CHANGES IN LONGITUDE — Larissa & Michael Milne — Book Proposal
Changes in Longitude:
How One Couple Chucked it
All to Travel the World
by Larissa and Michael Milne
Book Proposal
Contact information:
Larissa and Michael Milne
P.O. Box 282
Plymouth, CT 06782
(347) 654-0445
Website: http://www.changesinlongitude.com
Email: [email protected]
Facebook: ChangesInLongitude • Twitter: @Changes_Long
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CHANGES IN LONGITUDE — Larissa & Michael Milne — Book Proposal
CONTENTS OF PROPOSAL
Concept and Opportunity
3
About Authors Larissa and Michael Milne
7
Endorsements
9
The Audience
10
Promotion & Publicity Support
13
Comparative & Competitive Titles
21
Delivery Details
25
Book Table of Contents
26
Chapter Summaries
27
Prologue
51
Sample Chapter 1: Breaking Away
53
Sample Chapter 2: Gonna Fly Now
63
Sample Chapter 3: Forbidden Beijing
70
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CONCEPT AND OPPORTUNITY
In 2011, Larissa and Michael Milne, a couple who had just turned 50, quit their
jobs, sold their house, gave away most of their belongings and set out to travel around the
world for a year. This was no ordinary mid-life adventure; no mid-life crisis, spiritual
calling, or a sudden “bucket list” urge.
The Milnes reeled from the physical, emotional and financial strain brought upon
by years of unsuccessful attempts to aid their troubled and violent daughter, whom they
had adopted from Russia when she was nine. Life with her started out full of hope, but
eventually became mired in a harmful situation they were powerless to change. By the
time she became an adult, their bond with her was broken and they became reluctant
empty nesters.
Determining a major shake-up of their lives was necessary to heal from this
destructive relationship, the Milnes turned to their longstanding passion for travel. They
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took off to see the world on a one-way plane ticket to Beijing, with one small suitcase
each, a statue of hometown Philadelphia favorite Rocky Balboa to encourage them to “go
the distance,” and only a rough idea of where they’d end up exploring.
The ensuing 400-day journey to 30 countries on six continents was filled with
adventure, new friends, many emotionally touching and taxing moments, and surprising
discoveries. They encountered places rarely visited by Westerners, and openly shared
important revelations about themselves and their greater purpose moving forward. It all
comes together in the poignant 80,000-word travel narrative, Changes in Longitude: How
One Couple Chucked it All to Travel the World.
Join Larissa and Michael as they visit sights both known and obscure, from Paris
to North Korea and beyond. They stay in rentals to immerse themselves in the local
culture, beyond the typical tour guide and tour group experiences, and shop in markets
and bazaars while learning to cook regional delicacies. They make friends with
Vietnamese Buddhist nuns, an Australian cattle rancher, and Arab Christians in Israel.
They inject readers into the conversation, not only putting faces on the people they meet,
but giving us the opportunity to know them.
Throughout the year, the Milnes wrestle with the specter of the broken
relationship with their daughter, requiring them to periodically manage crises from afar.
They swing open their inner struggles to readers on those occasions when particular sites,
destinations or experiences remind them of their daughter. They also share plenty of
laughs, growth and self-discovery that will resonate with readers, as only accomplished
travel writers can do. As they gradually heal from the debilitating burden of an enabling
situation, they also adapt to a simpler lifestyle and make decisions about the shape their
life will take upon returning to the U.S.
With some of the most fascinating locations in the world as a backdrop, and
sprinkled with useful tips for would-be world travelers, this story of emotional pain and
reinvention will appeal to anyone who has ever dreamed of chucking it all.
Changes in Longitude is being presented for the first time as a travel narrative
book, but thousands of readers in the United States and beyond are familiar with the title.
In July 2011, Larissa and Michael began the Changes in Longitude blog
(http://www.changesinlongitude.com), with early posts based on their American road
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trips. The blog now draws over 35,000 hits per month with an audience that is steadily
increasing.
These road trip stories attracted the attention of the travel editor of the
Philadelphia Inquirer, which began a relationship that included a profile of the Milnes
about their journey — resulting in over 3,000 hits that weekend on the Changes in
Longitude blog. It grew into a regular series the Milnes continue to write in the
newspaper’s Sunday Travel Section titled “A Year and A World.”
The Milnes are applying their entrepreneurial skills and travel connections in
establishing their blog, and are developing “Changes in Longitude” as their personal
brand. Besides their series with the Philadelphia Inquirer they have written for National
Geographic Traveler. In addition, they were featured on the Smithsonian Magazine
website for their travels in North Korea. Changes in Longitude has also ranked as one of
the 100 Top Travel Blogs.
The Milnes have become popular public speakers, most recently at the 2013
Philly Travel Show in January, where they co-headlined with bestselling author and
former movie star Andrew McCarthy. They share their stories through a comprehensive
social media network that includes regular posting and messaging on Facebook, Twitter,
LinkedIn, Google +, YouTube and Flickr.
Changes in Longitude has become the focus of Larissa and Michael’s lives. This
presents the acquiring publisher with an ideal situation:
• Highly motivated authors;
• A compelling, well-written narrative, unique storyline and distinct human
interest component;
• Authors networked with strong regional and national travel and media contacts,
and solid public relations and marketing backgrounds;
• An established, successful blog, also called Changes in Longitude, and a social
media platform to get the word out quickly to visitors and subscribers as the book
develops and publish date nears.
The timing couldn’t be better, either: the combination of a tough economy and
difficulties in the U.S. housing market is prompting more and more people in their 30s or
older to strike out on a global adventure — and looking for books with unusual stories
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and destinations to broaden their experience. After all, what could be more unusual than
writing from within North Korea? Or the endangered hutong neighborhoods in Beijing?
The following pages of this proposal detail the impressive content, endorsements,
diversity of audience, and social media, promotional and publicity support already
existing for Changes in Longitude. They also showcase what comes first in travel
narrative: a unique, well-written story that will hit home in many ways for readers.
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ABOUT AUTHORS LARISSA & MICHAEL MILNE
Larissa and Michael Milne – and their traveling companion, the Rocky statue, atop the
Rocky Steps in Philadelphia.
Larissa and Michael Milne draw together their considerable experience as
professional writers, entrepreneurs, business executives and world travelers in the writing
of Changes in Longitude.
Larissa holds a BA in Biology from Muhlenberg College, and earned an
Executive MBA at age 47 from Drexel University. She worked in the life sciences field
as an entrepreneurial consultant and marketing executive, writing business plans and
reports for her consulting clients. She is also a trained voice-over artist who has recorded
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textbooks through a volunteer organization. During the past two years, she has been a
regular feature writer for the Philadelphia Inquirer’s Sunday travel section, and has
written for National Geographic Traveler’s web site.
For fun, Larissa enjoys travel, cooking, food, history, and puzzles of all kinds.
She is most interested in the cooking techniques of various cultures, and ways in which
they create flavors unique to those regions. She is also an avid reader, particularly of
travel narratives and novels set in places she’s traveling — offering a special degree of
insight that subtly informs the sense of familiarity found in Changes in Longitude. One of
her favorites is A Town Like Alice, by Neville Shute, which she read while in the
Australian Outback, and a book in the 44 Scotland Street series by Alexander McCall
Smith, which she read while in Edinburgh.
Before embarking on the journey that became Changes in Longitude, Michael was
self-employed in commercial real estate. He holds a BS in Accounting from St. John’s
University in New York City, and an MBA from the Wharton School of the University of
Pennsylvania. While in graduate school, Michael supported himself writing stories for
Management Review, the membership magazine of the American Management
Association. Since co-establishing the Changes in Longitude blog with Larissa, he too
has written for the Philadelphia Inquirer and National Geographic Traveler’s website.
Michael’s hobbies include travel, writing, barbecuing, road trips in America and
beyond, and playing guitar. Larissa jokes that, after airfares, their biggest travel expenses
are the donations he makes to street performers. He is a former youth track & field coach
and ardent track fan. He devours books about world history and American politics.
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ENDORSEMENTS
Larissa and Michael Milne have built an impressive group of endorsements for Changes
in Longitude. Among the chief endorsers:
• Dr. Mehmet Oz, Oprah’s medical guru, host of The Doctor Oz Show, and perhaps the
most prominent physician in America. Michael was a classmate of Dr. Oz at Wharton.
• Burt Wolf, Renowned TV host of travel and food shows on CNN, the Discovery
Channel and PBS.
• Roko Belic, Academy Award nominated director of Genghis Blues and Happy. The
latter started a worldwide “Happiness Movement,” a sub-theme in Changes in Longitude.
• Andrew McCarthy, award-winning author of The Longest Way Home: One Man’s
Quest for the Courage to Settle Down and co-star of classic 1980s movies St. Elmo’s
Fire, Weekend at Bernie’s and Pretty in Pink.
• Karen Page, author of Food Bible and Culinary Artistry and, along with husband and
co-writer Andrew Dornenburg, two-time winner of the James Beard Book Award.
• Michael Vitez, Pulitzer Prize winning Philadelphia Inquirer journalist and author of
Rocky Stories: Tales of Love, Hope, and Happiness at America's Most Famous Steps.
• Phil Keoghan, Host of the CBS TV show The Amazing Race. (The Milnes stayed with
Phil’s parents at their B&B in New Zealand.)
• Philippa Chaplin, Travel Editor, Philadelphia Inquirer.
• Mary Carracoli, Emmy award winning financial journalist, and host and lead reporter
for the national money show Mary Talks Money produced by 6ABC WPVI-TV. It airs
daily on the Live Well Network and weekends on ABC owned and operated stations.
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THE AUDIENCE
Changes in Longitude has already built a substantial reading audience through a
highly popular blog and website, and through the authors’ ongoing travel article series,
“A Year and A World,” with the Philadelphia Inquirer. While it might be expected that
the bulk of the audience came from the 50-over crowd, readers from ages 25 and up have
been responding enthusiastically (which also reflects in the Milnes’ social media profile).
Thanks to books like A Year in Provence, travel narrative is a popular genre.
Changes in Longitude combines life-changing experiences and revelations with up-close,
informative and engaging visits to places and their peoples that drives in the middle
between travelogue and memoir, creating an ideal reading experience that will appeal to
both armchair and active travelers. When you add the authors’ accounts of their visits to
North Korea, the Middle East, Vietnam and China — all in the news, and some hard-toenter places for Westerners — the potential audience base expands further.
How it breaks down demographically:
20 – 45: People who have traveled a little and are now raising kids covet another
chance to travel abroad, or dream about the day when they can. These are avid
travelogue, travel narrative and travel article readers, and will find many potential
destinations in Changes in Longitude as they become emotionally endeared to the
Milnes’ central story.
45 – 65: The Milnes are in their early 50s, so readers of similar age will naturally
gravitate to their perspectives, concerns and experiences. Also, people in this age group
are concentrating on retirement planning and discussing longer trips or — like the Milnes
— debating whether to take that long, round-the-world journey now. Changes in
Longitude offers vital information on destinations they might consider, as well as insight
on how to plan for lengthy excursions — and enjoy the experience.
65 – Older: Retirees and senior citizens often feel like their best travel days are
beyond them, but Changes in Longitude shares experiences and ways to visit destinations
that prove it’s never too late. On top of that, armchair travelers always provide a solid
niche audience for travel narratives, and this age group possesses more discretionary time
to read than any other age group.
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Potential readership groups for Changes in Longitude will include:
Atlantic Seaboard: Given the authors’ lifelong work and contacts on the East
Coast, their familiarity to readers of the Philadelphia Inquirer, and the East Coast’s
distinction as home to the biggest concentration of travel readers in the U.S., readers in
this region offer a major potential audience of millions for Changes in Longitude.
Furthermore, the authors will have the advantage of being known to newspaper media in
this region when publicizing the upcoming book.
Travel narrative: Changes in Longitude will appeal to readers who enjoy reading
about exotic and uniquely described travel combined with compelling personal issues.
Memoir and travel narrative are two of the three top-selling non-fiction categories
(Publishers Weekly: August 2012). Changes in Longitude combines the best of both
worlds.
Destination Travel: People who buy titles in the Lonely Planet, Rough Guide,
Fodors, Frommers, Rick Steves and Insight series will find Changes in Longitude an
exciting alternative to learning about the country or region they are visiting. The way in
which the Milnes write about their experiences will strike home for readers. Furthermore,
travel agents who sell packages into the 30 countries in which the Milnes travel can offer
the book as incentives for their customers.
Traveling Retirees: Readers with more time to travel will be intrigued by the
notion of visiting the world, one country at a time, for a full year. This can lead to
potential premium sales opportunities to organizations such as AARP to drive their
membership or serve as a gift for other promotions.
Armchair travelers: This readership bloc is always looking for a good read to
evoke memories of their past travels, or lift their imaginations and spirits. Changes in
Longitude is an ideal book for this group.
Libraries and Educational Opportunities: Changes in Longitude is ideal for
libraries throughout the United States and other English-speaking countries, as travel
narrative is one of the favorite checkout and browsing categories in any stack.
Furthermore, the authors’ ongoing postings on their Changes in Longitude blog extend
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the book nicely, creating interactive learning opportunities to combine book and blog for
high school and college geography and cultural studies courses.
Travel Agents, Groups, Clubs, Organizations: Changes in Longitude offers
numerous non-traditional retail and premium selling opportunities throughout the travel
industry. Readers who use vacations as opportunities to read more, or who are looking for
particularly distinct overseas travel experiences, will be enthralled by this book, which
can be included in travel packages through agencies, airlines, resort hotel and time share
chains, and groups such as AAA.
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PROMOTION & PUBLICITY SUPPORT
Larissa and Michael Milne have built a very strong platform for current and future
publicity and promotion concerning Changes in Longitude. Their platform of media
appearances, interviews, blogs, website and published articles not only creates a strong
foundation for the book with readers, but also ensures a solid promotional and publicity
run-up to and through publication.
In addition, the Milnes are well-connected with travel and business concerns
worldwide. Through their respective business careers, they have built up extensive
business contacts and networks in the United States, Europe, Asia and Australia, all of
which can be further mined for promotional opportunities. During their two years of
planning and one year of travel, they also developed an extensive network of travel
contacts worldwide. They also have strong relationships with tourism bureaus in the
United States, Canada, Germany, Scotland, New Zealand, Namibia and Jordan.
The promotional and publicity support for Changes in Longitude includes five
core areas:
1) Website and Social Media
2) Print Media Coverage and Published Pieces
3) Tie-Ins to Travel-Related Organizations
4) Radio and Television Interviews
5) Appearances and Public Speaking Engagements
Website and Social Media
The home website for Changes in Longitude, www.changesinlongitude.com,
which draws more than 35,000 hits per month. Online since July 2011, it is the core
element of the “Changes in Longitude” branding initiative that the Milnes are
undertaking. The site is one of the Top 100 Most-Read Travel Blogs, according to the
Alexa Ranking System.
The website supports and extends the book in a way that appeals to book readers,
inquiring media, travelers looking for more information, booksellers, librarians and
educators alike. The features of this highly informative site include:
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• More than 100 illustrated blog posts on various sites and experiences on the
authors’ journey to 30 countries that provides the background for Changes in Longitude
• Hundreds of photographs from throughout the world
• Trip planning links
• Links to media coverage on the authors; or articles the authors have written for
outside publications
• Information on destinations
• Food choices throughout the world
• “Free Things To Do” in cities throughout the world
• Reviews of other travel books
• Trip Tips
• Video clips
The authors are coordinating outbound social media promotion through a very
active network of posts, messaging and e-mail campaigning on Facebook (Changes In
Longitude) and Twitter (@changes_long). They also maintain accounts on YouTube,
Pinterest, Google+ and Flickr.
To support the publisher’s promotional and publicity campaign for Changes in
Longitude, the authors will create a scheduled series of blogs, posts and announcements
pertaining to the book’s release. This is already underway, announcing the book effort,
and will intensify once a contract is signed – with the publisher’s name incorporated
throughout. This campaign will be in addition to current activity, in which speaking
appearances, newly published articles, interviews, new blogs and new photo features are
posted and announced.
