Anxiety Inducing Tale #1-Setting: At the Crocodile Reserve on Green Island near Negril, Jamaica as my husband and I leaned over a four foot wire fence in an attempt to get a better look at the six foot crocodiles that stalked below us in the murky water.
"Yeah mon. These are just the babies you know, the little guys. Out there in the mangroves are the big guys, twelve feet they are. You wouldn't believe it. They don't usually show themselves when the little ones are around. They like to surprise people and pop out of the water. You know those guys can stand on their tales and jump nine feet in the air. That's how they hunt sometimes. You can't see them on the surface, they just jump out of the water and - POW!"
Anxiety Inducing Tale # 2-
Setting: A nature walk also on Green Island as my husband and I navigated a swampy dense mangrove in flip flops, clinging to and ducking beneath vines like Tarzan in order to not end up face first in shallow murky water. Did I mention I was simultaneously totting my almost two year old on my back in an Ergo carrier (24 1/2 lbs of wiggles).
"Mon, I'm always glad when a woman is around. You know what they say, snakes don't attack when a woman is around. It's true, they say that. Wow, you should see the snakes in these mangroves, especially in the mountains. Sometimes you don't even see them until they start swinging back and forth, holding onto a tree limb with the tip of their tale. Ha- it's wild. Once they start swinging, they're ready to swoop in for a bite- POW! You don't even see em' cause they blend in with the branches. See this bite here on my arm, a snake took a big piece out mon. He started swinging and he got me right here- POW! Yeah mon, I remember this time the mother of my baby was pregnant, I was working up in those hills and she came out with me one night. When morning come, I woke and there were snakes all over her. One on each arm and leg, a bunch of em' curled up under her dress. They come in for human body heat at night, but you got to be careful when you wake cause you can't startle a sleeping snake, oh no. I had to tape her mouth while she was sleeping, then take a stick and carefully lift her dress and remove each one gently so they wouldn't wake. That a mean bite mon."
It’s Flash Fiction Friday! Every Friday during the month of July, I’ll feature a snippet of one of my travel inspired short stories. I hope you enjoy!
PLATFORM
I never leave the apartment without a book. Reading is my only line of defense in warding off crazies. I don’t like strangers. I don’t like to talk to people I don’t know, especially not in this city. My roommates make fun of me; it’s easier they say to put headphones on, but I need to hear what’s going on around me and I need something to do with my eyes. I wonder daily if I should have just stayed in Texas, in the suburbs of Houston, where I had space. I didn’t have to mask my eyes and pretend.
Texas tastes like my mama’s homemade dinners, sounds like the laughter of Leila, my best friend, vibrates with the sound of my grandma’s singing first thing in the morning cup of tea in hand and it’s overcast with shadows. It’s the place I lost my father.
Now I’m here, two months in. I made my choices, quitting my job, packing my belongings in my Ford Explorer, cajoling Monica, my sister, to help me drive cross country to New York, where I sold my Ford, found an apartment, a job, and just like that, took on a new life, in a new city. New York. Few regrets, at least on a good day.
I watch from my periphery as an older gentleman takes a seat on the bench next to me. He murmurs to himself in creamy Spanish. I give him a sideways inspection to make sure he isn’t crazy. I’m struck by his colors, the vibrant purple of his coat, the rich red of his pants, bold statements to the world. Compelled, my gaze lingers. Soggy bags form a crescent beneath his eyes; gray tufts of beard surround his mouth like irregular snow drifts. Curiosity satisfied, I continue performing my role as a serious and intense bibliophile.
But I can’t read. I can’t perform. I’m distracted by the man seated to my left, by the way his frame towers over mine, leaning towards me as if reading over my shoulder.I begin to lean to the right creating more space between us. He wants to speak to me. I can feel it. He clears his throat in soft grunts. I narrow my eyes but they remain glued to the page.
“Is it religious, your book?” he finally asks.
I pretend not to hear and continue staring at the page.
“Your book. Is it religious?” his voice rises to emphasize his question.
I avoid eye contact and flash the cover.
“Spiritual,” I manage abruptly.
His stare makes my skin tingle. My performance continues. He does not falter.
“That’s a good book.”
I continue looking at my page and do not respond.
Orleich is both an anthropologist and a shaman.” He speaks with staccato conviction.
My brows furrow.
“She presents a complete picture, a clear roadmap. We once led a workshop together,” he continues.
