When Pablo and I decided it was possible to take the year to travel abroad, we knew the most reasonable solution to ensure our daughters continued their education was homeschooling. Seemed simple enough. We’re both educators I spoke with the girls’ elementary school in our hometown of Oak Park, Il. I reviewed the national standards. I downloaded curriculum. I mapped out units and lessons. Then, we got started a month before we departed our home.
At first, things we smoothly. The girls seemed ready and willing to try out this advertised “Mom and Dad school.” Then, we took a two week break to pack up our lives and set off for the East Coast to visit family for a month. When we returned to lessons, the girls resisted. It was tough. Ingrid screamed; she refused to do any work without the consequence of removing her IPAD access for the day, the week. Hattie would blurt out that she “hated math” and start crying. And, while Pablo and I knew the source of these tantrums–strange learning in strange, unknown places–each time we encountered them we struggled to maintain our cool. This was weird and new for us, too!
I can’t say things have gotten easier from July to September, but they’ve gotten more predictable. If we ask Ingrid to complete a challenging task, she’ll revolt. If we ask Hattie to complete a task outside the scope of our average morning –math, reading, and writing, she’ll melt into a sobbing fit. Things won’t be perfect, but learning is happening and we know that once the girls return to a brick and mortar classroom, they’ll be more willingly to see us as both their teachers and parents.
I had found that the gate to the forbidden zone was not latched, and attempted to close it my self. My Index finger brushed a leaf. Less than a millisecond later shooting pain shot through my finger, like a paper cut on the inside, that was covered in lemon juice and salt. My finger turned red and many white dots appeared. Soon Ingrid ran up and questioned me as I shook my hand vigorously. I ran into the main part of the yard and into the house. I thought it would die down, but after a few minutes the pain still blazed through my finger, so I told my dad. My dad told me to talk to mom. We tried to put cold water on it but it was far too painful, still. Anti itch cream was plopped on to the nettle sting. It soothed the pain slightly. Enough to hold on to things, like rope, or a dog. -Hattie
When my family finished hiking, we skipped stones in the lake. Then, we hiked up steep hills. My big sister was a little afraid, but I wasn’t scared because I knew that Mom and Dad would help and protect me. When we stood on the glacier, my dad bent down and chipped off a piece for us to hold in our hands and taste. ~ Ingrid
During our time in Iceland, I experienced many natural wonders. One of them includes the Aurora Borealis. Our hotel was in the middle of nowhere, but it was a nice. It had 2 twin beds and a queen bed. On one of the beds there was an animal fur decoration. My my sister and I draped it around our shoulders and wore it like a cloak. As we played as our dad stood outside and watched the sky. He called us out when the sky grew faint green stripes. They sometimes became clear and rippling and moving across the sky. Eventually we went back inside ready for a long drive tomorrow. Though some 15 minutes later, gasps and screams of excitement and shock came from outside. My dad got out of bed, my sister and I searched for our shoes, and our mom followed us out. We all stood underneath the night sky, faint green strips dancing above our heads. After a few minutes with nothing exciting happening, my sister decided to head back in. My mom told me to go get a coat. When I returned, the sky started to sparkle and dance with green and purple light. It rippled through the night. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. As the shimmering light died away, we returned to our warm beds, ready for tomorrows adventures. -Hattie
A few days ago we took our first “big” hike as a family. 3.2 km uphill (and 3.2 km downhill on the way back), winding through the Icelandic mountains to reach a geothermal river nestled in the valley. When we parked our rental Dasia Duster in the parking lot at the head trail, my eyes couldn’t help but spot the steep inclines ahead. Our Ingrid will complain, I thought. Our Ingrid will beg to be carried. Our Ingrid will through herself down on Iceland’s terra firma and refuse to move. Still, we pushed on. Before reaching the first summit of three, I spotted another family with two younger children (ages five and three perhaps). There were tears, yet the children walked on. I spotted an older couple, squatting near a rock on the trailside, resting for a few minute before they pushed on. A 20 year old something trail runner shot past me full force on his climb. On the way down, I turned a corner to find a panting bicyclist staring up, up, up towards the summit, take a deep breath, and then remount. He, like us all, that morning, determined to meet our goal — a dip in the geothermal river.
Ingrid pausing to take a photo of Hattie at the start of the hike.
And, as for us: we panted. We took a few breaks. We taught the children how to take long low strides up the hill, knees bent. They practiced. And laughed. I reminded everyone to breath in through their nose and out through their month. A tip I was taught in seventh grade by my cross country coach, Mr. Seifert. The girls and I voted on the best, “As you Wish” hill, ever changing the classification of “best” as we went. It took us an hour to reach the river. Along the way, we learned how to move as a family again in a strange new landscape at the start of what promises to be a strange new year.
Up we go!
Nature hiking, for me, creates a stillness while moving effect. My mind calms while my body takes up the simple task of placing one foot in front of the other. When stressed, I find a few solid hours walking in nature, really helps me reorient my wellbeing. Science agrees.
Pablo and the girls hike through the geothermal mist created by hot bubbling pools (over 100 degrees C) trailside.The girls build cairns in the geo-thermal riverOur reward for the hike!
I leaned how to use a camera. I liked it because when I wanted to take a photo I didn’t have to ask Dad for his phone. When I thought there was a memory worth keeping on our trip yesterday, I took a photo. I took photos of Icelandic horses, an erupting geysir, the pizza waterfall, wild flowers, and my family. I learned to take a video and I learned that taking videos takes up more room in the battery.
