Adventures in the Rich Coast

As promised, more about Costa Rica! You know how a perfectly delightful vacation gives you nothing to talk about? "Yeah, the weather was great, everything went as planned... uh, I got sand in my swimsuit." Not much there.

Well, most of our trip was perfectly delightful--we saw dozens of species of birds (including white-ruffed manakins displaying on their arena, a pair of mot-mots, and a toucan).

Either a Passerini's tanager or a Cherrie's
tanager (that's his bright red back;
he's looking away from the camera).

We had a two-toed sloth and a troop of capuchin monkeys hanging out right by our hotel.

Capuchin, right overhead. The whole troop
went within a few meters of us.

And we received some warning head-bobs from the resident ctenosaurs and basilisks. There were tons of animals, which was what we wanted to see. It was great!

Ctenosaur (not an iguana!).
These guys are big--up to a meter in length

We spent a day at the base of the Arenal Volcano, swam in the hot springs, and enjoyed our first tropical downpour. Then it was off to Monteverde via the van-boat-van.

Arenal as seen from our hotel. We were told
we'd feel rumbles from this active volcano,
but it was quiet while we were there.

The van-boat-van is touted as the quickest way from Arenal to Monteverde. By taking us across the lake, we could avoid the windy mountain roads and shave hours off our trip. Sounds great, doesn't it? The first van ride was a quick jaunt around the volcano to the lake shore. We lucked out with a rain-free trip across the lake.

The calm before the storm (-y drive).
Lovely, isn't it?

So far so good.

When we got to the other side, the driver told us he couldn't take us the normal route--the roads were too slippery. Too dangerous. So he'd have to take us the long way around.

Now, in my mind (and in my experience driving in the Rocky Mountains), the normal route involved a rutted, rocky, single-lane unpaved road. The rains made it wet and muddy, so we couldn't go that way. Surely that meant we would be taking paved, less-steep roads instead, right?

Not so much.

We spent nearly three hours jostling around the inside of the bus, racing down bumpy hills at breakneck speed only to skid to a halt as we careened around a bend into

a herd of cattle...

or an ox-cart...

or someone on a motorbike...

or a stray dog...

or a big patch of mud. 

At one point the wheels began spinning in the mud, and I had visions of us pushing the bus to get it unstuck. (Uphill, of course, and did I mention it was raining the entire time?) At the last second, the wheels found traction and we lurched ahead.

I grew up in the mountains, so I felt surprisingly at home during the whole excursion. Beloved Husband, on the other hands, had to periodically pry his hand from the seat in front of him, just to get some feeling back in his fingertips. But he was a champ.

We made it to Monteverde as the sun set and the rain cleared. I haven't seen that many stars in the night sky in a very, very long time.

It was worth every minute of the drive. (Beloved Husband might disagree.)

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No comprende

I started a Spanish class this week. My 4-year-old son is learning Spanish, and I thought it might be useful to have some idea what he's saying. And it will come in handy when we go to Costa Rica this summer.

There's also the fact that French and German (my other foreign languages) just aren't commonly encountered here in the U.S., but Spanish is everywhere. I think it's important to have at least a grasp of basic words and phrases, and some understanding of other cultures. Yes, the official language here is English, but Spanish--and Spanish-speaking immigrants--are here to stay. It will make life easier for everyone if we all make at least a small effort to understand each other.

It's also humbling to put yourself in the shoes of a person who doesn't speak the local language well. It reminds you that just because they don't speak well doesn't mean they're stupid (which I think a lot of people tend to believe). Far from it. It simply means they don't speak it well, or aren't comfortable doing so.

How do I know? I spent five years as the person who didn't speak the native language. I am an articulate person (when I've had my morning coffee), a well-educated person (I didn't spend six years in graduate school for nothin'). But for the first several years we lived in Germany, I dreaded having to talk to anyone in--gasp--German.

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Why? Because every time I had to talk to someone about something, one of several things would happen. Early on, my brain would go into its default foreign language mode (French), and I would say some bizarre combination of French and German (once with a little Italian thrown in--don't ask me where that came from). The person to whom I was speaking would look at me like I was an idiot, then automatically switch to English.

