UWC Costa Rica has been a crazy experience, and it got even crazier over December break when I decided I wanted to attempt climbing Denali, the highest mountain in North America. I have had my eye on this peak for some time now, but it always seemed like a dream, like something I would never have the opportunity to actually climb. However, when one of my mountaineering friends from another expedition texted me about Denali, that all changed. Before I knew it, we had gathered a group of people and an instructor with the organization NOLS. Since then, I have been training for the trip here at UWC Costa Rica and will be back in Alaska and on the mountain by June 3rd.
California Memories
One of my best parts of surfing was the satisfaction that washed over me as I rinsed off my surfboard and changed into dry clothes. The ocean water was refreshing against my sunburnt skin. Although by the end of the day my fingers and toes were icy. Pulling off my drenched and sticky wet suit in favor of a soft cotton tee was a heavenly experience. As I Smiled from ear to ear, I shook out my salty, sandy hair and managed to work it into a shape somewhat resembling a bun. Finally, dry and warm once more, I grabbed my board and headed to the thing we call a home. (The van!) Even after the board was all strapped to the roof, I could’ stop thinking about the thrill of finally standing and balancing for a few shaky seconds before plummeting back into the foamy turmoil of salt and seaweed.
Blog Post by: Isabelle Zink
Edited and Produced by: Lily Zink
Utah fun!
From canyoneering, to kayaking, Utah has beautiful scenery to explore.
Blog Post by: Lily Zink
Sixteen Years Around the Sun
Turning sixteen seemed to mark a turning point on our trip. I had had time to relax in the house we rented, and get ready to move back into our van. A little to my surprise, I was excited to move back into our little home. I had been brainstorming new art to put up in the van, new ways to hang our fairy lights, and more convenient places to store things. I was looking forward to giving our little van a makeover and getting back on the road. Once we were back on the road, it was obvious how much more time I spent inside while living in a regular house. In the last two weeks, I had begun to lose my tan, to not get as much exercise, and the hours in the day seemed to slip away without my knowledge of where they had gone. Turning sixteen, beginning a fresh year, and moving back into our little home felt like a fresh start and an opportunity for new goals and inspirations.
Blog post written by: Isabelle
Edited and produced by: Lily
Where the Desert Drops into the Sea
Hello again friends and family. I wrote this blog entry while sitting on a cliff beside the ocean on one of our first days in California in Crescent City. The posting is obviously a little late, however this journal entry perfectly captures my amazement at the stunning beauty of California.
The sun is warm on my face, shining down the left side of my body and melting all my muscles into calm relaxation. The air is cool, crisp, smelling of seaweed that has been roasting for too long under the harsh glare of the sun. The waves thunder below me, crashing into twenty foot cliffs in white foamy abandonment. Vacation beach houses huddle together, perching delicacy on the cliff to my right. The houses gaze solemnly through giant glass windows out upon the vast expanse of ocean. The little structures look like colorful birds, painted in off yellows and ocean blues. All the buildings have the same tint to them, as if hot California summers have baked them into the surrounding desert landscape. To my left, our little home on wheels sits in an empty gravel lot; tiny in comparison to the vast shimmering ocean in gazes across. Above me, the sky is an impossibly vibrant blue, growing hazy as it reaches for the surface of the water surface of the water. Suddenly, I feel very, very small. My tiny presence nearly nonexistent in comparison to the vastness of the world around me. I close my eyes and abandon myself to this novel, beautiful land of ocean and never ending sky called California.
Blog Post by: Isabelle
Edited and posted by: Lily
Tis the Season
We knew Christmas this year would not be like others. Our tradition in Alaska was to host a spectacular Christmas Eve party, friends and family all coming together to celebrate. This year though was different in more than one way. As we try to stay as Covid safe as possible, we knew having a party would not be happening. Also, living in a van in Arizona is much different than a house in Alaska.This was one of the few years Izzy and I have ever had a Christmas without snow. Instead, we enjoyed Christmas in our swimsuits.
blog post by: Lily Zink
Living by the Beach
On the trip, we decided that one of our goals is to learn how to surf. Surfing is something I have always wanted to do, but living in Alaska can make that challenging. We bought a used surfboard and two wetsuits. Best purchase yet. After school we head to the beach to surf till sunset.
Ok, let's talk sunsets. The sunsets here are utterly spectacular. Every night the sky lights up with beautiful shades of oranges, pinks, reds, and so much more.
Ok, we’re not expert surfers. Yes, we have gone surfing after school everyday, yes we have improved a tremendous amount. BUT we are DEFINITELY BEGGINERS.
Izzy and I have a thing for turning a one person sport (surfing for example) and turning it into a two person sport. We have been practicing having one person lay on the board, while the other person jump on top of them to ride the wave.
Blog post by Lily.
