Life, Liberty, and more food...the American way

Welcome to the holiday weight-gain season. Depending on the source, the average American will gain 2 to 12 pounds between Thanksgiving and New Years Day. That's a lot of weight in 5 or 6 weeks. The problem lies in the fact that many of us will hold on to some, if not all of that weight, and then continue the pattern again next year, which contributes to the statistic that more than half of American adults are overweight.

All the talk about holiday weight gain reminded me of an article I read while on vacation this summer. In a London newspaper article (sorry, can't remember the name), the writer lists the holiday vacation destinations where Brits gain the most weight. Topping the list - United States! Brits vacationing in the U.S. for a week can expect to gain almost 8 pounds. The article went on to say how that shouldn't be such a surprise based on the size of the average American citizen. What? I was a bit offended, but as we traveled around, I came to the conclusion that the folks on the other side of the Atlantic, may, in fact, be smaller than those of us in the new land.

There was nothing that blatantly stood out about the difference in size, I only have my family's experiences as my research data. Now, for reference, we are average size people. Yeah, my husband and I could miss a few slices of chocolate cake and not starve, but, well, anyway. I submit the following evidence.

- in Westminster Abbey, there are tombs (a great "eeeww" factor for the kids) and they are kinda short. We wondered are the people actually in there? Did they fold them up upon burial? Why are the tombs so short?

- In Harrod's department store, there is a sign at the escalator warning parents not to take the baby stroller up the escalator. You've seen those mothers - they try to balance 2 wheels of the stroller on one of the steps, then baby starts to wiggle and mom gets all panicked that she and a baby are going to roll down the escalator. In the U.S., the store posts the sign, then leaves it up to you to follow instructions. At Harrod's, they put a metal pole right in the middle of the landing so that the stroller will not fit. Clever. But - it also restricts a person who cannot pass that pole - someone wider than a baby stroller - to get on the escalator! I don't think we could have such a pole at Macy's.

- The hotel elevators are teeny! In our hotel in Paris, it took our family 4 trips to get up to our room when we checked in; without luggage, it was 2 trips. In Amsterdam, my six-year old and I squeezed in with my tote bag and her backpack to get to our rooms.* Rome - the elevator was 1 person wide, 3 of us could get in single file.

- European serving sizes, from a cup of coffee to a full meal, are smaller and more reasonable. But the American meal serving sizes and calorie counts do reach to the level of ridiculousness, when you consider one of our popular restaurants has a fried mac & cheese appetizer that's 1500 calories. The meals I could get used to, but I thought I was going to go into caffeine withdrawal since a 16 oz. cup of coffee was non-existent n the land of cafe au laits and cappuccinos (small, but delicious).

As a proud American, I did my best to refute the article. In conclusion, I found that if you make a concerted effort to find the best ice cream in Europe by having a scoop every day and tasting the signature dessert of the country, from Belgian waffles to cannoli, an American can gain almost as much weight in Europe as vice versa. I do what I can in defense of my country.


*by the way - Hotel V in Amsterdam is a nice, boutique hotel. Obviously used to accommodating young, hip guests, but was great to our family. One night in fact, the young lady at the front desk came over to D and I and said , "the bar is closed, but I know you are traveling with 4 kids, so we will open if you'd like something."

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Souvenir Yarn shopping in London & Madrid

In addition to the key chains and coffee mugs emblazoned with the names of various cities, I most always come home from vacation with at least a few skeins of yarn. During my trip to Europe, my intention was to find a local yarn shop in each city and collect a scarf-to-be as we went along.

When traveling, I find yarn shops using knitmap.com. Its basically Googlemaps for yarn fanatics. Enter in the city that you would like to search, as well as some optional criteria such as “Open Right Now”, “Snacks/Refreshments” and it returns a list of yarn shops plotted on a map. Each store has a basic listing of location and hours, and some have comments and website link.

Although I did find listings for shops in each city, I did miss a few stops. Here’s my first tip for yarn shopping while on vacation: check the shop hours and plan your shopping into your sightseeing. The times that I did this were the only times I made it to a shop; when I thought I would just get there eventually, I didn’t. Also, because we were traveling in Europe, there were a couple of other snags – some of the shops were closed at lunch, which was the time I had thought I could get there, and some were closed for holiday (in August).

Note here that I am one of those yarn shoppers who buys what I like when I see it, not necessarily for a specific pattern or purpose, so in some ways wandering through yarn shops is easier since I have no particular thing in mind. If you are looking for a particular yarn, you would need to have a good idea of the weight and yardage needed to be able to make substitutions, if necessary.