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Print & Online Media Coverage: Milnes as Interview Subjects
As of February 2013, Larissa and Michael Milne have been interviewed, or been
written about, in the following media concerning their travels and Changes in Longitude:
Philadelphia Inquirer: “Belongings sold, couple sets off for a year abroad”
Smithsonian Magazine: “Faces from Afar: a frightening and fascinating journey
through North Korea”
Drexel Magazine: “Changing Longitudes to Change Our Lives”
Travel Link Sites: “Traveling couples: Michael and Larissa Milne”
Career Break Secrets: “Who’s out there now: Michael and Larissa Milne”
Trekity.com: “Empowering Women: Larissa Milne”
Drexel University Alumni: “Alumni spotlight: Larissa Milne”
Print Media Coverage: Milnes as Published Authors
Since October 2011, Changes in Longitude has received direct and indirect
promotion through the “A Year and a World” feature series, written by Larissa and
Michael Milne, in the Philadelphia Inquirer’s Sunday Travel Section (circulation:
475,000). This series, which can be viewed on the Changes in Longitude website
(http://www.changesinlongitude.com/larissa-michael-milne-media-clips/), covers various
aspects of the one-year, 30-nation trip that forms the basis of the book. It also offers
numerous travel tips, little-known asides, and destination information that have made it
one of the Inquirer’s most popular pieces. To date, the Milnes have written 18 articles for
the Inquirer, which are also featured on the paper’s web site (http://www.philly.com)
This ongoing relationship underscores the strong print media skills and ideas the
authors will use to vigorously promote Changes in Longitude and strongly support the
publisher’s efforts. The authors will easily be able to repurpose this material and, in
conjunction with the publisher’s public relations team, spread it out to the top 100
metropolitan markets in the U.S., as well as pieces for Reuter’s, Associated Press, Wall
Street Journal, USA Today, Huffington Post, Slate, and the top 10 U.S. newspaper
syndicates. There are literally hundreds of potential story angles for a concentrated article
campaign, which will work effectively both in print and online because of the authors’
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ready ability to provide tips, site links and other thumbnail information that builds reader
interest and increases click-throughs.
On the magazine side, the Milnes have already provided feature pieces to the
website for:
•
National Geographic Traveler (“I Heart My City”)
(http://intelligenttravel.nationalgeographic.com/2012/10/03/i-heart-my-citylarissa-michaels-philadelphia/)
•
Wharton Magazine: Staying Connected Around the Globe (Coming Spring,
2013)
And have been featured in:
• The Smithsonian Magazine’s online blog (“Faces from Afar: A Fascinating and
Frightening Journey Through North Korea”)
(http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/adventure/2012/12/faces-from-afar-a-frightening-andfascinating-journey-through-north-korea/)
The Milnes have also guest posted on the following blogs:
My Itchy Travel Feet: “How to Travel to North Korea”
Go Backpacking: “Run DMZ: A Visit to the Most Dangerous Place on Earth”
Meet, Plan, Go!: “Career Breaks: They’re Not Just for Backpackers”
Budget Traveler: “Cheap Eats Guide to Philadelphia”
In addition, the Milnes were featured in The Career Break Traveler's Handbook:
How to Make Your Dream Trip a Reality Today by Jeffrey Jung (2012: Full Flight Press).
It is part of the Traveler’s Handbook Series.
This is the tip of a very large potential iceberg. Because of their journalistic
experience and flexibility, the Milnes can readily tie Changes in Longitude into assigned
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pieces covering any part of their journey and experiences, for the print and online
editions of large-circulation magazines that include:
• Conde Nast Traveler
• National Geographic Traveler
• International Living
• AARP The Magazine (circ. 47 million)
• Islands
• More
• O! The Oprah Magazine
• Travel & Leisure
• Travel 50 and Beyond
The print and online magazine potential is limitless.
Tie-Ins to Travel, Food, Wine and Entrepreneurial Organizations
In order to better promote Changes in Longitude for retail and premium sales
within the travel industry, and to more directly reach travel genre readers, the Milnes
have become active members of a number of key network marketing organizations that
include:
• The Milnes are members of two professional Travel Blogging groups: Travel
Bloggers Unite (TBU) and Travel Bloggers Exchange (TBEX).
• Michael is a member of the IFWTWA (International Food, Wine and Travel
Writer’s Association). The IFWTWA is active with the Travel & Adventure Show,
America’s leading travel show, with over 375,000 attendees in New York, Washington,
DC, Los Angeles and Chicago annually. IFWTWA members use the booth at the travel
show as a platform to promote their books – creating substantial premium sales and
author appearance opportunities. In addition, IFWTWA members often receive favorable
attention from the top food and wine publications for book reviews — which will be
exploited for Changes in Longitude.
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• Larissa and Michael have been invited to join the prestigious SATW (Society of
American Travel Writers). As members they will be able to promote Changes in
Longitude through the organization’s newsletter and special promotions for book authors.
• Larissa is an active member of the Alliance of Women Entrepreneurs (AWE), as
well as an Alumni Ambassador for Entrepreneurship at Drexel University in
Philadelphia. Through AWE, she will be able to inform women entrepreneurs about
Changes in Longitude, and tie the book to long-range planning for business owners.
Besides working within the network marketing and writer’s organizations
directly, the Milnes will tie in to the organization’s Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and
Flickr offerings through cross-promotion and hash tagging.
Radio and Television Interviews
Because of the Milnes’ vast travel experiences worldwide, including places not
often visited by Westerners (North Korea, parts of China, Vietnam), and their ability to
offer practical tips to would-be travelers, they are outstanding radio and television
interview subjects. They can handle short- or long-format programs, either on broadcast
or blog talk/Internet. Furthermore, Larissa is a voiceover artist, which lends a high degree
of professionalism and instant audience credibility to every interview.
Among recent interviews the Milnes conducted on behalf of Changes in
Longitude:
• December 2012: Larissa was interviewed by Barbara Conelli of Chique Travel
Show on BlogRadio.
• January 2013: Larissa and Michael were interviewed by host Birtan Collier for a
program that was aired on 4 public radio stations in the Philadelphia area.
• February 2013: The Milnes have been contacted by a producer from Radio
Times, an interview program on WHYY, to record a show with the Philadelphia affiliate
of National Public Radio.
The authors’ broadcast media reach extends beyond the United States. They are
featured bloggers for T + E (http://www.travelandescape.ca/author/lmilne/), the official
blog of the Canadian Travel Channel. They are specialists in Round the World, Couples
and Culinary subject areas.
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The Milnes are available for all radio and television interviews or appearances,
from regional to international, during the promotional run-up for Changes in Longitude.
Appearances and Public Speaking Engagements
In just the first few months since Larissa and Michael Milne returned from their
year-long excursion, they have received several public speaking invitations, and have
appeared at several events. The frequency of both the invitations and their appearances
will surely increase once Changes in Longitude is in the publishing pipeline. Once the
book is published, it provides an outstanding opportunity for strong back-of-the-room
sales (25% of attendees buy at least one book, according to Advertising Age magazine).
Most of these events draw crowds in the many hundreds to thousands. Among their past
and confirmed appearances:
• October 2012: The Milnes spoke about their experiences abroad at the “Meet,
Plan, GO!” annual informational seminar in New York City. Meet, Plan, GO! is an
organization and online community that provides resources for people considering a
career break. These seminars are held in several locations around the country, offering
potential future appearances and back-of-room book sales opportunities. The New York
session was attended by approximately 200 people.
 January 2013: The Milnes were the Sunday featured speaker at the Philadelphia
Inquirer Travel Show. Promotional materials for the show highlighted them alongside
Saturday’s featured speaker, actor and travel writer Andrew McCarthy.
• January 2013: The Milnes were the guests-of-honor at a dinner for the
Philadelphia chapter of the Traveler’s Century Club. This club is comprised of people
who have visited 100 or more countries. With 18 chapters in the US, Canada and Europe,
they are a potential source of marketing Changes in Longitude to hardcore travelers — as
well as future appearances.
• April 2013: The Milnes will be featured speakers at the Penn State Spring 2013
Arts & Culture Series.
• June 2013: TBEX Annual Conference, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. The Milnes
will be attending this conference and have submitted a proposal to speak on travel
writing.
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Once Changes in Longitude is acquired and a publishing date set, the Milnes will
make contact with numerous travel organizations, including those to which they belong,
to schedule appearances as close to book release date as possible, and for the timeframe
following publication.
Additional Opportunities
Following their round-the-world journey and the success of their Changes in
Longitude travel blog, the Milnes will be focusing on North American road trips. As such
they will be available at virtually every location in the country for in-store appearances
and local radio and TV interviews. The publication of this book will be the primary
professional and personal focus for the Milnes, promoting it will receive their full
attention.
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COMPARATIVE & COMPETITIVE TITLES
How Changes in Longitude compares with travel narrative titles currently in wide
distribution through bookstores and online booksellers:
Queen of the Road: The True Tale of 47 States, 22,000 Miles, 200 Shoes, 2 Cats, 1
Poodle, a Husband and a Bus with a Will of Its Own by Doreen Orion (304 pp., 2008:
Broadway Books)
One of the funniest and most off-beat travel narratives, Queen of the Road
features two psychiatrists, married to each other, who jump into their RV and travel
through America to find its wilderness. The daily interaction between husband and wife,
and the way in which long-term travel changes their lives, will draw comparison to
Changes in Longitude, as will the many switches of location. However, Changes in
Longitude takes place on a more daunting playing field — the world at large, with many
places and cultures very new to the authors. The humor and friendly, conversational
writing is a welcome feature to both titles.
Wild, by Cheryl Strayed (336 pp., 2012: Knopf)
While the travel and cultural narratives of Wild and Changes in Longitude could
not be more different, both books resonate most powerfully with readers because of their
charged emotional content. Like Wild author Cheryl Strayed, Larissa and Michael Milne
come to grips with a devastating, long-running personal and emotional experience by
finding themselves, their purpose and their greater happiness far away from home. Wild
is an intense, deeply serious read, while Changes in Longitude mixes light-heartedness
and plenty of humor with its serious side while still delivering the redemptive message.
The Lost Girls: Three Friends. Four Continents. One Unconventional Detour Around
the World, by Jennifer Baggett, Holly C. Corbett and Amanda Pressner (560 pp.,
2011: Harper Perennial)
Three twenty-something Manhattan women on the corporate rise suddenly decide
to drop everything and travel the world together. This creates the poignant story line of
The Lost Girls, which features all the thrills, self-reflection, cultural experiences, humor
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and challenging moments that make for good, exciting travel memoir. It also resembles
Changes in Longitude in the authors’ decisions to re-route to other locations on the fly,
while in the middle of other plans. Changes in Longitude offers these elements while
building from a different relationship dynamic — a long-married couple ditching
everything to find new purpose in their life and heal from a long-running family tragedy.
The Wander Year: One Couple’s Journey Around the World, by Mike McIntyre (205
pp., 2011: Kite Press)
In this Kindle book, a happy couple rents out their San Diego home and ventures
around the world for a year to seek a break from their customary lives. It is comparable to
Change in Longitude in that it presents dispatches from 22 countries, focusing on distinct
experiences and adventures in each location. The biggest differences: the couple is not
dealing with the fallout of a long-time family crisis in their travels, they visit each
destination briefly, rather than taking up occasional short-term residency, and the book is
more a compilation of travel articles. Changes in Longitude provides a richer, deeper
view of the landscapes of locations, the heart, and the authors’ road to acquiring a lasting
happiness.
Honeymoon with My Brother: A Memoir, by Franz Wisner (288 pp., 2006: St.
Martin’s Griffin)
This memoir bears some resemblance in its premise to Changes in Longitude, as
the central figure uses a negative in his personal life (in this case, his fiancée leaves) as
impetus to embark on a worldwide journey with his brother, after they both sell their
homes and belongings. He travels for two years with his brother, visiting different lands
while encountering and examining his own character. While Changes in Longitude deals
with personal trauma of equivalent or greater scale, it also involves a married couple,
appeals highly to both genders, and is a much more entertaining read.
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All Over the Map, by Laura Fraser (288 pp., 2011: Broadway Books)
Well-published travel writer Laura Fraser turns 40 and pushes off to seek love,
adventure and fine food in this well-written, romance-oriented travel memoir. All Over
the Map resembles Changes in Longitude in that the author chooses some destinations
beforehand, but debarks to other destinations after the trip has begun. Also, like the
Milnes in Changes in Longitude, her journey is for internal fulfillment as well as outer
experiences. However, Changes in Longitude is anchored by the strength of sharing the
travel experience together, and some of its destinations, which go beyond Fraser’s reach.
The Longest Way Home: One Man’s Quest for the Courage to Settle Down, by
Andrew McCarthy (288 pp., 2012: Free Press)
In this adventurous memoir, the author explores his commitment issues as he
travels through the United States, South America and Africa, delivering strong insights
and observations into his character and the culture of the places he visits. This memoir is
entirely different from Changes in Longitude, which chronicles a married couple
rediscovering their road of purpose and happiness, and reaffirming their long-time
commitment to each other, through their global journey. Changes in Longitude also
features writing on Southeast Asia and North Korea.
A Thousand Days in Venice: An Unexpected Romance by Marlena de Blasi (272 pgs.,
2002: Algonquin Books)
A Thousand Days in Tuscany: A Bittersweet Adventure, by Marlena de Blasi (368 pp.,
2005: Ballantine Books)
Marlena de Blasi made a splash among audiences several years ago with her
back-to-back hits, A Thousand Days in Venice and A Thousand Days in Tuscany. Both
books, which blur the lines between memoir and fiction, focused on her relationship with
a banker she met in Venice, and of their adventures, perils, romantic ups and downs, and
cultural challenges in spending three years in each Italian state. The combination of
romance, fun, adventure, folly, tough decisions and closeness as a couple are also
elements of Changes in Longitude, with two compelling differences: Changes in
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Longitude is entirely true travel narrative, with no fictional components; and the book
carries readers into 30 countries on 6 continents, a far greater geographical reach.
Living in a Foreign Language: A Memoir of Food, Wine and Love in Italy, by Michael
Tucker (272 pp., 2008: Grove Press)
Tucker tells the lighthearted story of how he and his wife, fellow L.A. Law co-star
Jill Eikenberry, purchase and move into a 350-year-old Umbrian stone cottage and
rekindle their love of food, wine and each other. As time moves on, they disconnect more
and more from their busy show business lives, and become more ingratiated with their
adopted country. While the premise of strengthening marriage and deepening purpose are
similar, the narrative of Changes in Longitude is entirely different — how a couple
overcomes a devastating, long-term family crisis through traveling the world and finding
a lasting, more purposeful happiness.
Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert (352 pp., 2007: Penguin Books)
Every travel memoir or travel narrative seeking shelf space runs up against this
800-pound gorilla on the bookshelf. The similarities between Elizabeth Gilbert’s
bestseller and Changes in Longitude are that the authors use the skills of their successful
communications careers to write their books, and that they use destination travel and
short-term residencies in several countries to re-set their life purpose. However, Changes
in Longitude involves a married couple, as well as a more focused look at happiness
through the eyes of many different cultures and peoples.
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DELIVERY DETAILS
Length:
The manuscript of Changes in Longitude is approximately 80,000 words, divided into 23
chapters.
Delivery:
The manuscript will be delivered complete in Microsoft Word, via printed manuscript, email and/or CD. The manuscript will also be e-mailed or delivered by any other means
requested by the publisher.
Timing:
The book is well into the writing process. It can be available to the publisher in fully
edited, final form within 6 months of contract signing.
Photos/Illustrations/Graphics:
The authors are flexible regarding the inclusion of photos. They do recommend a world
map of the trip’s itinerary, and local maps within select destinations.
Legal/Trademark Matters
The authors warrant that all of the narrative is truthful and factual, derived from their
direct experience in the travels and life situations that led to the writing of Changes in
Longitude. Any material derived from outside sources is fully cited and attributed. All
photographs come from the authors’ personal collection, unless otherwise noted (and
duly credited).