As I learned more German, I would carefully figure out how to properly say something, so I knew the other person would understand. I knew I'd come a long way when he/she would respond in German. But then I was stuck, either unable to understand what they had said or unable to figure out how to respond. After a few moments of struggling, the other person would switch to English.

After several years, my level of comprehension improved greatly, but there still wasn't that natural response just forming in my mind. I still wasn't thinking in German, which meant that I had to translate what they had said into English, then translate my English response into German. This process takes time--a few minutes if you want to get all your verbs and modifiers in the right places--and by then I was usually getting one of those looks that made it clear the person thought I was an idiot. And then they would switch to English. Or, if the person didn't speak English, they would wave me off.

It is incredibly humbling to be treated like an idiot when, in fact, you know you are not (usually).

We take communication for granted, particularly here in the United States, where we expect everyone to speak English. Very few people here make the effort to learn another language, unless it is required for school. And I am the first to admit, it is extremely difficult to learn another language when you have no chance to practice using it. The U.S. is a huge country. When you drive from one state to the next, the language stays the same. It's not like Europe, where you go from one country another and change languages. To be like that here, almost every state would need to speak a different language. We just don't have that incentive to learn.

Unfortunately, our lack of willingness to learn another language is viewed negatively by other nations. They resent that we come to their countries and expect them to speak our language. Rightfully so. We expect people coming here to speak English, so we should do them the same courtesy of making an attempt to speak their language. And really, the effort goes a long way.

So now I'm speaking some bizarre combination of German, French, and Spanish (Gernchish? Fremanish? Spamanch?). People will look at me like I'm an idiot when we go to Costa Rica, I'm sure. But I'll get a few words and phrases right, I'll make the effort. And that goes a very long way.

Adiós mes amies. Ich wünchen Ihnen un buenos dias.

What experiences have you had with foreign languages (whether you speak or others were speaking to you)?

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There's no place like home...

After four (miserable) days in Budapest, we were finally going home! Caught the airport shuttle, arrived with plenty of time to get checked in. Flight on schedule. My heart soared.

Half an hour later, Beloved Husband asked, "So... why haven't they announced any flights?"

I glanced around and shrugged. "Maybe they're just clustered together."

Beloved Husband got up to look at the departure board. He scowled and returned to his seat.

"We're delayed by an hour. All incoming flights from Germany are delayed."

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Great. So the big snowstorm they'd predicted on the day we were supposed to leave didn't materialize, but the one they'd predicted for our return did. My mind raced... We were going to be stuck here, I just knew it. In the airport. Overnight. With two young kids and nowhere near enough diapers for the youngest. Dear God, why hadn't we stayed home?

We checked the departure schedule every five minutes after that, but the new time held. Our plane arrived, and we were ready to board. Except for one small problem.

"Final boarding call for flight... to Milan." This was the twelfth final call, and we quickly learned that they were planning to hold the plane for the TEN people who had not yet boarded. At our gate. And we would have to wait, too.

After about 20 minutes, someone had the bright idea to open a new gate so we could actually get on our plane. We were finally on our way, long after we were supposed to have landed in Berlin.

The flight is about an hour and 20 minutes. After 2.5 hours, I started to wonder what was going on. Eventually, the pilot came on to tell us that the airport wasn't allowing any planes to land. We would continue circling and see what happened.

Ten minutes later: "We will be landing at Schönefeld. Tegel still isn't accepting any planes. We're going to cut our losses and get on the ground." Good thing we hadn't left a car at the airport!

Within minutes, the landing lights on the wings came on and the landing gear went down.

"Wow, that was a smooth landing!" my mother-in-law said.

"We didn't land yet." I pointed out the window, where a blizzard obscured the end of the wing. "I sincerely hope it doesn't look like that when we're on the ground."

And then we landed! Everyone on the plane cheered. We taxied a short distance and stopped.

"Look outside," my mother-in-law said. It looked exactly like it had when we were in the air.