Defying Gravity
The rock was warm under my calloused hands as I pulled myself onto the orangish wall, nearly red in the glow of the setting sun. After weeks of rock climbing throughout Oregon, my soft, smooth hands had grown hard and rough and constantly seemed black with rope aluminum from belaying. As I pulled up in search of a second hold, my conscious subsided, and suddenly, my body was overriding my mind in a wave of instinct and memory. My fingers claimed seemingly nonexistent cracks in the harsh textured landscape beneath my chalked fingers. The tips of my rock shoes smeared into the mear idea of a depression. My entire body pulsed to life in an unwavering pursuit to defy gravity. My breaths deepened, my heart beats drummed louder inside the hollow of my chest; Blood rushed just below my skin flooding my shaking muscles. The world had narrowed into an undefinable point between me and the rock, and in an instant, the sinking sun seemed universes away.
blog post by Isabelle.
Edited and posted by Lily.
How to Duck Dive while Surfing
How to Duck Dive while Surfing.While surfing, the duck dive can be very helpful for getting under a wave without it crashing on your face. Grab your board, and either practice in a pool first or go straight to the ocean.
To successfully duck dive under a wave, you'll need a shortboard. A shortboard is a type of surfboard that is small, with a hard deck. Shortboards are meant for tricks and are much easier to get past the breaking waves with.
The first step is to paddle hard. It is unnecessary to practice this step if you are in a pool. Instead, skip to where you put your hands on the board. You want to get some speed while paddling, so the momentum you have can push you under the wave. About six feet, or two meters from the wave, start your duck dive. Next, put your hands on the board, grabbing the rails. Then, push the nose of your board down and forward. Now press down on the tail of your board with your foot or knee. With that, your board will go down, pulling you along. You then bring your body down to the board. Rather than pulling the board up to meet your body, push your body down at an angle with your head first. Keep your eyes open while under the wave, if possible, because you don't want to damage your board if you hit it on the bottom. Also, you can look at the bubbles in the water and see if the wave has gone over you or not.
You are now under the wave, and you want to let your board guide you through the water. Don't rush coming up, or you might come up right as the wave crashes on you. The board will guide you up, but if needed you can give a few kicks to help boost you. Then your head will surface, followed by the rest of your body. You did it. You now know how to duck dive a wave while surfing.
blog post by Lily.
Edited and posted by Lily.
Beginning the Journey
After printing screenshots of plane tickets back to Alaska and stocking the van full of food, we were off to Canada. My mom planned to drive my sister and I through Canada, then fly back to Alaska. Meanwhile, my dad would fly down and meet us in Seattle. However, the Canadian border had been shut down and was now only open for “mandatory travel.” This being a fairly loose phrase, we decided we would make our argument to the Canadian border patrol on the basis of going to the lower 48 to complete school work. Equally nervous and excited, we hugged my dad goodbye, gave Luna a few extra kisses, and drove beneath the beautiful fall leaves away from our familiar home towards an unknown destination.
When we finally arrived at the canadian border we were more than nervous. Many people had been turned around at the border, and our friends at home were doubtful we would make it through. The man at the border window was burly and stout with a serious face. When my mom handed him her return ticket to Alaska, he coldly asked why the ticket price was only one dollar. After my mom explained we got the ticket on Alaskan Airlines miles, he gave an unexpected laugh. Clearly, he was another Alaskan Airlines frequent flyer. After waiting for what seemed like a tense eternity while the border patrol did background checks, we were finally approved to continue into Canada.
Little did I know I was in for a surprise as soon as we crossed the border. First, we had absolutely no cellular since we were in another country. Second, the driving age was 16 so I was banished to the back seat since Lily and I had previously agreed that I would sit in the back when I wasn't driving. This meant I found myself experiencing the snake-like curvy roads of Canada in the back with absolutely nothing to do except watch miles of tiny scraggly spruce trees grow larger and finally turn into something like a Colorado spruce that actually resembled a tree. I soon discovered that a teenage girl with nothing else to do besides stare at trees, quickly learns to sleep for twelve or more hours a day. That is, as soon as I was used to the random items falling off shelves and hitting me in the head while I drooled over the armrest. All in all, Canada was absolutely beautiful and it was wonderful spending three days of uninterrupted time with my mom and Lily.
The Build
As the days in Alaska began to wither away and we realized we would be doing homeschool in a dark cold house in front of a fireplace, it was apparent that we needed an escape. So began the brainstorming process. After throwing out all our ideas, we decided that traveling through the United States was a possibility since it allowed us to stay Covid safe in our van and travel. With this spark of an idea fueling our imaginations and some serious time spent YouTubing, we began the van build.
Making our little home on wheels a little more like a home began with some leftover lumber, some garage tools, and a big idea. My sister and I prioritized a loft bed from the beginning and we were all excited for a roof rack. To be honest, both of those things were largely inspired by Pinterest photos. Despite my dad explaining that we would never actually do yoga on the roof like on instagram, we were determined to give it our best. After a month of quickly learning to use power tools, sanding and staining wood, and hanging fairy lights and prayer flags we had bags packed and were on our way towards Canada
A final summit -Mt. Fuji
There is a race.
