A stranger buzz-crafting at the beach bar commented to me today, “There’s much better beer at the lobby bar—if you’re tired of this insipid piss!” “So I’ve heard,” I nodded, “That’s on my bucket list for today!” He laughed and slammed his beery hand. “That’s great; I though bucket lists were a lifetime thing!” “Nah,” I advised,

There is only today when on vacation; that ‘lifetime’ stuff can wait.” 

Thus we convened the committee of two and, from that spontaneous summit, this list came to life.

Bucket list for today: 11 pretty okay ideas (because ten is never enough) 

• No whining—not even about insipid beer.
• Chat up and tip kindly some wonderful staff members here at Akumal Bay Beach and Wellness Resort.
• Stop and listen to every live musician.

• Check e-mail just once a day; reply rarely and keep it to one sentence.
• Text only when necessary for kid control or group logistics.
• Avoid digitalia; read books; write in journal.
• Get exercise: Swim, snorkel, paddleboard, kayak, splash, chase kids.

• Meditate, or approximate by hugging a tree or staring at the sea.

• Eat too much, and ignore the scale in the room even if you can convert kilos to pounds.

• Early to bed (exhaustion) and early to rise (the construction that is ubiquitous in paradise).
• Don’t worry about a thing—especially to-do lists left at home and the Bucket List for Today.

For the final Travelog entry, may I present my perfect children.  I took hundreds of pictures of them, but published only a few on this website.  In this technological era of tell-all exhibitionism and voyeurism, some of us still have a place for privacy.  Yet I proudly show off this shot, and share these parting thoughts…

Dear Ones,

What a gift it was to lift you out of your classrooms and let you learn, instead, the lessons of experience.  To sneak you away from your world of scheduled play dates, sports teams, digitalia, and potty-mouthed pop music.  To let you live among new riddims, vistas, and cultures and, best of all, see you jump with joy at the chance.  Literally.  Over and over. 

 Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us.”  Oscar Wilde

Now you will both grow up fast, then grow old gradually.  I know I’ve got MY ideas and dreams for you, like:  Let’s run away again!  Yet I honestly don’t know if we’ll be blessed with another family Sabbatical.  It’s a small miracle we managed this one, and that it went so well.  But oh my, what memories we now “carry about with us.” 

So grow ahead, already.  Grow ahead and get all independent, become skeptical of your parents, and perhaps eventually blame us for everything from zits to arthritis.  No matter what happens, we had this time together.  Just us.  I see now that, on a long list of Missions, this one mattered most. 

This photo, taken on our last full day, confirms that AllBoy has moved on; he has become Young Man. Heck, he’s strong enough to throw me in the pool, hurt me with his tackle, and outride me on the surf. He can run off alone and carry his own.  His raconteur instincts can charm a stranger or a classroom. 

CurlyGirl has grown up too, in so many ways; make way for Little Lady!  The baby teeth have shrunk and the lifetime chompers are emerging—ready to bite into bigger things.  Her speed and coordination are modeling her athletic brother’s.  Playtime drifts from Polly Pockets to Scrabble.  And she now insists on reading to me, rather than vice versa.

Let’s get together and feel alright.”  Bob Marley

In this picture, the two of you together become one shadow—which signifies the connection you deepened, all by yourselves.  (Parents can’t make you do that.)  He’s 11, and she’s 5, so they played up and down or met at 8.  They became best-friend sibs—a secret society with precious privileges that last a lifetime. 

Now, firmly on home soil, they’re suddenly 12 and 6, yet the bond remains robust.  In a world in which people obsess over careers, accomplishments, and self, perhaps the ultimate legacy we can strive for is strong offspring.  No amount of time or energy given to that task—whatever may be the sacrifice—is too much. 

But yes, you can go now. Go to your friend’s house, to a movie, on a date, to play a tournament, to summer camp.  I’ve held you in my arms long enough.  But you’re still welcome there.  Any time. 

With any luck, this BreakAway showed you that—in a way that words can’t.  It also showed you that the world is so much bigger than your backyard, and its horizon is boundless.  So are your possibilities.

But before signing off, may I say “thanks.”  Thanks for agreeing to go; many kids would not.  Thanks for holding my hand during the scary parts.  For romping with me in the sun, sand, and sea.  For reminding me how to laugh and splash and play again. 

Wherever we may go, whatever may become of you, this is how I’ll always see you.

So here:  Take this picture with you.  Let’s keep it as proof of the blessed gift of taking our time—with nary a worry about the future or past—if only now and then. 

I’ll still see this image when you become bigger and smarter than me.  When you leave the house to find your own freedom and fates.  When my heartbeat slows to a stop.  And today, when our dreamy BreakAway has ended and carried us home, where we belong. 