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BOOK TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prologue: One Night in Saigon
Chapter 1: Breaking Away
Chapter 2: Gonna Fly Now
Chapter 3: Forbidden Beijing
Chapter 4: A Peek Behind the Curtain in North Korea
Chapter 5: Shanghai and Hong Kong—Dumplings and Skyscrapers
Chapter 6: Australia—Down Home Down Under
Chapter 7: New Zealand—Wings Over Lord of the Rings
Chapter 8: Perth—World Without End
Chapter 9: Bali—Paradise Lost
Chapter 10: Singapore—Eye of the Typhoon
Chapter 11: A Close Shave in Malaysia
Chapter 12: Vietnam and Cambodia—Distant Thunder
Chapter 13: Noodled Out in Thailand
Chapter 14: Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Qatar and Jordan—Castles Made of Sand
Chapter 15: Worlds Apart—Israel and Palestine
Chapter 16: Family Reunion in Italy
Chapter 17: Paris … But Of Course!
Chapter 18: London Calling
Chapter 19: Having a Cow in the English Countryside
Chapter 20: Scotland—The Healing (Finally) Begins
Chapter 21: Ghosts of the Berlin Wall
Chapter 22: We Avoid Getting Eaten by a Lion in Namibia
Chapter 23: Another America—Buenos Aires and Bogota
Epilogue: A Sort of Homecoming
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CHANGES IN LONGITUDE: CHAPTER SUMMARIES
Prologue: One Night in Saigon (Enclosed)
On our first night in Vietnam, we got lost in the serpentine streets of old Saigon
and ended up at a remote Buddhist convent. It was the Tet holiday, the holiest day of the
year. The nuns welcomed us, and then fed us a traditional dinner of sticky rice and
mangoes. They also invited us to pray with them. The mother superior took us under her
wing, proudly leading us around the pagoda and insisting on posing with our mascot, a
statue of movie boxer Rocky Balboa.
Amidst the resonant gongs, and sandalwood incense wafting over the rhythmic
chanting of folks praying to the gold statue of Buddha on the altar, a surreal aspect
pervaded the experience. We knelt beside the other worshippers and pressed our heads
against the marble floor, wondering, “We’re a middle-aged couple from Philly; how the
heck did we end up here?”
Chapter 1: Breaking Away (Sample Chapter Enclosed)
What makes a couple in their early 50s, who certainly can’t afford to retire, decide
to sell their house, give away their possessions, and chuck everything to travel around the
world for a year? On the surface, it appears that our trek was a grand lark taken by a
couple seeking adventure, and maybe going through a bit of a midlife crisis. However,
that explanation masks a sad reality that drove us into this trip.
We departed following the breakdown of the destructive relationship with our
adult daughter, whom we had adopted from Russia when she was nine. For her first five
years in America, things were wonderful, full of hope. Eventually, they became mired in
a situation beyond our control. By the time our daughter became an adult, our
relationship with her was broken.
At 14, she transformed from a sweet, caring child to someone who saw us as the
enemy. As the parents and authority figures in her life, we became the target of her pent
up rage. We lived in fear in our own home, which increasingly resembled a battle zone
with holes punched in walls and the remnants of broken furniture strewn about. Every
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night, before going to bed, we hid the kitchen knives and other sharp objects. We reached
out for help in all sectors of the counseling community, but to no avail.
The ensuing stress caused the first cracks in our marriage, as well as health issues
for Michael. During this time, two of our parents died. Larissa dealt simultaneously with
the loss of her job and a cancer scare.
Our faith was sorely tested and we wondered what to believe in, if anything. We
needed to take a drastic step for our own health and well-being. What would the step be?
Chapter 2: Gonna Fly Now (Sample Chapter Enclosed)
We spent so much energy dealing with whatever daughter-related crisis popped
up in any given moment that we hadn’t focused on our own lives and what we should do
moving forward. Since many of our traditional values—family, home, career—no longer
seemed relevant, we found ourselves at a loss about what to do with ourselves.
We came up with the concept: take a year off, a timeout from our lives. A year?
What do you do for a year? Americans are not geared to taking that much time off.
Heck, most of us find it hard to fit in a week or two.
For the past few years, our lives had been pretty crappy. Once we gave ourselves
the gift of time, we were determined not to waste it. We considered our own personal
passions: cooking and food, history, world affairs, architecture. One thread tied them all
together: travel.
Once we decided to take off, preparations became an almost full-time job.
Planning the trip was exciting compared to the multiple tasks we undertook to wind up
our lives at home. We sold the house, got rid of all our possessions, focused on medical
considerations and more, just a few of the many gradual steps we took to de-clutter our
lives in order to hit the road.
We arranged with several programs that would take in our daughter, should she
resurface and agree to accept help. We also set up a support system with Sherry, our
family therapist, to step in as a liaison for our daughter with these programs. Our tough
love came with an abundance of assistance if needed.
We traveled light, each bringing whatever we could pack into a 22-inch rolling
suitcase and laptop computer bag. Living in hotels for a year would be too expensive, so
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we decided to stay in apartments and live like locals, shopping at neighborhood food
markets to pursue our love of cooking. Those arrangements in themselves involved much
of research, investigating and planning, which we illustrate as Changes in Longitude
continues.
Still, our getaway from Philadelphia almost didn’t happen. We got out of town
just as Hurricane Irene barreled up the East Coast, closing the Philadelphia airport the
next day. The storm became half of an unwanted bookend: we returned just before
Hurricane Sandy devastated Michael’s Long Island hometown.
Chapter 3: Forbidden Beijing
When we landed at Beijing, Michael experienced the first of his many mishaps
due to his passport photo, taken when he sported much more hair and thirty more pounds.
He was pulled into a separate area that appeared to be normally reserved for suspected
drug mules and arms smugglers. A higher-ranking official sought to make sense out of
the apparent disconnect between his picture and his actual face. Michael tried to replicate
the weird grin in the photo, but that gave him a demonic look that heightened their sense
of suspicion.
A third officer came over, took out a pencil and held it up to Michael’s eyebrows
in an odd attempt to figure out if they were still crooked. (They are.) This problem
continued throughout our journey, so at each airport Larissa would skip ahead to collect
the luggage while Michael would be left behind to fend for himself.
China left no doubt that we began our journey in a completely different part of the
world. We experienced a curiously religious fervor at the tomb of Chairman Mao,
wondering what this idol of a secular state would feel about the thriving business selling
his likeness on icons lit by reverent candles.
Afterwards we strolled over to The Forbidden City, which lived up to its name
and proved to be not only forbidding, but also hot and crowded. We shed the tourist
hordes and found solace in the beautiful lakeside oasis of Beihai Park, only two blocks
away, yet totally devoid of tourists.
Off the beaten path, we found a pagoda where people wrote prayers on red pieces
of wood and hung them by silk cords on a tree. We filled out a prayer for our daughter,
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the first of many instances around the world where we sought spiritual healing for her.
We would eventually cover our bases by praying at houses of worship for all of the
world’s major religions, from the Western Wall in Jerusalem to a Hindu Shrine in
Malaysia to a country church in England, and more.
Meanwhile, we learned that pedestrians in Beijing are like ducks in a shooting
gallery. Our survival depended on latching onto groups of old ladies as they crossed the
street. We figured that, if they made it to this ripe old age, they must be doing something
right.
While staying in an old hutong neighborhood, one of the last vestiges of historic
Beijing being plowed over for modern development, we wandered through narrow alleys,
dodging bicycles and grandmothers lobbing prodigious gobs of spit to experience the
heart of the city.
Our trip mascot, Little Rocky, was a hit on Tiananmen Square as Chinese tourists
eagerly lined up to take their picture with him. But we also discovered a downside to our
newfound “fame.” Several groups started crowding around to snap a photo with us. Pretty
soon, we felt groping hands in our pockets and waistbands as we realized we were about
to become pickpocket victims. That brought a sudden end to our session with the local
paparazzi.
We also dealt with the downside of Beijing, unrelenting air pollution that
obscures the sun for days, even weeks. Smog will be a constant throughout China and
Southeast Asia, the result of an unregulated manufacturing industry, coal-fired power
plants, and slash-and-burn agricultural techniques. The trip increased our awareness of
environmental issues far more dire than we observe in the U.S.
Chapter 4: A Peek Behind the Curtain in North Korea
We visited thirty countries, but one generates more questions from our readers
than any other: North Korea. Entry is forbidden to journalists, but we managed to make it
into the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea to provide a rare view from the inside.
Pyongyang may be the world’s edgiest city, not due to any thriving techno, art or
food scene, but because no other place on Earth can match it. The capital of the
totalitarian North Korean regime represents the last vestige of the Cold War. Its buildings
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look like they were moved straight off the set of Flash Gordon. Monumental boulevards
and plazas lead to structures that resemble the latest “futurama” theme park ride; it feels
like the brainchild of Joseph Stalin and Walt Disney. But what’s the story behind the 105story unfinished silver pyramid plopped right in the middle of town? In a country that
brags about every accomplishment, both real and perceived, the Ryugyong Hotel sticks
out like the crazy relative no one wants to talk about.
We came here to see the USS Pueblo. The American ship was hijacked by North
Korea in 1968, and its crew was held hostage for almost a year. Today, it floats as a
propaganda museum on the Taedong River in Pyongyang, the only commissioned U.S.
Navy vessel held in foreign hands. When Michael was a child, he was fascinated by the
Pueblo Incident and engaged in a written correspondence with the ship’s captain, Lloyd
Bucher, upon his release.
We tour what Bill Clinton called “the most dangerous place on Earth,” the
Demilitarized Zone, for a rare perspective from the northern side of the border. Speaking
of perspectives, we were drilled constantly with the North Korean view of the Korean
War, the parallel history in which they were victorious over the sneak attack from
America and its South Korean “lackeys.” Even now, when the United States sends food
aid to North Korea, the regime portrays it as war reparations from the U.S. for “losing the
war.”
Amidst this, Larissa broke through the dour façade of one of our guides by
complimenting her on a universal interest of women, her shoes. The guide smiled
brightly and proudly showed off her turquoise pumps, a flashing beacon in this
monochromatic nation. Score one for shoe diplomacy.
With all the modern Communist iconography, it’s easy to forget that Korea boasts
an ancient history. We stopped in for a rare visit to the Hureung tombs, built in the 15thcentury to house royal remains from the Joseon dynasty. Comparable sites just over the
border in South Korea are being considered for World Heritage status.
Our trip wound up at the Arirang Mass games, the largest show on Earth (more of
those superlatives). With over 100,000 performers, it’s a combination Cirque d’Soleil,
military parade and Super Bowl halftime show. Only bigger.
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Chapter 5: Shanghai and Hong Kong
We strolled through Shanghai’s International Settlement, which became a haven
for thousands of Jews escaping the Holocaust during World War II; a time when it was
known as “Little Vienna.” Shanghai was the only city in the world that was welcoming to
Jewish refugees, eventually accepting 30,000. The Ohel Mishe Synagogue has been
transformed into the Shanghai Jewish Refugees Museum and conveys the story of this
troubled time.
Due to its British influence, Hong Kong is a sort of China-lite, with two-story
trams and hotels offering afternoon tea. The flight from Shanghai was full of pregnant
women; a child born in Hong Kong will enjoy more freedom and advantages than those
born on the Mainland.
We learned that it’s not a bad idea to keep up with weather reports when
traveling. In the lobby of the hotel we noticed a sign that stated, “Typhoon Level 3.”
What? We’re told that when it hits 8, the city shuts down and everyone remains indoors.
The storm intensified throughout the day and reached the magic number by afternoon.
Later on, we headed outside and witnessed a unique phenomenon; empty streets in Hong
Kong, one of the most densely populated places on earth. The wind had died down a bit,
so we strolled through the eerie ghost town.
Chapter 6: Australia---Down Home Down Under
After a month in China and North Korea, we flew over the Sydney Opera House
for an invigorating return to the English-speaking world. In a land similar to home, yet
different in so many ways, we spent a month in Sydney and grappled with the high cost
of traveling with a weak currency. Our first day was a shocker: $8 slices of pizza, $50
books and $17 movie tickets. Not to mention the high volume level of Aussies, who
ratchet up the decibel meter to 11. They are loud, gregarious and kind to strangers. We
found it easy to make new friends.
The day after arriving in Sydney, a story about our journey appeared in the
Philadelphia Inquirer. Our tale of chucking it all in mid-life resonated with readers; that
weekend, our fledgling travel blog received over 3,000 hits. Due to the time difference,
we were up until 4 a.m. watching the traffic rise like a record video game score. E-mails
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poured in from strangers cheering us on and declaring they would live vicariously
through our travel tales.
We enjoyed a transforming experience at a Hare Krishna restaurant/movie theater.
Lying down in a crowded room with mattresses covering the floor, we watched a special
screening of Happy, a documentary directed by Academy Award nominee Roko Belic,
who attended the event. The movie tried to determine what makes people happy, as
exemplified by a poor Calcutta rickshaw driver as happy as the average American. The
film concluded that possessions, and the pursuit of them, do not make people any
happier. This theme hit home, since we gave up just about everything we owned.
Afterwards, we discussed our personal journey with Belic who encouraged us to continue
our quest.
Later, we took an American-style road trip into the Bush Country and the
Outback. We stayed with Rob and Debbie Wright on their 3,000-acre cattle ranch. He’s a
4th-generation rancher, a real-life Crocodile Dundee, whose grandfather built the
homestead. One evening at dusk, we embarked on an impromptu kangaroo safari,
bouncing around the “back thousand” in Rob’s dusty pickup truck. While lodging in a
remote house at the end of a mile-long drive, we learned, to our surprise, that Jehovah’s
Witnesses really do knock on every door. In a scene from Green Acres, our daily chores
included feeding the chickens while Larissa bottle-fed Bella, a motherless calf. Through
it all, we carefully avoided the brown snake that killed her mother.
At night, we stargazed under some of the world’s clearest skies, a few miles down
the road from the satellite dish that relayed the first images of the Apollo 11 moon
landing and was featured in the wry film, The Dish. From high-tech to low we visited
“wild-west” style mining towns, a ghost town and the post-apocalyptic landscape where
Mad Max was filmed. We ended up our road trip in a wine region outside Adelaide,
grilling steaks on the “barbie” with a distinguished gentleman who helped liberate an
African nation.
Chapter 7: New Zealand---Wings Over Lord of the Rings
Our first two months were planned before we left: a month in China and North
Korea, followed by a month in Australia. After that, we were totally open-ended, often
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not knowing what country we were going to next until just a day or two beforehand. This
sense of freedom was exhilarating and encouraged our wanderlust along the way.
Our trip to New Zealand almost ended before it began as we learned the hard way
that visitors cannot enter the country on a one-way plane ticket. We scrambled around the
Brisbane airport to buy a return ticket, barely making our flight.
While immersed in life on the road, we often forgot what was happening back
home. As Thanksgiving arrived, we found a group called Americans Abroad who
gathered at Rickshaw Eddie’s bar to celebrate the holiday. Surprisingly, the talk of
turkey, stuffing and favorite holiday memories didn’t make us homesick. We were too
focused on our new life moving forward.
We toured the South Island, the scenery highlighted in the Lord of the Rings
films. We drove along the Southern Scenic Route, passing though snow-capped
mountains, glaciers, fjords, rain forests and even a desert, careful to watch out for flocks
of sheep that maintain the right-of-way on the road. We enjoyed an unexpected ride in an
open-cockpit biplane, soaring over the glaciers and valleys that posed as the backdrop in
Peter Jackson’s film trilogy.
In a rare physical outing, we hiked up a steep ridge to view the Tasman Glacier at
the same spot where Sir Edmund Hillary trained for his 1953 conquest of Mt. Everest. As
we reached the summit, we decided that mountain climbing was probably not in the cards
for us. But it did burn off that afternoon’s gelato.
We spent two nights at the home of Beth and John Keoghan, the parents of
Amazing Race host Phil Keoghan. They loaded us up with behind-the-scenes tidbits of
every armchair traveler’s favorite TV show. For our last few days, we toured the remains
of earthquake-ravaged Christchurch, where we met people who lost everything, yet
remained in high spirits. In keeping with our growing theme, redefining our happiness,
we reflected on the belongings we jettisoned, and how they don’t mean much after all.
