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.

My last BreakAway was exactly two years ago. Our extended family (11 of us!) flew off to Italy for 17 days. You know you’re alive when you go, in a matter of hours, from watching your son run with fleet speed in the state baseball tournament to healing jet lag on a Tuscan terrazzo.

Travel always comes at a cost—not just the cash kind. In this case, we stole our son from his team; how did we know they’d still be alive in the big tourney? But you make choices—and sacrifices—to make long-term travel happen. Basking in the Tuscan sun and drinking in the wine, cuisine, and people cured all second guesses.

That Euro journey took epic planning and coordination. 11 people? Three families (with homes and pets and jobs and … )? 35 days away from busy-busy for my four—who moved on to Scandinavia for the last three weeks.

Sure, it would have been nice to stay home and win State. But landing in Italy and watching the kids have water-balloon fights in a mountain village makes for an even richer memory.

It’s never too late!

Look! Hark! Flickr has (finally!) uploaded the Tuscany 2012 mix!

Click and find yourself in Barga, Lucca, Pisa, Viareggio and more!

Be reminded of the dolce far niente…

Ciao!

The little girl in the ruby slippers says, “There’s no place like home.” And she’s right: After a long travel adventure, home can feel like the most dull, predictable, and (just say it) boring place on earth—versus the nonstop stimulating scenes of faraway places.

We’ll save seeking cures for another post. So for today, here are 11 signs that you may be suffering the Home-Again Blues…

• The city you live in seems like a nice place to visit.
• Your precious, private, cushy bed seems no more special than the one in Sommocolonia, Hornbaek, or Stockholm—and the relentless construction next-door causes more sleep disruption than a 7-hour time-zone change.
• Those great photos (all 5,555 of them) now look like a hallucination.
• That time the kids lost their cool and you blamed travel fatigue? It happens sometimes at home too—so what to blame now?
• The food in American seems so dang mass-produced, unlike Tuscany’s homemade pastas, Denmark’s bakery goods, and Sweden’s super-fresh seafood.
• You get annoyed looks (instead of a wise grin) from bartenders when you order a “Stor-stark” (large, strong beer).
• The credit card statements are arriving and are more shockingly expensive than you expected—but you now know it was worth every penny.
• You’d love to tell more stories to more people, but most just ask, “So what was your favorite?”
• You realize that about 95% of the fears you faced before going were irrelevant.
• A month after coming home, you still haven’t unpacked everything—and would rather grab the gear and fly away again.

If only…

Back home, eating returns to auto pilot, which is to say the pantry is always full, the menu of restaurants staggering, and the supermarkets’ provisions seemingly endless. Food in America can be an embarassment of riches, really—while eating on the road (with kids in tow) can be a challenge.  Still…

• One misses that authenticity

It’s true: Most places, even in Europe, offer more selection than they did even a decade ago. And BK, KFC, and all the greats sneak up on many corners. Still, the fare in Tuscany can feel worlds away from that of Copenhagen. And even Denmark’s menus often look little like Sweden’s.

Best of all, most anywhere you go in Europe, the little bakeries and butcher shops still abound. And fussy, local loyals still shop daily not only to pick up fresh goods, but to socialize. You just don’t find that experience at your typical Costco or Giant.

• The more things change…

A foodie-traveler can quickly pick up on what’s new and trendy. In Scandinavia, for example the New Scandinavian food movement is epic—so much so that not only does Denmark have the world’s greatest restaurant in Noma, but American cities are picking up on it in a big way.

Yet beware of tummy ennui. A friend just told me of a colleague who returned from Italy complaining of boring food. “Could that be true?” he asked me. Too true, I fear. After a few weeks in Tuscany—where few eateries dare to vary from traditional ways (and menus look the same for both lunch and dinner)—one begins to crave Indian, Asian, or anything other than Tuscan!

• A wistful moment

Yet the ongoing thrill (and occasional challenge) of deciding what, where, and how to eat makes traveling so distinctive and memorable. What I wouldn’t give for one of those “boring,” three-hour Tuscan meals about now…

The family vacation may go the way of the dodo bird—if work bennies and family units continue to fall apart. Perhaps that’s why some of us keep advocating long-term family travel:  escaping your homelife for weeks or months for eye-opening education, stimulation, and inspiration—before it’s too late.

It sounds good in theory, right? Not! Throughout this 35-day trip exploring a long slice of Europe, the offspring demonstrated symptoms of fierce dissatisfaction and outright insanity. Only a BAD DAD would put them through such challenging enviroments and experiences.

Thankfully, we did survive. Yet I recommend all parents and families bury their dreams. Just stay home. Stay plugged in to as many techno-devices as possible. And stay away from terrifying situations like these 5—which represent only the tip of a dangerous iceberg…

• Boredom. A parent never knows what will thrill (and what will make shrill) the children. But be aware that the castle may enchant the daughter, but disgust the son; the fishing village may excite the boy, but nauseate the girl.

• Gelati daily. What parent can resist, “Daddy, can I have a treat?” But I implore you:  Just say no! Or before you know it, you’re buying $7, triple-scoop frozen stuff several times a day in expensive Scandinavian cities—or you’ll be punished with world-class pouting and stink-eye (til you finally give in).
• Language angst. One great reason to drag your kids through foreign lands: Try some other languages. Be prepared, though, for them to pick up even fewer words than you do, and to routinely ask, “Daddy, will you order my gelati for me?”
• Exhaustion. It can happen any time and any place, but it usually flares up in the most remote, inconvenient occasions. It’s called melt-down—and not the kind that two-year olds do, but a much louder, heavier performance. “I’m hot!” “I’m tired!” “I can’t walk another step!” are just a few signs that this disease has struck.

