Reintegrating into home, and reflecting on the road

Modern travel allows us only the briefest opportunity for transition – in mere hours we can travel cultural and linguistic distances that are so vast they seem more appropriate for a long camel ride than a few hours in a jet. But even air travel affords progressive (though brief) phases of adjustment. Arriving at most airports, you’re greeted with an already slightly international context – more multilingual signs, standard icons to communicate. As you near your gate, you may see people dressed like or speaking the language of your destination, which intensifies on the flight. The airline announcements might include the languages of where you’ve come from and where you’re going – a doorway or portal between two worlds. Some people even change clothes on a flight to be more appropriate or climate-comfortable on arrival. The destination airport will still have international language and icons, and typically bathrooms like I’m used to, and then you leave the airport and are . . . wherever you are. 

Big Gerrans Family Reunion!

Our most recent travels took us from central Norway (Averøy), to near Oslo (Hvalstad) for 2 nights (including a joyous reunion with playmate Robin), and then to Tennessee where we were lucky to join a Gerrans Family Reunion. This was Neil’s dad (Wes) and his siblings – and their offspring, about 60 people. Beautifully hosted by Tom and Cindy, it was a chance to meet or reconnect with many cousins. The kids really enjoyed playing together (including from quite varied play styles, I was really proud of how my two jumped into the fray). Then we got to spend 3 more beautiful days with a smaller group – Neil’s immediate family and some close cousins at their cabin in Eastern Tennessee. Campfires, smores, bread on a stick, games, hikes, outings. Unfortunately then

More immediate (Neil's) Gerrans Family

COVID decided to reappear! :-\ Kamilla was the first to feel some symptoms, we tested her the next day and yep. Fortunately her symptoms were very mild, and we don’t seem to have passed it on to anyone in that group. We drove onward to Atlanta, where we holed up and tried to quarantine while we saw my sister (Rakilly), mostly outside. Getting acquainted with Killy’s dog Piper was a joy!! We went on lots of walks, and hung out or ate by the pool. We tried, unsuccessfully, to not share germs with Killy. We flew home to Seattle after Kamilla’s most-infectious period was past. Unfortunately once home Neil then tested positive, too, tho fortunately his symptoms were also very mild. 

Good-bye to my sister Killy!

Getting home mid-morning on July 3, we were all in our feelings! I started crying as we walked up to our house. Spencer started kissing the doors and walls as we entered. Even tho it was mostly empty, and very overgrown outside, its home, with all the beautiful familiarity. We concurrently moved back in (initial focus on soap/towels in each bathroom and places we could each sleep that night!), tried to quarantine from each other and the outside world, tried to restock enough to eat, etc.

“Home – the story of who we are and the collection of things we love.” (Plaque in my sister Rakilly’s home) 

It's delicious to be home. As we reintegrate into our lives here, I’m trying to move slowly, with ease and grace. Personally, I’m ready for familiarity and routine. And I’m enjoying reconnecting with friends and neighbors who we’ve known for years. We've had such fun having cousin-time with my niece and sister.  The kids were delighted with their first-ever in-person music lessons yesterday, such a treat.

Aunty time!

Also, as always coming back to the US is a reminder that travel gives you a different perspective. It changes us – that’s often why we / I do it. My biggest take-away on the Norway > US transition, is how thin the safety net is in our country, and that we’re all a little more raggedy for it. Seems that many in Seattle continue to struggle with homelessness as property prices remain high, and I see people being challenged as they leave stores having not paid for what they need – this multiple times in the 3 weeks I’ve been home. The hearings about the January 6 Attack on the US Capitol are sobering, as we try to hone, strengthen, redefine our democracy and make it benefit more people. And yet with all its flaws, this is my home, and my culture, and my people. And as I help my family settle in, and determine my next chapter of work contribution, I know that I’m lucky to be here relative to many places, and I’m lucky to have the privileges I have here. Now how to make my little corner better? 

Ready for Dad's Birthday!