My grip is fierce on the pages. I’m flustered, he knows the author?
“You know the author?” Horrified, I hear the question tumble, un-guarded, from my lips.
“Put the book down,” he responds, dropping the endings of his words.
I break character, stop performing and obey. The book is in my lap and I am staring into the brown eyes of a stranger.
Peering at his palms he asks me to cup my hands together. I mirror his gesture.
“What do you see?”
I consider my answer. I know it’s a test. I don’t want to fail, like I’ve failed at understanding the pages of my book. I stare into my palms and crinkle my nose. My glasses slip from my bridge, the burgundy frames blur my line of vision. I try to concentrate.
copyright 2013 sojourner walker, all rights reserved
I was once a traveling teacher. For ten months out of the year in the States, I answered to the name "Ms. Walker." Standing in front of my overcrowded classroom of middle school students in Washington Heights, Spanish Harlem, then Crown Heights Brooklyn, I was that teacher who taught Shakespeare and shared the poems of Sylvia Plath, Amiri Baraka, Joy Harjo and Edgar Allen Poe with seventh graders. I was the teacher who stayed after school to direct plays I had written specifically for my students; the one who arranged field trips to the Museum of Natural History to conduct Sci-Fi Creative Writing labs. I was the teacher who took her students to Washington Square Park, to simply splash around in the fountain and relax on the lawn with a good book.
I was also that teacher who had been called every inventive (or not so inventive) name in the book. A teacher who had broken up fights between gang members, had erasers and books thrown at her, and had conducted conferences with parents still coming down off of their crack highs.
Teaching is not a profession for the faint of heart. The Kings and Queens of mini-countries, at times in varying stages of revolt, teachers, are prone to burnout. The burnout usually doesn't result from the art of teaching itself, but the task of management and politics, dealing with administration and parents.
My solution for burnout was simple. I got out.
Throughout the world, there are students, eager for a chance to learn. Instead of teaching summer school in New York, I opted to teach while traveling, in turn, I became a traveling teacher.
I met other traveling teachers, who were out to re-set during the summer while volunteering to teach classes in this school or that, this orphanage or that. There is a great big network of traveling teachers, some who have made the choice to re-set for the summer, a semester, a year, and sometimes two.
Interested?
Here are some organizations that can help alleviate your teacher burn-out while allowing you to continue doing great things for children around the world.
The Institute for International Cooperation and Development- With programs ranging from six months to a year, you can take a break, do some good and see the world. IICD, sends teachers to Africa and South America. This is a paid position.
Cosmic Volunteers- sends teachers to Africa, Southern Asia and South East Asia to work in schools and orphanages, with contracts ranging from two weeks to six months.
I-to-I -teachers can work in Asia, South America and Africa on contracts ranging from a few weeks to a year.
Global Volunteer Network- places teachers in Africa, South America and South Asia for a few weeks to a few months.
The Peace Corps- sends teachers to Europe, South and Central America, Africa and Asia on a two year contract (plus a few months to train). Peace Corps Volunteers receive a stipend for their work.
The Jet Program- sends teachers to Japan on one year teaching contracts. This is a paid position.
Council of International Schools- is an international teacher recruitment agency that helps teachers find paid full-term positions in schools abroad.
*Note: a TOEFL certificate or a CELTA certificate are not necessary depending on your resume and where you want to go. I have had three international teaching placements and have never taken one of these courses. My Master's Degree in English plus my NYC Teaching Certification were more than enough to qualify me to teach abroad.
** It is extremely rare to run into the discipline problems teachers in the United States deal with.
"Be the change you wish to see in the world." - Mohatma Gandhi
Morrungulo Beach Resort in Mozambique- I Must Return For My Honeymoon!
This country, this Mozambique, holds so many beautiful gifts. One of the most extraordinary is the Morrungulo Beach Resort.
It was Lynne's idea, the weekend away. It didn't take much convincing. We rounded up the crew from Inhambane and a few friends came up from Maputo. We rented cars and were off.
I wasn't prepared for what a found. Perfection!
The resort was completely ours, not a soul in sight.
The waves were mild, I fell into rhythm with the sea.
Everyday there was meditation, yoga and stillness.
On a clear Tuesday morning not too long ago, I was let in on a secret.
