in the final stretch, I crossed the finish line …. not entirely to my surprise … 15 minutes faster than my best hoped for goal.

Berlin Marathon Weekend is Here!

Finally! The Berlin Marathon is this Sunday. I’ve done the training with Maureen and Holly but now all sorts of pains – both real and phantom – have been creeping in. A course of Advil is helping as is thinking about this:

My dear Dad has been living with Parkinsons for over 12 years. David Olmsted, the strong Army Officer who was always in PT ready shape my whole growing up. Though he is resilient and still playing some respectable golf, there are many, and increasingly more, hard days. Recently he has been having trouble walking and more specifically, stopping. He tells his brain he wants to stop which causes his legs to slow to a shuffle but his upper body doesn’t seem to get the message, intent instead on keeping the forward motion. It’s like a freight truck discovering too late the brakes don’t work.

But as people who love you do, before I could swallow the latest devastation of his disease, he brightly told me he found a work around. He said as long as he tells his brain to “stride out” instead of “stop" his lower body keeps from shuffling and he is able to stay upright through a stop. This simple instruction to his brain has made a huge difference. It reminds me that our brain is a powerful thing with more connection to our bodies than we will ever understand.

If my heroic Dad can find a work around surely I can too. Conventional wisdom might suggest that short choppy steps of a shuffle might be more cautionary and appropriate when you see a road block ahead but the upper body – the residence of the head and heart – have other ideas. Whether it’s a progressive disease like Parkinsons, a task beyond your capability like a marathon, a dream with no discernible progress -- when stopping is all you want to do – the better thing to tell yourself (assuming you are not directly facing a brick wall – “the imaginary wall” does not count here) is to stride out. It just might be the difference between a graceful finish and a broken rib.

Thanks to all those who have supported me through donations for the awesome cause of World Vision, friendship runs and encouragement. It means so much! And Daddy, I’ll especially be thinking of you as I stride out those last miles on the pavement.

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I'll be running with Team World Vision! 

Our big boy is off to college!

As this space has become my journal of our life abroad, it would be incomplete without mentioning the monumental event of our first born leaving for college.

Graduation Day: June 4, 2016 @ International School of Luxembourg

International School of Luxembourg Graduation Day, Part 1: The Ceremony. 94 graduates representing 25 countries. Well done on completing the IB program graduates! Part 2 Dinner and Dance to follow.

Father/Son Weekend: June 19, 2016 @ Austrian Alps

I think he's having a good Father's Day.
In the mountains (somewhere in the Austrian Alps) on a bike with his son right now.
Thank you Brett Ballbach for giving us this life of adventure.
We ❤️ you.

Drop Off Day: August 18, 2016 @ University of Southern California

Move in day for Quinn.
We are all here.
The sublime work of parenting is a steady diet of letting go but this release takes your breath away.
Even when you know they are ready.
It's like having their past, present and future all come into sharp focus and auto play at the same do-not-blink moment.
Diapers to diplomas to discoveries.
And because of that overactive sense of time, you try to keep it together with small talk and too many questions about what they still need for their room (a coverlet?)
But ... Because your 18 year old child's heart has been shaped by you, and you them, they won't be fooled and will know to smile at your nervous questions, hug you really tight and send you off with a short Amazon shopping list.
And you will also know to not, under any circumstances, add a coverlet to that list.

Re-entry Day: August 24, 2016 @ Luxembourg

Here's what not to do when you get home jet lagged without your husband less than 18 hours before your children start school: walk into the room of the child who has just left for college.  It was the Steph Curry posters that did it. An ugly cry so loud it traveled the apartment.  But then there appeared my sweet, freshly showered 9 year old at my side. Gently he wiped the mascara off my face and said, "It's ok Mom, you still have me. And you're only half way done with me."  I may not have back to school supplies yet or clean laundry or well rested kids today, but our long group hug and conversation in big brother's bed last night was maybe the best way to kick off a new school year.  And it's a bonus that I'm up at 5am. 4th and 8th grade start today and both have found a clean outfit.