In London, I visited iKnitLondon, a short walk from the WaterLoo Station, across the bridge from Big Ben. I went in the evening, and the street was pretty empty, all the other stores closed, with the exception of a convenience store or small restaurant or two. I did think “this does not look like a yarn shop street,” but was pleasantly surprised (and happy that I hadn’t gotten myself lost) when I came across the bright yellow shop sign. Inside was packed, not only with yarn, but knitters, too. It was one of the nights that they are open late and customers could gather for knitting, chatting, and refreshments. Along with yarn and supplies, they also sold wine – the young lady working said that they are the only yarn shop in England with a liquor license; I’m sure that would be a unique combination here in the States, too. The shelves were jam-packed with yarn, from cotton to wool to silk. I was pleased with the selection, and to the chagrin of my 4 kids, took some time to feel the yarn, consider all the colors and imagine all the possibilities. I finally settled on a skein of Scrumptious lace (with a name like that, how could you pass it up) - an oyster colored lace-weight silk and merino blend, from fyberspates - destined for a late-summer/early fall shawl.


In Madrid, tucked into the outside wall of Plaza Mayor, I found El Gato Negro (again – what a name, right?) It was a spacious shop, stacked from floor to ceiling with skeins and skeins of unlabeled yarn. My favorite feature was the library-style ladders that wheeled along the shelves. There were two older women working, neither of whom spoke English, but were very pleasant and helpful. All the yarn was sold by weight, in skeins of about 100 grams. Of course, I had no idea of yards per gram for various types of yarn, so I took an experienced guess on how much I would need to be able to complete a project. In my rudimentary Spanish, cobbled together from what I remembered from high school and what I acquired over my few days in Spain, I figured out yarn content, weight, and price, and took home a couple skeins of gray mohair and pink and gray wool. The prices were very reasonable and if my husband would’ve allowed me to buy another suitcase, I probably would’ve grabbed up a few more sweaters worth of yarn.

If I lived in Madrid, I think you would find me sitting in the Plaza on a regular basis – a pitcher of sangria, a skein of yarn, and people watching to last all day.

Travel Tips...the family version

We're home, we're in the process of unpacking, and while doing so, I jotted down a few things that I want to remind myself of before we venture out again, whether for a weekend or another road trip. Thought I'd share them, maybe someone else would find them useful or have something to add as we wind down summer vacation season.

1. Know that your traveling companions will be the same people on the road as they are at home. If they don't like to get up in the morning at home, they will not care what time people start queuing to get into the Colisseum on vacation. If they don't like eggs at home, they will not eat them in a restaurant, no matter how much you pay for them. If they argue over the window seat in your car, they will do the same on the plane, train, taxi, bus, and subway, too. You will also be the same person. If you are grouchy before coffee, make sure to pack instant coffee or that there is a coffee machine in your hotel room.

2. It’s vacation – let them eat cake, and ice cream, too. Just do it at lunch, not after a late night dinner.

3. Bring any and all medications that you may possibly need. Prescription medicines are a given. But don't forget over-the-counter medicines, too, because, just like at home, your migraine will not start while you happen to walk past a pharmacy that sells the brand of painreliever you like. And children have a habit of getting sick in the middle of the night or on the road, somewhere far, far away from the drugstore. Also pack hand wipes, hand sanitizer, bathroom wipes, band-aids, and Neosporin.

4. Pack an extra shirt for everybody in your carry-on for emergencies. Maybe not today, maybe not all the kids, but someday, someone will need a new shirt.

5. Give each kid a spending budget. They will make different ("better"?) choices when they know that huge pencil is coming out of their own money.

6. Going through the airport? Check the kids and their carry-on backpack before you get to security. Kids always have some type of contraband (scissors, a bottle of water, plastic airline wings).

7. Take a break from the "must-see" places in the tourist book to enjoy regular stuff. Stop for ice cream, run around at the playground, wander thru the bookstore (even in a different language), eat at McDonald's.

8. When it comes to dining, don’t even bother with the guidebook. Those restaurants will be too expensive and the menu to culinary to enjoy with a group who would prefer having crayons on the table.

9. Collect something during your trip. It could be something physical or an experience. My son collects keychains and came home with his backpack jingling with reminders of our trip. As a family, we search for the best ice cream – no regular, franchise ice cream either, just the home-made, fresh-made, good stuff. It could also be something healthy like running a mile in each city or every day of vacation.

