IDEA 142: Contemplate Life in Patagonia, Argentina

Love, marriage... then perhaps kids?

When did you realize for the first time that you wanted kids?  
Was it a specific moment or a slower kind of realization? 

Here is how the brilliant idea struck me. 

It took a trip to the end of the world* for me to have the moment. I remember it exactly, especially because it crept up on me so unexpectedly. It happened on a platform overlooking the dramatic Perito Moreno glacier in Patagonia, Argentina.  Never have I been the kind of person who visualized being a mom and holding chubby babies in my arms. In fact I was always squeamish if friends offered for me to hold their baby.  Like, “NO! You do realize I can drop that thing right!??” I can only shake my head now. 

Then I met Vito and Vito said he wanted kids. The more we talked about it the more I tried to get used to the idea. I played a game called, “Would this be possible with a kid?” I asked this question whenever I was having fun. Reluctantly I had to admit that many of the times the answer would be yes. Still I wondered, is it right for me to have kids when I've never experienced that "warm and fuzzy" feeling of wanting to be a mom? What if that feeling never came? And worse, what if the feeling came when it was too late to even have kids!?

So there we were, enjoying the magnificent scenery of the glacier. We stayed by the rail captivated for close to an hour. If you've ever seen a glacier then you know how hypnotic it is to just watch how every few minutes a little chunk (the size of a 5 story building) cracks off and slides into the water below almost as in slow motion. Mesmerized we stood thinking about how lucky we were to be on this amazing adventure seeing and experiencing things we never have before. I felt completely fulfilled and happy. I had my man with me, and we had Perito Moreno before us. Just then, a family: mom, dad, and four little boys arrived on the platform. There was immediate commotion as the rambunctious boys were more interested in chasing and pushing each other (dangerously close to the railing) than admiring the glacier. Finally the parents, ending up each with two boys practically hanging off of them like monkeys, stood leaning into each other to admire the scenery. And that’s when it hit me. “The feeling.” Except it was not warm and fuzzy. It was sharp, urgent and uncomfortable. It was jealousy. That couple had Perito Moreno AND four boys. We only had Perito Moreno and no boys! Zero! Not even one boy! What's more, they even had the audacity to look like they were enjoying the glacier experience and bonding as a family at the same time. The nerve on them! 

I watched the four boys with a brand new captivation, Perito Moreno now relegated to simply being the backdrop, as I realized that perhaps the next “BIG” adventure Vito and I are always looking for could indeed be...parenthood.

We'll be back with "Part 2" to show you four unique places to stay in Patagonia that are very "conducive" to this whole life contemplating business...
 

• • •    LESSONS LEARNED    • • •

Life's greatest adventures don't require travel to the ends of the earth, though we may need to go there to realize it. 

{ For more far away travel ideas, visit our Pinterest board: RemoteTravel }

IDEA50 : Adopt a Party! Put on Your Dirndl & Lederhosen for Oktoberfest

Let me start out by reading you a small excerpt from the baby diary:   

Dear baby Vin, 

When you were born mommy and daddy were so excited! So much so that your daddy decided to celebrate the occasion by drinking beer 3 days in a row. In another country.

To save face, we told your big brother Mo that daddy was on vacation "doing sports and swimming". Of course we did not elaborate that doing sports meant lifting liters of beer and swimming was really referring to the ocean of beer being consumed. 
 

Do I sound a bit annoyed*? Well only because I haven't had a beer in what seems like ages and will not be partaking the rest of the year due to the milk production facilities that currently house themselves on the premises of my person. ***If you're concerned, mom-in-law spent the entire weekend with me and the kids so we were very well taken care of. 

• • • 

Back to the beers...
If you were ever curious what it's like to be at the famous Oktoberfest in the lovely Munich, Germany we've got just the reportage for you. First, a history bit.  