Seven weeks ago, a free, faraway feeling ruled the day.  Back home, not so much. Life has resumed the habit-busy ways that pass for normal these days.  Every family member has gone through permutations of the “be-backs,” from boredom to flu to winter angst.  But spring is winning the war over winter.  And the trip spark still has a faint glow. 

One views life, I think, with a more critical eye after a BreakAway from the routine into the extraordinary.  That’s a good thing, or so says Socrates, who reminds us that:  “The unexamined life is not worth living.”  That may be true, but there are risks—such as wondering,

Is that all there is?

That’s particularly true when “all there is” is less than all there was.

Investments:  way down.

Home equity:  shrunken.

Business:   sluggish.

Public morale:  low.

Moreover, a fun-filled Sabbatical can spoil a guy—whereas the kind of spoilage presently happening in the world economy just stinks.

Sabbaticals Happen, Like it or Not

For better or worse, lots of people—including many I know—are confronting the Involuntary Sabbatical:  Getting fired.  Others are taking paycuts, losing clients, or seeing sales dive.  It’s odd:  Freedom feels less free-ing when it arrives uninvited.  But lest we all get lost in anxiety and gloom, most of us have plenty we could do with that time.

On the upside, many new, improved messages—that can help folks facilitate a real BreakAway someday—are emerging from this downturn:  Live with less; build your savings; nurture the earth; hug family and friends (not just your job); try the bike and ditch the Hummer; time is the new money.

Amen to that.  Money is numbers on paper—which typically gets SPENT on stuff.  Time is…whatever you choose to DO with it.

You Gotta Go Home

Following any chosen, gratifying time of  pleasure, you gotta go home.  After 69 days on fantasy islands, I’ve done the same.  Now it’s up to me to keep the insights relevant, the boredom at bay, and the relaxation vibes alive.

Peeking at the photographs helps, despite the risk of nostalgia.  The images still look fresh—if rather surreal.  (I was there and saw that?)  These five represent some favorite moments—and shall linger vividly in my mind’s eye.

• Awe, Shucks  (pic of hands)

This detail, of “Christ of the Deep” in Grenada, tells many tales:  1)  Blue-sky days bring beauty.  2)  We all need to open up and beg for mercy now and then.  3)  Awe, hope, and reverence are desirable pursuits.  4)  And “Dear God, please tell me what to do?”

• Aquamarine Tranquillity

In meditation and biofeedback, teachers may tell you to visualize some peaceful thing or color:  a mountain (strength), the sky (openness), a pool (calm), the color yellow (I have no idea why—Corona commercials?).  My preference?  Caribbean blue.  It can provide wave after wave of serenity.  And I can stare, and stare, and stare…

(I think it’s why Johnny Depp took that role.)

• Inside the Pod

This image, from a botanical garden on St. Vincent, reminds me of the kind and wise West Indians, and suggests that marvels can hide underneath an exterior.  Just peel off the skin; gently dig in.  St. Vincent itself was like that; the visit was due to travel logistics, not travel gurus.  But once we were there exploring, that isle surprised us with her splendor and allure.

• Self-reflection in Doorway

Why this?  It’s not a great picture.  But it’s me.  And since I take 99.9% of the photos in this family, I’m not in 99.9% of them; this is rare proof that I WAS there!  Moreover, this happened on the last morning, during a solo sunrise walk.  It was a reflective stroll, and the door connotes the changes and mysteries that lie ahead after the return to Reality.

Had we really done this thing?  How could 69 days fly by so fast?  And why didn’t we stay until, say, May? 

On Day 69—the last day—as we prepare to fly away from Temporary Retirement and Approximate Paradise, some stories stand out. Some days still glow. Some moments feel like sprouting soul-seeds rather than mere memories. Like that Sunday on Grenada…with the sailing races…           

YOU KIN NOT DO DAT!  DAT MY BOAT!  YOU PAY ME MONEY NOW!  I SAY STOP!  PAY!” 

Visit the Caribbean.  Get lost on lost-in-time islands.  Bring the whole family.  See different cultures.  Play in the sea.  Leave everything behind.  Ditch winter.  Eat funny fish and drink new beers.” 

Puerto Rico is a legendary island of Latino culture and independence—surrounded by a sea of Caribbeanism. With 4 million residents, it’s one of the most populated—and crowded—isles anywhere. Yet you can find a rain forest, nature preserves, private beaches, a thriving old town, and swanky night life. 

                

“It’s For the Kids”

So went the logic of selecting this boffo extravagance—with its brand-spanking-new waterpark (within inches of the sea).  Who doesn’t love to indulge their kids?  Spoiling them, however, essentially meant spoiling this vagabond’s only chance to salsa the into night.  We were an hour away from most action, and sequestered into gated fabulousness. 

