OUR YEAR AWAY

I’d like to start this short blog post by declaring that I am, in no uncertain terms, a failure. I hope those of you who know me will be surprised to read this. Those who don’t may also find it curious as it’s not the sort of thing you hear people blurt out every day unless, perhaps, you’re a mental health professional. But before you scream “don’t jump” at your computer or urge me to call the Samaritans, let me explain what happened during our time in the U.S.

We arrived in Prescott, Arizona after a long drive from Las Vegas with only one day left before rushing back to California. Our plan was to spend it at one of the seven natural wonders of the world: the Grand Canyon.

 Now, depending on who you speak to, the Grand Canyon is either just a big hole in the ground or a breathtaking spectacle of sufficient magnitude to profoundly those who see it. I preferred to believe the latter. Festering in my head was this romantic notion of seeing the canyon at sunset with my family beside me. Apparently it’s quite a common bucket list item, albeit mostly for those going through a midlife crisis.

However we were advised by a ‘hole in the ground’ person, that seeing it would only take half a day, so we left late and found that it took longer than anticipated to get there. Assuming the sun wasn’t going to set for a while, we hung around pointlessly in a cafe, watched an educational movie and generally mucked about while taking in the splendid view. I even went off on my own to take a few more snapshots while Natalie accompanied the kids to the restrooms.

Time was moving fast so I jumped on the shuttle bus thinking it would be the quickest route back to the visitor centre where we agreed to meet. It wasn’t. Unfortunately it went the long way round and stopped off a few times on route. One of these stops was apparently the best viewpoint at sunset – the place we were meant to be. As another family disembarked, I overheard the mother say “Look kids, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and we really shouldn’t miss it.”

That’s when I found out the exact time of sunset – just eight minutes away at 5.43pm! I had a choice to either jump off there and then and witness the event on my own or try to grab the others and hurry back to see it together. In a desperate attempt to realise my dream, I stayed on the bus until the final stop, then ran around like a maniac looking for Natalie and the kids. Four minutes left … tick … tock … tick … tock … the dream was fading by the second.

In the car I might just about have made it myself, but that wasn’t the dream. We were meant to share this serene moment together and remember it warmly for the rest of our lives!

By now Natalie was concerned about my whereabouts and was also running around like a headless chicken. It felt tragic at the time but on CCTV it would probably have resembled the cartoon, Roadrunner – even down to the backdrop.

In the midst of this madness, the small part of my brain not focused on finding my family was trying to figure out why I was so disproportionately upset. A sunset is a sunset is a sunset, no? Just because the sun disappears behind a hole in the ground, doesn’t make it that special, does it? And if it mattered that much, surely we could rearrange our plans?

I then spotted Natalie in the distance. She could see the despondency on my face. Nevertheless, we made a mad dash for the car half hoping the sun would be late for bed. We parked hurriedly (in a disabled bay next to a commercial bin, partially on the curb), jumped out and then ran towards the viewpoint.

Streams of contented-looking people were heading towards us, cheerily exchanging post spectacle remarks. By now we knew we had missed it but our momentum took us forward – to see what we had missed. The path ended, the trees cleared, the sun had gone. All that was left were a few hangers-on and a big, dark hole in the ground.

Later on, as dusk turned to pitch black night, we sat in the cafe. The downbeat mood was not enhanced by the unnatural fluorescent lighting bouncing off the rubbery lasagne in front of me. Then it hit me: the reason I was upset was because we had FAILED. We had travelled thousands of miles and were in the right place at the right time in the right weather (a lot of people miss the spectacle completely because of cloud!) and had missed by minutes the spectacle of a lifetime.

All the other failures came into sharp focus. Failure to do at least one hour a day of home-schooling. Failure to produce one blog post every week. Failure to keep our budget under tight control. While it’s true that we started our journey with no particular end in mind apart from returning home safely together, these failings were collectively getting us down.