Under the shade of Eastern Parkway I pushed Ohm. He sang Row Row Row Your Boat on loop as we set out for a day of adventure in Prospect Park. The wheels of his massive red stroller handled the uneven gaps in the sidewalk with ease. Past the Brooklyn Library we rambled, approaching Prospect Park when something caught my attention.
Out of the corner of my left eye, I noticed a string of diaper bag laden nanny's pushing strollers through the open gates of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.
What's this? I thought to myself as I followed, creeping curiously towards the gate. Then I saw the sign Free admission on Tuesdays until noon! Our plans were suddenly and serendipitously changed as we too entered the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.
It turns out that trees aren't the only things that grow in Brooklyn. The botanic garden is home to several thousand species of plants, flowers, herbs, trees, shrub and wildlife.
The Brooklyn Botanic Garden is located off of Grand Army Plaza, between Prospect Park and the Brooklyn Library. If you're planning a trip to Brooklyn, you can tackle all three of these wonderful landmarks.
The Garden has three entrances:
150 Eastern Parkway
455 Flatbush Avenue
990 Washington Avenue
Brooklyn, NY 11225
Tuesday–Friday:
8 a.m. to 6 p.m.
Saturday & Sunday:
10 a.m. to 6 p.m.
Closed Mondays
Each week, during the month of July, I’m interviewing and featuring world travelers whose adventurous spirits inspire us to keep exploring and experiencing the world. This week, I’d like to introduce- Akisha Pearman!
1.Tell us about yourself!
My name is Akisha Pearman and I was born in Norwich, New York but my family moved a lot up and down the East coast (My father was a college coach) as I grew up.When people ask me where I am from I usually say Charlotte, North Carolina, not because I feel any connection to it, but because it is where my family is now. I honestly think moving so much as a child influenced how I live my life the way I do today, traveling and living outside of the US.Both of my parents are educators so that had a significant influence on my career choice and desire to use my privilege to affect others in a positive way.I got a Bachelors in English and Spanish Lit and then went off and served in the Peace Corps in Madagascar and Mozambique as an English as a foreign language teacher.After that I went to Korea for a year and a half to teach (and make money…living as a volunteer was fun but I couldn’t live that way anymore).And after Korea I went back to the States to get my Masters in TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages).I needed to get back on the road…no…plane, so I was lucky to get fellowships from the US State Department (called the English Language Fellows Program) and got to go back to Mozambique (where I met Sojo!!) and taught English for specific purposes at a tourism college, and got to go to Angola and worked as an English teacher trainer.Now I am in South Africa.I had to give teaching up for a while to avoid burnout but I will go back to it in some way soon.It has proven to be a great profession to do what I love, work with people I care about, be able to live and experience culture, and travel around.I am taking a course in Higher Education Studies at the University of Cape Town.Fhhhew!Is that enough?
2.What is the first country you traveled to internationally? What were your impressions?
The first time I had to use my passport I went to Spain to study abroad at the University of Sevilla for the year.I remember being so scared because although I was independent and had gone to college 12 hours away from home, I had never actually been on my own so far away.And I was going to stay there for a whole year.Finances dictated that.I stood in that weird capsule tunnel passageway at JFK (does it still exist??!!) and walked into my fear.When I got to Spain, it seems so silly to say, but the first outstanding impression I remember to this day was the fact that everyone was speaking Spanish there…and all the signs were in Spanish.My mom is Puerto Rican and my grandmother spoke to us in Spanish but we responded in English so Newyoricans were part of a culture I knew, Spaniards were not.I found Southern Spain a fascinating place.The mix of cultures, from the Romans to the Moors, is found everywhere from the architecture, to the food, to the people, to the language they speak.I dove into the culture taking classes about Islamic art, learning to dance Sevillanas (a 4 part Flamenco partner dance), exploring the vibrant tapas culture, and so many other things.What I had trouble with , though, was finding close Spanish friends.My host family was wonderful and I keep in touch with them until this day, but I found making friends in Spain (that lasted longer than a night of dancing at a club and drinking in a plaza) to be really difficult.My closest friends became 4 American girls that were in my program.
3.When did you first realize you were bitten by the travel bug?
It was when I went back home to the US from Spain.I realized that I missed the feeling of being uncomfortable.I missed those opportunities to learn in an unfamiliar place.I missed being forced to speak a different language.I missed being challenged about how I see the world on a daily basis.My upbringing made that discomfort of moving and having to start a new life over and over something normal for me so I have continued to get bitten by the bug.
4.Do you have a travel mantra?