10. Give each kid their own camera. If they don't already have one, either buy a low-cost digital (because it will probably get dropped, broken, or lost on the first trip out and they can work their way up to an expensive one) or a disposable one. You’ll enjoy seeing the vacation from their eyes when you get home.

11. Enjoy your time together.

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Back to America

Two words. It almost doesn't matter who says it, one can feel themselves breathe easier, let their shoulders drop, and get ready to kick their shoes off. Our journey home included a flight from Madrid to London, transfer of airports, and an 8-hour flight back to America. (I don't know when my kids started calling our home country "America", I've always said "United States"; same country but somehow, it sounds so different.) Winding our way through the airport to customs and immigration, the officer stamped our passports, and the kids cheered as he said those 2 words - "Welcome Home."

Palace, Opera, and the Pope

Its our last night in Madrid. It's been a long vacation, but it's been a nice evening. After a hot day wandering thru the streets, it all ended with a spiritual and musical night.

Our hotel is across from the Royal Palace and all week there has been an opera performance in the garden. This video is from our window - there are little flashing lights at the bottom of the screen, that's the stage, but we can't really see the performers. I think they are doing the Barber of Seville, but I could be wrong since I dont know opera or what they are saying.

Coinciding with our trip has been the World Youth Day conference of the Catholic church, so the city has been flooded with 1 million youth and the Pope. The streets have been filled with their singing and flag waving (we've realized we really need to brush up on our flag identification before the Olympics) and then today, they were mysteriously gone, the streets were quiet. We thought they had all gone home. But then we turned on the news this evening and found out they were all camped out in a vigil on the outskirts of the city, with a program lead by the Pope. I don't know if it's officially called mass, but he spoke and there was prayer and the Eucharist. At the end, there were fireworks, which we could see from our hotel, too, but they aren't in the video because I was nervous I'd drop my iPad out the window.

Now, to pack up and finish my sangria.

Some of my favorite things - monkeys & big cats

When my friends and I take our kids to the DC zoo, we don't have to stop to pick up a map because I already have it  engraved in my head and know where all the animals are.  When I go on vacation, I go to the zoo.  This is all in preparation for the safari I'll go one one day.  I want to be sure I know the difference between a bongo and a waterbuck and a Chapman's And Grevy's zebra.  During this vacation, we've gone to the zoo in London, Antwerp, and Madrid.    

My favorite animals, in general, are the monkeys and the big cats, so I really do judge whether I like a zoo based on those exhibits.

In London, we came across the Emperor Tamarins.  These long mustached miniature monkeys are going on my list of favorites (think the little wise creature in Kung Fu Panda).  They were in London's rainforest and also in Antwerp.  They are very cute!

Antwerp has a major focus on their "Chimps in Antwerp" section.  Maybe a dozen or more chimps, along with gorillas, macaques, baboons, and other small monkeys.  They have a variety living enclosures.  There are some open areas you can walk through and search out the tamarins.  Of course the gorilla houses smelled like any other, hold your breath before going in.

In Madrid, visitors can purchase animal food for some of the animals.  We bought food to fee the flamingoes and monkeys.  I like this "interaction" between visitor and animal, in theory, because it's fun for the kids, but some folks skip buying the "food" and throw whatever they want.  We saw some people throwing candy to the gibbons and who knows what, including trash, to the baboons.  It's unhealthy for the animals, and of course the trash just looks a mess.  (This also goes for the people who feed the ponies at Assateague, too.) 

We weren't given any instructions of which monkeys to feed, except from the monkeys themselves.  The gibbons are obviously accustomed to being fed b/c they put their hands outside of cage and wiggled fingers for food, like humans! and made a call noise.  The kids threw the food, the gibbons caught it.  We also threw food to the baboons, because I don't know if "fed" is the right word here.   Madrid has about 100 baboons in a large stone den area.   When you throw food into the den, it causes the baboons to screech and fight for it.  They were very wild and aggressive, interesting to watch but sometimes a bit unnerving. 

None of the zoos had particularly interesting big cat exhibits.  Either they don't have any or we missed them in London; I think Madrid doesn't have any.  In Antwerp, they are building a new area for their lions, so they were not on display.  The tigers had their own area, complete with a moat to keep them in and little children out.  Jags and leopards could use a new spot, they are still in the old style cement & bar cages.