You train, prepare, spend countless hours practicing, perfecting, pushing.
The time gets closer and the jitters start to build.
Are you ready?
Can you do this?
What happens if you fail and what does failure look like?
You refocus, you visualize what success means, you show up at the start early.
You’re off, the race has started, you take off too fast pulled forward by the excitement and the energy, like a spring being released.
Steady, you have a long way to go.
The miles role by, at first you have no idea how you will ever finish - so far still to go.
By the middle you start to hurt a bit, the energy of the pull is gone but you are in a grove and you keep moving forward.
You really hurt now, three quarters of the way through.
How are you going to finish?
Why did you sign up for this in the first place?
Your friends are sleeping in, eating bunch, and here you are, hurting in the rain for what?
You buckle down, push a little harder. You know you grow when you hit the edge of your comfort zone.
Suddenly you look up and realize you are near the end, you can hear the crowd, feel the energy and you pick up the pace, put in the last of what you have.
The final end is the sprint - legs, arms, lungs are one, your mind stops talking, you body just moves and you are in the moment.
The end comes, somehow so much faster and slower than you thought.
You cross the finish line, you double over, sides hurting, breath gasping, filled with joy.
You are stronger than you realized.
You showed up and gave it your all.
Everyone is going about their day, oblivious of your race, but you know.
You know you stronger, different, changed.
You hold that knowledge of where you have come and how far you have come.
You will need the strength you found another day and you hold it close, glowing next to your heart.
And so this was our year and Mt. Fuji was our sprint, full of beauty and promise. The year is past, the future not quite here, and we embraced every moment of our climb, not reflecting back on our journey preparing or transitioning home, but instead living each breath, in the moment with all of its gifts.
And now we prepare to board the plane home, it is like we are crossing the finish line of this year. We are all together, our worst fears were not realized and we have all gown in ways we didn’t know were possible. We will still need to stretch, catch our breath and adjust, but being here at this moment it feels great. The light and strength from this year is safely tucked away as we head home to family, friends, passions and purpose.
Thank you all for cheering us on, supporting us when we needed it, believing in us when we didn’t and pushing us to be more, see more and do more and to do less. We don’t plan to continue this blog at home, but I plan to continue writing and reflecting on life's journey, on healthcare as well as health and wellness and you are welcome to follow along. We look forward to the road ahead.
Farewell friends, it has been a great ride.
“The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning ”
We started up Fuji with a breakfast of champions.
Station 5 and the start of the Fuji trail after a long and winding road up.
Every temple has these walls of wishes where you can purchase a piece of wood, write your wish and attach it to the wall. As a family we left our wish for the year hanging on this wall at the base of Mt. Fuji.
Our wish among the others.
We also got individual wishes, full of fun about the girls future relationships, jobs and health.
Hanging our wishes on a sting of wishes.
Time to leave our wishes behind and begin up one final journey.
With one final treat.
Look at that view. Starting out in the clouds.
Well this is it friends, time to climb.
Last moments of green.
Climbing higher with these two!
In their own world, enjoying the time and space to talk, play and treasure their friendship
You never know what face this one will produce when you pull out the phone.
Basically we ate our way up Mt. Fuji. The selection and avalibility of food and supplies was impressive.
Need oxygen? I was surprised at how many people were using oxygen on our way up.
We stayed at a lodge part way up the mountain to get the full cultural experience. Efficient, warm and dry it was a nice treat part way up the mountain. It was surprising however how many people climbed though the night or slept on the benches outside the lodges.
The next morning we “work up” (not sure any of us really slept) at 2 am and started to climb to see the sunrise. This was my favorite part of the climb. The peace and beauty of the night and the stunning sunrise was magical. We also totally lucked out with the weather. It rained ever day before our hike and everyday since besides the day we summited. It was also the first official day the trail was open due to a landslide that closed the mountain for the first 10 days of the climbing season.
The magical layer between clouds as we made our way up.
Slowly getting lighter
Lily making the final push to the summit though the trail that had collapsed and opened the day we summited.
Lily again going through the gates at the summit right as the sun rose. It was a perfect ending to a perfect trip. We couldn’t have timed this moment if we planned all year for it, but there it was unfolding in front of us.
The top!
Yah!
Looking down as the clouds kept parting.
The crowd at the top watching the sunrise.
Nothing better than fresh hot miso Raman and coffee at the top at 5 am!
Checking out the crater - it is a little colder up here.
Time to head down.
Basically how I feel - what a year, what a summit.
Long way home
I love the bond these two have, more adventures to come I am sure.
What do you do when you didn’t sleep all night, stared to climb at 2 am and are at your new hotel at 8 am and check in is not for 7 more hours? Spend the whole day at the amusement park! The girls had to make the most of the sun we had not seen in weeks. What a treat to enjoy it on Mt. Fuji and then at the amusement park all day.