I don’t know where I first heard it or who said it to me but its “change of place + change of space = change of perspective”.Even if its just going to a new neighborhood in your hometown.Travel can transform how you see the world.
5.If you could spontaneously pack up tomorrow and head anywhere in the world, where would you go and what would you do?
I would go to Mozambique island in the Northern region of Mozambique.It’s a tiny little island that used to be the capital of Mozambique during slavery times.Slave ships actually docked there and did business.It is another one of those fascinating crossroads places I adore: the food, the people, the architecture, the music.My favorite thing to do there is sleep or read all day in a guest house and wander the silent, ancient streets at night by moonlight.I would go there tomorrow if I could.
We flew to Montego Bay, Jamaica with a hurricane on our trail. All I knew was that I wanted to get there. I didn’t think much about anything else. I was a woman with a plan and a new country to explore.
We landed beneath a dry sky; the late afternoon sun was brilliant.
Hurricane- what hurricane?
Nestled inside our secluded eco resort on Green Island, we grabbed a coconut curry dinner and enjoyed the saltwater infinity pool just feet from our cottage as the late afternoon gave way to evening and eventually night.
The next morning, the sound of roosters and peacocks called us to action. The sun illuminated the sky. Piercing white rays filtered through our window marking the beginning of a promising new day.
After a hearty breakfast of salt fish, callalou and dumplings, it happened. Sunny skies rolled out in place of gray ominous ones. The lapping of the ocean intensified.There was the unmistakable growl of thunder and the clanking of bamboo reeds as they slapped against each other in the wind.
Raindrops as thick as my fist burst like water balloons on the rocky road. The lightning joined in and we had ourselves a full-fledged and uninhibited cyclone, the result of the passing hurricane off the coast.
I came to Jamaica with a plan and a promise. I planned to finish Americanah, the novel by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie that I’ve nursed slowly during subway trips. I planned to read Sahara Special (summer reading for work) by Esme Raji Codell. I planned to blog for several hours every morning. I planned to continue working on my social media campaigns.
I made a promise to myself when I joined the National Blogging Month challenge that I’d blog daily for the month of July. I had posts planned and prepped. The plan was to rise at 5:30 am, work until 9 on the blog and social media before Ohm and Mark began to stir in competition for my attention.
I made a promise to my readers, a readership that has been growing and expanding by the hundreds. I do not take lightly the fact that people have voluntarily signed up to explore the world with me. It is humbling and inspiring and I am so grateful. In turn I feel an enormous sense of duty to be present, to show up, to put forth my best.
I came to Jamaica with a plan and promises.
I came to Jamaica and got a reality check!
Beyond my control was the cyclone that knocked out the rickety rural Internet and later the power. Busy tracking entrants for my latest giveaway, I needed the Internet. I had writing to do. There were photos to label, size and organize, and social media campaigns to manage. In short, I was helplessly disconnected.
That’s the catch with travel blogging daily. Even though you’re away, you’re still connected to your creation, tied to the act of chronicling. When you’re not writing, you’re editing, when you’re not editing you’re posting and sharing via social media, organizing photos, it’s the promise you’ve made to yourself, it’s the promise you’ve made to your followers.
I went into full panic mode. I questioned the hotel staff incessantly and stood in the open field near the internet hotspot with my laptop in the pouring rain praying for a signal. I attempted to arrange transport to Negril (the closest town with wireless internet) but crazily enough, no one was willing to drive to town during a cyclone and in typical Jamaican fashion I was told to “take it easy, it will come back, maybe this week sometime…”
THIS WEEK?!? SOMETIME??????????
That’s when my husband Mark stepped in with a mini-intervention, the one where he pointed out ever so calmly that it was I who was the “crazy” one, attempting to organize a ride into town during a cyclone- what?!?
A rum and coke was placed in my hand, a massage was given and I was ushered onto the veranda to the right of the wide umbrella like leaves of the banana tree, directly behind the sinewy mango tree, where I learned that sometimes you have to just let go and give in to the moment- after all, isn’t that the point of travel in the first place? It’s easy to do this when things are going well. It’s easy to do this while swaying in a hammock beneath two palm trees or back floating in the salty ocean, but when things become interesting and go awry as they often do while traveling, it isn’t always so easy to let go and just be.
Summoning my inner Buddha, I released my expectations (at least I really really tried to and succeeded at intervals in achieving a blank slate-ish existence).