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Chapter 8: Perth---World Without End
On our way to Southeast Asia, we stopped in Perth, Australia’s westernmost city.
This marked a turning point in our journey, philosophically as well as geographically.
Not only is Perth the most remote city on Earth, but it is also the antipodal point for
Philadelphia. (If you’re not a map geek like us, the antipodal point is the opposite point
on the globe of a given location.) We were as far from home as possible. We sat on the
beach and watched the sun melt into the Indian Ocean, pondering the changes brought
about so far by our journey. We did not want to return to life as we knew it. When we
first started out on our trip, we were taking a break from our lives. Now, we realized, we
were breaking from our former life. We began to view our journey differently: every step
would help us to shape our new life.
That first step occurred sooner than expected. As more folks flocked to our
isolated spot, we found out, rather graphically, that we sat smack in the middle of a nude
beach. To remain clothed would make us the odd man and woman out. So we shed our
clothes as easily as we were shedding the vestiges of our former life. One of the nice
things about travel is that no one knows who you are. You can be anyone you want and
even reinvent yourself along the way.
Chapter 9: Bali---Paradise Lost
Expecting another glowing story about Bali that appears on the cover of every
glossy travel magazine? If so, then you may want to move on. Our experience was so
much different. We stayed in Bali for two weeks over Christmas and the New Year,
renting a studio apartment tucked down a small side street in a local neighborhood. We
wanted to stay in a non-Christian country for the holidays. Due to the situation with our
daughter, Christmas was painful; we wanted to minimize any reminders. We figured Bali
would serve as a quiet respite, a sleepy paradise on our way to Southeast Asia.
What we found stunned us: overbuilding, too many tourists, and too much trash
obliterated much of Bali’s beauty. We strolled along the legendary Kuta Beach, carefully
picking our way around piles of plastic trash washed up onto the shore. A photo we
snapped went semi-viral on the Internet as it was passed around among environmental
groups. Bali lovers accused us of Photoshopping the picture, but unfortunately, it was all
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too real. Only when we ventured far into the mountains did we find the legendary scenery
touted in guidebooks.
Conversely, the Balinese were the most gracious and friendly people we met.
Anywhere. On Christmas Day, we responded to a knock on our front door. August, the
apartment building’s maintenance man, wielded a machete – and a durian, his gift to us.
Also known as the stinky fruit, its rancid smell resembles a combination of old sweat
socks, garlic and teen hormones run amok. Many hotels in Southeast Asia post “No
Durian” signs on their doors, to prevent the smell from infiltrating their rooms. August
sliced the fruit open and shared it with us. We feigned delight so we wouldn’t offend his
generous gesture.
That same day, we posted a story to our blog, “When Christmas Isn’t Ho-Ho-Ho.”
It was the first time we revealed to our readers our poignant reason for taking this trip.
Their supportive responses overwhelmed us. We resolved to be more open about our life,
and the reason we undertook this journey.
Chapter 10: Singapore---The Eye of the Typhoon
Singapore provided an easy introduction to the tumult of Southeast Asia. The
efficient city is perhaps best known to Americans for two reasons: the 1994 caning of an
American teenager for vandalizing cars; and the ban on importing chewing gum. Neither
concerned us as we immersed ourselves in this multi-cultural city.
At Changi Airport, a pleasant surprise: Constance and Russell, a local couple we
met months earlier in North Korea, met us at baggage claim. They greeted us like long
lost friends and made themselves our personal guides for the duration of our stay. This
experience typified a wonderful aspect of the trip: as we traveled outside our comfort
zone, we made more new friends in a year than in the prior 20 years in Philadelphia,
meeting people who related to our peripatetic lifestyle. To further twist our old concept of
normal, we even made more connections back in Philly through our Inquirer stories.
However, we needed to address a major issue for traveling couples: after a while,
you sort of get sick of each other. So one day, we split up. Michael traveled with Russell
to see historic sites related to Singapore’s capture by the Japanese in World War II, while
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Larissa spent time with Constance exploring the unique Peranakan cuisine, a blend of
Chinese, Malaysian and Indonesian cooking.
Unfortunately, issues on the home front intruded. Our counselor, Sherry, notified
us that our daughter had latched onto a woman named Bunny who was becoming an
enabling influence, allowing her to stay in an unsafe environment in her home rather than
entering a program she so desperately needed. Sherry could no longer deal with this
irrational woman; it was falling in our lap. We thought about cutting our trip short and
heading home. However, we had been putting out fires like this for six years, with
nothing to show for it. After much soul searching, we realized that there was nothing we
could do by going home. The whole point of this journey was to heal, and for our
daughter to accept the help she needed.
We ate quite possibly the best meal of the entire journey, Singapore chili crab, at
a nondescript joint tucked in a row of auto body repair shops. While the fumes of freshly
painted bumpers occasionally wafted over us, we confirmed that the best meals are
usually found where the locals eat.
Chapter 11: A Close Shave in Malaysia
We left Singapore by train, heading through lush palm and banana tree plantations
on the Malay Peninsula to Kuala Lumpur. There, we were immersed in a Muslim country
for the first time, albeit one with strong Indian and Chinese overtones. The day we
arrived, several bombs exploded in front of the main courthouse, where supporters of the
defendant awaited the verdict in a political corruption trial. We only learned about the
incident from reading a newspaper report the next day.
It did, however, raise an issue: fear of travel. Many people will avoid certain
regions or countries because they saw something on the news that scared them off. The
reality is that, short of a full-blown revolution, most such incidents are isolated and don’t
affect the traveler.
Larissa continued her Asian food odyssey by learning authentic Malay cuisine
from a female Muslim chef. American expat Theresa, who we met in Bali, and her
worldly six-year-old daughter Alexandra took us to see several sights in their new home
city. Because of her father’s job in the oil industry, Alexandra has rarely been to the U.S.,
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but has lived throughout Asia and the Middle East. We pondered our own potential for a
nomadic lifestyle. Could we really just keep wandering the world? It’s beginning to look
more likely.
On the holiest, and most humid, day of the year, we visited Batu Caves, a Hindu
shrine outside Kuala Lumpur. Worshippers climb the 292 steps to the top to pray; it was a
task in an episode of The Amazing Race. Before the trek began, we noticed a mother
holding a baby with an orange glowing head below a sign that read, “Heads Shaved.”
Michael decided to follow suit. Inside, we stumbled upon a family surrounding a
squirming baby in the barber’s seat. While an uncle held him, a barber steadily wielded a
straightedge razor to shave off the baby’s thick mop of dark black hair. We were
welcomed in by the family and became impromptu guests at mundan, a Hindu holy rite.
The experience with the family was poignant. While it was fun to share their joy,
we realized we wouldn’t be participating in such family ceremonies in our own future.
But our “family” was growing with people we met on the road, kindred spirits like
Theresa and Alexandra.
Chapter 12: Vietnam and Cambodia---Distant Thunder
Since the Vietnam War dominated the news when we were children, it was a
“must” to visit this part of the world. We soaked up local culture, but also visited sites
that served as grim reminders of the U.S. role in the war.
Michael headed to My Lai, site of the terrible American massacre. As he
contemplated the madness at an irrigation ditch, where over a hundred civilian bodies
were found, a local family asked him where he was from. He hesitated, and then
whispered, “America.” What happened next surprised him. The family embraced him,
shaking his hand and repeating, “U.S.-Vietnam friends now.” The warm, receptive people
continue to befriend us, moving on from a turbulent past—so unlike the attitude in North
Korea. One night during the Tet holiday, while we prayed at a Buddhist temple in Saigon,
a fellow worshipper turned to us and calmly stated, “If everyone were Buddhist, there
would be no wars.”
We met a former American GI who had been deployed here in 1968 and faced
some of the worst fighting. During the war, he had told his sergeant, “You know,
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someday we’ll be back here shaking the enemy’s hand. Why can’t we just do it now?”
His prognosis proved correct; the area where his platoon was under constant nighttime
attack now features a Jack Nicklaus-designed golf course. The Vietnamese people love
anything American. Heck, even the defunct Kenny Rogers Roasters food chain is going
strong.
While Michael sought out the region’s history, Larissa indulged her passion for
Vietnamese cuisine, immersing herself in cooking classes and putting her stomach to the
test trying many varieties of street food. We continued into Cambodia, where we spent a
week exploring the ancient temples of Angkor, along with painful reminders of the
Khmer Rouge’s Killing Fields.
Cambodia revealed the discord between first-world travelers and third-world
cultures. Our hearts were broken by the small children who are used to sell souvenirs. We
wrote a story for the Philadelphia Inquirer called “The Child Vendors of Angkor Wat”
that conveyed our confusion about whether or not to buy from them. Did it help or hurt
them?
More news on the home front: Bunny, the woman who took in our daughter,
discouraged her from entering a program that could help her. We pleaded with Bunny to
back off and leave our family alone, but she feels she knows better than us and accuses us
of abandonment. Despite being on the other side of the world, it seemed as if we had
never left home. Not a good feeling.
Chapter 13: Noodled Out in Thailand
After two months in Southeast Asia, we were getting worn down by the polluted
skies. A visit to Chiang Mai in northern Thailand was tainted by bad air, along with an air
of seediness in the town’s core. A traveler from Finland passed along a new term –
“tourist ghetto” – to describe Chiang Mai. Each block conveyed a monotonous sameness:
hostel, laundry, pub, souvenir shop, 7-11 … then cross the street and start over again. So
many travelers come here for an authentic experience that no longer exists. It didn’t help
that our visit coincided with “burning season,” when farmers burned their old crops and
the ensuing acrid purple haze descended over the region. We wrote a controversial story
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for our blog expressing our disappointment in Chiang Mai. It ruffled feathers among
some and drew kudos from others.
We toured many of Bangkok’s sights, but we were “noodled-out” and “templedout.” We failed to succumb to Thailand’s charms. The one saving grace was the cooking
classes Larissa took. Our best take-home souvenir from Thailand was her knowledge of
how to make Thai curries.
Chapter 14: Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Qatar and Jordan---Castles Made of Sand
The clear, dry desert air of Dubai provided relief after the humidity and smog of
Asia. Culture and history are difficult to find in the UAE, where modern cities have
sprung up almost overnight. Nonetheless, we searched for the Arabian heart amidst the
newly minted conspicuous consumerism. Meetings with two local Emirati, a rare event
where 90% of the population is made up of foreigners, provided insight into the lifestyle
beneath the glitz.
While standing in line at Oprah’s favorite popcorn stand in the Dubai Mall,
Michael learned not to hover too closely to an Emirati’s wife. Since the Arabs enjoy a
well-earned reputation of hospitality to visitors, he was told to back off most politely. We
rode to the top of the Burj Khalifa, at 163 stories the world’s tallest building, another
example of unbridled growth in a country where vending machines dispense gold bars.
Abu Dhabi and Qatar offered glimpses into what Dubai was like 20 years ago.
Muslim dress is stricter; women in the full face-covered black burka are more prevalent.
In Abu Dhabi, we took advantage of the rare opportunity to enter a mosque, after Larissa
donned the traditional hijab.
The ancient site of Petra was one of our “must-sees.” We flew into Amman,
Jordan and set off on a road trip down the King’s Highway, ancient enough to be
mentioned in the Old Testament. Larissa had a bittersweet encounter with a remarkable
14-year-old Bedouin girl. It made us think about parenting and what might have been for
us. We spent the night in a Bedouin camp, where we were treated as honored guests and
upgraded to a cave (a first for us). Indulging our love of all things barbecue, our hosts
prepared zarb, a barbecue dish that cooks for hours in a hole dug into the desert sand. We
drove back to Amman on a Muslim Holy Day. Prayers broadcast from the rooftop
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speakers attached to the mosque in each dusty village we passed shadowed us along the
entire route; turning us into worshippers by proxy. In Amman, we explored the Temple of
Hercules overlooking the city whose original name was Philadelphia, which made us feel
right at home.
We also learned more about Bunny. After a failed marriage and raising two sons
with similar issues, she considered it her duty to help our daughter. Yet, she continued to
let our daughter deteriorate in an unhealthy environment. We contacted several social
service agencies in Philadelphia to intervene, but our daughter was an adult, so there was
nothing they could do. As the pain of our daughter’s situation continued to rise up and
drag us down, we began to ask ourselves: Was this trip a waste of time?
Chapter 15: Worlds Apart---Israel and Palestine
We crossed into Israel via the Allenby/King Hussein Bridge, amidst crowds of
returning Palestinians, who are not allowed to fly into Tel Aviv. At this chaotic border
spot, it took three hours to traverse the few miles between the Jordanian and Israeli
border stations.
Jerusalem is the most difficult city on earth to decipher. Upon entering the Jaffa
Gate, we were confronted by an Escheresque maze of narrow passageways, warrens and
arches, some of them over two millennia old. Cobblestone paths, worn smooth from
centuries of foot traffic, led up, down and around corners in a seemingly random pattern.
We loved it.
We ventured up to the Western Wall at the separate areas reserved for men and
women. Michael attended enough bar mitzvahs growing up on Long Island to know the
protocol, so he donned the yarmulke for this spiritual moment. We filled out prayers for
our daughter and slid them into cracks in the wall. Although we were both raised as
Christians, as we rubbed shoulders with devout Orthodox Jews and Uzi-toting soldiers, it
was hard to deny the palpable, sacred power we felt. As we left, an energetic group of
Orthodox Jewish men danced in a circle and sang out in prayer.
We ambled along Habad Street in the Jewish Quarter, where our curiosity led us
up a set of rickety metal steps attached to the side of a building. We gingerly walked
across the rooftops of adjoining buildings. Looking down into a courtyard, we spotted a
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mosque, its confines protected by concertina barbed wire, while just 50 feet away, Jewish
children played in a similarly safeguarded schoolyard. The dulcet tones of the adhan, the
Muslim call to prayer, bounced off the limestone walls of the ancient buildings, as they
have for generations. Church bells started clanging their hourly chorus. What an
unexpected call-and-response. The echoes of three religions rang in our ears as we made
our way home.
We journeyed into the Muslim Quarter for a meal of hummus at a local favorite.
We sat on the sidewalk side-by-side ; Jews, Christians and Muslims tearing off pieces of
pita. If only the conflicted city could blend as easily as the communal bowls of hummus
into which we all dipped our bread.
Later, we journeyed beyond the security wall to Bethlehem in the Palestinian
Authority and toured the fabled spot of the birth of Christ. The “Prince of Peace” moniker
felt ironic in this beleaguered town.
Larissa also floated in the salty Dead Sea. Encouraged by her buoyancy, we
tossed Little Rocky into the water but found out – surprise! – statues don’t float.
A road trip north took us through the occupied West Bank, including an encounter
with a soldier whose allegiance was unclear to us at first. We sought sites related to Jesus
and the Roman-era that have resisted tourist tackiness, and stayed in an Arab Christian
Village, where we spent an illuminating evening with a family that shared tales of life in
a political tinderbox. They told stories of surviving rocket attacks from the nearby Golan
Heights with such a matter-of-fact demeanor that they could have been discussing the
latest price of olive oil.
Chapter 16: Family Reunion in Italy
We hadn’t seen Michael’s mom in eight months. When we asked if she’d like to
meet us someplace on our tour, her response was the expected, “I’m too tired, I don’t get
around easily, I’ll just slow you down.”
So we took the initiative and chose a destination she couldn’t resist: Italy, the
birthplace of her parents. When she brought up her age, we reminded her that Grandpa
had made his last trip to the old country when he was a mere ninety-six years old. Then
Michael suggested she come over for her birthday, a particularly poignant day she shares
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with Michael’s father, who died four years before. We knew that she wouldn’t be able to
resist the comforting distraction of traveling with us on that day; we were right.