On our way to the plane I saw this poster - To be continued for sure, but grateful for an amazing year.
At the base of Mt. Fuji
As the end of the year was coming quickly we spent our last week at the base of Mount Fuji getting ready for the transition home.
Isabelle’s art has bloomed and she has set out to start a company to sell her work. She got selected as an Amazon merchant and is working on uploading images for clothing, stickers and more. Meanwhile she has been brainstorming business ideas and it is fun to see her passion. Her company, Arctic Threads, will soon be up online, on social media and on Amazon. It has been fun to see her passion grown and her take on all the details of starting a business from scratch.
Lily spent her week using her talent at organizing and her eye for beauty to create a book of images from this year that we can print and have at home. There is an art to telling a story and a beauty in having a project finished. Having a printed book of pictures feels like the best possible souvenir from a year of travel.
My life journey has been long and circuitous, simply following my heart, not sure how the pieces wouldl all fit together. This year has felt like coming into a clearing in the woods and seeing the view for the first time. I suddenly have a clear purpose and know where I want to go. Creating systems that support health and wellness is the next transition in health care and where I want to spend my time and energy both personally and professionally. This passion and my love of writing resulted in a book proposal, as well as submission and rejection by agents, but a clear path moving forward.
Traverse oversaw all of our project, providing encouragement and technical support as he continued to grow his business and make arrangements for our transition back home
Between work projects we climbed, ran, read and prepared for life back home. We befriended the women at the supermarket and the local onsen (Japnesse hot springs). We relished in little moments, the time, the quiet, the joy of this year. We took a deep breath before the final push up Mt. Fuji and back home.
Catching the train to Mt. Fuji area, clearly a tourist hotspot with its dedicated rail system.
Enjoying the amazing fish
Ordering a meal at vending machine.
Alternative entertainment near Mt. Fuji. All perfectly manacured in true Japan style.
The flowers around town have been amazing, and we are starting to find berries, a real sign that we have come full circle this year.
The kids at the end of their camp, all smiles with a world of new friends.
These two- they have grown so much this year.
Our “home” for 10 days, an old traditional Japanese house in the center of town.
How far we have come
Thirteen days and 13,000 feet until we are home. The days are racing by.
Yesterday was Traverse’s birthday. We celebrated with sticky rice balls and homemade sushi, hiking in the pouring rain and family movie time. Lily made him an amazing three egg omelet breakfast while Isabelle produced two layer microwave cake covered in candied oranges. The last time we celebrated his birthday, exactly one year ago, it was as a going away party to start this year. Somehow I felt more prepared to leave everything a year ago than I do now to return.
People keep asking, “What was your favorite part?” or commenting “I am sure you have learned so much, changed in so many ways” but like watching the light before the sunrise,this year has subtly shaped us in ways I can feel but not see and may never fully know with my mind, only with my heart. I do know, that like imagining life without kids once you have them, I cannot imagine our life without this year now that we pull into this home stretch.
It is easier to think of the year in parts, what I want to put into this bag of memories to carry with me back home.
From Norway I want to carry back the concept of “friluftsliv”. Directly translated it means a "free air life" but is more the cultural embodiment of the joyful yet pragmatic people who’s relationship with nature is not just a sport or a hobby, but a way of life. It is the Sunday tradition of jaunts in the woods with friends, family and food. It is the quiet way of seeking first to understand before being understood. It is the sense that everything you do is part of this bigger ecosystem of life that must be treated with reverence. It is the letting go of pretense to be truly in the present.
In Croatia, coffee is not a drink, it is a way of life that I hope to bring home with me. Drinking “a coffee” means a three hour event with friends or colleagues and is where the meaning of life is found. Croatian history, and politics and borders are complex. People may be born, grow up and die all in the same village and during that time they may have been a part of three or four different counties. They make sense of those changes, they hold onto what is really important as everything else shifts around them, over a cup of coffee, giving themselves the time and space to see where the conversation and the future may lead.
In Singapore and Malaysia it was the incorporation of art and nature into everyday life. These radically different places had a similar quality that I loved. In Singapore the hospitals had built in gardens every few floors for open space in the middle of the concrete jungle. The cross walks had solar resting shades artfully designed that held onto the light from the day to share it in the evening. Malaysia, while not nearly as clean and modern still decorated its streets with art. It was not the art of the past, in museums and tucked away, but painted on the alley walls, a part of the street signs and meant to played with, inspired by and of course for a selfie. It is the art of the future, integrated into daily life and a reminder that we need more than what is practical, we need the beautiful and inspirational.
Bhutan was a place of learning and reflection. It was where I feel like I finally let go and embraced their term “oh la” meaning both an “oh well” and a sign of reverence and respect as “la” is added to anything of importance. There was reverence in letting go both in their culture and in the language. Let go if the road is closed. Let it go if the CT scanner doesn’t work. Let it go if nothing happens as planned. Watching physicians and nurses work with so few resources and so much patience made me reflect on how much harm we do to ourselves and each other from demanding our way. There is value in hard work, in preparation, but not in excessive worry about the future or all the details we cannot control. And whenever in doubt, a cup of sweat milk tea makes everything better, so you always make time for tea.