To pull ourselves out of the darkness we flipped our thinking on its head. What if failure was not the opposite of success but rather an inherent part of it? Now we could see failure in a different light (cue Hamlet cigar music) because:

• Small failures help us avoid the really big mistakes in life.
• Failure drives us to be more innovative and resourceful.
• Failure provides learnings you just don’t get from text books.
• Failure reflects the size of your ambition: if you’re not failing, you’re probably not trying (very hard).
• Failure is humbling. When our egos would run wild it brings us down to earth with a bump.
• Failure helps us see things in perspective.

So say it once, say it loud, I’ve failed and I’m proud!

I made the kids swear to bring me back to the Grand Canyon one day. With a lump in my throat, I imagined them standing by my wheelchair, holding my wrinkled pasty hands, watching the glow of the sun gradually disappear behind that majestic landscape.

I imagined, with a contented look on my face, saying goodbye.

Get involved: what failures have your learnt from?

P.S. Thanks again to Brendan Staunton for editing and assistance. Visit his site at www.nailonthehead.net

Hi folks,
Here is the second and final report from the Canada leg of our trip.

It was late when we arrived at the Holiday Inn Calgary Airport. Incidentally, despite the name, it’s nowhere near the airport; in England I might have contacted the Office of Fair Trading. Anyway, having missed the Calgary Stampede we found the town a little quiet, a not unwelcome development after all we’d been through during our first few months away. Also, it was nice to mingle with people dressed in cowboy outfits without all the rigmarole of going to a fancy dress party. I took the kids to Calgary Zoo which was surprisingly good, while Natalie hit the phone and internet to plan our Canadian Rockies adventure.

We had booked the only type of car available online prior to arriving and judging by the small icons denoting baggage on the car rental company’s website, we were convinced our luggage wouldn’t fit. So I went to the car hire place early in the hope of grabbing something bigger. Silly me! Worrying about getting a small hire car in North America is like fretting that you might go hungry at Monster Burgers. This thing was a beast –all five of us could have comfortably lived in it (which I seriously considered after checking our finances).

Tip for travellers:
If you want to pick up a car in one city and drive it to another, many car rental companies will slap on an extortionate ‘drop off’ fee. Don’t fall for it – big firms will have people going in both directions, especially to and from popular cities. We were quoted up to $1,000 (around £650 GBP) to go from Calgary to Vancouver but shopped around and found that Hertz only charged $200. Eventually, by extending our rental, we managed to get the fee waived completely.

Safely ensconced in our monster truck we left Calgary and headed off through the beautiful (though a tad touristy) Cambourne and Banff in the direction of Lake Louise where our first family experience in a hostel was booked. We thought booking a night in a hostel was a risk – flashbacks to inter-railing around cockroach-infested European dives – but we’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Bunk beds were fun. Kind of. Again the memories came flooding back, this time of summer camp in Seaford. I foolishly conceded (begged) to take the top bunk and in my sleep ended up playing ‘keepie uppie’ with a ceiling just six inches from my nose. I’d hoped it was all a dream but the scuff marks on my forehead said otherwise. Next time I’ll let the kids have all the ‘fun’.

Looking over at Jonah dozing in his travel cot and it struck us that, while we sampled a variety of saggy mattresses, hard pillows and creaky frames wherever we went, he was tucked into the same bed every night. No wonder he slept like a baby.

Even the rain didn’t distract from the beauty of Lake Louise. The scenery was breathtaking and even the children were awestruck, although they must have been a little sick of hearing the phrase “Wow, look kids!” even more than “When possible, do a u-turn”. Amy wasn’t well so I ended up on a paddle boat with Ethan. Our ambition was to row from one end of the lake to the other, but with only 20 minutes to go and barely a third of the lake covered, we realised, as with our car, and the continent in general, it was just sooooo big.

Before heading out from Calgary to Jasper, we were told to definitely expect bears. And with all the bear warning signs along the way, we practically expected them to leap out from the woods and on to our car at any moment. Needless to say, they didn’t, though we did spot a couple on separate occasions through the thick woods off the Icefields Parkway.