She’d always wanted to see the “naughty” pictures at Pompeii’s brothels, but on
her prior visit, they were considered too racy for women to view. One of the few
buildings with a line was the 2,000-year-old brothel, its walls covered with graphic
illustrations of the menu of “earthly delights” available to the energetic man of ancient
Pompeii. As we patiently queued up with 20-something backpackers, a woman in her 70s
elbowed her way through and pronounced, upon entering, “now this is what I came to
see.” Yes, it was Michael’s mother.
We celebrated her birthday at a restaurant in Salerno. The staff made a big deal
out of the event and baked a special cake for her. Mom was overwhelmed. She said it was
the first birthday she had enjoyed since Michael’s dad died.
Later, we rented a small house in a hilltop village near the Amalfi Coast and
introduced Mom to a slower pace of travel. Our week together gave us an opportunity to
reflect on the breakdown of our relationship with our daughter. Mom reverted to her
supportive role and gave us much needed encouragement. Back home, our daughter had
finally entered a program and we were in contact with her healthcare providers. Bunny
was still in the background, though, lashing out and attacking us. Our trip was giving us
greater strength to deal with this adversity. In this big world we were exploring, our old
life seemed somehow smaller, not as weighty.
In our opinion, Italian food is the best in the world. Since Bologna is the
gastronomic capital of Italy we just had to go there. After a week of gorging on local
Parma cheese, balsamic vinegar de Modena and pasta Bolognese we thought, maybe we
should just end the trip now and stay here. Instead, Larissa took a pasta making course so
we can eat like Italians anywhere.
In Umbria, we attended a travel writing conference, which gave us several ideas
for the future. Could we make a living writing about our experiences?
Chapter 17: Paris … But Of Course!
No trip around the world would be complete without a stop in Paris. In our return
to one of our favorite cities, we skipped over many of the famous sights in search of the
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more obscure. Following our established pattern, we rented an apartment, which enabled
us to live the ultimate foodie’s dream. We meandered happily through outdoor food
markets collecting ingredients for dinner, which we prepared in our shoebox-sized
kitchen. We also split up for a few days to see different sites, Michael somehow not
convincing Larissa to tour the Paris sewers with him.
We pondered the expat life while connecting with friends who made the decision
to move to Paris, including our former Philadelphia landlords. We met a “fan” of our
blog who provided us with suggestions for some of Paris’ hidden gems. From Napoleon
and Josephine’s love nest to the only French cemetery that honors American
Independence Day, we unearthed even more reasons to visit the City of Light, stopping
for pastries every chance we got.
Chapter 18: London Calling
To travel geeks like us, taking a great rail journey was a must. What can be
cooler than the Eurostar, the high-speed train that takes passengers from London to Paris,
speeding through a tunnel beneath the English Channel? Disembarking in London at the
St. Pancras Station, that great soaring pile of Victorian grandeur, is so much more fun
than waiting on endless immigration lines at Heathrow.
We arrived in a city sprucing itself up for the 2012 Summer Olympics. It was
amusing to observe the uniquely British attitude toward it, a curious mix of national pride
and uniquely British pessimism.
We spent a fair bit of time with Doz and Amanda, a young British couple we met
in Malaysia. They took a six-month global journey after losing their jobs, and were now
restarting their lives. Their trip paralleled ours enough that we also saw them in
Cambodia and Vietnam. Despite our 20-year age difference, we felt a strong bond with
them, and compared how our respective journeys made life as we knew it no longer so
appealing. They joined us for a mishmash of two pop culture icons: Little Rocky crossing
Abbey Road.
Little Rocky also met up with a fellow movie star, as we ran into actor Danny
DeVito on the streets of London. Since he stars in It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,
Danny eagerly posed with Little Rocky.
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Chapter 19: Having a Cow in the English Countryside
One cannot sustain a globetrotter’s pace indefinitely. Periodically, we would stop
and catch our breath. We called these interludes “fire breaks,” one- or two-week periods
when we’d hole up somewhere, relax and focus on our writing.
We sought such respite in the Devon countryside, in a remote cottage perched on
the edge of Dartmoor. This legendary, perhaps haunted, bog was made famous in works
such as The Hound of the Baskervilles. Our visions of long walks down sun-dappled
country lanes were washed out by two weeks of rain during the wettest spring on record;
which, for England, is saying something. Determined to “keep calm and carry on,” we
donned our raincoats and stiff upper lips, and explored the soggy countryside.
After an hour, we sank ankle-deep in mud (and whatever other mud-like
substance might be deposited in a cow pasture). We stared up a rise at a herd of longhorn
bulls none too happy about our presence. That’s when we realized we were on the wrong
side of the fence … an electric fence. Like something out of a Bugs Bunny cartoon, the
bulls started pawing the ground and glaring at us. We froze, not wanting to antagonize
our new friends. After 20 minutes of playing statue in the drenching rain and sinking
further into the muck, Michael told Larissa to run for it while he distracted the bulls with
his umbrella.
Larissa thwacked across the muddy field in her sandals while Michael charged up
the hill, his souvenir umbrella from Paris leading the way. He counted on the enigmatic
smile of Mona Lisa to frighten the bulls. While Michael held the confused bulls at bay,
Larissa employed the dexterity of a bomb squad engineer to unhook the electric fence
from the car battery that powered it. We scrambled over the fence, only to run into the
neighboring farm’s tenacious sheep dogs.
Chapter 20: Scotland---The Healing (Finally) Begins
Although Scotland is part of the United Kingdom, it feels like a separate country.
The blue-and-white Scottish flag flutters above most buildings, while the British Union
Jack looks foreign. Scotland is in the midst of clamoring for independence, on which
they’ll vote in 2014. Thus, we found a great conversation starter in the pubs: asking
people’s opinions on this divisive issue.
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One day, Michael was walking alone down a cobblestone street in Edinburgh
when a gentle wave washed over him. He couldn’t, and still can’t, explain it. Suddenly,
his burdens regarding our daughter lifted as a voice spoke to him, “Enough.” Painful
memories of her were the first thing he thought of in the morning, a constant throughout
the day, and the last thing at night. Eleven months into the journey, he found the elusive
peace he had been seeking. We really did need a year. A shorter break wouldn’t have
accomplished our healing goal.
Feeling less encumbered, we left Edinburgh, one of the world’s most majestic
cities, for a road trip north through the Highlands. After a stop in St. Andrews, where
Little Rocky ran with us on the “Chariots of Fire” beach, we sought abandoned castles
and historic battlefields, and we viewed sobering remnants of the Highland Clearances, a
time when sheep were considered more valuable than people and tenant farmers were
forced off the land.
On the remote Isle of Skye, we reconnected with a friend who has traveled the
world since he was a child. Under a starlit sky by a dark loch, we discussed the merits of
travel and realized our trip had carried us into a new fraternity, that of the wayfarer. It
was hard to imagine any end to our nomadic life. But our journey was nearing its
conclusion, a reality that dismayed us.
Chapter 21: Ghosts of the Berlin Wall
Historic sites in Berlin related to World War II and the Cold War fascinated
Michael, as he discovered poignant ghosts of the Berlin Wall not marked on any tourist
map. Stumbling upon a forgotten cemetery where remnants of the Wall still remain, he
spied chunks of cement mingling with broken granite tombstones, forming unintended
graves of a communist regime.
However, Berlin is not just looking backward. The fall of the Berlin Wall created
a blank canvas for urban hipsters and others to fill in the spaces. Immigrants from central
Europe and the Middle East flock to this new land of opportunity. Larissa explored the
neighborhoods exemplifying the New Berlin. From haggling over figs at the Turkish
Market in ethnic Kreuzberg to enjoying an impromptu “beach party” under the watchful
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eye of Alexanderplatz’ TV Tower, she uncovered a zest and vibrancy uncommon in
traditional European cities.
Chapter 22: We Avoid Getting Eaten by a Lion in Namibia
A trip to Africa ranked highly on Larissa’s must-see list. Less so for Michael; he
assumed that the only way to see Africa was via a safari, which to him meant an
overpriced group tour and getting up early.
But during the course of our adventure we learned about so many places from
fellow travelers. Since our itinerary was open we enjoyed complete flexibility to go
wherever we wanted. Nine months earlier, while bouncing around on a boat in New
Zealand’s Milford Sound, we met an English couple that spoke so highly of Namibia that
it sounded too good to be true. (We have to admit; we didn’t know where Namibia was.
When we were students taking geography, present-day Namibia was part of South
Africa.) They told us that Namibia is such a safe country that visitors can go on self-drive
safaris, something discouraged in other big-game countries such as Kenya and Tanzania.
Since our favorite type of travel is a road trip, we were sold and headed into the
parched wilds of Namibia for two weeks with a detailed map, gallons of water and the
recommended two spare tires. However, we weren’t thinking about any of this when we
almost got eaten by a lion.
Chapter 23: Another America---Buenos Aires and Bogota
By the time we arrived in South America, trip fatigue hit us. Whether from our
long journey or mentally gearing for the return home, we didn’t know. We holed up in
Buenos Aires for two weeks to decompress, and prepare to re-enter our home
atmosphere; but our heat shields were not yet deployed to do so.
We needed to transition from carefree world travelers to serious situations at
home, a slap in the face that neither of us was looking forward to. Fortunately, the trip
made us stronger and more confident that we could overcome any situation. We finally
realized that we couldn’t control what life threw at us, but we could control how we
responded to it.
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Buenos Aires is the pickpocketing capital if the world. It’s a well-earned
sobriquet that we witnessed firsthand on the subway when we were caught up in the
activities of a pickpocketing gang that had just robbed a man in front of us. Michael
grabbed one of the thieves and using his best high school Spanish yelled “Polizia!
Polizia!” But languages were never his strong suit, for all we know he was screaming for
a clove of garlic. With no help forthcoming he eventually had to let the man go.
We met up with Joel, an American who lives in Buenos Aires for part of the year.
Joel was a fellow passenger on our flight to Beijing over a year earlier, so he had literally
seen us on Day One of the journey. He commented on how different we seemed, more
self-assured and relaxed.
On the way back to the U.S., we stopped in Bogota to see a friend we had met in
Italy at the writer’s conference. Michael also had an ulterior motive. He was curious what
it would be like at U.S. customs for a flight arriving from Colombia. (Larissa really is a
good sport, isn’t she?) On the immigration card, he found the small spot to fill out the
countries visited. He meticulously wrote in 30 countries, using the margins and curving
around all the other questions. Would it raise any suspicions? As we slid through the
immigration line, he handed the card to the officer, who didn’t even raise an eyebrow.
“Been to a few places. Welcome home,” he said.
That was it. Five minutes later, we realized the officer hadn’t stamped our
passports. As travel geeks, we eagerly collected stamps all over the world, and wanted
this one to document the end of our journey. Oh well. Maybe next time.
We stood at the luggage carousel at JFK Airport with an odd, deflated feeling.
Was the trip really over? Where were the marching bands and celebrities to greet these
“world famous” travelers? But then we were pumped up as it hit us: we really did it!
We overcame the moments when we were ready to end our journey and fly home
because of our daughter. That would have defeated the purpose of going, and left us right
back where we started.
We stayed at Michael’s boyhood home on Long Island. When we arrived, his
Mom was still awake to greet us. We opened our suitcases and noticed that some of the
items had shifted. We had brought home ten packs of Colombian hot chocolate, which to
an X-ray machine probably looked like another famous Colombian export. A friendly
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note from the TSA stated they had inspected our luggage. For some reason known only to
him, Michael was thrilled.
Epilogue: A Sort of Homecoming
We got more than we bargained for by coming back to New York. Just as
Hurricane Irene had shooed us out of Philly at the start of our journey, Hurricane Sandy
descended on the East Coast to “welcome” us back. We stayed right in the middle of it:
with Michael’s mother, not far from the ocean on Long Island.
After the storm cleared, we visited the parents of several of Michael’s high-school
friends who lived closer to the water. Some of their houses were destroyed. Within days,
metal dumpsters were lined up for blocks as our friends tossed out the waterlogged
memories of their entire lives.
That prompted us to think about possessions, or rather, our current lack of them.
Someone once said, “By your possessions, you are thus possessed.” We no longer had
that problem as we embraced our new nomadic lifestyle.
We headed to Philadelphia and the base of the Rocky Steps, where our journey
began. The readers who followed our adventure on the Changes in Longitude blog and in
the Philadelphia Inquirer knew we planned to finish it with a triumphant run up the steps.
After 400 days of visiting 30 countries on six continents, we made it home . . .
sort of.
Our goal was to get away from a destructive family situation, using the time and
miles of a yearlong journey to help us heal. As drastic as our departure was, it forced
Anna to rethink what she is doing with her life. Almost a year into our journey she left
the enabling situation with Bunny and entered a program. Her situation is still in a state
of flux, as it may always be, but she is better off now. We are helping her where we can
as long as she is making the effort. No matter what happens, the journey gave us the
strength and confidence to deal with her ups-and-downs and not let them drag us down as
well.
So now what? We’re back, but not really home. Technically, we don’t have a
home. Setting down roots and resuming our lives as before could remedy that easily
enough.
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But that’s not going to happen. The city we once called home may be very
comfortable to us, but we’ve changed. As the world became our home our need for
personal space has shrunk, and we no longer need the stuff we used to own. We learned
to adapt to new environments and situations quickly; instead of acquiring possessions,
we’re more interested in acquiring a wealth of experiences.
We’re not going back to our former lives. We have adapted to a nomadic lifestyle
and are not sure when, or if, we’ll ever settle down. We'll keep traveling, learning,
writing, and providing tools for others who’d like to take their own lives in a different
direction. The question we are asked most frequently is, “Would you do it all over
again?” In a heartbeat.
And you hunger for the time
Time to heal, desire, time
And your earth moves beneath
Your own dream landscape.
---A Sort of Homecoming by U2
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PROLOGUE
During a nighttime stroll we had gotten lost in the dimly lit, maze-like streets of
old Saigon. A series of turns led us into a narrow alley whose sole purpose seemed to be
connecting to other alleys. The winding streets felt as though laid out by a two-year-old
chasing a kitten. Space is dear in the congested city, so sidewalks act as ad hoc home
extensions. Old women hunched over woks as they stir-fried vegetables, while the
tantalizing aroma of chargrilled meat encircled us. In the incessant heat, locals squatted
on small plastic stools, trying to catch the occasional faint breeze. They looked at us with
amusement, while small children stopped their games for a moment to point at us and
giggle; obviously, we were well off the tourist path.
One elderly man, sporting a wispy Ho Chi Minh beard, waved us away from one
alley and pointed to another. We followed his advice, but ended up at a blank wall, like
wayward mice that still couldn’t find the cheese.
We spotted an open-air building off to the side. A slight woman in her twenties,
head shaved clean and clad in a plain gray robe, approached us and calmly said, “Come
in.” She smiled serenely, like a saint in the stained-glass window of a medieval church.
Because we had no idea where we were, and only a vague idea of how to get back, we
took her up on the offer.
Somehow, we had stumbled into the Châu Lâm Pagoda, a Buddhist convent, on
the busiest day of the year – the Tet holiday. Dozens of pairs of flat straw sandals were
lined up outside the entrance. We removed our thick-soled hiking shoes, which stood out
like Hummers in a row of bicycles.
Sister Huê Chi led us inside to meet the Master of the convent, an elderly woman
with a commanding presence. She was barely four feet tall. In the background, a nun
struck a gong at regular intervals as the others chanted prayers to Buddha. Fragrant
sandalwood incense from burning joss sticks wafted over us.
The Master led us by the hand to a table, where other nuns scurried to present us
with traditional Tet dishes of sticky rice and bright orange mangoes. We had no idea what
was going on. However, since we come from Italian and Russian ethnic backgrounds,
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where we were trained well by our grandmothers, that refusing the offer of food is
considered an insult to the host, we dug into the simple meal.
Michael had trouble shelling a bowl of sunflower seeds, so a novitiate was called
over to help him. Our young assistant cracked the shells in her mouth, and then pulled out
the seeds, which she gracefully dropped into Michael’s hand. By then we felt like family,
so he eagerly gobbled them up. The Master grasped each of our hands; her skin had the
appearance of a weatherworn saddle but was as smooth as a newborn calf as she gently
held onto us. After finishing our impromptu dinner, she led us to another table to fill out
prayer cards. The sisters would prayer for us and our family members back home. We
asked them to pray most fervently for our daughter Anna. The sisters then clipped red
pieces of paper inscribed with blessings to our hair. Thus adorned, we entered the
sanctuary.