My Google maps now has ❤️hearts spread in so many places where we traveled – favorite cafes, produce shops, bakeries, people, tours, parks, hikes, playgrounds, homes we lived in. It feels fitting to see those hearts as I scan the map. I truly have left my heart in many places around the world. I’m grateful to sooo many people, from those I’ve come to know well and will stay in touch with, to those with whom I simply had a kind or poignant brief interaction . . . 

• The man who checked us in for our flight in Arusha, and when I told him of our year of travel, said, “Oh, I wish you could adopt me. I love, love, love to travel and I really haven’t been able to outside of Tanzania” – and I could really feel his desire. 
• The woman in the Juba airport women’s restroom who offered I go first into the available stall, with a kind smile and gesture, saying “Sister, are you much pressed?” 
• The sweet owner of the shop where I bought produce and eggs near our home in Tbilisi who openly grieved her favorite pet bird who’d been killed by a street cat that she’d adopted – made worse since she’d shown the culprit mercy when he was in need. 

• 

  Back in the Pacific Northwest
  

  The AirBnb host who sadly lost his dad to covid, and yet still was gracious when we shared that we’d recovered from covid while staying at his place; and then spontaneously drove us to the airport rather than us calling a taxi. - Our gracious guesthouse host in Georgia who is now a friend, and her sweet neighbor who made us the best-ever lobiani (bread with beans inside) in Georgia as a “for the road” present. We left with such delicious and beautiful foods made with love. 
• Our Tanzanian taxi driver (several times) who shared his heart about the challenging politics and how disillusioning it is when you feel your vote doesn’t matter. 

Thank you for being interested in our journey, and much love to each of you in our worldwide community. 

“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.” – Maya Angelou

How are the children? Reflections on where it's good to be a child, motherhood, travel, and my little brood

(Preamble: I’m posting this from home in Seattle, but drafted it nearly one month ago while in Norway, reflecting on returning to the US . . . I’ll post more soon about settling in here at home.)

If I were on Bwejuu beach in Zanzibar, and my acquaintance “Mr. Mango” (name likely chosen for tourists’ convenience and recollection) walked by, I’d ask him whether Masai people truly greet each other with the query: “How are the children?”  It’s a good greeting, I agree that children’s well-being is a good measure of community well-being.  How are the children?

In Norway, kids seem to be pretty peachy; Norway seems a great place to be a kid.  On a recent hike, a young co-hiker who recently moved here from the Congo told me exuberantly about how to be in Norway.  He assured me that “you can hike anywhere in the forest, it’s no problem, people don’t mind.  And you can get permission to take karate classes.  And my teacher connected me to the football (soccer) club, and they’ll even take me if I can’t go myself.  And you can get a computer so that you can play Minecraft on it.  And I’m going to a special school to learn Norwegian language and culture so that next school year I can join my classmates at my age level.”  For this young chap, he seemed to feel that he'd arrived at summer camp, even as his family also misses the community, culture and warmth of their prior home.  Norway's May 17^th Constitution Day is also called “Children’s Day,” and one objective is to eat as many ice creams as you can – I heard one kid brag they ate 5 that day.  Much to their delight, my kids each ate 3, in between other cakes and sweets. Norway is rated as #3 for the “world’s best countries for raising kids” as of 2021 (tho this from CEOWORLD, whose title alone makes me ponder their incentives and scientific credibility, https://ceoworld.biz/2021/02/01/the-worlds-best-countries-for-raising-kids-2021/).  This brilliant score covers disparities; whereas 5% of families with native Norwegian parents experience poverty, that number jumps to 36% among immigrant families. (https://borgenproject.org/tag/poverty-in-norway/)   So inequity challenges remain even here.  But if I was an analytic, nerdy embryo picking where to emerge, Norway would be right up there on my list.