We stayed in Jasper for two nights. Once again I skipped dinner and ended up eating what could have been a nice beef sandwich if it hadn’t been floating in a thick gravy soup. My sister told me that we were inadvertently following a route my late father had taken with her over twenty years ago – hopefully he avoided the soggy beef sandwich.

Tip for travellers: For a better sandwich experience in Jasper I recommend the Patricia Street Deli. The subs are sublime (think Subway run by Marco Pierre White) and the serving ladies are nice too.

A few more cowboys and a gazillion pictures later (I found it hard not to stop off at every viewpoint, much to the kids’ irritation) we ended up at the awesome (a word we now use a lot) Angel Glacier which was accessed through a rocky trail. It was hard going with the pushchair but worth the backache. Driving from Banff to Jasper takes three hours. I scoffed at the tourist brochure for promoting this road as ‘The world’s most spectacular journey’, but it’s not hard to see why people spend days doing the drive. The beauty is relentless.

Unfortunately we had to hurry as we were aiming to meet my brother and his partner in Garden Bay, British Columbia within a week. Ethan made a friend in the swimming pool when we stopped off at an RV park in Clearwater. In fact, Ethan made friends in every swimming pool at every hotel where we’ve stayed. His secret? “I just say my name is Ethan, do you want to be my friend?”

Think I’ll take a leaf out of his book and try that some day, though I’d probably get a high five in the face if I did it back in London. Still, Ethan and his new found ‘friends’ aren’t all that close. He often has trouble remembering their names or even what they looked like the next day, but it’s all good preparation for when he’s old enough to join Facebook.

Hope this doesn’t happen to you! Our next scheduled stopover on route to Garden Bay was the curiously-named Hope, the town which became the movie set for the film ‘Rambo: First Blood’ back in the eighties. What a film! However, Hope quickly turned to despair when we discovered that my major booking cock-up left us with nowhere to stay for the night.

The only available place was run by some bloke who looked dodgy enough to nab the lead baddy role in Rambo II (in between icing unsuspecting tourists). We declined. He didn’t like us loitering outside using his Wi-Fi either but we weren’t keen to be his next victims. We left Hope, never to return, almost as disappointed as the protestors against the demolition of the famous bridge where Sly was politely asked to do the same.

We ended up at 2am in a place with a lovely name: Chilliwack. I swear if we ever get a dog I will call it that. Heck, if we don’t get a dog then I’ll just rename one of the children. By now we were all exhausted and the next day was the first on which we didn’t even venture beyond the hotel’s front door.

Garden Bay on the Sunshine Coast was our chance to unwind/unravel with family and friends. Here we discovered s’mores, a combination of marshmallows and chocolate sandwiched between two biscuits and roasted over an open fire, which was like finding the eighth wonder of the world. We created our own version using Oreos and nicknamed them S’moreos and discussed at length how we would trademark the name and make millions.

As you’ll have gathered, the wine in Garden Bay was pretty good too. We spent our days swimming in the lakes – a welcome change from the over-chlorinated hotel swimming pools – and our nights sitting by the fire having conversations like the one above, most of which are now safely forgotten.

Our final stop in Canada was Vancouver. We could see why it is regularly name checked among the best places in the world to live. With beautiful parks, glistening marinas, sandy beaches and great restaurants and bars, it really does have everything. We made a connection with a close family friend who treated us to our first Shabbat (Sabbath) meal and for the first time in seven weeks we felt at home. The next day we rented bikes and rode the full way around Stanley Park: just one of Vancouver’s many ‘must do’ attractions.

A few days later we were on a train bound for the U.S. Our instructions while crossing the border were stern and clear: do not move under ANY circumstances. Try telling that to two over-excited kids dosed up on maple syrup. We literally had to strap them down. Still, after a hair-raising conversation with an extremely unfriendly border patrolman (whose mood wasn’t improved by me continually asking him to repeat the question) we finally arrived in the extremely friendly city of Seattle.