Nuns bowed in rows behind small silver tables bearing prayer books. Their hands
remained clasped together and their heads lowered as they shot curious sideways glances
at us; the only Westerners there. Whenever we made eye contact we were met with a
soothing smile. A few minutes later, we knelt in front of a yellow-and-red altar dedicated
to Buddha. Dozens of small red votive candles and strings of sparkling white lights
illuminated the shrine, on which worshippers had placed humble offerings of oranges,
flowers and, somewhat incongruously, a dozen round tins of Danish butter cookies. We
pressed our foreheads gently to the marble floor as we tried to mimic the movements of
the saffron-robed worshippers around us.
During our prayers, the same thought occurred to each of us: “We’re two middleaged Americans. How the heck did we end up here?”
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SAMPLE CHAPTER 1: BREAKING AWAY
August 2011
We tossed our keys through the mail slot of the row house we had been renting
for the past year in downtown Philadelphia. There was no turning back now. We no
longer had a place to return to, no place to call home. The year before, we sold our house
in the city’s suburbs, gave away most of our belongings, and had just recently quit our
jobs. Now we were about to jump on a plane to China and begin a yearlong journey
around the world.
We looked each other in the eyes and hesitated. This brief interlude marked the
only time in the entire planning and dreaming process that we were nervous and had
jitters in our stomachs. Silent questions passed between us: How do you say goodbye to
everything you have ever known? How do you walk away from the security of a normal
life and familiar routine? What if we’re making a big mistake?
We wouldn’t find out the answer to that last question for some time.
We searched in vain for a cab. Usually, several whizzed by this intersection, but
not now. The city was in a bit of a frenzy as Hurricane Irene was due to hit the Jersey
Shore the next day before barreling inland. After ten minutes of fruitlessly waving at
already occupied taxis, we grew a bit concerned. We had planned so much, but hadn’t
taken into account our ride to the airport.
Finally, a cab appeared; we tossed the suitcases in the trunk and took off. “Taking
a vacation?” the driver asked.
“Sort of,” we replied in unison.
“Where are you headed?”
We looked at each other. A shiver passed between us. It was really happening.
After months of planning, we were really doing this. “Everywhere. We’re going to travel
around the world for a year.”
Our around-the-world trek may have seemed like a grand lark taken by a couple
seeking adventure and responding to a bit of a midlife crisis, but it masked a sad reality
that drove us to take this trip.
Life wasn’t working out as we had hoped. Sometimes, you hit bumps in the road,
or an unexpected detour that changes your direction. What do you do, though, when the
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detour takes you further and further from the main road, and the bumps become the rule
rather than the exception? You can bounce along aimlessly, getting your teeth rattled, or
you can grab a bulldozer and create a whole new road. That’s what we were doing. We
were forging ahead into new territory with two open-ended airline tickets, our new road
yet to be mapped.
We first met in Philadelphia in 1985. Michael, a diehard New Yorker, was in
town for two years attending graduate school at Penn. He figured that after graduation he
would hightail it back to New York. Then one night he was out with a few rugby
teammates when he met Larissa at a pub located just steps from Independence Hall. We
were both instantly smitten. A whirlwind courtship ensued, with Michael falling in love
with Larissa and Philadelphia at the same time. Only six months after we met we became
engaged and Michael knew he wasn’t going back to New York.
Like most young couples we started our lives together with a hopeful vision of
our future; the typical American dream of marriage, children, house and careers. We
bought a house in the Philly suburbs where we hoped to raise a family and settled into
our jobs; Michael managing property portfolios in commercial real estate and Larissa
moving up the ladder in the biotechnology field.
After five years of marriage we focused on having children. Getting pregnant
happened quickly and we couldn’t wait to tell our families at Thanksgiving. We’d be four
months pregnant by then so we figured it would be safe. Larissa was overjoyed by her
pregnancy, talking to the child inside her and nicknaming the person “Little Dickens,”
after the place where we met. As she drove home from work she’d talk about her day and
tell the baby how excited she was for their arrival.
A few days before the holiday Larissa felt something wasn’t right. She went to the
doctor for an ultrasound and found out the baby had died. On the eve of Thanksgiving we
called Michael’s parents to tell them we couldn’t be coming after all. It was the most
painful, tear-drenched conversation of our lives. They hadn’t even known we were
pregnant and now we had to drop this bomb on them. That holiday season, focused on
celebration and joy, was a mess for us as we mourned the loss of the child we never got
to meet.
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As the new year rolled around we tried to take a positive outlook and felt we’d be
able to start a family. But despite the apparent ease the first time, we couldn’t get
pregnant again. That started a decade-long shuffle of doctor visits, diagnoses, and fertility
treatments. We each had surgery to correct problems that remained uncorrected.
We bounced along in our careers but our hearts weren’t into it. What’s a mere job
when something as fundamental as creating a family remains unresolved? For ten years
we lived our lives in monthly increments, hoping that this time things would work out
and we’d be pregnant, but it was never to be.
In 1998, Larissa’s father died after a brief illness; only two weeks from
retirement. As a result we ended up getting in touch with an old family friend named
Serge. He was of Russian descent, like Larissa’s parents, and knew them from their
childhood in Brooklyn where they all grew up speaking Russian. He was having dinner
with us one night when he mentioned that he had been helping out an eight-year-old
Russian girl named Irina at the local elementary school. She had recently been adopted
by an American family and spoke no English. This was the first we had heard of
someone adopting from Russia.
A few weeks later we met Irina and her new family. All of a sudden it all made
sense to us. This was what we were supposed to do, adopt a child from Russia. Why were
we spending so much time and fruitless efforts to have a biological child when there were
already so many children in the world looking for parents? With Larissa’s Russian
background and some facility with the language, Russia was the logical place for us to
adopt.
We immediately started researching Russian adoption. There were some horror
stories out there but we wrote them off, our desire to have a family was too strong to
focus on a few people for whom things hadn’t “worked out.” We watched an episode of
the television show 20/20 about a family from Atlanta who had adopted an older Russian
girl, just like we were about to do. The family lived in fear, particularly at night, when
they eventually had to lock the girl in her room to protect her siblings from violent
attacks. Their case became notorious when they tried to send the girl back to Russia. We
discounted such stories, figuring it was sensationalist journalism and that wouldn’t
happen to us.
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We found Angels Haven Outreach, an adoption agency in California, which
focused on children from Russia. They sent us information about the girl who was to
become our daughter, Anna. (Please note that we have changed Anna’s name for privacy
reasons.)
Anna was eight years old and had been living in an orphanage two hours east of
Moscow for about a year. Typical of the children placed for adoption, her background
story was harsh. As we read the limited amount of information made available to us, we
found out that she had entered the orphanage on the exact same day that Larissa’s father
had died the prior year. We took this as a sign that it was meant to be.
The adoption process was complicated but only took a relatively quick seven
months. We’d go to sleep each night wondering about our daughter, and frustrated that
she was living in an orphanage 5,000 miles away. We just wanted to whisk her away.
We arrived in Russia in December, 1999 to adopt Anna just after her 9th birthday.
We were already loved her but meeting her in person was beyond compare. Our families,
grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, embraced Anna as she fit right in; it seemed as if
she had been with us all along.
During her first five years in America, we shared a wonderful life, filled with
hope and love. We introduced Anna to our love of travel which she immediately
embraced. But the most important trip we took with her was when we returned with her
to Russia.
Anna left behind a grandfather whom she cared very much about. As she grew
more comfortable in America she worried about him back in Russia. We kept in touch
with him through letters but Anna really wanted to see him. When she turned 11 we
returned to her village in Russia for a dramatic homecoming. Since the day we adopted
her was so whirlwind we were only there for a few hours. This trip gave us the
opportunity to meet her friends, see various homes where she had lived and more firmly
grasp her rustic upbringing.
We also visited the orphanage where we delivered suitcases full of medical
supplies and treats for the children. Ludmilla, the robust director of the children’s home
was shocked that we had come back. She told us she had never heard of an adoptive
family returning from America so the child could visit.
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The reunion with Anna’s grandfather went well. He never thought he was going
to see Anna again and was overwhelmed. While the visit was good for easing Anna’s
anxieties about her family, it was also clear where her heart now belonged. As the plane
was about to take off from the airport in Moscow she said to us, “I’m ready to go home
now.”
But eventually we became mired in a destructive situation beyond our control. By
the time our daughter became an adult, our relationship with her was broken. The driving
force of our decision to leave was the deterioration of the relationship with our daughter.
At 14, Anna shifted from a sweet, caring child to someone who viewed us as the
enemy. As the parents and authority figures in her life, we became the target of her pentup rage. When her angry and violent episodes escalated, we hid the kitchen knives and
other sharp objects, and put a lock on our bedroom door. Our neighbors heard the
increasingly loud shouting and banging of furniture being thrown and walls being
smashed in. It did not surprise them when, one night, a police car showed up, responding
to our 911 call for help. We were prisoners in our own home, with no guards to protect
us.
Michael received an e-mail from Larissa that stated simply: “I can’t take it
anymore. I’m leaving.” Michael rushed home from work, but Larissa was gone.
Meanwhile, Anna was vague about what had happened. Larissa returned later that night
with a black eye; Anna had assaulted her and punched her in the face.
Our house increasingly resembled a battle zone, with holes punched in walls and
the remnants of broken furniture strewn about. We stopped fixing the holes and let the
wreckage remain where it had been flung, hoping Anna would notice the effects of her
actions. It didn’t matter. The only people who noticed were visitors, who were stopping
by less frequently. Our outer shells hardened, but we grew hollow inside. Sometimes
after falling asleep we’d dream that life was normal and Anna was happy. But waking up
was a bitter pill. Usually when someone has a nightmare they wake up to a sweet relief.
Our lives were just the opposite; we’d dream of a reprieve and awake to the nightmare
that our lives had become.
As we tried to help Anna we learned that unconditional love was not enough to
overcome any obstacle. In her calm moments we would hug her and hold her and tell her
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how much we cared. But these brief respites grew more infrequent as her eruptions
continued.
We reached out to all sectors of the counseling community to assist with Anna’s
issues, and involved Anna in every support program we could find. A network of public
and private counselors, therapists, and psychiatrists worked together to stem her out-ofcontrol behavior, all to no avail. Ultimately, Anna’s refusals to cooperate forced us to
drop each program and pursue another … over and over again.
Tension mounted between us on how to deal with her, tension that created cracks
in our marriage. We fought over issues neither one of us had contested before, and piled
on other issues related to our nerve-wracking situation. Friends told us, “You need to
stick together and stay standing; otherwise, how can you help her?” We fought to keep
the strong bond between us from weakening. However, something else suffered: our
health. As part of a routine checkup, a nurse took Michael’s blood pressure and told him,
“It’s so high you should go to the emergency room right now. Are you under any stress?”
When she was 16, Anna was kicked out of her high school; it was the last straw in
a long-running problem she had with the authorities there. We were already planning to
send her to a wilderness counseling program in Maine that summer, but with no school
on the horizon, we decided to send her off that weekend. The counselors from the
program showed up at 2:00 a.m., typical for removals so the child will be less resistant. It
was not lost on us, the ironic similarity to how people were arrested and removed from
their homes in the middle of the night in the old Soviet Union. As the van pulled out of
the driveway, we collapsed on the concrete garage floor, curled up into the fetal position,
trying to comfort each other. It couldn’t get any worse. Or could it?
Anna attended the program in Maine for two months. The counselors
recommended several programs out west where she could continue working on her
issues. We flew up to Maine to accompany Anna to a program we found in Utah.
Afterwards, we visited her regularly and participated in her therapy sessions. However,
her progress was minimal to none.
In October, four months into the Utah program, Michael’s father, Jerry, was
hospitalized with a minor heart attack. Michael’s mother, Marian, was scheduled to fly
out to visit Anna that weekend. She was conflicted about leaving her husband in a
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hospital, but Jerry said, “I’ll be fine. You don’t want to let Anna down.” So Marian flew
to Utah.
After 52 years of marriage, those were the last words they spoke to each other.
When Michael went to take Jerry home from the hospital that weekend at his
scheduled release time, his condition had rapidly deteriorated. Jerry lapsed into
unconsciousness, being kept alive by an array of beeping machines, while Marian visited
Anna, unaware of the worsening situation. Michael alternated between his father’s
bedside and making frantic calls to Utah to reach his mother; he finally did and told her
she needed to take the red-eye flight home. Jerry lay there dying while the hospital
struggled to keep him alive until Marian showed up for one last goodbye, albeit an
unconscious one.
His father’s death dropped Michael into a deep depression. Dealing with Anna
had sent him teetering on the edge of a cliff and this drove him over. His generally
happy-go-lucky nature was shoved aside by a gloom-and-doom persona which started
rearing its ugly head more often. His lifelong dreams of being a parent were going up in
smoke and his father was gone. For the first time he wondered, what was the point of it
all?
A month later, Marian visited us for the first time since Jerry’s death. We
remained stunned by the suddenness of it. As we sat around talking that early December
evening, the phone rang. It was an EMT, asking for Larissa: “Hi, I’m at your mother’s
house and she refuses to go to the hospital. Can you talk to her?”
Nina’s appearance had gradually become spectral over the past two years, but she
had refused to see a doctor. We had been so wrapped up in our daughter’s situation that
we hadn’t pushed her. We learned she had late-stage pancreatic cancer. As we mourned
Michael’s father, Larissa sprang into action to aid her dying mother and find hospice care
nearby. Christmas carols played merrily in the lobby at the hospice center ten minutes
from our home, where we enrolled Nina. Larissa found plenty of time to care for her
mother because, two weeks earlier, the company for which she worked lost its funding.
As we soon discovered, her lost job took away her medical insurance – and Anna’s.
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A few weeks later, on a Tuesday evening, Anna’s counselor in Utah called.
“She’s being disruptive to the program and the other girls. You need to have her out of
here by Saturday or we’ll put her in a holding facility,” she said.
Oh, great.
Larissa parked herself in front of the computer to handle last-minute logistics,
while Michael shuttled around the country on a rapid-fire mission to find a new program
that hopefully could help Anna. We settled on one in central Missouri that specialized in
difficulties experienced frequently by international adoptees. Michael flew out to Utah to
pick up Anna, who was unaware of the swarm of activity to keep her from being locked
up.
When Michael arrived, he was suffering from food poisoning. During the drive on
the interstate to take Anna to the Salt Lake City airport, he periodically pulled over to
vomit as big-rig trucks rumbled by. While on his knees leaning against the rental car, he
saw his ghastly reflection in the chrome wheel and groaned, “Oh, God, please make it
better.”
Meanwhile, Larissa ignored a pain in her abdomen while tending to Nina. She
attributed it to the stressful situation. Eventually, she went to the doctor, who told her she
had a growth the size of a grapefruit inside her and needed a hysterectomy. Since cancer
was a possibility, an oncologist stood by during the surgery in case they needed to
remove more. That’s when we found out Larissa’s prior employer had cancelled her
health insurance without notice. A cancer diagnosis could bankrupt us.
Two weeks later, Nina died.
As Nina’s condition deteriorated Larissa had postponed her surgery. Now she
went through with it and, surprisingly, (considering everything else going on in our
lives), Larissa did not have cancer. She spent the next few months recuperating and
cleaning out her mother’s house with her siblings.
For the rest of the year, we flew out to central Missouri every three weeks to visit
Anna and to take part in family counseling sessions. They proved unproductive. Anna
still treated us as the cause of all her ills in the world, a difficult obstacle for us to
overcome. The programs were costing us more than $10,000 a month, on top of other
expenses related to her care.
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As we headed towards the $250,000 mark for Anna’s treatment, we took a second
mortgage on our house and spent a big chunk of our retirement savings. We really didn’t
feel the program was working, but we kept borrowing and paying the monthly cost. It
was worth it for the peace of mind we experienced with her away. In our topsy-turvy
world, only debt provided a respite. Sad, but true.