Greek Isles, Big Smiles Part 2: Naxos Travel Guide

The more we travel the more I agree with my friend Megan who says “the thing we will most take away from our experience is less WHERE to travel and more HOW to travel.”  That is until it comes to Greece.  This is where I get on my high horse and tell you WHERE to travel.

I did that with the Greek Island of Paros which has turned out to be my most read blog of all time and my only post that still gets daily visitors.  Enough people have taken that trip now that Chrys from the Paliomylos Hotel in Naoussa recently sent us a gift by way of one of Brett’s London colleagues.

NOW WHERE, NAXOS?

While we would have gladly gone back to Paros for a third time, this summer we decided to mix up the magic by heading to the neighboring island of Naxos.  We’d heard glowing reviews about Naxos from people who also knew and loved Paros and so it seemed the natural next destination among the Greek Islands in the Aegean Sea.

More than one local explained while beautiful neighboring Santorini and lively Mykonos have both been overrun by tourism - “the Disneyland of the Greek Islands” they said – Naxos and Paros are tourist friendly but have managed to retain more of their Greekness.   Naxos in particular is the largest and most fertile of the islands with a good supply of water allowing it to be self-sufficient from an agricultural point of view (think beef and cheese not just fish!)  As if to signal the historic appeal of the island, the looming ruins of the Temple of Apollo welcome you to Naxos Town (also called Chora.)

2 for 1: BEACH + CULTURE

There are lots of places you can go in the world to find a beach but the additional opportunity for culture makes a trip to a place like Naxos something extra special.  In our nine days on the island, we witnessed small examples of the Greek love for family, their care for others and their glass half full approach to life. 

There was the young woman at the local bakery in Agios Prokopius who lovingly described in great detail all the baked goods her Mother had made and offering us tastes of something new each morning.  Her mother’s not-too-sweet baklava was hands down the best we’ve ever tasted, something we would have missed had it not been for her proud daughter.  

There was the smiling bus driver who stopped for two very late people running to catch it when he clearly didn’t need to and in many other countries would not have, a small kindness met with large appreciation. 

There was the informal and friendly exchange each morning where dark-skinned migrants would clean the trash off the beach in front of the restaurants and beach bars and then come in for a coffee and small amount of money.  

There was the owner of Meltemi, a restaurant in Naxos Town since 1970, who we watched patiently, unmistakably teaching two young inexperienced waiters the higher calling of service as if they were his own sons. 

WHEN TO GO:

June and September are the absolute best months to go.  July and August are the busiest and most expensive months.  Locals told us August can also be quite windy.  Naxos is heavy with Scandinavians in June, Greeks from Athens in July, and a mix of Europeans and a smattering of Americans in August.

LODGING:

Initially our goal was to find a place within walking distance to Naxos Town.   We had done that in Paros and really enjoyed the proximity.  A travel writer I know had highly recommended the Niassaki Beach Hotel.  (Travel Babbo spent three weeks with his family on Naxos and wrote about it here.)  When I tried to book there they had told me they were changing their policy and not accepting any children under 12 years old.   They have since reversed that policy but in the meantime I booked elsewhere.  It looks like a great hotel if you hoping to be within walking distance to town.

Instead I booked at the Naxian Collection Luxury Villas and Suites.   It’s a countryside setting two miles from Naxos Town and less than one mile from the nearest beach (Agios Prokopius.)  We ended up loving the privacy, views and private pool which more than made up for having to get a car.  It’s a truly fantastic place to stay for a family.   The owner Maria who is also a high school teacher has created a modern, authentically Greek villa retreat and she loves Americans.  Her husband and co-owner is the mayor of Naxos and their staff is wonderfully warm.   Antonio, one of Maria’s high school graduates, was especially kind and also impressive as he was on his way to take a job with the Prime Minister of Greece in Athens for 2 years in the fall.   No egg order is one too many for the women who serve the included and excellent breakfast every morning.  Opened in 2010 and recently visited by Anthony Bourdain, the Naxian Collection has 8 villas each with their own pool and 8 suites.   Everything is done well.   If I had any complaint at all it would only be that the initial booking and communication was a little spotty (but I now know they have other jobs out of season) but once there the service is very attentive and they love kids. 