Danny & Natalie

P.S. Thanks as always to Brendan Staunton for editing and assistance. Visit his site at www.nailonthehead.net

I felt guilty about not blogging as much as I’d intended but during the last three months we’ve traveled 11,954 miles on 16 separate modes of transport and slept in 28 different places, somehow ending up here in Santa Monica, Los Angeles without losing any valuables (or children).

So inevitably a few items on our to-do list have been skipped due to our insistence on keeping the kids fed and keeping a roof over our heads. Alas, things like blogging, reading, writing, managing our finances and continuing the kids’ education have all taken a back seat (I really hope Mr Marantz isn’t reading this).

Staying hygienic has been a particular challenge which we have (mostly) met. Yes, we’re still wearing clean(ish) clothes, though our travel iron hasn’t seen any action.

So much for our last post about taking time – the truth is we can’t get enough of it. Staying productive isn’t easy when you’re constantly behind the wheel, booking hotels, changing nappies – or doing it all at the same time.

But here’s a quick snapshot of what we’ve been up to since leaving London on 16th June:

We rented an apartment in Montreal’s trendy Mile End district through a great site called AirBnB. Basically you live in someone’s house surrounded by all their clothes, books, CDs and other ephemera.

Yes, it freaked us out at first – Ethan wouldn’t eat off the plates for days – but we got used to it. In fact it was good there despite (shock/horror) not having WiFi or TV for two weeks. Fortunately the world’s best coffee shop was just around the corner.

Two things struck us about Montreal: the stifling humidity (apparently normal for that time of year) and the number of Yiddish-speaking Hasidic Jews wandering around our neighborhood. Although we consider ourselves secular (I really, really hope Mr Marantz isn’t reading this) their presence helped us feel quite at home.

We rented a car big enough for the five of us and all our luggage (just about), bought and installed a new child’s seat ourselves (buggered if we were paying the $10 per day extra) and set off north to Quebec City and beyond.

We soaked up some culture in Quebec City. It was nice but doesn’t really compete with having Europe on your doorstep. Kate and William were due to arrive soon after we checked out – perhaps they followed us from Montreal. Ethan asked if the royals would be staying in our hotel (a 2 star property on the freeway). Maybe they did – just for fun.

We arrived in a small town called Rivière du-Loup and took to the waves for some whale spotting. Our attempt to take a picture of Jonah and a whale (geddit?) failed miserably as he kept nodding off at critical moments. Still, he enjoyed the journey back more than the other passengers who were subjected to some drab nineties video documentary predominately about whales mating.

After two pleasant ferry crossings we arrived in Tadoussac late evening to find most of the B&B’s and hotels full. Asking for a basic room was bad enough but mentioning two kids and a baby resulted mostly in sniggering or door slamming and sometimes both. It was the closest we’ve come to sleeping in the car. But Natalie’s persistence eventually paid off when we found a B&B (which oddly didn’t include breakfast).

Tadoussac is beautiful but when they say everything shuts at ten they mean everything. So my overriding memory is of dining alone in the car on stale, squashed bread and Nutella.

The Saint Lawrence river is a lovely part of the world and while we’re not sporty types we did a spot of sea kayaking near Tadoussac Bay. For me this was an opportunity to get really close to some small Beluga whales but our guides had different ideas given that (a) we were complete novices and (b) Ethan got bored rowing after five minutes and his guide refused to carry the full load. So we stayed within the bay, killing time by learning effective ways to splash each other.

Travelling back through Quebec City we stayed in this dodgy motel. We had originally planned to take a picture of the front door of every place we stayed so we could dedicate an entire wall at home to our trip. It seemed like a great idea until we forgot to take this one which cost us a 20 mile backtrack. We now take the pics as soon as we arrive (to the bemusement of passers by). Hopefully we’ll be mistaken for secret shoppers and get a free upgrade.

After our excursion we ended up in a quaint, characterful B&B (this time with breakfast) in the gay area of Montreal. It was a great location for seeing more of a city we’d grown fond of during our previous stay, though we were naive to think the local restaurants would have kids’ menus and high-chairs (I guess same-sex adoption still has some way to go).