"We have to wait for a 'follow me' car--I don't know where they want us," the pilot explained. Outside the window was nothing but white. No sign of anything, including the airport terminal. The follow-me car parked us right there, in the middle of who knew where.

"Well, at least we're back in the city," I said, looking at the bright side.

"We have to wait for a bus to come get us," the flight attendant announced. "At least fifteen minutes." People stopped putting on coats and sat back down. Fifteen minutes later a small car pulled up and a woman came on board.

"There are several planes that had to land here," she explained, "and we don't have many buses. It will be at least 40 minutes before a bus can come get you." The flight attendants immediately brought out food and wine to prevent a riot.

Just as they finished serving our row, someone said, "The bus is here!"

Crap! I was holding a full glass of wine in one hand, with no place to put it because I had to put the seat tray up to get Snuggle Monkey. So I chugged it. We carried the boys down the steps, through about ten inches of snow, and onto the bus. We'd made it. We were officially back in Berlin.

Rrrrrrrr! The bus lurched a few inches forward. Pause. Rrrrrrr! Another lurch. Giggles and guffaws came from all around us. Again and again, the driver tried to get us going, but the snow was too deep. Then he tried backing up. Rrrrrrrrrr! Nothing.

"Would everyone please move to the back of the bus?" More laughter as everyone crammed together in the back half of the bus (good thing we'd been on a small plane). That did it. We started to move.

And then we were in the terminal. The cold air clung to us, and we wondered whether we would get our luggage, or if it would be left out there in the middle of the snow field until the plows had cleaned things up.

"Take the boys home," Beloved Husband said to my mother-in-law and me. "I'll wait here either for the luggage or to fill out lost luggage forms." Brilliant idea!

We led the boys outside, through the snow, in search of a taxi. Found one, got everyone buckled in and followed four plows home on the Autobahn. It took forever. Oh, and we had to pay for a second taxi, yet again. But we were home!


What do you think? Fact or fiction?
Last week's story? Fiction based on fact. Snuggle Monkey did not plunge us into darkness; the rest was true.

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Lost in the Labyrinth

All Christmas day, we were stuck inside the hotel. Outside, the winds howled, blowing rain sideways past our window. Just above freezing; not the best kind of weather for sight-seeing. So instead of experiencing the wonders of Budapest, we sat inside. Thank goodness Santa had brought the boys some new toys to play with.

On the second day of Christmas (December 26th—Christmas is a two-day affair in much of Europe), we ventured outdoors. The temperature had dropped and the sidewalks were now covered with drifted snow. We had packed according to a weather forecast that predicted zero precipitation, so we were utterly unprepared. The boys couldn't keep out of the snow. Within ten minutes they were whining about their cold, wet feet.

We trudged up to the castle district, hoping to at least see something before we left the next day. Naturally, the castle was located at the top of a hill, so the winds were stronger than ever. After a few stiffly posed pictures at the Fisherman's Bastion, we searched for the Labyrinth. A dank underground tunnel system never sounded so inviting.

We arrived as they were setting up the annual Christmas candle-lighting event. Once a year, on December 26th, 1,000 tea candles light the inside of the Labyrinth, a series of caves beneath Buda Castle.

The tiny lights lined the passageways and made them seem almost cozy. And they were beautiful. I was really enjoying our trip for the first time.

"I wonder if there are any bats down here,"  Boss Man commented as we looked around.

"Bat! I'm a bat!" Snuggle Monkey said.

And then his little hand was no longer holding mine. He grabbed both sides of his unzipped jacket and held them wide, flapping his "wings." He looked like a tiny dracula flitting among the candles. I worried a bit that he'd get too close to the candles, but he seemed to be staying away from them. I let my guard down.

"I'm a super fast bat! The fastest bat in the world!"

Whoosh, he ran, down one side of the cavern. Candles flickered wildly in his wake. He wheeled around and came racing back toward us. Whoosh! Behind him, the candles went out, like a series of dominoes falling. He raced around us, as we stood in our dead-end section of the cave, which was rapidly getting darker with each flame that died. The last tealight, over to my left, sputtered and went out.