While we were there they had just opened a sister hotel, Naxian on the Beach.   It’s an adults only hotel with 10 suites just 10 meters from the quietest part of Plaka Beach.   One of the perks of being a guest at the Naxian Collection Luxury Villas and Suites is that you are able to use the sun beds and services at their sister hotel which we took full advantage of.

If you click on their website or read their reviews, you’ll understand why you might be hard pressed to find a better place to stay on Naxos. Book well in advance as they have a large repeat customer base.

TRANSPORTATION:

You’ll need and want a rental car if you stay at the Naxian Collection.   When we arrived at Naxos Airport, we assumed we’d be picking up the rental car from there.  That would not be correct.   The Naxos Airport is smaller than the average house in Seattle.  Instead there was a car waiting for us from the Naxian Collection who took us to the hotel and Brett into Naxos Town to pick up our rental car from Sixt.  We noticed during the week that many of the rental car companies will actually come to the hotel and deliver the car to you in the event that you only wanted to rent a car for a few days.  You get the rental cars without gas and are expected to return them that way.  We made the mistake of filling up the gas tank of our rental car (one of the only 7 seat cars on the island) on the first day and using a quarter of a tank in 9 days.  It’s a big island but when the beaches are as good as they are nearby there isn’t as much incentive to drive to the other side of the island.

BEACHES:

Different than Paros where the beaches are spread out, many of the destination beaches in Naxos are clustered along the western coast and are connected – a great thing for those who enjoy long walks on the beach.  This website describes all 18 beaches in great detail but these were the ones we liked:

Plaka Beach.  Because of the access to our hotel’s sun beds we spent most of our time on Plaka Beach.  It’s significantly less crowded that neighboring Agia Anna and Agios Prokopios and partial organized with sun beds and umbrellas.  Much of the beach has sand dune behind it which make it feel more remote than it is. You should be aware that the last, most southern section of the beach has a lot of full-on nudity.  Grandpas and all.

Below: Beach Olympics on Plaka Beach with our good friends from Norway.  5 events: long jump, plank, hit the target, beach tennis, and egg toss.

Migra Vigla Beach.  Our second favorite beach was Migra Vigla.  It’s visible from Plaka Beach but it takes 35 minutes to drive around to get there.  With much fewer services and a little rockier sand, a portion of the beach is for wind surfers and the other portion around the rocks is great for swimming and snorkeling.  There are more Greeks on this beach.  There is a small town with a grocery store which we used to have a picnic lunch on the rocks.

Agios Prokopios Beach.  This was the beach closest to our hotel.  The sand, swimming and services are great and it’s beautiful but also crowded.  Unlike Plaka Beach there is not rock shelf as you get into the water which makes it very family friendly.  No nudity.

Even though the interior of Naxos is mountainous, the continuation of Agios Prokopios Beach to Agia Anna Beach to Plaka Beach make for great, flat running along mostly paved and dirt roads.  There is also a fabulous, easy walk from Agios Prokopios Beach heading north around the point along a rocky trail.  You’ll have to walk past some stinky salt flats to get there but don’t miss this.   You’ll even get to see a ship wrecked from 20 years ago that is still on the rocks.

EATING:

Naxos is proud of their food and local ingredients.  We had some really good meals and only a couple of misses.  Here is our top eating out picks:

Antamoma, Naxos Town.   Modern Greek restaurant with view of water but not on harbor.  Opened two years ago it’s an informal atmosphere with patio setting and a definite modern vibe.  Closest to a “special meal” we had. The chef is from Naxos but went to Athens for cooking school for one year, returned to Naxos and now cooks with his Mom.  The menu is smaller and dishes a little more interesting than traditional Naxian food like homemade pasta with smoked pork and risotto with vegetables and Naxian cheese.  Great starters and house wine.  It was the only place we went to twice.