We ummed and ahhed about whether and how to make the long trip to Toronto. Eventually we decided to go by rail. Unfortunately we ended up on the slow train but WiFi made the eight hour journey surprisingly tolerable.

For our week in Toronto we spent four days in a downtown hotel and the remainder in a motel near the airport, where we rented a car. We didn’t see much of downtown because the kids wanted to spend most of the time on the 150 foot pitch-black water slide (after asking me to try it out first – never again). We did, however, manage to keep them wet by taking them on a short trip to Niagara Falls.

We took a ferry to Toronto Islands on what had to be the busiest day of the year: Festival of India day. Thinking we could outsmart the crowds, we headed for the ferry with the shortest queue only to find our boat heading to the ‘clothing optional’ beach. Nothing a four KM hike to Center Island couldn’t resolve though. We had a long wait to get back to the mainland but it’s amazing how time flies when you’re being eaten alive by mosquitoes.

Maybe it’s just us but aren’t Torontonians are a funny bunch? A bit like New Yorkers but without the swagger. They’re probably very nice when you get to know them though.

After giving up the idea of buying a car and driving 2,018 miles to Calgary (allegedly one of the world’s dullest journeys) we boarded a plane with our 15 pieces of luggage (we tried to cut down, honest) and began our Canadian Rockies adventure…

Thanks for reading – part 2 coming soon!

Danny & Natalie

P.S. Thanks to Brendan Staunton for editing and assistance. Visit his site at www.nailonthehead.net

Okay, we admit it, this should have gone up over three weeks ago but we couldn’t find the time. Ironic really, as you’re about to discover below…

Time. There’s never enough of it. Maybe that’s why city people are always in a hurry. They rush their kids to school, rush to meetings, rush to the shops. It’s part of the 21st century human condition: an endless dash to ‘get things done’.

Yet a key motivation behind our year away was to put all that (often necessary) rushing aside and make more time – to be together, to be ourselves, to explore. Trouble is, rushing is a hard habit to break.

We so wanted the start of our big trip to be stress-free and planned in lots of time to get to the airport… but the taxi company let us down. This wasn’t how our dream was meant to start.

At the airport we were in such a hurry to fold the push chair properly that it got stuck in the X-Ray machine. Rushing to unjam it my watch went ‘missing’ and was only found on the floor under the machine after I noticed it was gone. (Call me cynical but perhaps airport security needs airport security?!)

Inside the plane, rushing to take a picture of Jonah, I somehow released the contents of the overhead locker onto his forehead leaving a nasty indentation across his brow (he’s fine – apparently that’s the best place to take a blow).

Then, while Natalie was rushing to get Jonah’s food out of his bag, he jolted forward and banged his head on the sky-cot table in exactly the same place. We had to complete two incident forms. The stewardess assured us it was just a formality but I reckon we’re now on the ‘watch list’.

Since arriving we’ve travelled extensively and had some amazing times, but the past five weeks have been chock full of similar mishaps (thankfully not all involving Jonah’s forehead) and this legacy of anxiety to meet ‘deadlines’ hung in the air.

Until it dawned on me.

I was alone with Ethan in the park on a hot, humid summer’s day. He wanted to splash about in the fountain for the gazillionth time and I said, “Come on, we haven’t got all …” I never finished the sentence. Because we did have all day – and all night too, if we wanted.

In fact, we have all year.

Now we try and catch ourselves before wishing any more precious time away. Instead of taking cabs we say “let’s walk” (usually overruling the kids) or “let’s finish the chapter” instead of one more page. Gradually we’re learning to appreciate the true value of having time on our hands. We’ve even turned off our alarm clocks (though Jonah always was just as reliable).

If there’s more to life than speed, as Gandhi famously proclaimed, then maybe the trick is to find out what that ‘more to life’ is. For us it’s learning new things, watching our kids grow, developing new tastes and simply slowing down a little so we can appreciate life in all its glory. That’s what our year away is really all about.