The quality I know I will not be able to fully take away, but stand in awe and admiration from Vietnam and Cambodia is resilience. Seeing bones emerge though the ground in mass graves at the Killing Fields, climbing through tunnels built during the Vietnam war, and then being welcomed into homes and hearts of the people who lived these tragedies, caused in no small part from the country I call home was beyond humbling. The ability of the Vietnames to acknowledge, recognize and remember, and then let go creates a resilience is propelling the country into the future. It made me think of my sister and how her death works as a benchmark of all loss now in much the same way the Vietnam War must mark a benchmark of loss and suffering in Vietnam. Problems look so much smaller when held next to other tragedies. In the Book Joy, the Dali Lama talks about suffering. When his gallbladder was infected, he reflects on how much less pain he felt when he thought of others suffering and the gratitude he had that he was being taken to a doctor who may be able to help. By putting our suffering in context and focusing on gratitude, we can literally create joy, and with it, possibilities. This seems to be at work on a national scale in Vietnam. This resilience left me in awe and painfully saddened by our echo chamber of suffering at home, limiting our ability to adapt, grow and respond.
As we moved North, we found ourselves in increasingly cool and modernized cultures that started the long transition home. I had a lot of expectations for this year and for myself and as we got closer to home it became a time to reflect on those goals. Yoga every day, pushups, I was going to come back strong, focused and ready to go. There were no excuses, I would have time to remember all the birthdays, connect with friends and be in the best shape ever. But I found life still happened, there were temples to see, blog posts to write, work to be done, a family to spend time with and runs came and went with the weather and illness and pushups always remained hard. What I will take from Taiwan is the slow run. Everywhere you went people were exercising. These were not 20 year old triathletes, these were 90 year old women bench pressing on top of the mountain. They were moms with kids around the track. They were women in wheelchairs in the park. The goal was not to be the best, the were active people, not with a goal of performance or perfection. Everyday Traverse would come home from the gym it was with another story of an elderly man doing insane things at the gym with no fan fair or some other person in the splits at the park. In the book Atomic Habits by James Clear he talks about the danger of goals as once they are done you stop, with habits you build stories of you are it is easier to incorporate these daily habits. When you want to quit smoking, you say you quit, not that you are “trying to quit”. You are more likely to follow through on something if it fits the story of who you see yourself as, not as accomplishing a goal. I learned in Taiwan to shape my story rather than hold only to half finished goals.
In South Korea I learned the power of purpose. The family was so much happier with the purpose of a bike ride. I rediscovered this year the purpose of my work and saw doors open when before I only saw walls. As we prepared for our time in Japan, I came across the word “ikigai” often translated as “that which makes life worth living.” This broader concept of having a purpose in life, a purpose that has meaning to a larger community. This idea of purpose builds resilience and extends life expectancy. Through leaving for this year the truth of my own sense of purpose and the need for that purpose became brilliantly clear.
As we finish our time in Japan, I am glad we are headed home, as my backpack of memories is bursting at the seams and our individual callings are pulling us back. But Japan, a land where you can spend five years mastering the art of a tea ceremony, feels like the perfect place to end. It reminds me of the beauty of perfecting a few things, but that to do this you must let go of the concept that you can “do it” or “have it all.” They put attention into every detail, even the routine making your bed the moment you wake in preparation for sleep the following evening. There is a ceremony in taking off your shoes, the art of the meal, the greeting of another. The attention to detail is what gave rise to the economic growth of Japan and made them stand a part in a world of more. It is this attention to detail of what has become important over this part year that I hope to bring from my time in Japan.
This blog was intended to be a chance to share our stories with family and friends. It was a substitute to dominating Facebook feeds and instagram post but it turned into much more of a personal journal and taught me the power of reflection. This entry is no different. I am grateful to each of you for reading this far, for being a part of this journey as we make the most of these last 13 days, the 13,000 feet up Mt Fuji and this one life we get to live.
It has been an amazing ride (photo and smile curtesy of the kids camp)
What we learned from less
We decided to travel with only one small carry on a piece per person this year. I was doubtful. We would be in Bhutan in the winter, Norway, climb Mt. Fuji and scorching hot Cambodia and fancy dinners in Croatia. Surely we would need more. We agonized over which pair of pants, which shoes, stuffed our bags to the max and took off.
One year later our bags are lighter and smaller than they were when we left and carrying less taught me a lot about life and what I want to take back from this year.
We “needed” much less than I thought. The need for a second pair of pants feels silly when you are carrying everything through a packed train. You can put together an astonishing array of clothing options with just a few pieces, which exponentially grows when you share with others. Having less really does give you the freedom to do more, see more, be more.