On the same list, the US ranked #15 among the world’s best countries for raising kids.    As I consider “How are the children?” in the US, I recall headlines about school shootings, mental health, suicide rates, immigrant families separated, even the suspension rates at my kids’ elementary school – oddly high for Kindergartener and 1^st-graders.  In the US, the % of households living in poverty was 12%, with 10.7% of households experiencing food insecurity.  The children are not, it seems, okay.  Is it unfair to compare a Scandinavian country with the US – more homogenous, richer, less complex, vs. a very diverse country made up of numerous immigrants, with a severe trauma history and varied, ambiguous cultural identities? Perhaps, but it’s not unfair to expect that as one of the richest countries in the world, the US must prioritize things that children and families need to be healthy such as cost-effective, good quality childcare, reasonable parental leave, good schools, women’s rights – over corporate interests, gun rights, political power.

Sculpture in Vigeland Park, Oslo 

As I prepare to come home to the USA, I’m bracing for the familiar but also harsh and crude blend of politics, racism, addiction, mental health, crime.  Abundant, but violent.  Rich but selfish. Individualistic, but lonely.  Free rights, but others can invade yours.  A society where power is crudely wielded to the detriment of the less powerful.  A country whose lack of care for it's people shows in the thin-to-non-existent social safety net.  Still, so many people we’ve talked to on our trip want to come to the US, I assume drawn by the affluence, culture, business success, educational opportunities – the showier side of how US society has been built and what it’s come to represent.

Given that we’ve gotten to experience the fairy tale of traveling for a year, I know that even in the US, my children hold a great deal of privilege – even as Neil and I will both be job-hunting and perhaps using up bits of the kids’ college money.  But I’m reflective and unsettled as a mother, by going home to a place where, I feel, things are worse for kids overall.

4-day old baby horse with mama

As we've traveled, I’ve had occasion to reflect on numerous types of motherhood.  I kinda always reflect on motherhood and how it’s demands vary by country, species, era, circumstance.  On the animal front (especially because we’ve sorta chased spring in our itinerary by moving further and further north – starting with March in central Spain and ending with June in central Norway), we’ve

observed many sweet moments between lambs and ewes – the mamas patiently tolerating aggressive headbutting, and being rewarded (perhaps?) by the lambs exuberantly waving their tails once they successfully nurse.  In Spain  we saw a 4-day old foal/horse who, all leggy and awkward, and we bottle-fed young calves. In Costa Rica, we were lucky to spot a baby sloth with mama, and lots of baby monkeys. Our safaris in Tanzania revealed hundreds of baby wildebeests, zebras, giraffes.  I’ve also seen lots of art about motherhood. . . paintings, sculptures, statues, my favorites included here.

The Basket Maker by Maria Blanchard

Women and Children by Auguste Herbin

Memorial to Kristiansund Jews who died in Auschwitz 

Mary, her daughter, granddaughter and friend

I was lucky to make (or renew) several friendships with women with whom I feel a commonality as mothers. . . A friend in Norway who is a fantastic mom, inspiring her kids daily with art and beauty and joy.  A new friend in Spain who’d arrived from Ukraine 3 weeks before, along with her two daughters – their husband, daughter’s boyfriend and other male relatives left behind to fight.  Now trying to learn Spanish, getting a job, stay stable.  A friend who married into mothering 4 kids after both she and her new husband lost prior spouses to cancer.  A friend who desperately wants to be a mother and will pursue it via surrogacy – even as she nannies for lots of other babies born to surrogate mothers, as the baby transitions to their new family, across

Betty who cares for malnourished kids in Juba

international lines.  A friend I reconnected with in South Sudan at the Juba Al-Sabbah children’s hospital where she triages and cares for malnourished babies and toddlers.  Her recent message talked about increased hunger in Sudan due Russia’s war on Ukraine, saying the “ward (is) overwhelmed with children with anemia and so on. Painful death rate.”  In South Sudan, food insecurity has tragically reached the most extreme levels since independence in 2011. (https://www.wfp.org/emergencies/south-sudan-emergency).  Another friend in South Sudan who my family briefly cared for when I was 12 and she was 8 months old, whose life is not easy but was recently made more joyful as she welcomed her first grandbaby.