They turned off the electric lights after they lit the candles. In the utter darkness, I noted the warm, damp air against my face. And then the wails broke the silence.

"MAMA!!!!"

"PAPA!!!!"

The shouts ricocheted off the walls in a deafening din. I reached one hand out in the general direction of one of the wails.

"I'm here," I said, trying to keep a steady voice as I searched for my son in the darkness.

"Don't move," Beloved Husband said. "We'll find you. Just stay where you are. Keep talking."

"I'M HERE!"

I'm here... I'm here... echoed all around us.

"In a quiet voice please," Beloved Husband said. Wow, he was staying really calm!

Sweeping my arms in front of me, I started up a constant stream of quiet chatter. I wasn't sure if I was trying to calm my kids, myself, or my mother-in-law (who has since decided she won't be joining us on any more family trips to explore the cities of Europe). Or maybe, like a bat, I was trying to echolocate my way to my kids.

After a few moments, I located Boss Man, and my husband found Snuggle Monkey. Both were sniffling.

"What about me?" my mother-in-law asked.

"Take my arm, Mom," Beloved Husband said. "I can see a faint light down that way."

"You do?" I looked in what I thought was the direction of the passageway but didn't see anything. I did, however, hear feet shuffling away from me.

"Wait!" I said to my husband as he led us to what I hoped would be a way out.

"We're going to have to stock up on night lights after this," I muttered as we crept down the passageway.We seemed to be moving at a snail's pace—literally. I felt as if I could only go a few inches at a time, and Boss Man's grip threatened to permanently cut off circulation from at least two fingers.

"Wait, I hear someone," Beloved Husband stopped walking, and I ran right into him. Boss Man stepped on Snuggle Monkey's foot, which elicited a wail.

I peered into the darkness, hoping I might see that faint light he'd mentioned. And then I was completely blinded by a bright white circle of light that was right at eye-level about three meters away. Pain shot across the back of my eyes and I squeezed them shut. The afterimage lit up green and orange against my eyelids.

"Mi folyik itt?" came a voice out of the darkness.

"What? Sorry? Do you speak English?" Beloved Husband asked.

Beloved Husband explained as the worker pulled out his lighter and set about re-lighting the candles. Then he escorted us to the entrance. Apparently they didn't want us in the Labyrinth during their special once a year candle-lighting event. Sadly, I can't really blame them

What do you think? Fact or fiction?
Last week's story? Fact.

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Fact or Fiction - Santa edition

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Christmas eve eve. Otherwise known as December 23rd. I sat on the bed of the hotel room, trying to conjure up some Christmas cheer in the absence of anything festive. Not even a mass-produced painting adorned the pale yellow walls that loomed over me. At least the kids were entertaining themselves...

"What's this?!" Boss Man popped up from the far side of the bed, hands waving in the air.

I squinted, trying to make out the objects he clutched. Oh crap! The stocking stuffers! He'd been entertaining himself by going through the suitcase, and now he held some of the precious few gifts we'd brought with us.

"Put them back," I said, trying not to pounce on the suitcase to prevent him finding anything else.

"But what are they?" he asked, as he shoved the toys under the flap. His eyes were enormous and the corner of his mouth twisted up. He knew, absolutely knew, he'd found something he shouldn't. Something that heralded fun.

I shook my head and shooed him into the other room.

Within two minutes, he was back, climbing onto my lap.

"Mama," he whispered with a giggle. "Mama, I really want to know what those things were."

I looked helplessly at Beloved Husband. Do we tell him? I wondered. Boss Man had come home from school two weeks before and casually asked, "Who puts the presents under the tree?"

"I do," I had replied.

"Aha! YOU'RE Santa Claus!" he had shouted.

"Er, Santa puts presents in the stockings," I had said. "We put the gifts from each other under the tree."

"Oh. Okay." Boss Man had happily accepted my explanation.

But now, here we were, evidence in his hot little hands. My husband either avoided my eye or was busy doing something else, and I was left scrambling for a solution. I didn't mind telling Boss Man that there's no Santa, but I knew he would ruin it for Snuggle Monkey, who was excited about Santa for the first time.