I am now seated beneath the same veranda. I’ve been here all day. The rain falls in melodic sheets. Lightning colors the sky. Here I sit in a sturdy wicker chair sipping rum and coke, enjoying the cool air. Peacocks scurry around the large mango tree, their oddly human-like calls sounding a lot like “Nooooo!!!!Ouch!!!!!”
About an hour ago, I took Ohm for a barefoot walk in the rain until the lightning sent us scurrying back to our cottage for shelter. Our day, easy, has been spent snacking on bananas and almonds, watching movies on our laptops, and being entertained by the interesting and complicated relations between the chickens and peacocks who stare down at us from the mango tree as mongoose play tag at its base.
I’ve given up swatting the mosquitoes away. It simply is what is happening right now. I have no way to upload today’s blog post; my daily blogging attempt for the month of July is simply not going to happen. I may or may not be in the position to announce my contest winner tomorrow; I can’t give my contest a final homestretch push via social media. I simply have to let go and be-
It’s Flash Fiction Friday! Every Friday during the month of July, I’ll feature a snippet of one of my travel inspired short stories. I hope you enjoy!
BOXES
“Congratulations on your transfer. Just make sure not to screw up. If they send you back here, I want you to know - you’re outta luck kid! Your replacement begins training on Monday.”
There was tremendous laughter as Mr. Gordon, red faced and tickled by his own joke, snorted into the microphone.
“To Curtis,” he roared.
“To Curtis,” a few voices in the crowd chimed back meekly, almost drowning out the handful of snickers in the room. Champagne glasses were raised. It was done.
He went reluctantly and with a heavy heart. Curtis Freddy saw the twisted irony. He knew people dreamt of moving to New York, of living in the big city and rubbing elbows with the famous. He couldn’t think of any greater hassle. When his boss, Mr. Gordon, informed him of the upcoming transfer from the Columbus branch of the bank where he had worked as an accountant for the last sixteen years to the hoity-toity New York offices in the financial district, his throat began to clench, his eyes overcome by the sting of an approaching flood of tears. To maintain his dignity he had excused himself and spent his lunch break purging his grief into the toilet bowl.
Mr. Gordon, tucked away in his office on the other side of the men’s bathroom, mistook the tears that escaped for joy. Touched, he jumped on the phone to expedite the arrangement. A week later at a surprise lunchtime goodbye party, he made the announcement that Curtis Freddy would be gone by the end of the month as opposed to six months time. More tears followed.
In the beginning of June, I attended the TBEX (Travel Blog Exchange) conference in Toronto. Growing up in Rochester, New York, I was no stranger to Toronto. A few hours over the Buffalo/Ontario border, Toronto was my first "Big City," my first "International City." I saw my first four musicals in Toronto, I got drunk for the first time in Toronto (yay 19!), but after leaving Western New York for its swanky cousin Manhattan, my fond memories of Toronto were forgotten, filed away under the "I used to live near Canada" chapters of my life.
My re-introduction to Toronto was a PLEASURE! Here are the three things I most admire about the city of Toronto:
Friendly and Helpful People
You've pulled over to the side of the road in your car. It's raining. You can't figure out which direction you're supposed to go. The GPS on your cell phone no longer works because you've left the country, even though you're only two hours over the border. Suddenly there's a rap on your window. An older gentleman, in a gray button down shirt, peers into the window.
"Where are you trying to go?" He asks with a heavy Indian accent.
You breathe a sigh of relief. Help has found you.
The people of Toronto are so incredibly friendly (as long as they're not driving!), it's such a refreshing change of pace, especially for a New Yorker.
Clean Streets
I kid you not, you could eat off the streets of Toronto. I'm used to scanning the ground before me to make sure I'm not about to step into a pile of dog poo, or onto a rat, or on a dirty blood soaked napkin (I spend too much time in New York!), I didn't know what to do with myself in Toronto. I had to fight the urge to skip merrily down the street reveling in the fact that there was nothing to impede me.
Cultural Diversity
Name a country, any country and you're bound to find a person in Toronto who was born there. Toronto is beautifully diverse and this diversity translates quite well when it comes to food. One minute we were enjoying Saag Paneer, the next Pho, the next Falafel, the next vegetarian roti. Toronto is a great place to eat!
Each week, during the month of July, I'm interviewing and featuring world travelers whose adventurous spirits inspire us to keep exploring and experiencing the world. This week, I'd like to introduce Cyndi Rebelo.