Kamilla and I playing and pushing

I realize how much the transient nature of our year has taxed me as a mom.  Travel like this imposes certain barriers – most obviously language, culture – and provides fewer natural connection points like school and work.  Our family has had to rely on each other (with adult things appropriately falling to Neil and I).  As parents we’ve been teachers and therapists, have had control over every toy put in their backpacks, every precious piece of clothing tucked into small suitcases.  Spencer and Kamilla have relied heavily on each other as playmates, emotional regulators, punching bags, roommates, frisbee partners, sweatshirt-sharers, etc.  Add a prior 1.5 years of similar self-reliance with COVID, and “it’s been a lot” of family intensity.  I try very hard in our fights to manage my own emotions and

Tongue-rolling with Spencer

help kids learn to manage theirs, so we can all emerge from a given fight having learned but not having been traumatized.  Recently it feels like these family fights are worse, and I’m ready to come home and find some more supports.  I feel as a mother, a heavy responsibility to deliver my children to their futures well intact. . . emotionally, physically.  And I feel a weight to return them home stronger, healthier, wiser, deeper, more well-rounded after a year of travel – even if a bit raggedy with worn out shoes and stained sweatshirts, needing haircuts and dental appointments.

While traveling, keeping our kids healthy has meant nursing them through the occasional “traveler tummy” episode, making decisions whether to take malaria prevention pills, tending to bug bites or slivers, dealing with motion sickness, navigating emotions / bureaucracy / logistics around pediatric Covid vaccines, keeping their special items safe (and limiting how much they can bring), ensuring they have healthy food that’s “good enough” even as it pushes them outside a preferred comfort zone, keeping them safe at playgrounds with varying levels of maintenance, allowing them on carnival rides.  Two days ago, Kamilla took a tumble head first down our ladder/stairs (9 stairs, about 7 feet high, called "samba stairs").  I was right at the bottom and instinctively reached to catch her, resulting in our foreheads connecting with a mild whiplash for both of us.  I think I made things better, tho I’m not sure. 

Keeping the climber safe

So now as we return to the US, I’m asking myself . . . How are the children in this family?  Sometimes it varies by the minute.  The other day we hiked the rocky knolls by the shore on a very windy day.  Spencer and Kamilla were thrilled to play in the wind, surfing it with their jackets held as wings, trying to sit on the wind, letting it tip them over, elated and giggling.  Kamilla fell and was examining her hand. I asked “Are you okay?” and was treated to her jubilant response.  “A little bit hurt, but other than that, I’m amazing!”  I know she’s right, that she is amazing.  And I hope she can hold that truth even in the moments that sting.   While packing up from our one-month stay, Spencer commented that one thing he’s come to hate the worst is leaving, after people, places, and things have become familiar – “a year of good-byes” he’s said – and that he’s very much looking forward to being and staying home.  We’ve all been changed by our experiences, and now it’s time to come home.  And so we shall – via Tennessee to take in a family reunion on the Gerrans side, then Georgia (the state 😊) to see my sister.  See you in a few short weeks, friends and home in Seattle!

Gratitude on the journey (Tbilisi > Zanzibar > Juba > Arusha > Salamanca)

I’ve learned this year that I’m not as consistent of a blogger as I’d like to be.  ☹  I’m also giving myself grace for only blogging when I have something specific I want to say, and when I get to writing about that for posting.  Neil is posting photos/comments very consistently every 3-5 days to his and my FaceBook pages.   Feel free to friend me if you’d like to see those, as that’s more regular and lighter which may be appealing! (Also, I know the pics here are posting oddly but am choosing to let it go and spend my time elsewhere rather than getting perfection-ey. Thanks for tolerating it with me.)