And then it hit me, the words coming out of my mouth even before I had thought them through. "They're presents for Santa's elves."

Boss Man looked at me, one eyebrow raised.

"They work all year making gifts for children, and no one ever gives them anything. So we brought a few toys we thought they might like."

He frowned for a moment, considering this, then grinned. "Yay! Can we write a note? I want to write it!"

I helped him write a note to Santa, telling him the gifts were for the elves. And on Christmas morning, Santa left a note for us, thanking us for the presents and saying he thought Snuggle Monkey might like the same gifts. Boss Man thought that was very considerate of Santa to give the same gifts we did.

What do you think? Fact or fiction?

Last week's story? Fact.

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Fact or Fiction - taxi edition

This is the first of a new series of posts: Fact or Fiction Friday. Writing non-fiction as an engaging story is essential, and I also write fiction, so I'm going to post bits here that either recount actual events or are complete fiction. Can you tell which?

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I rushed out to finish last-minute shopping. I wanted to get everything crossed off my list before the snow hit and public transportation went from every-10-minutes to unreliable-if-it-runs-at-all.

The online weather forecast continued to predict heavy snowfall. Secretly, I prayed for it… hoped it would cancel our flight the next morning. Every time I walked through the doors of a shop onto the street, I inspected the sky. Low, dark clouds; very promising. And then I spotted the first snowflakes.

It begins! I rubbed my hands together in glee. No Christmas travels this year. No stress of wrangling two energetic, loud boys in a foreign country while trying to simultaneously enjoy the sites and soak up the culture. We could kick back and relax at home.

Into another shop I went, giddy with thoughts of staying home. A few minutes later I came out, fully expecting to find a growing blanket of white. No such luck. No more flakes, just clouds again. Well, maybe it will start up again soon. Maybe it will snow all night.

By nightfall, no snow had fallen. I checked the forecast every 30 minutes to no avail. Finally, my husband and mother-in-law persuaded me to order a taxi for the next morning.

I grumbled but did it: a large taxi for the five of us, plus our luggage. They knew we were headed to the airport, knew exactly what we needed and when. I went to bed still hoping to wake to a blizzard.

In the morning, I glanced out the window, devastated to find that no new snow had fallen. Not so much as a centimeter. We finished packing and lugged everything out to the curb at the appointed time.

The boys chased each other around their grandmother while we waited. We had budgeted just enough time to get to the airport and check in, given that the roads were not well plowed.

After several minutes, we started to get fidgety.

“Call them,” Beloved Husband said.

“I don’t know the number.” I was stalling, and he knew it. He was also prepared: he rattled off the number, so I had to call.

“Hi, I ordered a large taxi but it’s not here.” I gave the address and she found my order.

“Yes, I’m afraid there are no large taxis in your part of the city right now.”

“But I ordered one last night.”

“I see that but there are no large taxis in your part of the city right now.”

Good grief, can she say anything else? “We're already late for the airport. We need a taxi.”

“I’m sorry, but there are no large taxis in your part of the city right now.”

A note of panic entered my voice. “What are we supposed to do? We’re going to miss our flight!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, there are no large taxis in your part of the city right now.”

I could feel a hot little ball of fury growing in my chest. What’s the point of ordering a taxi if they don't send one? And yet, some small part of me thought: this is it! We’ll miss our flight!

“Can you send a regular taxi then? My two-year-old can sit on my lap,” I suggested, since the dispatcher didn’t seem to be able to come up with a solution on her own.

“No, you can’t do that,” she replied. “You have to have a large taxi for five people and there are no large taxis in your part of the city right now.”

I came within a millisecond of throwing my cell phone in a snow bank. Doing my best not to scream obscenities, I asked, “Well then what CAN you send us?”

“Two regular taxis.”

“Then send them! Immediately! Right this second! We're going to miss our flight!” I snapped my phone shut, fuming. A taxi that has been ordered isn’t available and their default option is to NOT SEND ONE?!?! Unbelievable.

