Why We Fled the Country

Josh and I love to travel. We love the adventure, the experiences, the diversity, history, culture, food, perspective, adaptability, humility, and wisdom that can come with travel - particularly international travel.

I started to write out the various circumstances that led us to book an 8-day trip across the ocean without our three little boys (What!?). Then I realized it may be as irrational as it sounds. It really comes back to that single fact: we value travel, so we made the leap.

A few keys made it possible:

• I weaned Isaac in August.
• Our long-time, trusted friends and childcare pros were available to come stay with the boys.
• Our boys were able to stay in our home, in their routines (school/church) the whole time.
• Josh had to make the trip for business, so his major expenses were covered.
• He had enough frequent flyer miles to cover my airplane ticket.

A painting we bought from a vendor along the Seine,
because it is a mess of diverse colors and materials
yet with the right eyes, creates a kind of gritty beauty
that I have come to enjoy.

We have tried to make this happen before -- several times -- but the stars have never aligned. We were ecstatic when they did this time. Beforehand, I literally felt the excitement tickling inside my stomach like I did as a little girl before Christmas.
 
This totally sets me up for disappointment. Every. time. It's a little ridiculous, but in each place we visited (places I've been before), I was startled (again) by how real and gritty life is everywhere. There's graffiti in Paris. Run-down buildings in Oxford. Lousy restaurants in London. Josh and I had to laugh (once we got past the frustration) at how many of our targeted attractions were closed. We had to adapt, to find the beauty, to appreciate the whole messy business of life on this planet.

Which may be one reason I feel compelled to visit these places in person. I have yet to find a guide book that accurately describes the mixture of Gothic, Modern, new, dilapidated, classy, trashy, fascinating, mundane, etc that is life in these cities -- or how it looks different in each one (though Bill Bryson tries more than most). Witnessing the menagerie and finding the beauty in it is, I think, critical to appreciating life on earth.

I should be good at this - especially in amazing places I've visited multiple times. I set out determined to soak up the sidewalk cafes, the exquisite architecture, the historical sites, the quirky cultural differences, etc. I even read books about these locations to add context and narrative to their streets. And it all helped me love our trip. (To be clear, I did love our trip.)

But I still found I couldn't skip the culture shock, the disappointment at seeing filthy streets, the frustration with spending too much time in transit, the shock at seeing so much graffiti. It's the human condition -- part of me loves the gritty, authentic reality for its drama and honesty; the other part of me wants to airbrush away the wrinkles so it's a utopian dream.

Hopefully, these posts about our trip will have some of each. At various points along the trip, Josh would ask me, "What are you taking a picture of??" And I'd reply, "An eyesore." Never fear, the majority of photos in the following posts will highlight what we loved, but I've tried to sprinkle in a bit of what makes them real, just to remind you (and me) that the key is not to make a trip or a place feel like utopia. The key is to enjoy the place as it is, for all it is.

For the next post on our trip, see PARIS, Part 1.