So wow, so much has happened since my last post in November. I’m going to give just a brief run-down here.  During the month of December, we chose to travel around Georgia rather than stay put in Tbilisi.  As one person had said, “Tbilisi really isn’t Georgia, you must go outside.”  Highlights were a homestay near Uplistsikhe where we stayed in the home of (and made a fabulous friend in) Mzia, another homestay in Guria/Ozurgeti (where the kids played in the river and we visited a magnetic sand beach on the Black Sea), skiing in Gudauri (while waiting 2 days for the Jvari Pass to open given huge snowfall), spending the last wee bit of Christmas (finally!) at our cozy cabin in Kazbegi just before learning I had COVID.  I had one nervous night watching my O₂ sats drop to 91% in the one close-able room of in our tiny snow-surrounded cabin in rural Kazbegi on the “other” side of Jvari pass. We awoke to frozen pipes / no water, so we ditched it and headed for Tbilisi that afternoon, fortunately across an open-though-congested Jvari pass.  Me, then Neil and Spencer all got COVID, Kamilla didn’t (and felt quite left out).  Luckily it was manageable at home with a solid/huge/comfortable last-minute AirBnb rental (grateful to Oleg!) the loving medical support of my doctor sister Jeralyn, and loving energy/emotional support from my sister Lavelle – plus a kind Georgian (Dr. Maryanne) from their “central online clinic” who followed us by phone almost daily. 

We flew from Tbilisi > Istanbul > Zanzibar (Tanzania) on January 19.  Zanzibar is part of Tanzania, an island off the coast with a rich history influenced by Omanis, Indians, Africans, British, etc.  We spent the next month on the beautiful beach in southeastern Zanzibar on Bwejuu beach, enjoying the fine white sand, exploring ocean / sea creatures, swimming, eating delicious mangoes and pineapple, and meeting people / making friends.  Our stay was hugely improved by meeting immediate neighbors Hiyam and Tawhiya, who listened to our kids stories and ideas, and shared their own stories and selves with us – and also answered our myriad questions of how to navigate in Zanzibar (Where to put the trash? How to re-up the electricity when it goes out? How to get water when the water pump doesn’t work because the electricity is out?  What gadgets work best to minimize mosquito bites? How to call a local taxi? Where to shop for what foods?)

The last week of our month in Zanzibar, I took a solo trip to Juba, South Sudan for a very intense 4 day visit (Feb 11-15) that could easily fill several blogs. I’ll be brief here. Juba is an intensely meaningful place for me as I spent five formative years of my childhood there. Juba is a tough place to start with (security, logistics, heat/dust, etc.).  I was very well cared-for by South Sudanese friends from my childhood – especially Pastor Milla and Pastor Clement and their families. (In this picture are friends Grace, Patra, me, Pastor Clement, and his wife Doreen.)  I had powerful experiences there as a child that I reflected on as I saw my childhood home place, and reconnected with friends and others who have gone through so much during and since the war. This picture is me as a kiddo holding Mary, a baby who we cared for and had hoped to adopt.  I was able to reconnect with her on this visit which was very special, here we are along with her daughter and new grand-baby, cousin/sister Flora, and friend.  My visit to Juba gave me space to reflect on how culturally different South Sudan was and is, and how hard of a place it continues to be as it emerges from long-term conflict, etc.  I’m sorting thru parts of my family’s legacy there that I’m proud of, and parts I’m not, and helping me understand / accept that my childhood was truly very different, including traumas.  I’m reflecting on what pieces to take forward in my self, in my career, etc. 

On my return, my family flew to Arusha, (mainland) Tanzania for 2 weeks.  Highlights there included seeing long-time family friend Awadia and her family, as well as childhood playmate Baraka.  We went on a 3-day safari which was fantastic, we were all fascinated by lots of beautiful animals and landscapes. March 3 we flew Arusha > Madrid (via Addis Ababa and Rome), and are now 2 weeks into enjoying Spain.  

 

 

 

 

Okay, that was way too fast.  There are so many ways to reflect on the last few months.  I’ll choose gratitude.  I’m grateful for . . .

-          Immediate safety and security for me and my family, and stable / peaceful countries and cities that we’ve visited during our year thus far.  As we know, stable, well-governed countries take intense work and dedication by many actors for years, decades, centuries.  Everywhere we’ve been, people have been helpful, cities have felt safe, and even police encounters have generally been kind/courteous.  Something in less-and-less take for granted given the state of humankind just now, and also in reflections on history like the Spanish Civil War, the Slave Trade through Zanzibar, and the complicated geopolitics in Georgia , both historically and currently (which is so very near Ukraine both physically and experientially).