Five minutes later, a taxi pulled up, and we loaded the luggage and started to get in, thinking we might get lucky and not have to pay for two taxis. But then the driver noticed there were five of us. No second taxi was anywhere in sight, but the driver insisted that it was coming and no, Snuggle Monkey could not sit on someone’s lap. We would have to wait.

We got the boys in, and just as the driver was about to get in the driver’s seat, he noticed that they needed child booster seats. So we all had to get out again while he got them. As he was doing this, the second taxi arrived. My husband and his mom climbed in that one while I got the boys and I buckled into ours.

And then we took off. Our driver raced along the icy streets. Initially, I was pleased—he was taking our timing problem seriously. But then he headed into the forest, where he passed cars on blind curves and careened close to snowbanks, trying to get to the Autobahn faster. Visions of my husband watching as a head-on collision killed his wife and kids in the car before him flashed through my mind.

Somehow, we made it onto the Autobahn in one piece and got to the airport in record time. In retrospect, the taxi incident was a sign that we should have stayed home.

What do you think? Fact or Fiction?  I'll reveal the answer next Friday.

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I'm sorry...

I have no idea what time zone I'm in at the moment. I switched seven of them yesterday, and I think I left my brain somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. My kids? One seems to be on Icelandic time, the other closer to Bermuda.

Which brings me to my apology... I'm not going to be able to post much over the next few weeks. Or comment. :(

As I'm sure you all know, family that one last visited two years ago doesn't really like it when one sneaks off to spend time with blog buddies rather than time with the fam. Even if one tells the world about the last visit.

Oh, I will sneak off now and then, but not at my regularly scheduled Mon-Wed-Fri times. And I will stop by your wonderful blogs, but not as often as I'd like. I hope you'll forgive me and I hope you'll still remember me when I'm back. :)

In the meantime, have a fabulous weekend.

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Traveling with children - things I have learned

I love to travel. The world is full of amazing places, and I wish I could visit every one of them. Obviously not realistic, but a girl can wish.

Last week, we went to Munich for a few days. It was hot, but it was also sunny and beautiful. We visited the Audi factory in Ingolstadt (oh, man, did I want to drive off with one!), explored Marienplatz where we happened upon a festival, watched the Glockenspiel, ate (and drank) in the Biergarten at the 700-year-old Hofbräuhaus (pronounced hof- broy-house) and explored the Viktualienmarkt.

One reason we don't travel as much as we would like is because we have young children. Simply getting somewhere becomes much more complicated when you are dealing with kids. That said, Boss Man and Snuggle Monkey have traveled a lot for their years (Boss Man has visited 10 countries, Snuggle Monkey has visited 6). So here's a bit of what I have learned about traveling with children.

PACKING

Pack well Pack clothes that you can layer, shoes that won't cause blisters, and at least two extra outfits per child (I assure you, you will use them). Also take along a piece of laundry line and some clothes pins, and some detergent you can use to wash clothes. The sink works wonders, particularly if you encounter something like horse droppings after a parade, a dirt hill that the kids just must slide down, car sickness (we've been known to buy new shirts for that one), or overfilled diapers/lack of toilet.

Be a boy scout Be prepared for everything. Kids are guaranteed to get hungry and thirsty at the very moment when you have nothing to give them. Don't leave without snacks and drinks. Many countries don't have drinking fountains, so don't count on them.

Be prepared to be a pack animal  Public restrooms are not always easy to locate, and sometimes you have to pay to use them. Have extra diapers and changes of clothes (more than you think you could possibly need) on hand at all times. Plastic bags, too, for getting soiled clothes back to base camp.

Our diaper/travel bag contains the essentials mentioned above, food, drinks, bandaids, two coloring books, a baggie with broken crayons, a small deflated beach ball, straws, and a few new balloons. We've used each and every one of those things on more than one occasion, and I won't travel without them.  

SIGHTSEEING

Don't try to see everything. Yes, it's very tempting to run around seeing all of the sights, particularly if you have traveled a long way from home and don't think you'll make it back. But for the sake of your sanity, don't do it. Pick the few most interesting places and stick with those. Dragging your kids from place to place will only make everyone really grumpy. And your back will hurt from toting luggage day after day.