When we got to the car and rode back home, I looked at the photos I took over and over again.
I took photos of wildflowers in Iceland.I’m taking a photo of Hattie. See her glove and yellow coat in the corner of this photo my Mom took.
After a month of visiting with family on the East Coast –two weeks with my parents in my hometown of Womelsdorf, one week with little sister in a Philadelphia suburb, and one week in Port Washington, NY (one of the innermost suburbs on Long Island), we were FINALLY ready to take off for our trip from Iceland to Australia via the United Kingdom, Paris, Malta, Sicily, Italy, and Thailand (and perhaps a few other smatterings of places in between). FINALLY, we joked, we’d get to pee with the bathroom door open again!
Flights from NYC east to Europe and beyond are typically night flights. Our flight departed at 8:30 pm. With only a mere five hours to sleep, I dosed the girls with melatonin and encouraged slumber. We all save Ingrid (whose dose of dramamine knocked her out) barely sleep. We arrived in Iceland around 2 am EST. If I wasn’t so tired and equally excited to experience the warming waters of the Blue Lagoon’s geo-thermal pools, my mom radar would have gone off. I would have been able to more foresee the meltdowns that were to happen two hours from now. And, in this knowledge, I could have prepared. I was to jet lagged to see it coming.
Then, after over an hour of cruising around the 101 degree F pools, wading through the mist rising up to meet the 40 degree air temperature. After blueberry smoothie from the swim up bar and silica masks from the swim up mask bar. After finding the hottest spots, located in the center of the collection of pools and the coolest spots, located in the shallow sides of the pools, we all decided it was time to shower, change into dry clothes and make our way to the AirBnB in Reykjavik.
“Wasn’t that fun?” I small talked Ingrid while we showered together. She’s not a fan of showers. I find small talk distracts her from the task at hand, which, in this case, was to slather conditioner over her head–also not one of her favorite things –to remove the minerals of the geo-thermal waters.
‘Mom, stop smiling and talking to me. You’re being creepy,” Ingrid shot back before grabbing her towel and declaring she’s not showering. Hattie reacted to Ingrid’s reaction and the whole thing escalated into me taking my own shower in the stall next door, while the girls waited for me, Ingrid, wearing only her towel, shrieking and Hattie shouting for her to stop.
Other tourists stared. Some whispered unkind words to each other about me while they stared. My harsh whispering to the girls to calm down already, we’re all tired and this will be over soon didn’t work. “Mom,” Ingrid pleaded in a brief lucid moment, “I just feel really weird,” I knew this weirdness as jet-lag. She didn’t. “Your body is really tired, Ingrid,” I said. “It’ll be ok.” “Leave me alone. I am NOT tired,” she screamed and took off down the hall to the room locker room door.
Yes, we still had to get to our shared locker, dress and leave the spa. I cursed Pablo. In any marriage, the duties are divided. In ours, bathroom and locker room trips default to me.
In the end, we made it! We had a weird Goldilocks sock exchange. Hattie’s socks were somehow wet. Ingrid’s socks were too small and my two pairs of socks (plane socks from yesterday and the fresh ones) were just right. We excited the locker room with Ingrid’s hair in dreaded locks from the drying minerals and me donned in a child’s pair of no-show socks sliding down the back of my ankle each step I took into Iceland’s strange new landscape.
Next time, I thought, I’ll…. but before I could finish the thought, we were in the rental car driving towards the city and I was fast asleep.
The Blue Lagoon geothermal waters (before the locker room meltdowns).
Hi. I’m Hattie. I’m an eleven year old girl from a suburb of Chicago. I’m writing to you from Pennsylvania. Why? In order to understand we need to go back in time. Well not really. I’ll explain, you listen. March 9, 2019, Oak Park, Illinois. My dad has a sabbatical year, a year where he’s paid to not go to work. Weird right? Any-hoo, he applied for two jobs. One in Rome, Italy. One in Melbourne, Australia. He got the Australian one. YAY!! So we are going around the world. Here’s the route. Home (Chicago) then Pennsylvania to New York. Then we fly to Iceland, then England to Wales, back to England then Paris, Malta, Italy, Thailand and finally Australia. My Mom wanted me to start this blog as a way for me to keep in touch. That concludes my first blog post. BYE!!!!!!!
Over the last month, we packed up our house in Oak Park, Il, storing most of our belongings in our attic and garage, rehomed our pets (two dogs, three cats and five chickens!), hit the road with five suitcases and four backpacks and said so long to Illinois for the year.
Leaving was hard. We’ll miss our friends! We’ll miss our pets! I’ll miss my garden, which was nearly ready to harvest when we left, but, in that want for the things that comfort us, we hope to push the boundaries of our knowns and discover more about the world, ourselves, and our little family of four: Mom/Jen, Dad/Pablo, Hattie (age 11), and Ingrid (age 7).
Our first stop over the next month, before we hop on a plane to Iceland, is my parents’ home in Womelsdorf, PA. I have mixed feelings about spending two weeks in my parents’ house, mostly because I don’t want to disturb the empty nesters. We’re so grateful that all our family members on the East Coast agreed to take us on for a little while this August.
Better misadventures than missed adventures ~ Leonie Lloyd
School is held six days a week for two hours per day. Here’s a reminder to the girls to label their journals with a day and a location.
28520 Miles 