2.Where do you currently live and what is your occupation?
Boston, MA- Program Coordinator at Earthwatch Instititute
3.What is the first country you traveled to internationally? What were your impressions?
My parents are from Portugal, so I started traveling internationally when I was 3. It was part of our lives to spend a month in the countryside of Portugal every few years. During a trip when I was 15, I really started to notice the concept of culture and became more interested in my heritage and learning Portuguese more fluently. I was not only struck by the differences between Portugal and the US, but the differences between country life and suburban life. The daily routine was so different than our lives back home. It was not only exciting, but I have memories that I will carry with me forever.
4.When did you first realize you were bitten by the travel bug?
I realized that I was bitten by the travel bug when I was 18 and on my first international trip without my parents. I decided to go to Peru to do volunteer work for three weeks. Everything was so new and I was completely out of my comfort zone. I was inspired and moved by the community I was working with. I loved every minute of it and when I returned home I couldn’t think or talk about anything else. I changed my major to International Studies that summer and haven’t looked back.
5.Do you have a travel mantra?
Good question…I guess my mantra would be “make it happen”. A lot of people tell me that they wish they could travel like I do, or tell me how lucky I am. I just decided to make it part of my life. There are a lot of factors involved with traveling (time, money, family), but I really feel like if you have a dream to travel, you can find a way to make it happen in a way that works for you. Not all travel has to be international or for weeks at a time. There are so many things that we haven’t seen in our own backyards.
6.If you could spontaneously pack up tomorrow and head anywhere in the world, where would you go and what would you do?
To be honest, I’ve had a dream to do a cross-country road trip in the US. I tried to do it once but my car broke down when I reached the Mississippi River! I would love to take two or three months to explore the states…not sure when I will have the chance again but this is a must!
You finally get the door to your hotel open. You've got a sleeping six month old balanced on your hip, a diaper bag slung across your body and your suitcase sized purse dangles heavily from your arm. Your partner trails behind, pulling your three year old who is dangling over the over sized rolling bag, a carry on bag and a computer bag crossed in either direction across his chest.
Entering the room, your heart flutters with anxiety. Sliding glass doors reveal a balcony with wide bars, a floor lamp rests elegantly in an open corner, cords stretch here and there, the boxy edges of the end tables, a desk and dressers jut out in reckless points. Your three year old has knocked the garbage can over and is riffling through the drawer with the room service menus. Into the center of the room, they fly. It has begun...
Traveling with children and introducing them to a new space can be nerve wrecking. Suddenly you're at an away game and there's no such thing as home court advantage.
Here are some tips for creating a safe hotel environment for your little one while on vacation:
1)Pack your baby proofing essentials! Before you leave the house, pop a handful of plastic electrical outlet plugs (this really only applies if you’ve got a baby or a toddler on the go) into your suitcase. It is amazing what toddlers can find when they set off to explore, don’t let them find the electrical outlet. Luckily, most hotels usually only have two outlet sources in the main room (one low to the ground and one attached to a desk), I like to slide a dresser or a side stand in front of easy to access outlets. Table bumpers and guards or (if you're creative) bubble wrap and tape can be used to soften sharp edges. Most hotel rooms are not designed for little ones. Low sharp corners are everywhere.
2)Call ahead and request a crib or play yard. Most hotels offer play yards and cribs. Even if you co-sleep, or your two year old is sleeping in a bed on their own, a play yard can offer a safe play space for the downtime spent in the hotel room.
3)Scan the room for the little hazards and hide them. Most hotel rooms are not designed with little ones in mind. You know your child. Scan the room for annoying little triggers like garbage cans (I don’t know why toddlers love these so much?) Take garbage cans and place them in the bathroom and close the door to avoid a garbage spill every five minutes. Anchor wobbly floor lamps behind desks or chests of drawers to avoid the inevitable crash to the ground.
4)Don’t be afraid to re-arrange your hotel room when you travel to accommodate your baby or toddler. You know what is best for your child, re-arrange the room to create space and block hazards. Will your two year old share the bed with you? There’s nothing wrong with sliding the bed up against a wall and out of the center of the room to protect your little guy from a fall in the middle of the night (most beds can be moved). Going for an extended stay? Place items you want your toddler to have access to in a drawer that is low to the ground, put everything else up high, in a closet or closed behind the bathroom door.