As for aquariums - most zoo aquariums aren't that spectacular, but more of a necessity to cover the aquatic animals.  Most exhibits are little more than regular fish in regular tanks.  Even DC zoo's aquatic animals (octopus, etc.) isn't that fancy either.  If you've gone to the National Aquarium in Baltimore, the Atlanta Aquarium, or Atlantis in Bahamas, you can skip the aquarium at the zoo.  (The London Zoo, however, gets historical points for being the first zoo to have an aquarium and for giving the aquatic exhibit it's name.)

They all had admission charges - averaging about 15€ per person, so I experienced a bit of sticker shock at the ticket booth.  It made me appreciate my FONZ membership at the National Zoo in DC (which is free for everyone)    that much more.

Today I don't feel like doing anything...

I wish I had a cumulative pedometer for the past few weeks. Between some of Europe's largest museums and the largest church in the world, slender streets and cobblestone paths, airport terminals & train stations, I know that our feet have logged in a couple marathons. So today, we'll take Bruno Mars' "Lazy Song" as our theme.

Today, we didn't do anything. We ate breakfast at McDonald's, which the kids loved because the pancakes come with your choice of chocolate or caramel sauce, no plain ole maple syrup. Then we went to the market and bought sandwiches, chips, fruit, cookies, water, punch, and sangria and headed to the beach.

Then we did nothing.

We swam in the Mediterranean, floating so easily on our backs and giggling to be able to see our feet in the water! I read a book sitting in the sand. The kids were amazed, intrigued, confused by the topless sunbathers and swimmers, then went back to swimming and floating in the water. And when the food was gone, the lifeguards climbed down from their chairs and the sun was ready to leave us to go shine on our friends back home, we rolled up our towels and flip-flopped off the beach.

When in Amsterdam...

Nah! Haven't engaged in the first thing you thought of when you saw the title. Nor the second either. Keep going, and somewhere on the list you get to something else Holland is famous for - biking!

And I don't mean Tour de France biking. I mean get on your bike to get somewhere biking. Bikes definitely outnumber the cars in this city, and if possible, it might outnumber the people, too. It's the thing to do and how to get around. Every morning since we've been here, I get my morning coffee (which after 2 weeks in a continent which apparently has not discovered full fat cream for coffee, I'm almost used to drinking my coffee just a little less than black, rather than the very light brownish tan I am accustomed to) and I watch the bikers out on the street.

I ride my bike at home, but not the way these people do. When I ride, I get into comfortable biking pants and a sweat-wicking athletic top, lace up my sneakers, tie on a bandana and strap on my helmet, drop my water bottle into it's holster and then I go ride up the bike trail. No where in particular, up Rock Creek Trail or down towards Chevy Chase. The journey is the destination (or something profound like that). After an hour or two, I come back home and put my bike away until the next time.

These folks? You can't even call them "bikers" because their sole purpose is not to bike, it's to get somewhere - to work, to school, to the grocery store, to the bar. Outside my window, these folks:
- have 1 baby in a baby seat on the handlebars and an older kid sitting on the back, behind the biker
- have 2 kids in a wheelbarrow-contraption type thing on the front of the bike. (I can't imagine the bike I would need if we lived here!)
- are talking on their cell phones
- are texting!
- are riding 2 next to each other and holding hands (romantic, no?)
- have their friend sitting on the back of the bike (I wonder which of my friends would trust me enough to ride side saddle on the back of my bike?)
- are carrying musical instruments and packages
- are "walking" their dogs, I.e. holding the dog's leash as it runs behind the bike
- are carrying an umbrella because is has suddenly started to rain
- are wearing heels, and dresses, and suits - they look good while biking.

All without a helmet! I haven't seen one helmet yet, not even on the baby sleeping in the basket.

And this is not a couple people in the 3' bike line on the side of the street. The bike line goes down the middle of the street, in between the 2 car lanes, which are so relatively empty, the bikes often drift into the car lanes, along with the cars that may be there. The cars, busses, bikes, and streetcars all share the road.

At home, there are some attempts to make biking more popular for all good reasons - save energy, reduce pollution, get more exercise. We need to do better on our bike lanes however to really make it work. There is a lane on the major street near where I live, but when it gets to the next major intersection, the lane ends. And since U.S. drivers are not used to a biker being in the lane, there's no way I'm jumping in between an Escalade and a Navigator on the road (that's another thing, the cars are alot smaller over here). We would also need better summer weather, looking cute and riding a bike when its 100 degrees with 60% humidity does not work well.