Meltemi, Naxos Town.  Solid traditional Greek restaurant in center of town without views.  Best dishes we had were the kleftiko (veal, pork and lamb cooked in paper with eggplant, tomatoes and peppers) and excellent cheese pies with herbs.   

Mythodea, Naxos Town.  Family run tradition Greek restaurant slightly off main part of harbor with spectacular views.  We ordered off “Mama’s Specials” which included lamb in yogurt sauce and lamb in grease paper with peppers.  Best Greek Salad for our trip. 

1739, Naxos Town.  Rooftop bar opened in July 2015 and recommended by Travel Babbo.  You climb up from main town and get a nice view of harbor.   Worth the trip up to watch the sunset.   The other bar we didn’t try but the swank vibe and setting looked really nice was 520 Bar.

The restaurants we might recommend skipping were Typografio in Naxos Town and Metaxi Mas in the Old Town.  The first was overpriced and the second was just ok.

Palatia, Agia Anna Beach.   Recommended to us by a father/son who worked in a grocery store.   Lovely, rustic setting right on the beach where they specialize in locally caught fish.  The night we were there service was more relaxed (slow) than normal but the grilled dorado, grilled sardines, salad with octopus and calamari with tomatoes were all excellent.   At the end of the meal the waiter brought out free cake and shots.   Right next door is the Banana Beach Bar which looked to be a very popular spot.

Patatosporos, Agia Anna Beach.  Another beachside fish restaurant on the other side of the Banana Bar.   Better service and pacing than Palatia and most importantly, the simply grilled dorado and sea bass was even more delicious.  Ditto that for the zucchini balls and fried saganaki cheese.   Kids got the ocean basket, fried king prawns, calamari and fish fillets with fries.    Stick with the fresh fish options.  Though the early reviews on Trip Advisor were mixed the more recent reviews have been better.

Kahula Bar, Agios Prokopius Beach.   A great spot on the beach for a coffee in the morning or a drink in the evening.  It's the last place along the restaurants and bars on Prokopius beach.  We much preferred this bar to the more talked about (and smokier) nearby Mojito Beach Bar.

Petrino, Plaka Beach.  Focus on Naxian dishes with local products on the far end of Plaka Beach.  Vine clad terrace that is more restaurant than beach bar.  You pick from case with specials of the day like spicy meatballs wrapped in eggplant or fisherman’s rice plus three different slow roasted meat options.   Good for lunch or dinner.  They also opened a terrific homemade ice cream shop called Mitatos run by a husband and wife right next door to Petrino which is better than the one that everyone talks about in Naxos Town called Milkato Gelateria (which is also good.) 

Souvlucky, Plaka Beach.  Great pork + chicken gyros made to order with the I-still-don’t-understand topping of French fries.  Family business.  Clean, well located along Plaka Beach.  Can sit in with your bathing suit or better to take away and hope the sand stays out.  €14 for 6 gyros make it a very budget friendly lunch.  According to two local teen boys we asked, best souvlaki is in Naxos Town at either The Spitiko or Kozi.  

Picasso, Plaka Beach.  I know it sounds sacrilegious to suggest Mexican food but the setting and margaritas make the busy Picasso a worthwhile lunch stop to mix things up.   The clearly beloved Picasso recently had their 20 year anniversary.  Ample seating, kids area for playing, shade for margarita sipping.  Right next door to Souvlucky.

GETTING THERE:

It takes a long time to get to Naxos.  For this trip, we decided to skip the ferry and fly one of the small planes from Athens to Naxos.  It was totally worth it.   It was an easy, not turbulent, absolutely gorgeous flight.  And it saves so much time as it’s hard to get around overnighting in Athens if you are going the ferry route.  The connecting flights from Athens to the islands book up fast so don’t leave this until the last minute.

NAXOS OR PAROS:

I know this will sound like a cop out but my advice between Naxos and Paros is this:  Do both.  If you are already making the effort to get to the Greek Islands, you should split your time between the islands.  It’s only an hour ferry ride between the two islands but you’ll want to overnight in both places and not just go for the day.  Naxos has more to do and better beaches but Naoussa in Paros is a bit more charming than Naxos Town and the restaurants are better overall (especially for fish lovers). 

