You know when you see a picture of yourself from a long time ago, or hear your voice recorded and cringe a little? That’s how I was feeling this morning looking at my blog. I started writing on that thing when the kids were too young for me to consider that they might one day turn into people and protest my sharing their escapades. I was too young to have lost a mom or know what it feels like when your body starts to age.

Time to turn over a new leaf. The old blog is still there (www.harvardtohomemaker.blogspot.com) in case you ever need to read about baboons or angsty stay at home moms but here liveth the new. No blogspot. Just harvardtohomemaker.com. Which you know, because you are here.

The impetus that has me blogging again is our upcoming trip to Ethiopia and Europe. I love writing about our travel - it lets me feel connected to everyone back home and record our (mis)adventures . We are still a few weeks from departure but my pile is already large. I have a place where I throw everything I don’t want to forget to pack - rain jackets, neck pillows, bug spray, etc. My fastidious husband is not a fan of this method of organization. He sneers at the pile as he walks past. The pile sneers back. The pile knows that when Jeremy is racing around trying to pack at the last minute it will be there, secure in it’s knowledge that it holds everything I need - no last minute laundry or panic-shopping necessary.

The itinerary:

Spokane to Addis via Seattle and Dubai. Spend one night in Dubai. We contemplated spending a few days here, seeing the Burj Khalifa, the manmade islands and the indoor ski hills. Then we remembered last time we flew into Dubai. How the opulent green city in the desert was encapsulated by the canvas tents of the people who work there. How the government is not so human rights minded. We decided to spend the necessary one night to make our layover and keep on going.
Ethiopia. We will spend a few days in Addis getting adjusted to the time and seeing our family and then we will try to use what we learned from our last trip (that the crazy chaotic city is too much for us and hard to enjoy for more than a few days) and head south to Arba Minch. This is the area of Ethiopia where Zeni’s maternal family is descended from. They are farmers and weavers and we will get to see how they live, shop in their markets and hike through their beautiful countryside. Then back to Addis for a few days of volunteer work and onto the next part of our trip
Addis to Paris via Cairo. Want to hear an incredibly annoying, over privileged statement? I don’t really want to go to Paris. Paris in August!? So. Many. Tourists. Heat. Crowds. Jacked up prices. How about instead we go to Istanbul? Cairo? Namibia? Mozambique? I was outvoted. The siren song of the Eiffel Tour and the Catacombs whispered to my kids. Jeremy’s eyes glazed over with joy as he pictured hours in museums. (Not pictured - his wife impatiently waiting for him with 2 kids who long ago lost interest in impressionists.) So to Paris we go.
Paris to Barcelona. On the train! Whoot!
Barcelona to Cadaques. After my mom died, we talked as a family about making sure we (Daniel, me, Dad and our peeps) saw each other regularly, all together. My mom was the one who would bop around, spending a few days with me, a few days with Daniel, and keep everyone connected. Without her we need to be more deliberate in planning time together. “Let’s go on a trip!” Said my dad. “Wherever you want to go. I’m paying.” Um…. yes please? Daniel found an amazing house in Catalonia, Spain on the Costa Brava, with windows that overlook the sea, an adorable town to walk to, and a pool. I would also like to note that the house is on a cliff that plunges to the ocean and that my brother chose it when his son was a newborn. It looks like the timing will work out so that the not-so-baby will just be starting to walk as we arrive. So that will be fun.
Barcelona to Spokane via Istanbul and San Frnacisco.
One more 13 hour flight at the end of a delightful, exhausting, exhilarating, trip, what could go wrong?