The best way to get around Amsterdam - Elle enjoying a bike ride.

After watching the bikers for a while, I couldn't resist. I rented a bike and rode down one of the canals. I love the feeling of biking - the wind blowing and all that. And then later - me and the kids took turns riding with each other on the back carry bar. All without a helmet.

A Dream Deferred

This morning, we stood out in the blustery wind, with a barely warm sun, in line to see Anne Frank's house. I imagine any educated person in the industrialized world knows the story of Anne Frank, if not in detail, at least in general. I have to admit, however, that I did somehow manage to graduate high school without ever reading her book. So I also didn't know that her family lived in Amsterdam, after fleeing their native Germany. We couldn't pass up the historical lesson of going to her house, especially since L will be studying WWII this year in school, and has a report due when school starts about the war.

What surprised me? As soon as we walked into the house, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. When we crossed over the threshold into the rooms that were for her father's business, I thought about being a young girl, barely older than my oldest daughter, and having to hide for your life, for 2 years. I managed to blink away the tears, until we got to the next floor. In the rooms which were her father's offices, was a video of his assistant, Miep, who he told they were going into hiding and asked for her help. Imagine entrusting someone with such an important secret.

On the landing in the hall way, is the bookcase that hid the entrance to the steep steps to the rooms that the families lived in; the Secret Annex, as they called. It's such an emotional tidal wave, considering the fear, hope, love, exhaustion, confusion, anxiety, frustration, friendship,patience, and faith that filled that space.

the Frank's home and business, Amsterdam

Her experience reminded me of those of African slaves in the U.S., running to freedom in the northern states and in Canada. Thru stories passed down, we've heard of the few people, if any, that a slave told they were leaving. The fear of being caught. The quietness required not to be discovered. Knowing the dangers of being found, but feeling that it was worth the risk to find freedom. The people one had to trust to make it. The inhumanity of it all.

We often consider historical moments as being so long ago that it doesn't even affect our lives. When I saw Anne's birth year, it brought into focus how close history is. She was born the same year as my father. When her family was going into hiding, my father was working, taking jobs vacated by men going off to fight in the war. Had she survived just another few months, she may be alive today, a proud grandmother, sharing her stories in person.

Apparently, Anne wanted her diary to be published. Encouraged by a radio broadcast from a Dutch government official who suggested that it's citizens keep their diaries to be shared after the war, she continued her diary, as well as made her own editorial changes and rewrites. In those bleak days, she had the vision that it would all end one day, that there was going to be a tomorrow when she could just be a teenage girl. And she dreamed of being a published author. She would never know that her father made sure her wish came true.

If she could dream, can't we all?

Next stop - Antwerp, Belgium!

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth...

If you've been in church enough, you know the Apostles' Creed.  Your mind knows the words, and today, I found that even without knowing the language, your heart knows the rhythm.

We visited The Cathedral of Notre Dame (Paris) this morning.  Just as we were crossing the street, the famous bells tolled, calling the faithful to service.  We entered thru the massive doors and took a row of seats near the back.  In revered awe, my eyes could not help but look higher and higher into the ceilings above us, drawn to the architectural lines and the magnificent stained glass windows.  Accompanied by singing, I saw the cross being carried into the nave and down the aisle to the pulpit.  The priest waved incense thru the air and the service began.  Now, let me note here that we are not Catholic, so this entire mass experience, aside from being in French, is new to us.  We followed along, standing and sitting when everyone else did and watching as the priest served communion.

In the comforting sound of the French mass, I felt calmed enough to think about where we were and how we got there, not only on this particular Sunday morning, but in life in general.  I reflected on how God has blessed our lives and covered us with grace.  With my eyes resting on the curved lines of the ceiling, I imagined the hundreds of people that built this cathedral for praise and the thousands who have worshipped here.  I marveled at the universality of faith in God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.

At some point in the service, the rhythm of the congregation's words felt familiar. And we fell in concert...
"who was conceived by the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, crucified, dead and buried.  On the third day, He arose from the dead and ascended into heaven..."

After service, we found rows of candles lining the walls.  Each candle the physical manifestation of someone's prayer.  To me, each candle was a reminder of our own flickering, temporal existence in this great world.  How much that light wavered and how long it lasted was not under our control, but God's, no matter how long we wanted it to burn.  In that great cathedral of worship, I lit a candle and said a prayer.  And then I left those hopes and worries in God's hands.