5)Pack your stroller. You may need it to give your child (depending on their age) a safe time out as you shower, in the event a crib or play yard is not available to you.
At the end of the day, a vacation is meant to be fun and relaxing. When traveling with a baby or a tot, there will most likely be bumps and situations will arise that you can't possibly anticipate. Know this is part of the course and remember that the benefits of family travel far outweigh the stress. Enjoy the adventure of exposing your little one to the world!
Before I settled in Brooklyn, I was a Harlem girl.
Harlem, is one of my absolute favorite neighborhoods in Manhattan. Despite all of the changes and growth, it's still a "neighborhood." Harlem is a place where people will still take the time to acknowledge you with a greeting, a rare Manhattan place where neighbors know each other by name, for the most part that is.
Last weekend, I had the opportunity to spend a few days in Harlem while attending the Blogging While Brown conference hosted at the Schomburg Center.
Many things have changed since I lived here- for instance, Harlem is about to get a Whole Foods grocery store! Many things have also stayed the same- the relaxed pace of life (in comparison to the rest of Manhattan), the easy smiles.
Have you been to Harlem? What were your impressions?
It's Flash Fiction Friday! Every Friday during the month of July, I'll feature a snippet of one of my travel inspired short stories. I hope you enjoy!
BEDTIME STORY
From mother to daughter
“What Yemaya wants, daughter, Yemaya gets.”
I was born on a kitchen floor at the beginning of the cyclone season. My mother, fearful of her fresh wash being ruined, had run outside to pull the clothes off the line. The moment she stepped indoors, her water broke. Mixed with that water, was blood.
I arrived on a pile of rain-dampened clothes, two months early and at the same moment, in the same place when my mother left this world. I like to think we met then as spirits going through one door to the next. I have no memory of her.
It was the year our country was changing. The Portuguese had just been defeated and had retreated, leaving burning piles of wreckage in their wake. It was a time of hope and great sadness. My grandfather told me these things. He was the keeper of our history.
My father, grandfather and I, moved from Beira to a small coastal village where my grandfather had two brothers. The fish were abundant and we ate very well. It was the year the civil war broke out, dividing our country yet again, breathing more death and explosive destruction.
There are two sounds I remember from my childhood, the rolling waves of the Indian Ocean and the decisive crack of machine guns and exploding mines. For seven years we lived by the ocean, my father, my grandfather and I, until danger crept too close, the death and screams taking over the air we depended on.
We left one night by foot. Our lives carried in a bag on my father’s back. We were among the first group from the village to leave, to head south, away we thought from the fighting. Ghost people, we roamed from shadow to shadow.
Do you want to make a positive impact, no matter how small, on your host country when you travel? Well thanks to Pack for a Purpose, it is easy to do good while traveling abroad.
Pack for Purpose is a non-profit organization with a direct and effective mission- to positively impact communities around the world by assisting travelers who want to bring meaningful contributions to the destinations they visit.
Small Space. Little Effort. Big Impact.
It’s simple, use available space in your luggage to provide supplies to communities you visit. Here’s how it works:
3)Find either the hotel where you will be staying or a participating hotel near to where you are planning to stay and click to locate a community project and find out what the needs are.
4)Purchase about five pounds of materials from the list and add these items to your suitcase.
5)When you get to your destination, drop off your supplies at the participating hotel
6)Ta-da! You've made a difference!
As I type this post, I’m preparing to go to Jamaica (yay!). I know I’ll be near Montego Bay so I clicked the Caribbean suitcase, found the Sandals Resort Montego Bay (even though that is not where I’ll be staying) and found that the Happy Venture Basic School is in need of donations. Ohm and I went straight to Family Dollar to purchase a few supplies to take with us. It is that easy!
I'm happy an organization like Pack for a Purpose exists. Sometimes it is the little things that make such a big difference. I look forward to making Pack for a Purpose a part of my regular travel routine.
*FYI, this piece reflects my opinion and has not been sponsored by Pack for a Purpose.
For the month of July, I've started a new series called- Wanderlust Photo Wednesdays. Here, i'll feature a photograph of an inspiring location. Happy Hump Day!
There is a loud pop. The band stops playing and a collective gasp is heard.
At the staircase a crowd is gathering. By the bar, a man lays motionless; a circle of blood pools beneath his head. A petite woman collapses in a plume of red feathers, sobbing, howling as she pounds her fists on the body.