Anticipation: Where's your next trip?

Few things live up to the excitement of waking up on Christmas morning when you are a kid. Buying a plane ticket for a vacation, the grown up version of Santa’s big gift under the tree, might come close. People care not for the airlines but there is an undeniable tremor of delight every time you book a trip (business and bereavement travel excluded.) Once your flight is booked or some other measurable (ideally non-refundable) step is taken towards planning a trip, anticipation sets in and carries you toward your departure date. Even the airlines stoke our excitement by believing we may have as many as 6 email addresses to share our itinerary with.

As Thomas Swick says in his excellent travel book The Joys of Travel and Stories that Illuminate Them: “Anticipation is to a journey what infatuation is to a romance: an uncritical but crucial prelude to reality.”

Anticipation may be the least documented portion of your journey but it’s no doubt the frame in which your experiences will fit into. Planners will engross themselves into guidebooks and maps and travel underwear. Dreamers will immerse themselves through books, music, or movies set in their destination. Connectors will reach out to their friends and friends of friends and the grocery store clerk for tips. Fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pantsers will assume their travel companion is taking care of things. Most everyone will look at pretty pictures, choose one as their screen saver, and drool until touch down. Social media junkies will then “check in” at the airport and continue to do so daily until they’ve returned to work.

Whatever the method, there is a positive buzz about this stage of our trip because we anticipate all the good parts and take a mental hall pass on all the hassles, crowds, misfires and grumpy people who were not waiting with a fresh Hawaiian leis to welcome us. As Thomas Swick says, “Anticipation of travel is always more idyllic than travel itself.” Not being able to find a restroom when you need it never comes up for consideration when you are dreaming about your beach vacation. Nor do you think about (or later admit to) days like this as described by a brave travel comrade: “Kraków Day 2 giant FAIL. 2 hour wait at Wieliczka Salt Mines + 2 hour wait at Schindler Factory Museum plus torrential downpour + sleepy kids = afternoon spent in a mall eating at a super crap restaurant. You win some. You lose some.”

It almost doesn’t matter how long the countdown is as the jolt of anticipation will gladly fill the space given. “Where’s your next trip?” is also a serviceable conversation starter in virtually any social setting and infinitely more interesting than the weather. Strangely, people are often more interested in where you are going than where you’ve been. A cynical view of this might be that’s because we have short attention spans but maybe it’s because anticipation is largely all reasonably positive and retell is too many details edited either for only the AMAZING! or every horrible thing done to you in a place like the Maldives. Also there are no photo albums to endure during pre-trip conversations.

Reality should not temper the golden hues of anticipation. We need the fantasy to go through the hassle of leaving our house and handing over our credit cards. Home base is full with enough reality that you shouldn’t care if the award winning photo of your destination has cropped out a power plant in the distance or that the darling monkeys you’ve read about will cease to be cute after 15 minutes. If aware, the anticipation buildup can be a kind of goodwill that might actually come in handy when the reality on the ground isn’t mapping to the pretty picture.

Because anticipation does however raise the expectation bar, it does behoove you to KNOW THYSELF when planning a trip. If you like to be led and cared for, pre-book with a tour group. If you hyperventilate in crowds, skip Florence in July. If history bores you to tears, you won’t be cured by sacrificing a day in the Churchhill War Rooms because someone included it in a list of “Top 5 Things Not to Miss.” If you have children, remember you have children. Resilience training does not happen on the fly.

There was a widely-referenced study conducted in the Netherlands about the link between vacations and happiness and the conclusion was that the largest boost in happiness comes from the simple act of planning. Apparently the old adage “the best is yet to come” does not necessarily apply to vacations. Even though happiness peaks before you’ve reached 10,000 feet, the happiness halo returns to baseline roughly 8 weeks after a trip. While this may sound discouraging a better takeaway is perhaps to take shorter, more frequent trips so that you have something on the horizon.