There are things that are made well are worth their weight in gold. Running pants with pockets, a wool shirt, stretchy light, fast drying travel pants, we each had a few things that we have loved and used until they literally are falling off of us. We learned to make things work, sow the hole, be ok with being wet or climb in sandals.
We learned the importance of art and things that bring you joy. We may be down to one pair of pants, but Isabelle has a volleyball in her bag, colored pencils and drawing paper. Lily has more makeup than I have at home and Traverse has never left the portable yoga mat and gained an exercise resistance band. We focused on the practical when we left, but underestimated the need for things that brought us joy. As a result we have more room for objects of joy in our bags and in our lives.
I learned to appreciate things that made me more connected or pushed me to learn. Audiobooks were my best friends and Aaptiv coaches were a daily part of my exercise routine. We also learned that spending a little up front on an in-country SIM card was well worth the expense letting us be connected all year.
We also learned from what we could not carry with us. I miss running into friends in the store, going to the same yoga studio, and the hum of a routine. And vegetables, oh vegetables. I don’t think of Alaska as a place of produce, but it is. The variety and size of a US grocery story is mind boggling. Japan has the biggest grocery stores we have seen in a while and I can’t help but purchasing another head of broccoli everytime I go. I think the only “things” I miss are jeans and a bulky sweater.
I am not sure this year would have had nearly the same impact if we packed up a collection of things and moved to another country. Today I look at my bag of things and think of all the excess, the opulence I carry with me and I am grateful for less. We can justify things for “work” or “comfort” and say we need them, but honestly we need so little.
When we return, I hope we can hold onto less, only bringing only the things back in that bring us joy, but I am looking forward to a salad with friends in a bulky sweater and jeans.
Lily’s pack before we left. She has probably outgrown half of this now.
My medical kit for the year.
Weighing stuffed animals before we left balancing the joy they bring with their size and weight.
Birds Fly
So they are off. There was this inherent contradiction in taking this year as a family. Kids are meant to spread their wings and fly, to push the bounds of the nest and start to venture out on their own. Yet this year, we took them away from all their friends and known places to explore and we just had each other most of the time.
We have grown closer as a family than I ever thought possible, yet part of that growth has also come from pushing and finding out more about what each of us really needs. The kids need friends, and space, so for the end of this trip we signed them up for an overnight, week-long camp in Japan.
Today we took them to the Tokyo station to meet their camp counselors and they boarded a bus and headed to the coast for biking, hiking, full on camp adventure, complete with camp food and bunk beds.
They were so ready to have us gone that we were the first family there and took off before most of the other parents had even arrived. Lily who started this year with a stuffed animal, and now she stood as tall as her counselor and shrugged off the hug I tried to give her with a clear look it was time for me to go.
So they are off. The birds are out of the nest for the week. More than any milestone, this one hit me hard, knowing this is the beginning of the end. When we get home it will be middle school, high school and they are both practically young adults now. I don’t think I will ever get this much time with them and have so treasured every moment. I also know they are ready to fly.
Headed out - someone is ready to go!
The Trail of the Samurai
Cobble stones and waterfalls make up an ancient path, the Nakasedo Trail, connecting Kyoto to Tokyo. It is a trail through the mountains, a path for the “feudal lords and samurai” and a fitting place to spend a few days seeing the beautiful Japanese countryside.
I thought about naming this blog entry, “the kindness of strangers” as our days have been filled with a rainbow of people taking us in making us a part of their community.
Bullet trains and local buses landed us in the town of Magome and the lovely home of Keiko. This lovely Airbnb host opened her home and heart to us. We enjoyed the most amazing Japanese dishes at her house, some even prepared with the girls help. We had the fortune of staying two nights at her place, leaving us time to explore the garden, the surrounding town, old paths and even the local public bath where we bathed nude outside in the rock garden except the traditional hats provided to keep the sun off of our faces.
The next morning found us up early and walked pass Keiko’s son’s exceptional coffee house. We used the local postal service to transport our bags to the next town. The girls hiked together while Traverse and I discussed life and politics as we crossed over the Magome pass along the ancient trail enjoying the history and beauty with a few hundred school kids who seems to be out on an all-day field trip in uniform.
The next evening in Tsumago was beautiful and quiet under the full moon. The sleepy town shuts it doors around four. The pictures of the town today look almost identical to the ones in the 1930’s you can see in the local museum. That night, on the porch of the ancient inn, looking out into the dark under the full moon, with the background noise of crickets and the creek, I gave a national webinar about the opioid crisis to some 600 people. It was this odd moment speaking by myself and yet so many in the quiet of the night. I reflected on these paths through history and the communities we build. The quote by Jonan Hari rang true, “the opposite of addiction is not sobriety. The opposite of addiction is connection.” It is the connection of home, of our family both immediate and far and the new connections from this year that brings the greatest meaning to the paths we walk.
Our lovely host who trully made us feel at home.
Teaching the girls origami
The stunning ancient trail.
Not a bad walk to our new home.