So the next time you’re rushing around ask yourself this: what’s your ‘more to life’? Why not write back and share it with us? What would you do if you had more time in your day, your week, your year?

Danny & Natalie

P.S. Thanks to Brendan Staunton for editing and assistance. Visit his site at www.nailonthehead.net

When planning this trip we wanted a process that wasn’t just stress-free but enjoyable too, if possible. Veteran travellers had warned that our departure date would creep up on us. So we brought milestones forward and began ticking off items on our to-do list before anything was even confirmed.

Then, as our dream took shape, we got super-organised (by our standards), creating an elaborate action list – all colour-coded and prioritised. We divided responsibilities, added contingencies and got on with it.

A few weeks before D-Day, friends and family helped us pack, store and clear our belongings in preparation for our tenants. A couple of things had crept behind schedule but we seemed in good shape.

But the small setbacks accumulated and our eerie sense of calm was overtaken by a more familiar state of blind panic…

First, our farewell gathering in the park was forecast to be a washout. So like good British citizens we reverted to ‘Plan P’ – the nearest pub. No biggie.

Then, Natalie accidentally hit a curb and burst a tyre on our only car. Again no problem… until the drive shaft went a few days later making it difficult to (a) sell the car and (b) get to Brent Cross (the local shopping centre) for vital supplies.

Tying up loose ends with work commitments dragged on longer than anticipated resulting in out-of-hours conference calls and a few late nights.

And we completely overlooked the massive inconvenience of school half-term; a wholly unproductive mixture of keeping the kids entertained and feeling guilty about allowing TV and Facebook to do most of it.

The references from our tenants-to-be were slow coming through. The family owns a business selling nougat of all things, so if they didn’t arrive on time our options were (a) take their word that they’re financially stable or (b) get fat on an endless supply of sugar and hazelnuts.

Of course if you’re serious about making things worse, anxiety works every time and Natalie suffered another episode of extreme palpitations. She suffers from a heart condition called SVT, so during lengthy visits to the hospital we pondered whether taking a year’s supply of beta-blockers into North America might upset local airport officials.

We kept trying to remind ourselves of what mattered: the tickets, the passports and the children – then promptly went into denial, going to Lakeside shopping centre and a curry the night before our departure.

If we were planning the big trip again (or anything ‘big’ for that matter) we’d do well to heed the following advice:

• Do the big, important things first. There’s no point in picking up flip-flops on sale if you haven’t sorted out your visa. Eat that frog first and everything else will seem easy!
• Work with end in mind. Once your audacious dream is clear, use every bone in your body to make it happen.
• Accept that your to-do list will grow faster than you can complete it. You are not failing, just being thorough.
• Health and wellbeing is paramount so don’t ignore any physical, mental or relationship matters that arise.
• Don’t over-plan. Build in lots of flexibility, you’ll need it.
• Remember: other countries have shops where you can buy stuff too. No, really!
• Share the dream, it’s amazing how many people will support you, especially when you’ve inspired them. Remember, sharing is caring!
• If you’ve got kids, get them involved – but not too much!
• Don’t let setbacks put you off. There are always lots of reasons not to follow your dream, such as being too busy, etc. Find the time.
• Don’t panic!

At 5 am GMT, we lay in bed in our new Montreal apartment and could finally relax.

Until a new sense of panic took over: what were we doing here and how were we going to cope for the next year?

Until next time…
Danny & Natalie

Now here’s the issue: we want to share our forthcoming adventure with as many people as possible, but we also want to avoid being connected to the internet 24/7 which would defeat the object of going in the first place.

So how do we make time to write about our experience yet still experience the experience at the same time?! (Sorry for going all Donald Rumsfeld – I’m back now).

In our fantasies we imagine going “off grid” and totally disconnecting from our regular life. But this simply isn’t practical (TV and the web are the best baby-sitters we know) or morally right (we can’t just ignore family and friends – and neither do we want to).

Then it dawned on us:

Sharing the experience is part of the experience!

A commitment to retelling what happens will give us the motivation to observe events more closely, providing a richer experience (I’ll stop using that word now) and more deeply ingrained memories.