"Santori," She screams, black mascara tracks line her face.
"My cousin just killed my husband!"
An angry buzz fills the air. Actors scurry to the bar as patrons relax into their seats. The second scene is off to a dramatic start. Sipping my jalapeno infused vodka and bitters drink from a white porcelain teacup, I allow myself to enter the world of the play. The band plays the old New Orleans standard St. James Infirmary as the body is marched through the bar.
Not your typical bar experience? In New York, there is no such thing.
In a city that goes above and beyond, bars are no exception. In New York, you can expect to be taken on a journey, whether that journey is back in time to the roaring twenties, to the garden for a farm to drink herbal infused cocktail or on a sensual trip to Italy via her finest wines.
Here's where to go for a memorable New York bar experience:
In a dark alley in Chinatown, through a small unmarked door, you'll find Apotheke. Enter to be transported to "Old New York." Behind the bar, along the exposed brick wall highlighted by candlelight, you'll find apothecary jars, herbs, bitters and a variety of liquors. Bartenders dressed in suspenders, vests or lab coats, mix, measure, whip and blend their creations. You've heard of farm to table, but have you embraced the concept of farm to bar? Here, organic herbs are infused into drinks with formulaic and medicinal precision. Broken down into categories such as stimulants, aphrodisiacs, stress relievers, pain killers, and euphoric enhancers, the menu is reminiscent of an old apothecary.
Earl Grey infused gin? Whisky with herbal essences? Inspired by Almack’s Dance Hall, one of the first black owned bars in Harlem, 67 Orange Street is a hip central Harlem staple. 67 evokes the feel of the Harlem Renaissance. It is a small intimate speakeasy, the perfect bar for a quiet night out with your artsy friends. Be daring and ask the mixologist what drink they're working on and give the off-menu options a try. We sipped a dark chocolate margarita inspired cocktail infused with jalapeno peppers. So good.
Rustic and cozy, Inoteca is a classic wine bar (and restaurant) on the LES. The wine list carries over 500 varieties, you can't go wrong here. Inoteca is where I first discovered Lambrusco during a slow post-brunch wine break. With a ceiling to floor window wall facing Ludlow, this is the perfect spot for people watching, or if you're in the mood for privacy, head downstairs to the wine cellar, where you can relax around aromatic wooden tables with family, friends and a bottle or glass of your favorite vino.
The Back Room
102 Norfolk (near Delancey St)
New York, NY 10002
Walk down a flight of stairs, crouch through a small wooden door that leads into an alleyway, walk up the fire escape and in through the small door and you've arrived at The Back Room. Come prepared to play. There's dinner theatre and there's the speakeasy bar theatre experience at the Back Room. Conjure up your finest Gatsby era attire and rub shoulders with ghosts of New York's prohibition past. Sip drinks out of teacups as you do the Charleston to a live brass band, take in a burlesque show or two on the second floor and get ready for the theatrical action as actors simulate a bar fight, a murder, a police raid and countless other scenarios.
Easily one of the most romantic spots in New York, Wine Spot, is a cozy, exposed brick room, in the heart of the West Village. I'm reminded of that iconic scene from Lady and the Tramp whenever I stop by. Between the french inspired cafe tables, the soft candles and delicate flower arrangements, it is hard not to fall in love. If you time it right, you can snag the chaise lounge in front of the working fireplace. This is an ideal place for a date night, but the best time to go is during the week before seven pm, as it crowds quickly.
For a dose of sophistication, the Champagne Bar at the Plaza Hotel is an afternoon or evening well spent. Get dressed up and relax in the luxurious lounge. The Champagne list is extensive and features some of the finest champagnes the world has to offer. With crystal chandeliers overhead, plush velvet seats and a great view of Central Park, it's easy to spend more than a few hours and dollars here. Drinks are pricy, but at least the buttery popcorn is free.
Alice's Arbor is a hipster hang-out with an emphasis on farm to table fare. Part bar, part restaurant, the drink menu is as quirky and layered as the country cottage/mod decor. Alice's Arbor has a hearty wine and whisky list. When it comes to creative cocktails, it's all about the details and my favorite is the spicy jalapeno infused margarita.
Anxiety Inducing Tale #1-Setting: At the Crocodile Reserve on Green Island near Negril, Jamaica as my husband and I leaned over a four foot wire fence in an attempt to get a better look at the six foot crocodiles that stalked below us in the murky water.