Birds, butterflies everywhere, rice fields full of tadpole. The Japanese country side was breathtakingly beautiful.
Exploring hidden trails
walking to the train station.
I loved these old roads.
it was amazing how you would just stumble on history as you walked along the trail.
enjoying the waterfall along the way
the forest was beautiful
The old town, essentially unchanged in the last 100 years.
these small beautiful stones were everywhere
and then in the woods you would see these guys, all with their red knit hats and scarfs
He has been sitting here for a long time
Our Airbnb home.
A local shop selling an impressive array of snacks that were wonderful
Onions drying in the house down the road.
Almost every home had a set fo flowers
My view under the full moon where I gave a presentation to 600 people. It was an odd sense of how interconnected the world is now
making our way up the trail
the following spring
A tour boat in our next stop, Lake Ashi.
Hiking near Hakone we were again treated to ancient history.
Totally off the beaten track, we took a different trail and saw these guys. The history, culture and nature here have been stunning.
In the looking class
In the garden of memories
In the place of dreams
That is where you and I
Shall meet.
- The mad hatter. Alice through the looking glass
Eleven months ago we stepped through the looking glass, leaving our old world behind and entering a new.
The world twisted and turned, the unexpected became the expected, unusual acquaintances became our guides and a very many unbirthdays were had.
Stepping into Japan has been like seeing the back of the looking glass, knowing we will step back through the magic door in less than a month: back to home, forever changed. The modern amenities, longer days, cooler weather and thongs of American tourist make the door back home feel trangible.
It seems like a fitting place to finish our travels. When I was a Watson fellow looking at the impacts of tourism on culture and environment in Antarctica, Botswana and Nepal, the difference between eastern and western tourism was striking. In most western cultures to appreciate or enjoy something means taking something from the place with you. It may be a souvenir, a picture, a stone, but you collect things that are important. In eastern cultures if a place is important, you leave something. You leave a prayer flag, a wish, money or a personal belonging.
Walking through the temples of Nara, surrounded by hundreds of years of offerings to this holy site, I realized I thought a lot about what we would get from this year, but maybe the other side of that question is what will we leave behind to honor this experience.
As we soak in every moment we are reminded of another quote from Alice:
“the only way to achieve the impossible is to believe it is possible.”
Trains, temples, sushi, 800 year old trees and Onsens. We are grateful for this beautiful, meditative space and a culture that focuses on what is achieved as a whole rather than the individual as we prepare to leave a part of ourselves and step back through the glass.
The girls art books continue to amaze me as they find their voice in art
The beautiful simplicity of our lodging
Robes included helping everyone get in the spirt
Outside of Kyoto you can visit the monkeys. We loved how the people were caged and the monkeys were free so you could share food from inside but they could leave when ever they wanted.
Lily and the monkey
The beautiful of this country as like taking a breath of fresh air
June is rain season in Japan, meaning a time for rainbows and lush green hills.
early morning walks through the bamboo grove
picture on line of this place look like it can be packed shoulder to shoulder, but the rainy season and early morning turned out to be a peaceful start to the day
Art everywhere
Of course sushi was one of our first stops. This place was good, but the night before our hotel owner have us directions to a small hole in the wall place and walked us there as he thought we might not recognize it as a restaurant (he was right). It was an amazing meal, small, on the floor and run by 2 guys who did everything from cook, to serve, to the dishes. Tuna sashimi, roasted whole garlic, fried been sprouts, and many other things I could not identify.
The endless fascination of the Japanese train system and their very formal conductors.
Exploring old town
I loved this carving, the facial expressions with so little detail on the round faces that seemed to capture the tourism all around.
temples.
Beautiful cared for
art reminding us of home.
these bikes are the best. The super mom’s of Japan (sorry i didn’t see an Japanese dads rocking these bikes) They are everywhere, often with an e-assist, with a kid in the front and kid on the back. No need for a pull along. They ride these bikes through throngs of tourist, chatting with other moms, calm and stylish. My mom heros.
Our animal whisperer enjoying the dear in Nara
And having them do tricks for her
so much love
I wan not sure what I loved more, the ancient temples or the ancient trees, but together they were stunning.
stones of history
making out way to bullet train to head towards Tokyo
Doing easy things- final days in Busan
A saying often repeated this year has been “you can do hard things.”
“Mom, I miss my friends” - “I bet you do, but you can do hard things, we will be home soon.”
“Boiled Octopus for dinner?” - “It is our only choice, you can do hard things”
But then Traverse read a book “Atomic Habits” about how small changes can make a big difference over time. He twisted the line around and started to push back saying, “you can do easy things” referring to the importance of the small habits that make real change.
This focus on the small habits shaped our final days in South Korea. After doing a “hard thing” and biking across South Korea we took eight days in Busan, the bustling beach hub of South Korea, to do “easy things.”
For each of us these “easy things” were different. The girls explored the city on their own, played volleyball, spent days at the art museum and connected with friends.