Take a tour  If you really must see all of the major sights, do it by tour bus. Take one of those on-and-off tours, so that you can ride around all day, get off to see things up close, then get back on another bus. Buses are also good for naps (kids... adults... doesn't really matter).

FIND THE RIGHT PLACE TO STAY

Find a base  This should probably have gone at the top, but I'm too lazy to move it. The most successful trips we have taken are the ones for which we have rented an apartment and have made it our base. Major benefits:

• We make day trips, but we don't have to deal with luggage.
• There's a kitchen so we can eat at our "normal" times, rather than waiting for restaurants to open (also saves a fortune).
• And (perhaps most important) the kids get their own room, so we don't have to read in silence by book-light for two hours after they go to bed. 

You can search for apartments through booking.com or Vacation Rentals by Owner, among others.

DO AS THE ROMANS DO 

Know the local customs  This goes along with the previous point (believe it or not). Find out when people usually eat. For example, if the locals eat lunch around 1pm then everything closes for two hours, you need to plan your activities accordingly. In such situations, dinner probably isn't served until late (9pm or later)—after the kids are in bed. Restaurants don't open early just to cater to the American tourists, so have lots of snacks and an alternate plan for feeding the munchkins.

This also applies to the clothes you wear. In some places (e.g., churches in Italy), it is considered offensive to wear sleeveless tops and shorts. Be respectful and dress appropriately. (This point is for the parents, not the kids.)

Try the local foods Yes, there will be things that just don't sound very appetizing (even in Tuscany), but try them and have your kids try them. These are local specialties for a reason. The people there like these foods. They are edible, often even tasty! I finally tried Leberkäse (translation: liver cheese) last week, and it was quite good. No hint of liver, definitely not cheese, kind of meatloaf meets bologna.

Learn a few important phrases in the local language  I cannot stress this enough, but if you (and the kids—this will win you MAJOR points if the kids do it, too) learn a few important words, you will be miles ahead of most tourists, and the locals will really appreciate your effort.

Learn the local words for hello, goodbye, please, thank you, I'm sorry, excuse me. Your pronunciation doesn't have to be perfect (in fact, my bad pronunciation has made more than a few people smile, but I think it made their day.) Do not expect everyone else to speak English, and be respectful. Teach your children to be respectful, too.

KEEP THE KIDS ENTERTAINED

Do your research  Know when (and where) the trains/buses run (if you're taking them), where the playgrounds are, and where you can find a park where your kids can run off their extra energy (and they will have it—there is nothing like visiting a new place to get them hyped up).

If all else fails find a fountain. Winter or summer, it doesn't matter. Kids love to play in/on fountains.

Have the kids pack their own backpack with books, toys and games  But do a check to be sure there aren't too many little pieces that can will get lost, and that whatever you bring is not a favorite toy. Do you really want to be down between the seats on the airplane or train, hunting for Lego man's cap? I didn't think so.

Transportation IS an experience  Chances are, your kids will be far more excited about taking new/unusual forms of transportation than they will be in seeing museums, ancient artifacts, or whatever else it is you want to see. Make a point of taking buses, trains, boats, as much as possible. The kids will love it.

OTHER THINGS TO REMEMBER

Attach beloved stuffed animals to the luggage We made a loop on the side of Boss Man's backpack for Bear II, after he left Bear I in the Glasgow airport.

Take a stroller Young children may be active, but their legs are short. They walk several steps to your one, and they will get tired quickly. When they're under 3, you will want a stroller, and if you don't take one, you will kick yourself for it. We spent much of last week wishing we had taken ours, and our backs and shoulders are still recovering from carrying Snuggle Monkey 50% of our time in Munich.

Don't let yourself by distracted by your kids  Think pickpockets will leave you alone because you have kids? Think again. They provide the perfect distraction, so be sure to keep important things (passports, large sums of money) in a very safe location, and pay attention to what's going on around you.