Anticipating a trip is obviously easier with both financial resources and in places with more liberal vacation practices than the US.  The Netherlands study showed however that the happiness boast isn’t linked with how far, long, or luxurious the travel but rather simply planning a break away from your normal routine. While the study didn’t suggest this, my own experience proves that the payoffs for planning a trip to the overlooked and less traveled places are almost always higher. So while I can’t guarantee that planning a weekend getaway to Waco, Texas will yield an 8 week happiness halo it’s worth a shot.

Where’s your next trip?

Words to (Really) Live By

I love me a good lifey quote.  When there’s one that stops me in my tracks and gets under my skin I often write it down in my journal.  Writing it down feels like a silent activation from the page to my brain.   Of course the next day there is a new page with new thoughts and chicken scratches along with the demands of life that bury what came before.   On the rare occasion I look back over my journal, I re-encounter many of those inspirational quotes and think, “Oh, yeah. That was good.” but when I scan for evidence on how I’ve actually applied it, it’s almost always underwhelming. 

Activation of a good word in the flow of everyday life needs more than a ball point pen.

I have this ring a dear friend gave me a year ago inscribed with a verse from the Bible (Philippians 4:8) that speaks to our thought life. It says, “Finally brothers and sisters whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.”  That’s a lot of words to get on a ring, folks.   So tiny is the writing that it’s been easier to commit the thing to memory.  Aside from my wedding ring, I’ve had no consistent jewelry habits.  I can’t even manage a regular watch.   But even though this ring is nothing particularly special, I’ve mysteriously found myself wearing it almost every day for the past year.  

Wearing it feels like a kind of armor.  I instinctively touch it whenever I feel my thoughts going down a rabbit hole of negativity and the good quote activates.  It’s been a gentle, real-time reminder in the flow of life that there are many other things – at least 8 other things with a wide open “whatever” preceding them -  I can choose to be thinking about.  Although I’m still not sure I’ve had any riveting noble thoughts.  The real benefit however is when the new thinking spills over into modified behavior.  It may sound silly but I’ve noticed how the mere twirl of my ring can re-center me at the precise moment I feel on the verge of popping off into complaint or cynicism.  Not every time (obviously) but enough to be detectable.

This little piece of silver around my finger has been more instrumental in applied living than anything I’ve written down in my journal.  I imagine some people have tattoos for a similar reason.  It’s probably why I still remember putting on the Armor of God – which included a shield and a breastplate! - from my days in Sunday school.

We have an enormous capacity to remember things but our reflex to access those things in stressful situations could do with some reminding.  It’s got me thinking about the method of loci, the memory technique whereby you place information to be remembered at a point along an imagery journey route.  Typically the technique to remember something like a list of groceries uses a route through your house and you associate each room with a piece of information to be recalled at the store.  I always felt like that was a dumb example because why would anybody go through the mental gymnastics for something they could write down on a list.  I can remember milk.  Remembering to Be Kind Always, like while driving or on Facebook, needs nudging.

It made me wonder though if instead of the mental mapping of our house we used our bodies to remember important things.  If we took my ring example and expanded it.  Since we already carry our emotional lives in our bodies why not use our bodies to carry back signals to our brain.  So rather than associating “front door with fruit hanging from the chandelier”, “hallway with hamburgers” and “the powder room covered in toothpaste” we used our own body to evoke the things we want to practice. For example, when we touched our eye we might think about Jesus’ words from the Sermon on the Mount “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light.” and how our perspective impacts our whole body.  Or when we turned over our hands for the umpteenth time during the day we might hear the words of Mother Theresa, “Give your hands to serve and your hearts to love.”  Or when we trace a scar on our own body we might be reminded of the now famous adage: “Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.”  

If enough of these type of voices auto-played as we moved through the world in our bodies, I have to believe it would be detectable in our interactions.  It’s exciting to think about how many truths we can tuck away in the palace of our bodies.   I’m reviewing my journal now and making assignments.  If anyone has a suggestion for arm pit, I’m all ears.