Traverse had a daily ritual of joining the throngs of other Koreans at the local gym to work out and bath, providing both a place to be in shape but also a source of endless cultural encounters.
I loved the time to write and read in a way that I probably won’t get again for years.
As Traverse described it to the girls, this is “sparkly magic unicorn time” to be together and do “easy things” with the hope that these habits we can carry some of this years magic fairy dust home.
We stayed in the beach district of Haeundae which was having a huge sand castle competition.
the king alive in South Korea
My view on conference calls
The girls practicing for this falls try outs
Everyone was doing their own daily “small things”
On a run one early morning all of these swimmers, maybe 200 in all were headed out for a morning swim.
Doing her best South Korean selfie face
wearing through volleyballs
you never knew what you would find in the woods
the small dog craze is Asia is a never ending source of joy for the girls, but this women’s pack of dogs took the cake for Busan.
On the road
There is this Japanese word, Ikigai, meaning the purpose for which one lives and is associated with longevity and happiness. It has been astonishing to all four of us backing away from everything this year how much having a “purpose” makes in ones overall sense of well being even if that purpose is biking from one place to the next.
Biking was a gift that we slowly treasured. Usually we were pushing the girls, pushing the miles, seeing what we could do in a day, but this trip was different. We had a large cushion of time on the end so when the choice was bike only 20 miles but enjoy another hot springs, why not, we were not in a hurry to the end, no one seemed in a hurry to get “the biking over with.” At one point after going over 50 miles, the longest Lily had ever biked she looked at me and said how much she loved this trail and biking and wanted to take a few pictures. My heart swelled not at just what she could do, but her enjoyment of it and love for the adventure.
Part of the joy of being on the road was the trail itself. At times there were two lanes of bike trail in one direction, two in the other direction and a fully separate walking path. The infrastructure behind these bike trails left us all in awe and talking about what it would take to do something similar at home. Nearly all 400+ miles were on dedicated bike trails and the sections that were on the road were well marked, protected and very few cars. The commitment to health, movement and wellness was a noticeable difference throughout the country. Instead of endless parking lots and suburban sprawl the whole country was made up of densely packed cities or towns with expansive green hills, trails, rivers and parks immediately accessible. The paths were impressive easy to bike, occasionally having bike only tunnels or an extended pathway that took you out on a boardwalk above the river. Occasionally a section would be under construction and you would read that you could go the way of “the busy road” or the “tiresome walk” but these were part of the adventure. Almost the entire path has some blooming tree or flower and we would spend hours surrounded by poppies or daisies . And then there was the added fun of passport stamps, bike art, and bike museums.
Part of the joy came from the people. Large groups of fast road bikers would race by on their multiple thousand dollar bikes, all to come to a screeching halt to get a passport stamp. Old men doing splits on the walking section of the town, so many thumbs up as bikers passed us in all directions. A group of over a 100 women, all in yellow, all biking in a line together. A surprising number of people who looked to be learning to bike ride with unbucked helmets on backwards.
We talked, called family and friends, had work meetings, listened to audio books, day dreamed as we pedaled from one town to the next. We biked every day but one when after 7 days, the sky opened up and rained for the first time and a bee sting Isabelle had got above her eye the day before resulted in such severe swelling she could barely see out of one eye, the other being completely shut, essentially eliminating her depth perception. We figured between the two events we would take a day off. Each day structured and led by the girls growing their own leadership skills, each day growing stronger mentally and physically.
We found purpose in movement and loved every bit of it.
Everywhere we went there were these large stones, this one at the top of a pass.
These paths are amazing. It was incredible the amount of infrastructure they put in to create this path.
And it was well used by bikes, walkers and go carts…
I have never seen so many people with helmets on backwards. I think it must be the boom in biking people rent them with the required helmets who don’t normally bike.
Just another sight at a passport stamping booth. This supported group was doing the same ride in 5 days, with a group message part way through.
Another stamp!
Making her way through the miles
Always following a river - the path continues.
dedicated bike trails everywhere
we have hundreds of pictures of back of the girls.
I didn’t realize we were being biking though such a peak flower time. It meant is was also peak bee season, but made the trip beautiful.
More beautiful rocks.
A temple overlooking the river.
As the road labeled “tiresome walk” proved to be just that, but beautiful.
The details of this buddhist temple were beautiful and reminded us of Bhutan.
Poppies everywhere
practicing her “paper boy” technique to make it up this 13% grade.
It was facinating to see how these cities were so dense with surrounding open space.
These wild roses were gorgeous.
on the road
happy camper
We really didn’t get many pictures of these birds, but fields of migratory birds the whole length of the trip with astonishing.
Quick stop in the shade
Making it up the hill
Morning rice fields
This bridge in what felt like in the middle of nowhere had these great bike sculptures
amazing bike infrastructure
I am not totally sure what is going on here, but we were having a great day, even those back road had mirrors as we biked to our hotel for the night.