-          Overall physical health and resilience of our little four-some.  Except for occasional “traveller tummy” or the occasional respiratory/stomach virus, we’ve been super lucky.  Yes, 3 of us got COVID in Georgia, but we recovered without incident nor hospitalization, I am so grateful. 

-          Delicious and plentiful food – There has been very yummy food everywhere we’ve visited.  Since we often DIY and cook at our place, we’re not always fully availing ourselves of local dishes or fine dining.  And sometimes finding meals the kids like is a bit of a challenge.  Still, delicious food highlights have included:

o   Georgia: delicious peaches, raspberries, tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese, eggs, shoti (bread) katchapuri (bread baked with cheeses/eggs/other things in or on), walnut dishes

o   Tanzania: mangoes, papaya, bananas, pineapple, complex and yummy curries

o   Spain: fruit, baguettes, cheeses, pastries, breads so far. . .

-          AirBnb hosts, taxi drivers, guides that communicate well and are generally helpful (We’ve learned it doesn’t always happen, which makes me more grateful when it does.)  For so many, this has meant years of practicing various languages in addition to the skills of the core task, such as how to maintain an AirBnb home with reliable utilities/wifi, or the type/behavior of animals on safari (and how to find them!), how to drive through slippery mud without getting stuck, how to deal with American kids who can sometimes seem picky as they try new experiences (ahem 😊) – and still be kind, reasonable, friendly human beings in the midst of it all. 

-          My people – Can I mention that Neil is an excellent travel companion?  He’s dependable and responsible, thinks through travel situations well.  He’s also incredibly handy, whether with figuring out gas tanks, hot water heaters/heating systems, locks, electricity challenges, plumbing issues, rental cars, bike brakes/tires/seats, traffic laws.  I think some of our AirBnb hosts wish he was a little less handy as he’s often spotting/raising issues they’d perhaps rather ignore 😊.  Further, he’s consistently fascinated by the street art, museums, weather, creatures, language, culture of wherever we travel.  And he can usually find a kid-friendly way to engage Kamilla and Spencer in that discovery process.  Spencer and Kamilla, I have to hand it to them, especially as they didn’t really get a vote on whether we’d travel this year (tho we talked about it a lot as a family).   While we try to incorporate some of their preferences (usually of the dessert and tech-time variety), there are many times they come along on a bus trip, a museum visit, hike, bike-ride, grocery-shopping trip, or even eating out, when they’d rather curl up with their Kindles.  Recently, they have been troopers at learning to bicycle safely on cobble-stone pedestrian streets in Salamanca. 

-          Yoga in lots of places!  Still trying to increase exercise in my year, but I’m proud that I’ve done yoga classes in mixed English / Russian language, in Spanish, in English, plus occasional on-line classes with prior contacts / classes.  And in all this, I’ve seen / experienced / practiced a few new things, and just gotten to practice alongside some normal, wonderful people. 

-          Reliable and fresh water, even if it’s not coming out of the tap.  Bucket showers can still feel really good when it’s hot / sticky. 

-          Trash cans (This is mixed.  When they aren’t there, or it’s not clear what to DO with our trash (Tanzania), it’s been good to think harder about everything I throw out – is it burnable? compostable? what if none of those?) And now I’m more grateful, and more aware that my trash has impacts down the line.)

I could really go on-and-on as there’s so much to be grateful for.  But I won’t.  Listened to a podcast after writing this all, about establishing a gratitude practice – the one thing at the end of the day you’re grateful for, every day.  Along with starting your day with answering: What can I do today to make me feel . . . connected? healthy? purposeful?  I’m working toward establishing a morning routine, and will experiment with this structure.  As always, signing off with love to all of your, our friends / family / community, and thanks for your interest in our adventures.