After 19 months of treatment, Anna turned 18. She could no longer be compelled
to stay in the program and returned home. Life was okay for a few months. She passed
the exam to earn her GED and we reveled in that accomplishment. We thought we saw
light at the end of the tunnel when she enrolled in beauty school and seemed to be
moving forward with her life. But she eventually refused to take the meds that were
helping her, and things returned to the same predictable pattern of bad behavior and
defiance that threatened our safety.
She developed a knack for picking up ex-cons and bringing them into our
suburban home. One day, Michael arrived from work to find a battered suitcase in the
garage. It belonged to a fellow who had been released from prison that morning and
enjoyed hanging out in our living room during his first day of freedom. Michael
explained to him that he couldn’t stay with us, a position that Anna didn’t fathom. It led
to more screaming, yelling, and broken furniture.
Over the next year, the situation further deteriorated. We kicked Anna out of the
house three times. The first two times, we took her back after she promised to turn things
around, promises eventually broken. A few days after Christmas, we discovered she stole
Larissa’s post-surgery pain medication. When we confronted Anna, she lashed out at us,
unrepentant and defiant.
The bar for her behavior had been lowered so many times that it now scraped the
floor. Finally, we had enough. We told her to pack her things and find a place to stay. She
called a friend and left our house for the final time.
We thought perhaps our relationship with Anna would improve if we simply lived
apart. Over the next several months, we supported her by bringing her food and clothing,
and assisting with her rent payments. However, a new pattern emerged: she’d burn
through people’s goodwill and get kicked out of places because of her undesirable
conduct.
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That summer, Anna approached us. She said she had hit rock bottom and was
ready to turn her life around. We had heard this before and were skeptical. But we found
her an apartment and agreed on a plan for her to look for a job and gradually become selfreliant while we covered her expenses. As always, this plan fizzled out. Despite our
support, after six months Anna was asked to leave by her landlord for becoming an
undesirable tenant. Her disruptive behavior with the people who visited her agitated
others in the apartment complex.
We found some solace and guidance by reading The Lost Years: Surviving a
Mother and Daughter’s Worst Nightmare, by Kristina Wandzilak and her mother,
Constance Curry. The book recounts Kristina’s harrowing descent into dependency and
Constance’s struggles to deal with her daughter’s issues, which are eventually resolved.
In one telling passage, Kristina shows up at home after a long absence, but Constance
refuses to take her back until Kristina is willing to accept help. When she refuses,
Constance reluctantly closes the door on her daughter.
The story is told from both women’s viewpoints. Kristina recalls how much she
hated her mother at that moment, while Constance reveals the pain of taking this
necessary step. We contacted Kristina, who confirmed that we had reached the point
where there was nothing more we could do to help Anna. We could no longer be enabling
influences in her life, she said. She needed to make the changes from within herself.
While Anna’s problems were more behavioral in nature, a dependency problem was also
making an alarming appearance.
The cable on our high-wire act began to snap from too much tension, which
would send all of us plummeting to earth. We needed to take drastic measures, so we sold
our home, moved into a rental in Philadelphia, and left no forwarding address. We
wanted our whereabouts to remain unknown to Anna. The people she was hanging out
with frightened us. She could reach us by cell phone if she needed us.
Due to the breakup of our family, we were rootless, no longer tied to community
or friends. We had become reluctant empty nesters, and slowly realized that we needed a
healing timeout from our lives.
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SAMPLE CHAPTER 2: GONNA FLY NOW
We were burned out and needed a break . . . now what? At first, we didn’t know.
We had spent most of our energy dealing with whatever daughter-related crises arose on
any given day, week or month. What do we do with ourselves? We were at a loss. We
knew we needed time to heal, to step away from the continuous cycle of abuse, empty
promises and further abuse.
As we had been busy leaping from one crisis to another our careers had been
shunted off to the side until they barely existed. With our job responsibilities diminished,
we now had some time on our hands and thought about taking a year off? A year! Now
there’s an idea. But then, we got stuck on the main question: What would we do for a
year? Americans are not geared to taking much time off. Heck, most Americans have a
hard time sliding in a week or two. To us, time off is a vacation, sitting on the beach,
visiting historic sights, or even catching up on home projects. But a year of this?
What would you do if you had a year off in which you could put the rest of your
life on hold and pursue your passion? Would you write the Great American Novel?
Follow Julia Child’s model and enroll in the Cordon Bleu in Paris? Or even Julie
Powell’s, making every recipe in Julia Child’s classic cookbook? Maybe you’d take up
the guitar, or build a sailboat.
We reeled from the question. However, our lives had been pretty dreadful for the
past few years, so we were determined about one thing: once we gave ourselves the gift
of time, we were not going to waste it. We considered our own personal passions:
cooking and food, history, world affairs, architecture. One thread tied them all together:
travel.
Traveling has always been a major part of our lives. Each of us grew up in a
family where wandering was encouraged and embraced. Larissa’s mother was a travel
agent, and she can still remember her first visit to an airport as a child. No one was
flying anywhere; her parents just thought it would be a fun way to spend a Sunday
afternoon. Other families skied or attended baseball games. Larissa’s sat for hours in
some obscure section of terminal at JFK watching United, PanAm and TWA jets take off
and land.
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Her Dad turned it into a game: guessing where the planes had flown from or were
headed. Larissa’s first impression of geographic distances was measured not by miles, but
by the number of hours it took to fly from city to city. Miami was about two hours away
on an Eastern 727, which seemed pretty far. Paris, seven hours overnight on one of those
big TWA 747s, was really far away! Larissa maintains her planespotting ways. Even
today, while driving by an airport, her neck cranes in all directions like a one-eyed dog in
a sausage factory as she tries to identify every plane in the sky.
Michael’s schoolteacher mother encouraged his sense of curiosity. His trip to the
Grand Canyon and Yellowstone at age nine revealed an exciting world beyond his
suburban Long Island neighborhood. Other than a nerve-wracking experience when he
accidentally locked himself in the cabin bathroom at Yellowstone, missing Old Faithful’s
performance, he remembers the trip fondly. From this, he learned the valuable lesson of
checking to see how the locks work on a bathroom door before entering. (To a point: he
would forget it a few months into our trip, missing a good chunk of dinner with a friend
in Sydney.)
When we first met, each of us carried a bit more travel under our belts, along with
a mutual passion for seeing new places. This was one of the things that drew us together.
We developed a taste for independent travel to lesser-known places, but always within
the confines of a one or two-week vacation.
By the time we were in our 30s, after languishing through a miscarriage and years
of infertility treatments, we faced a terrible truth: we would not be able to have biological
children. Each invitation to a friend’s baby shower or Christmas cards of their growing
brood only made us more depressed.
Since we wouldn’t be taking tykes to see Mickey, we decided to do something
that people with school age kids cannot: sell the house and live in Europe for a year.
Forget that we couldn’t afford it; we’d figure out a way to make it happen. That
Christmas, Michael gave Larissa a small suitcase filled with books about living abroad.
But the routines of daily life intervened, and despite devouring Peter Mayle’s A Year in
Provence and spending some virtual time Under the Tuscan Sun with Frances Mayes,
time slipped away and our year in Europe never happened.
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No matter which way we turned, travel kept popping up as something that
invigorated us. So, we knew, our break would involve travel. We’d go away for a year,
but not to just lie down on a beach somewhere. Idleness would offer too much temptation
for us to dwell on negative things. Instead of running from our troubles, we would find
something to excite us, something to run to. In the process, our emotional wounds would
heal and we’d return refreshed and ready to resume our lives. Ideally.
In Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert runs to Italy, India and Bali to learn more
about living a full and balanced life, recovering from a painful divorce in the process.
While we weren’t particularly keen to meditate in a mosquito-ridden ashram (though the
Naples pizza idea sounded pretty good), we could relate to her quest. What made her
journey compelling to us was that it was a literal journey, as well as a figurative one.
A journey. Just what we needed.
We had just turned fifty and couldn’t afford to retire, but we couldn’t stick with
the status quo, either. We needed to go to save our physical and emotional health,
figuring out a way to make it work financially. We would take the trip travel geeks dream
of: circumnavigating the globe with an open itinerary, collecting experiences, and
creating a new roadmap for our lives.
We did not make our decision lightly. We sought advice from family, friends, and
professionals, both secular and religious. It was a drastic step, but one we finally realized
was necessary for our health and wellbeing. The traditional parameters of home, jobs, and
family no longer felt relevant to us. We hoped that thousands of miles, hundreds of days,
and new surroundings would help us heal.
Throughout our journey, people we met told us how jealous they were. The truth:
we would change places with them in a heartbeat. The great sadness of our lives is the
inability for us to remain together with our daughter, a family settled down, rather than a
couple wandering the globe as nomads. Perhaps giving Anna time to fend for herself
would produce better results.
In Grounded, author Seth Stevenson proposes that if you keep traveling, you are
no longer trying to find something, but rather running away from something else. Maybe
that was the case with us. Only this journey would reveal the answer. We set out to heal
from our own personal traumas. A year would be more than enough … right? We didn’t
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realize until later how much of that year it would ultimately take before our emotional
wounds began to slowly close.
How would we downsize from a fully furnished house in the suburbs, filled with
years of accumulated objects, to living out of our suitcases? The first step: shrinking our
living space. We had outgrown our house, or perhaps more accurately, it had outgrown
us. Now that we were empty nesters, reluctant or otherwise, we didn’t need that much
space. It was a lousy time to sell, but market timing never figured into our plans. Up went
the “For Sale” sign, bad market timing be damned.
We also had a lifetime of possessions to consider. But what did any of them really
mean to us? Like many others, we had trudged along the career treadmill with another
shiny toy always on the horizon. Most of our objects, the very things we had worked long
hours to obtain, now felt like “stuff” standing in our way.
This process, while cumbersome, was also cathartic. We put up our wedding
gifts—fancy dishes and “must haves” from a bygone era—on eBay. We gave away
carloads of stuff, such as clothing and household items, to local charities. Michael even
parted ways with his high-school weightlifting bench. (Larissa was so heartbroken over
that one – especially since he hadn’t touched it in 20 years.) Craigslist also came in
handy. Anything we listed on the “free” section was gone within an hour. As the rooms
and closets emptied out, we felt lighter.
Once the house sold, we moved out with nary a backward glance; it hadn’t been a
happy place for us. We had moved to a typical suburban neighborhood expecting to raise
a family. That didn’t work out so well. We rented an apartment in Philly where we would
plan the trip. With only a minimal amount of personal belongings and a finite end to a
lease, it would be easier to walk away when the time came.
We had yet to share our long-term travel plans with anyone. What if we
chickened out, like we had twenty years earlier? What if one of us got some fantastic job
offer? What if our daughter started turning things around . . . ahhh, that was the real issue
holding us back. We were still parents, semper bonae spei, ever hopeful that things would
work out.
We started to see Sherry, a local grief counselor. We asked her to assist us in
dealing not with the death of anyone, but the death of our relationship with our daughter.
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In so many ways, we felt we had lost her. It marked the first time we sought help to deal
with our own issues, not Anna’s. As we developed the plan for our healing journey,
Sherry served as the steady force to help us buck up whenever we faltered. She
recognized that we needed to break away from an enabling situation and come to grips
with the truth that we had done all we could to help our daughter. As long as we were
around to prop up Anna, she would continue her destructive behavior.
We needed to let go, while also keeping Anna aware that we would always be
available if she chose to turn her life around. However, the change had to come from her.
She had to agree to enter a program and truly work on her issues, something that would
not happen unless she hit rock bottom.
The plan was risky, but we were out of options. We met with several programs
that would accept Anna if she were willing. We arranged for Sherry to act as her liaison
while we were gone. Even though we would be out of the country, we left behind this
support system if she decided she was ready for help.
With that, Sherry said the magic words: “I give you permission to take this trip.”
Deep. Breath. Big. Sigh. Eyes watering. Relief!
It was okay—we weren’t horrible people, and we were entitled to find a way to
heal our battered souls. Intellectually, we had come to terms with our decision, but
hearing it put that way went straight to our hearts.
With that sixth sense that mothers possess, Marian, Michael’s mother,
unknowingly endorsed Sherry. That same day, the demure retired teacher sent us an email urging (in all capital letters): “YOU WILL DO THIS. YOU MUST DO THIS. YOU
HAVE DONE EVERYTHING YOU CAN FOR HER.” Our priest, whom we had known
for over 20 years and had been through it all with us, sent a message stating, “You are my
heroes for what you have done for Anna.” Such strong support from those closest to us
helped firm our resolve as we started planning our journey.
Our stated grand adventure—“Hey, let’s travel around the world for a year!”—
morphed into a full-time job with a giant “To Do” list containing over one hundred items.
The house was sold, but we still had to find travel health insurance, get many
vaccinations (they still have yellow fever?), figure out how to handle finances on the
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road, and on and on. We decided to pack our few unsold worldly possessions into a tenfoot square storage facility.
Planning the trip was the fun part. For destinations, we had a short “must see” list
of places: North Korea (Michael’s idea), Sydney, the ruins of Angkor Wat and Petra,
Jerusalem, Africa, and Buenos Aires. We also wanted spend time on six continents. This
formed the bones of our itinerary; we would fill in the rest as we traveled along.
To paraphrase Horace Greeley, we decided to “go west, middle-aged couple.” By
heading westward continuously, we would pick up time, minimizing jetlag along the
way. Many long-term travelers opt for a special round-the-world plane ticket. Travel
specialists also offer to create custom RTW tickets using a variety of airlines. We
evaluated both options, but decided neither appealed. There were too many restrictions,
and we would have to fix our whole year’s itinerary in advance, something we were
determined not to do.
Already, this journey was changing us – and we hadn’t even left yet. In the past,
we planned our vacations months in advance, nailing down all the arrangements so we
could relax while away. This was different. We wouldn’t be vacationers, but wanderers,
not tied into any pre-set schedule.
Once we went public with our plans, the first question many friends asked was,
“You two are going to backpack?” The short answer: “No.” It didn’t seem like a good
time to teach our old spines new tricks. We’ve gone on road trips where there was no
incentive to pack lightly; just toss everything in the trunk. But for a round-the-world
journey, there is no luxury of a car to haul all your stuff. You are the car. In our case, the
cars were two vintage models with too many miles and dents to still be considered cream
puffs. We’d go lean and mean, each taking a 22-inch wheeled suitcase and shoulder bag.
That would be home for the next year.
As a final source of inspiration, we brought a bit of Philadelphia with us. No, it
wasn’t a cheesesteak. Rather, we carried a miniature statue of Rocky Balboa, the
inspirational underdog from the movie Rocky that grew on millions of people around the
globe who could identify with his tale. The most famous scene in Rocky occurs after he
has transformed himself from an out-of-shape pug to a lean, mean fighting machine.
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Rocky runs through the streets of Philadelphia and eventually winds up at the base of the
imposing steps leading up to the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
Earlier in the film, he could barely make it to the top. Later, he bounded up the
steps with the unbridled energy of a child tearing through presents on Christmas
morning. The Rocky Steps, as they are now known, have become a worldwide symbol of
triumph over adversity.
The entire world comes to the Rocky Steps. We were going in reverse by starting
our journey there. We figured we’d travel about 75,000 miles during the year before
returning to Philadelphia to run to the top of the steps.
Rocky’s goal was to go the distance … the same goal as ours.
Appropriately enough, the soundtrack music that plays while Rocky makes his
triumphant sprint is "Gonna Fly Now.” We couldn’t think of a better song to hum as we
boarded the plane to Beijing.
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SAMPLE CHAPTER 3: FORBIDDEN BEIJING
We putt-putted along at about two knots in our electric boat on central Beijing’s
Beihai Lake. A cool breeze rose off the lakeside trees under an unruly patch of blue sky.