It also serves as a physical journal for us to look back on in years to come and remind ourselves of what we have been through.

We are also writing for Jonah because at one year old he probably won’t remember anything (although let’s hope he doesn’t resent us for taking him at an age where Fiji may as well be Felixstowe).

So if blogging, vlogging, tweeting and updating our status is good, then the next issue is what exactly we should blog, vlog, tweet and update about.

We’re pretty certain most people won’t care what the weather’s like or what we had for breakfast. They probably won’t be bothered what sights we’ve seen or how we got to them either – there are a gazillion travel writers out there who can do this sort of thing much better than we can.

Our hunch is that most people will want to know stuff like:

• How can we afford it (to be honest, we’re not 100% sure we can!)?
• How can we take the kids out of school and teach them well enough so they don’t drop behind?
• How will we deal with severe homesickness and keep the children in touch with folks back home?
• How can we connect with locals and other travelling families?
• Can a marriage survive being together 24/7 for one full year?
• How will we manage the business from afar?

Perhaps the really intriguing story behind our trip is about breaking the template of how people with responsibilities are meant to live. We imagine a lot of people thinking: “If they can do that with three kids, then maybe I can [insert dream here]“.

Who knows? Maybe you can too.

The purpose of this post is to find out what people really want to hear so why not let us know by leaving some comments in the box below. Any guidance on what to write about will be greatly appreciated!

Hello and welcome to our very first blog post.

When we tell people about our plans to travel the world with two kids and a baby in tow many say we’re being “brave”. They’re keen to know how we’ll rise to the challenge of turning our lives upside down, especially given all the possible downsides such as:

• Missing our family and friends
• Bad stuff happening back home
• The kids driving us mad
• The kids suffering academically
• The cost
• Missing out on significant events like the arrival of our niece/nephew
• Missing business opportunities
• Falling ill and ending up in hospital
• Getting lost and arguing, even with a TomTom
• Our house getting wrecked by our “professional” tenants

Worryingly, the list above could be much longer and some of the obstacles more extreme. A few may even happen and… actually I’d better start being more positive before I talk, I mean, write myself out of this.

You see, the truth is, we don’t feel brave. We crap ourselves (metaphorically) whenever we think about what we’re doing (Jonah does it somewhat less metaphorically but he’s only one). So the best thing for us is to focus on boarding that plane on June 16th.

Thankfully the distractions of planning the trip while maintaining some semblance of regular family life keep our minds off the enormity of what lies ahead. But when the distractions subside (or we awake at 4am with hearts thumping) we remind ourselves why we planned the trip in the first place:

• We want family time together before our kids get more attached to their lives (and their gadgets) than to us
• We want to visit places we usually only dream about
• We don’t want to regret NOT doing it
• Not all surprises are bad – unexpected good things will happen too
• We want to learn
• We are getting older (seemingly faster)
• We want to meet new people and develop business opportunities
• We want to disrupt the monotony of everyday life for a while
• We like the sun. No, we LOVE the sun

All of these reasons are good enough to pack our bags tomorrow but our main motivation is something we don’t get much of in our comfortable lives back home:

• The opportunity to throw everything up in the air and see how it lands. To have a profound experience of living that will shape who we all are, for the better, forever.

There’s an apt quote by a smart bloke called Mark Twain who once said: “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it’s time to pause and reflect.”

We paused. We reflected. Then we did something about it.

Danny & Natalie

–

Thanks for reading, now how would you like to come along?
Not literally (unless you’re a voluntary au pair) but you could always check in and see how we’re doing. We may even be in your neighbourhood. And if you’ve ever imagined doing something like this perhaps you have thoughts on what would interest you. If so leave a brief note in the comments section below and we’ll definitely take it on board.

Hello. This is the first of many regular blog posts chronicling our journey across the globe. If you have any suggestions of what we should write about then please drop us a line at hello@ourworldaway.com. Don’t forget to visit our site, follow us on Twitter and like our Facebook page.