• Food fights. Are your children picky eaters? If you are so delusional as to say no, may I invite you to take them on tour through countless international eating escapades. No primi, secondi, or contorni will arrive as envisioned. The kids will gag at their own pizza choice—and then steal your steak. Pack 555 granola bars!

I blame myself…

Okay, that rant may show my surly side—but it also suggests you bring a big jar of Chill Pills when you travel as a family. Mellow days and magic moments will abound, of course. But so will scenes that make you shake your head (if not bang it on a wall) with befuddlement.

I guess that’s called growing up. And it never stops, so long as we keep living it up.

If you get the chance, please go see for yourself. It may be the most meaningful, challenging, unpredictable, amazing gift you’ll ever give to yourself—and those dang kids.

Our family of four spent this BreakAway’s final five days in stunning Stockholm—a Swedish city that shines with history and pride, drips money from its mostly cloudy skies, and is built on 14 islands that lead to 25,000 more. Many (most?) residents have a summer “cottage” on one of those islands.  And by “cottage” these days, they may mean McMansion.

So there’s a lot to love. In fact, Stockholm won honors for being my favorite city during a previous seven-month stay in Europe; a future post will show all that remains to adore. This time, though, Stockholm freely revealed its traveler frustrations and quirks. Here are a few photos that share a slice of that pricey pie.

Ask most amateur travelers—like the happy couple I recently met, one Dutch, one Italian—and they may not get all hyped about Copenhagen. Their popular dream destinations remain Paris, Florence, Rome, and other top tenners. When they finally get to the USA, they’ll head straight to New York and San Fran.

But if you met more weathered wanderers, they might get misty when reminiscing Copenhagen. As Euro cities go, it’s as unique as any. Yet the stereotypes more are elusive—unlike a Rome that, once there, may live up to your fervor but also looks a lot like all those images you’ve seen in the media for millennia.

Copenhagen calls with warmth—when you’re ready. And if it the weather happens to be un-warm (we are north, after all), know that this city should own the copyright to “cozy.” And the tolerant, proud, safe mindset thats prevail will inspire even the most jaded traveler.

It’s a great place to get lost—and that’s easy to do!  Here are some more impressions from my precious days in the Old Country…

There’s much to say about Copenhagen, but it must wait til I’m home where screen life will usurp street life. So for now, let the pictures tell the story—with these 10 vignettes from five days in wonderful Copenhagen…

Midnight sun. Oh my, it’s hard to sleep in the summer in this city. It gets dark—maybe—for an hour or two. And a full moon glowed like a neon orb. I prowled til 3:30 in the morning a few nights, and the light (and the locals) never stopped beaming.

Awesome architecture. I mean, what was Dude thinking when he made this church with a spire that you walk to the top? No doubt that info came at me through various guidebooks and tours and whatnot. But who care? It’s just crazy cool.

Christiania. This experimental city, thriving in chaos and anarchy since the 70s, makes you feel like you’re tripping before you’ve had a beer. It was rocking (with live music everywhere) this Saturday night. Here, a dinner featured cheap wine, organic food, 3 Swedish women performing a Lennon Sisters schtick, and the best people watching on the planet.  My kids were in shock, but I was in 7^th heaven.

Meeting people. Danes may be reserved, but they’re also darn friendly and down to earth. This transpo-entrepreneur wanted to talk Jesse Ventura (even the wrestling chapter) with me til I had to run away. At crowded, late-night bars, conversants would invite me to join their table “if you are alone.” Nice.

Living history. This old city has some wear and patina, but each ancient relic gets TLC too. In this building, the architecture museum struts out a café sun-porch—and also hosts the best restaurant in the world, Noma.

The Big Little Mermaid. Copenhagan’s most famous landmark remains unpretentious, unprotected, and ridiculously popular. Who needs monstrous monuments to kings, generals, and wars? Well done, Hans.

P is for Party. I’ve got a little Dane, Norsk, and Svensk in me. Thank God for the Dane blood, FBOW, because they just want to have fun. Witness: The high school grad trucks that, for about a week, drove around with a party on top. The graduates wear commemorative hats. People stop and wave. They make more noise than a downtown disco. And nobody gives no stink-eye.

Biking culture. More bikes than cars, by, like, 1,000. Bike lanes rule over peds, and you may get knocked over til you learn that. Not sure about their BUI laws, but it sure is an impressive (and quiet) statement. Just sayin’.

Nyhavn. As pretty as a painting. But more alive (on a warm day) than Miami beach. If you don’t have a boat, table, or rezzie, just grab a bevvie (it’s easy) and hunker down waterside. 24/7. And to think this used to be where toothless sailors and hos hung out…

Water, water, everywhere. You can get lost trying to keep up with all the canals and harbors. I guess that’s the point!

Ten days in a picturesque Danish fishing (and vacationing) village works wonders for the psyche and soul. At some point, I felt a groovy, easy feeling that rarely happens at home amid real world nonsense and only sometimes happens on vacation—but often happens when taking a full-on BreakAway.

• So much nothing to do

Oh sure, Hornbaek was sleepy at times, and just plain dead at others. It’s true, the restaurants and bars weren’t all that, and the shops barely existed.  To be honest, the weather was at times disappointing, forcing us to spend time relaxing in a striking, spare house of traditional Danish design.

I must confess, I slept too much, and ate (and cooked) more than my share with excellent, fresh ingredients. And let’s not even mention the languid days spent lounging in libraries, getting lost in castles, lingering at slow-food eateries, and wandering around coastal towns.

If a picture paints 1,000 words, I need not say much more. Instead, I’ll let the pictures tell the story, with a simple caption for explanation. May they bring you, too, a moment of faraway dreaming and repose.