The outboard motor felt as if it could barely power an Easy-Bake Oven, let alone push us
along. On the starboard side, a flock of baby ducks glided past us effortlessly, while to
port, a rickety paddleboat propelled by a pair of giggling six-year-olds left us bouncing in
its wake. We had hired the boat for two hours; at this rate, we’d make it a good 20 feet
from the dock before heading back. Our craft possessed all the seaworthiness of the SS
Minnow – but we weren’t in any hurry.
The boat ride provided an unexpected respite from the chaos and mayhem of
Beijing, a megalopolis that makes Los Angeles seem like a sun-dappled country village.
Our slow pace gave us time to reflect on the action-packed week we’d had since leaving
Philadelphia.
We almost weren’t allowed into China. Michael possesses the world’s ugliest
passport photo, but fortunately he no longer looks anything like it. The portrait, taken
eight years earlier, shows a much heavier man with a full head of hair. Since then, he
shed the pounds and hair in about equal proportions. In the photo, Michael smiles
gleefully, oddly, as if sitting on a massage chair set to “full vibrate.”
After we landed in Beijing, a suspicious officer saw no connection between the
photo and the man standing in front of him. He pulled Michael out of the immigration
line and escorted him into a separate area, normally reserved for suspected drug mules
and arms smugglers. He called over a higher-ranking official to make some sense out of
the apparent disconnect between Michael’s passport picture and his actual face.
Considerable discussion took place between the two officers as they stared at
Michael. He tried to replicate the weird grin in the photo, but that just made him look
demonic and heightened their suspicions. Meanwhile, Larissa passed through with no
problem, blithely unaware of the hubbub behind her. The two officers eyes rapidly darted
back and forth between Michael’s face and his passport, like spectators at a ping-pong
match. Finally, the senior officer took out a pencil and held it up to Michael’s eyebrows
in an odd attempt to figure out if they were still crooked. (They were, and are.)
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After a brief interrogation that included questions about his father’s occupation
and whether he prefers ketchup or mustard on his hot dogs, the officials ultimately set
Michael free. This experience began a pattern that continued throughout the trip. Larissa
adjusted by making sure she got on line in front of Michael at customs, then pretending
she didn’t know him – a tactic that has proven handy at various other points in our
marriage.
We landed during daytime, but when we finally made it out of the airport, we
weren’t so sure. The sky in Beijing was a sulfurous mix of various shades of gray; at
least 50 of them. The sun wasn’t visible, but a corner of the sky seemed to be reserved for
it; that area emitted a barely perceptible, sickly yellowish glow. The late-summer air was
thick with the combination of humidity and smog particular to China’s capital city.
Beijing nestles in a bowl between the Xishan and Yanshan mountain ranges, creating a
trap for the dense smog blowing northwest from the industrial zones. We felt like we had
tumbled into the chimneystack of a coal-fired power plant.
The Beijing air has been the basis of a political tussle between the United States
and Chinese governments. Flights in and out of Beijing’s airport have been cancelled for
entire days because of what the Chinese government calls “mist rising off melting snow
in the mountains.” No one believes this explanation. The American Embassy monitors
the pollution data in-house and contradicts the official government readings. The
Embassy’s Twitter feed once called the air “crazy bad,” although Chinese citizens
wouldn’t have read it, since Twitter is banned. Like everything in travel, you adjust and
motor on through.
Meanwhile, back on the lake we were basking under a rare blue sky. But the small
outboard motor on our boat wasn’t doing much. After an hour or so of calmly drifting
across the lake and being honked at by faster-moving ducks, we headed landward to
explore the rest of Beihai Park, a thousand-year-old pleasure garden which we came
across quite by accident after a morning of trudging through the Forbidden City, along
with virtually every other tourist. The palaces and presentation courts were grand and
beautiful, but the throngs of people, coupled with the oppressive air, made it difficult to
appreciate the wonders arrayed before us.
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We left the grounds through the North Gate of the Forbidden City, but that didn’t
bring much relief. The area just outside the gate was jammed with a gauntlet of
aggressive hawkers. They bombarded departing tourists with offers of rickshaw rides,
guidebooks to what they had just seen, and all sorts of trinkets. The most popular items
were copies of Chairman Mao's Little Red Book, encased in cheap plastic covers. We
were tired, thirsty, and cranky, and needed to get out of there. It was the low point of our
day, for sure.
Fortunately, respite beckoned just a few blocks away.
We saw a spot in the distance where the trees outnumbered the people. Beihai
Park is a 170-acre enclave of nature in the midst of bustling city streets. Built for
emperors during the Liao Dynasty more than 1,000 years ago, it provides a calm oasis of
lush landscaping, Buddhist shrines, and tea pavilions, all bordering a large man-made
lake. The park also offers a commodity rare in Beijing – the absence of crowds.
Built in 1651, the Temple of Everlasting Peace is a relatively recent addition to
the park. Legend claims that, by climbing up its tower and ringing its bell three times,
you are ensured good luck for the coming year. Given our globetrotting plans, we had to
do this. We swung a small log, suspended from the ceiling like a battering ram, to gently
ring the centuries-old bell. A soothing sound, echoing a deep wind chime, reverberated
throughout the park below.
The temple complex consists of a collection of quiet courtyards and stone
grottoes. The floors were worn smooth by centuries of visiting devotees, many of whom
wrote blessings on red wooden tiles and hung them by silk cords from trees, urns, and
statues.
We each filled out a blessing for our daughter. We’d prayed for her for years in
our church, but maybe our religion didn’t have a monopoly, or even a franchise, on
answering prayers. The refrain that God answers all prayers, but sometimes the answer is
“no,” grew a bit stale. Our topsy-turvy life had led us to question everything. Why should
one’s faith be exempt? In an attempt to cover all possible bases, we would pray for Anna
at temples, mosques, synagogues, and churches during the course of this journey.
After our impromptu prayer session, we climbed a path leading to a large white
Tibetan-style reliquary, or stupa. Known as the White Dagoba, the stupa was built on the
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hilltop site of the former Palace of the Moon, where Kublai Khan received Marco Polo
during his travels to the East. The White Dagoba provided us with a private vantage point
to gaze out over the yellow-tiled rooftops of the Forbidden City. It didn’t look so
forbidding from above. Another lesson learned: It’s often best to divert from the welltrod tourist path.
Now feeling re-energized, we headed back into the wild maw of Central Beijing.
First, we had to relearn how to cross a street. The simple rule we were taught as fiveyear-olds – look both ways before you cross – no longer applied. The day before,
Michael was almost flattened by a panel truck as he foolishly followed the little green
man sign that said it was safe to cross. So he was a bit more cautious than Larissa. As she
stepped off the curb, he whipped his arm down in front of her like a traffic gate. “Don’t
go!” he declared.
“I have the right of way.”
“Where do you think you are, California? Pedestrians never have the right of way
here. We’re at the bottom of the food chain,” he said.
How true. Beijing’s chaotic streets follow different rules than those of Rome,
where little old ladies purposefully stride across, knowing that the Fiats and Alfa Romeos
will swerve around them like so many rocks in the middle of a river. This was pure street
mayhem, as if war had been declared on pedestrians and we were the last to know. A few
times, we thought drivers were purposefully aiming for us. Although we couldn’t read
lips in Mandarin, we swore that one truck driver squinted at us and murmured, “Make my
day,” as he barreled in our direction.
We learned to latch onto old ladies, sometimes frantically clutching at their
sleeves despite their confused upward glances at us. If they made it through the Cultural
Revolution they must possess finely honed survival skills. We remembered the nature
films we watched as children, in which the lions pounced on the weakest animals in a
passing herd. If one of us fell behind, the other yelled, “Come on, damn it! Don’t be the
wounded gazelle!”
With our newfound expertise, we hopscotched across eight major boulevards, a
bridge, a canal and a railroad crossing to plop safely onto Tiananmen Square to view the
remains of Chairman Mao Tse-tung. In order to maintain their Cult of Personality,
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Communist regimes preserve the corpses of their founders and keep them on public
display. The Big Three of embalmed Asian leaders are Mao in China, Kim Il Sung in
North Korea, and Ho Chi Minh in Vietnam. Over the next few months, we’d see all three
of these worthies in a sort of “Pack of Pickled Leaders” world tour.
The line to visit Mao wraps around Tiananmen Square but moves quickly, one of
the few places in Beijing where the people queue in an orderly fashion. Mao’s tomb is
strikingly similar to the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, right down to the larger-thanlife seated statue staring benevolently down on the teeming masses. You can also
purchase Chrysanthemums outside the building. They are laid individually on top of a
massive pile in front of the statue, and then picked up at the end of the day to be resold
the next. Not a bad racket, and one of the few examples of recycling we saw in China.
We filed quietly past the raised casket. A large Chinese flag covered Mao’s body;
only his waxen face was visible. We could easily have been viewing an image of
Chairman Mao made by an artist surreptitiously hired away from Madame Tussaud’s
Wax Museum. He looked huge. After all, it wouldn’t suffice to present the center of it all
as the wizened old man he would have been at death. Maybe the glass in the sarcophagus
was magnified to pump up the nation’s founder.
Before leaving the mausoleum grounds, we passed by booths selling trinkets that
bore Mao’s image. For a political system that renounces religion, they have an amazing
capability of suborning the symbols of faith to deify their own leaders. The baubles
included gilded images, similar to religious icons, which the faithful could put up on the
walls of their homes. It reminded us of the shrine-like gifts for sale outside the Vatican.
Instead of Jesus or the Pope, a communist leader was being deified.
Next, we rejoined the throngs on Tiananmen Square. The Chinese, ever mindful
of the protests that took place here in 1989, enforced tight, airport-style security to enter
the Square. Westerners like us were waved through, however. They must figure we’d
have to be really foolish to raise some type of protest banner.
We whipped out our trip mascot, the Rocky statue, which was quite a hit.
Originally, we thought we’d snap his photo at famous world sights, a la Flat Stanley or
Waldo. But as Chinese tourists eagerly lined up to peer at him, we realized it would be
more fun to take his photo with locals to really capture the essence of our journey.
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Since Larissa is blonde and blue-eyed, she became somewhat of a minor celebrity
as Chinese from the countryside vied to have their picture taken with her. Michael was
shunted aside so the folks could stand by Larissa. He gamely became the official
photographer.
However, we also discovered a downside to our newfound “fame.” Several
groups that looked a bit more weathered started crowding around to snap a photo with us.
They didn’t look like tourists from the countryside, but families that lived nearby on the
streets. Pretty soon, we felt groping hands in our pockets and waistbands, and zippers
being pulled on Larissa’s purse. We were about to become pickpocket victims! That
brought a sudden end to our session with the local paparazzi. We’re usually more streetsavvy in these situations, so we attributed our naiveté to jetlag.
In search of a break from the city, we planned a trip to the Great Wall. Chinese
emperors built the Wall to keep out rampaging hordes of Mongolian soldiers on
horseback that streamed down from the north. But no amount of stone and mortar could
repel conquering hordes of tourists riding luxury motor coaches. These modern
marauders, armed with digital cameras instead of swords and lances, arrive by the
thousands each day.
According to urban legend, the Great Wall is visible from outer space. Like many
tales that get passed from modem to modem, the legend is wrong. The structure, which
follows the undulating contours of the hills and is in some areas no more than an earthcolored pile of dirt and rubble, is barely visible from an airplane flying at 40,000 feet, let
alone by an astronaut peeking out his window from low-earth orbit, 200 miles up.
What may be visible from outer space, though, are the numerous shiny trinkets
and tchotkes sold in the unending souvenir stands at Badaling, the most popular choice
for tourists viewing the Wall. (Although it is mostly a reproduction built in the 1940s.) If
all these souvenir stalls were placed end-to-end, they might rival the length of the Great
Wall itself. We decided the town should be renamed Bada-bling. Badaling suffers from
its close proximity to Beijing. Its convenient location, directly off a major highway, also
makes it more accessible to tour buses.
To avoid this mayhem, we hired an individual driver named “Joe” whom we
found on Trip Advisor. Best of all, he didn’t cost much more than a group tour. We
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asked Joe to take us to Mutianyu, a less-visited stretch of the Wall 55 miles north of
central Beijing. This section dates from 1368 and was built on the foundation of an earlier
wall. Visitors can amble anywhere over a 1.5-mile expanse. The structure is about 14 feet
tall and accessed by either a steep hike or a short cable-car ride. Naturally, we opted for
the ride. According to the photos in the waiting area, so did Bill Clinton.
The view from the peak was superb and, more importantly, not blocked by
throngs of tourists. At times, we had entire sections of the Wall to ourselves. As we
strolled along the granite walkways from one watchtower to the next, we imagined what
it must have been like, more than 600 years ago, for a solitary guard on the lookout for
invaders.
We brought along a few sandwiches for an impromptu picnic. Oddly enough, we
bought them at a Subway shop located near the tram entrance (in our defense, it was the
only restaurant there). As the Wall undulated over the hills in the distance, it looked like a
large gray snake happily sunning itself in the crisp mountain air.
The day also proved perfect for a young couple taking pictures before their
upcoming wedding. We were treated to an impromptu modeling session, as the
photographer artfully worked the bride and groom through various poses. That alone
demonstrated the spot’s solitude; can you imagine a bride fanning out her wedding gown
amidst a flock of tourists?
On the way back to Beijing, Joe dropped us off at the 2008 Olympic Stadium site
to walk around the “Bird’s Nest,” the nickname for the showcase site for the opening and
closing ceremonies, and track and field events. Now, it seemed as disposable as a
Starbucks coffee cup, basically unused since the Olympics. Across the way, though, a
nightly light show takes place at the bubbly exterior of the aquatic center, where Michael
Phelps won his eight gold medals.
Before dropping us off, Joe told us something very interesting. “The U.S.
Olympic team imported its own food for the Games because they were worried about all
the chemicals in the food,” he said.
We decided to look into it. Officials apparently were concerned that the additives
in Chinese food might cause some of the athletes to fail their doping tests. We toured the
food court next to the pool, and realized why the U.S. team was so paranoid. The menu
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items were probably just badly translated, but some of the offerings were urinate beef,
burst abdomen, and intestinal dry surface.
Hungry for dinner somewhere else, we headed back to our room at a small inn
located in the hutong, one of the traditional neighborhoods of old Beijing. These
communities consist of houses assembled around small courtyards. Narrow passageways,
or hutongs, connect the courtyards, creating a convivial family atmosphere. The hutongs
were first developed during the 13th-century Yuan Dynasty, making Beijing one of the
oldest centrally planned cities. Since the houses were built to maximize ventilation and
sunlight, they were “green” before their time.
Today, hutongs are rapidly disappearing as they are paved over for new
development. Before the 2008 Olympics, more than 3 million people were moved, and
their neighborhoods destroyed, to create the stadiums and vast plazas. The International
Heritage Fund is trying to conserve the hutongs, but it may be too late. Some city
planners ask if Beijing can afford to have single-story housing at its core, while others
wonder why a type of living that has worked well for 700 years can’t be saved.
The hutongs are certainly not modern. In our neighborhood, it was common to see
old men in pajamas shuffling along to the public toilet. The narrow lanes also serve as
important public spaces. Elderly people perched on plastic stools watched over nearby
toddlers and chatted with their neighbors. A small crowd circled around a makeshift
sidewalk bike-repair shop to scrutinize the mechanic as he fixed flat tires. We soon
learned to carefully watch our step and keep our ears open for the telltale guttural
“hocking” sound of spindly grandmothers building up a prodigious amount of spit and
then hurling it vigorously onto the sidewalk, appearing to expectorate half their body
weight. These are the people whose homes are being destroyed as they are forcibly
moved into cookie-cutter concrete high-rises. As they leave, a traditional way of life
disappears with them.
We strolled around the hutong, glad to start our odyssey in Asia, a place that left
us no doubt we were someplace very different from home. That served to push out our
personal boundaries a bit further. Beijing rose up and smacked us in the face, jolting us
out of the pre-trip ennui that had taken over our lives.
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In a few weeks we’d explore more of modern China in Shanghai and Hong Kong,
but first it was time to pack. The next day we were off to one of the last vestiges of the
Iron Curtain and a current member of the “Axis of Evil,” North Korea. Yes, North Korea.
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