Personal story: when we were in Prague, waiting for the Metro, there were quite a few people waiting for the train. Several men were in front of the doors when the train arrived, and they (very kindly, I thought) moved out of the way for us (Boss Man was in a stroller and I was 7 months pregnant). When the last of us entered the train, they bounced him around and tried to steal his wallet. Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to realize it and stopped them from getting away with it.  I also had someone try to open my purse on the Prague Metro (my bulging belly made it a nice target, I guess). The apparently inexperienced thief worked away at my purse while his very large and intimidating friend hovered over me. Fortunately, my wallet was inside my jacket, and all he got was a package of tissues. The point is: anyone can be a target, so pay attention.
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I hope this helps a few of you with your future travels. The world is full of amazing places, people, and cultures, and I think children should learn to appreciate them early in life.

If you have other tips or suggestions that I have left out, please post them below. Or any stories of travels with kids that you'd like to share.

What is your favorite travel destination? I have lots of places that I love, but I think Delphi tops my list.

Goats of Delphi

If you tell someone what you are going to Greece over Christmas, the response—without exception—is a look of complete bewilderment (perhaps I should clarify that no one in my family is Greek).  About half of the time, people snap out of their stunned silence to ask, "Why?"

This started in mid-November. By mid-December, I found myself automatically justifying our decision.  "Well... we don't know how long we'll live in Europe... we want to see as much as we can while we're here..."

It turns out that visiting Greece at Christmas was a brilliant idea (not mine, my husband suggested it).  There are no lines, you can get around easily, and the pickpocketers are otherwise occupied spending the money they scored during the tourist season. Oh, and the food. Why, indeed? We did as the guidebooks (and the people we met in Athens) recommended: saw the sights and headed out of the capital city. My favorite day was the one we spent in Delphi.

I said no lines? We saw about six other people (and at least six times as many goats) the whole time we were at Delphi. For the most part, we had the mountainside to ourselves.

Note to Bostonians, Boston is not, in fact, the Hub of the Universe, as the Navel of the Universe (which seems pretty hub-like to me) is located at Delphi.

There it is.  The Universe has an outie.  Who knew?  Well, the ancient Greeks, of course, but other than them?  I was clueless until our up-close encounter with the giant navel. It's about a meter tall, but then, you would expect the universe to have a fairly sizable belly button. To what was it once connected, I wonder?  The umbilicus of parallel universes? One of the great mysteries, and the Oracle is no longer there to fill us in in her famously ambiguous way.

Up the hill, we get nearer to the goats.  Yes, I know you've been wondering, what's this about goats, anyway?  Well, Apollo was apparently fond of them. Goats were used to determine whether Apollo wanted to answer people's questions (via the Oracle) on a given day. Apollo seemed to have a sense of humor: to see if he was willing to listen, people threw a bucket of cold water over their goat. If the goat shook the water off (as most of them did), Apollo's ears were open. If it just stood there and let the water drip off of its nose, Apollo wasn't interested. No sacrifices necessary.

So Delphi has a long history of good relationships with goats. And guess what? They're still there! Apparently, they enjoy spending time on the path that runs behind the Amphitheater (exhibit A: goat droppings everywhere).

As we made our way along the Sacred Way, we heard the first cow bell (goat bell?), far up the mountain above us. Much too far to actually spot the goat (or its bell). After a bit, it was joined by a second bell, then a third, and then a veritable waterfall of sound coming down the mountainside (literally—the goats were on the move). After a while, the waterfall (goatfall?) came close enough that we could spot them hopping from rock to rock. See them? They are coming downhill from upper right to lower left in this picture.

And then they were pouring over the rock wall onto the path before us... and right on over the next wall into the ancient ruins of the Amphitheater.  Oops.

To be fair, there was no sign at the top of the Amphitheater warning against descent, only a sign at the bottom warning against ascent.  Not that the goats could read any of the four languages on the sign.

The goat herder immediately gave chase, following them down the Amphitheater steps.They milled around a bit on the Temple of Apollo... perhaps they felt his presence that day... before the goat herder got them back on the path and on down the mountain.  We heard he was chastised for losing control of his herd.

Our enjoyment of the spectacle was not Schadenfreude (truly!), it was merely delight in experiencing something rare in an ancient and mystical place, on a beautiful, warm winter day.