All was not lost, though, as it was a luxury getting lost on the resort’s private island, where ecstasy (the legal kind) is for sale.  So long afternoons featured snorkeling, kayaking, Heineken, plus relentless requisite ruminating about this 69-day Sabbatical.  And about the most disturbing distraction imaginable:  Going home. 

(more…)

We combed and climbed much of Grenada, and fell in love with its people and pride. Nonetheless, after 28 days, it’s time to pack up and go. One last stop remains:  The most pedigreed sleep, a “Waldorf Astoria” resort on Puerto Rico. With a water park. And a private island. That’s exciting, but I still don’t want to go. Y’know?

Once again, we fly on the dreaded Liat Airlines, so you pack carefully.  They have more restrictions than a hazardous waste dump.  So if your luggage is overweight and your Liat liaison has her undies in a bunch, you’ll be on the floor re-arranging your undies til they approve.  Happens all the time.  So do confrontations and tantrums.  It’s not pretty.

• But First, Grenada’s Revenge

We’ve been so healthy, so sick-free during this trip, that of course the last day is when someone finally has to succumb to something.  AllBoy this time, along with another boy from a family we’ve been hanging out with.  Now, when two kids from two fams get Grenada’s Revenge, panic can hit: Might we all run into this bug?  Dare we fly manana?

I repeated a handy BreakAway Five-Word Mantra:  I knew this might happen.  I knew this might happen.  I knew this might happen.  (What we gonna do now?!)

AllBoy went through the ringer for 24+ hours, only pausing to pass out in between.  It would have carried on longer. But as the cab pulled up at 5:55 to take us to the airport, one unfortunate incident inspired me, his dad, to serve a heavy dose of Imodium.

Sorry, but Liat and island airports and a 12-hour travel day is not the time for a half-assed approach.  Needless to say the pills did their trick and we got through the day without incident.  But in the hours and days ahead, AB’s stomach grumblings ramped into to vocal protests as the Imodium worked way too well for way too long.

• Grenada’s Revenge #2:  Customs Complications

Liat took an hour to approve us and our baggage, and then had trouble printing our boarding passes.  But the real trouble came when Customs blew a gasket over our papers.  Held us another hour.  Held up the plane!  By the time we got on that rusty winged beast, we were getting stinkeye from everybody.  Controllers, pilots, customers, gas pumpers.

The nature of this airline is that they hop around islands all day long, and guests must make connections to eventually find their desired destination.  Thus, and for a million other reasons, delays are de rigueur.  Today was our turn to disrupt that fragile schedule.

See, we had never declared ourselves or cleared customs in Grenada.  Not a good idea, and I knew it all along.  But we came by boat, and every single person I asked would just laugh and laugh.  

I’ve been here five years and I’ve never cleared!”  

I don’t think there IS a customs on this island, ha-ha!”

I asked the Attorney General for you; he says, ‘No problem!’”  

(For real.)

So we floated around the island illegally for a month.  Ha ha ha!  But the oh-so official in the gold-striped uni who held the rubberstamp when it was (past) time to board the airplane seemed to see matters differently.  She was not impressed. Not at all.

And by the way, she also knows the Attorney General!

Long (long!) story short, some yelled and waved hands.  One made vague threats.  A few more uniformed agents (one with a particularly sassy smirk) came out of nowhere to join the brouhaha.  One participant fought tears.  One bent over and held his belly.  One laid down on the floor.  Me?  I mostly just stood there and played along.

I knew this might happen.  I knew this might happen.  I knew this might happen…

There are many things to love about the Caribbean.  But one of them is NOT an occasional propensity to, when issues hit the fan, gather a committee and turn on the Patois and make a big, noisy scene.  That said, they did their work, gave us much guff, kept the plane waiting, and found a way to let us legally enter the country, then immediately exit it, without making a pit stop in jail, Jah bless.

After that, the day was dull, if tedious as we island-hopped our way to P.R.  Oh sure, there was another airport waiting room (they would not let you out of) with a broken TV and no water or AC.  We had our bags searched aggressively over and over as if in NYC the day after 9-11. And feeding the ever-hungry children was a Top Chef Quickfire Challenge.

• Bienvenido a Puerto Rico!

With practice, anything can become easy.  That includes long travel days—even with illness, border patrol problems, and the ever-present gamble of “Will our luggage make it?  In one piece?”  We did.  It did.  And we were poolside—if dumbstruck—by sundown.

After faraway isles, Puerto Rico came on like a Spanish-speaking Mack truck.  A high-tech, mega-airport!  High-rises! Fast food!  Billboards! Big buses!  Fast freeways!  4 million people—all driving or going somewhere or working at once!

Welcome to…America?

1st Place:  Stag, 85 points

2^nd Place:  Heineken, 70 points

3^rd Place:  Hairoun, 69 points

4^th Place:  Carib, 55 points