Once upon a time, on October 12, 1810 to be exact, Crown Prince Ludwig of Bavaria married Princess Therese of Saxe-Hildburghausen (I can't pronounce it either). To celebrate the happy occasion the Prince threw a mega party and invited his closest friends, or rather all citizens of Munich to come along, drink and be merry! There were horse races, pig roasts, folk entertainment and lots and lots of beer. Ever since then it has been a yearly celebration. In Germany Oktoberfest is actually called Theresienwiese, meaning Theresa's meadow, because the original party was held on the fields in front of the city gates. Locals to this day call it "Wies'n" for short. 

• • • 

So now that we've got the basics down, let's get to the tough decisions...

My oh my, what to wear!? The theme is peasant "chic" as you can imagine. Imitating how Alpine peasants used to dress. For gentlemen, Lederhosen (Leather overalls) with checkered shirt in red or blue. Fedora with a happy feather and very sexy white socks to the knees. 

Looking sharp boys! Looking sharp! (My Vito is the ginger one in the middle.) 

• • • 

For the ladies, the go to outfit is a dirndl dress. A circular cut dress with a boustier type top. There is usually a white blouse that leaves your ample bosoms on display, you know to show off the plenitude of Bavaria. A cute little apron and you probably want to braid your hair a la Heidi for the full effect. 

Nicely done ladies!  

• • • 

Now on to my favorite part! Drinking and eating!

This is the whole point of this shindig after all. The beer for Oktoberfest are produced by the following brewers who call themselves "Club of Munich Brewers": Augustiner-Bräu, Hacker-Pschorr-Bräu, Löwenbräu, Paulaner-Bräu, Spatenbräu, and Staatliches Hofbräu-München. Now days the beer is golden, but originally it was a strong dark brew called "Marzen" named after the month of March which is when it was brewed and then left to ferment slowly over the summer months. 

*Please note the time of 9.15 AM. Breakfast of champions - redefined.  

Now obviously if you start your day with a liter of beer at some point you'll need to eat. So what's on the menu? How about a very manly pork roast? Or as the locals would say Schweinebraten! 

After you've devoured that beast, you can nibble on a whole roasted chicken... called Hendl.

But a real manly man will STILL be hungry, so it's only fitting to grab a Würstl sandwich!

Or a Weisswurst  with cabbage...

Belly finally full, it's time to be entertained with some music, and order another round.  

And then... things will get fuzzy, very fuzzy... and perhaps a grand leaning tower of
beer will be constructed?... I think putting beers on your head makes you smarter. 

Well I hope you've enjoyed this little manly visit to Oktoberfest in Munich. Are you inspired to come and be part of this crazy volksfest next year? Fret not if you won't be able to catch a plane to Bavaria, your very own city might be hosting a version of Oktoberfest so check it out! 

Oktoberfest near you:  
Amsterdam   /   New York City   /   Chicago   /   Beijing  /   Hong Kong 

Ahh, no beer for me this October, but don't you worry, I shall console myself when I go on a shopping trip to Paris with the girls. I'll be taking Vito's credit card with me. ;)

• • •     LESSONS LEARNED    • • •

It takes teamwork, support and care to raise a child,
and sometimes also a few beers.

Love it? Share it! - We are dedicated to sharing stories that spark ideas and are meaningful to you. The best way to let us know is to post a comment, like below or pin it on Pinterest! ~ For more ways Live Like You're Traveling, follow us on Feedly, Bloglovin, Pinterest, or Facebook. 

---

READ NEXT:

---

There are no items to display from the selected collection.

Blog

IDEA119 : Bake the Easiest Lemon Tart Just Like the One in Normandy, France

about 11 years ago

Love Without Borders : Meet Me in Sicily... (Italian Agritourismo)

We are so excited to introduce you today to a true "Global Neighbor," J of (A Feathery Nest) Who are global neighbors really? They're people with whom you have many things in common and despite not living near each other, they're always there for you with advice and inspiration! J will be taking us along on a trip to Sicily along with her Sicilian husband R. If you were as curious, as we were, about Italian agriturismo travel from the (Nudo-Italia post), this is a perfect opportunity to preview it before booking your own trip! 

• • •

Sicilia Selvaggia, Wild Sicily 

 In the spring of my final year of college I decided to create one of those new'ish blog thingies that everybody seemed to have. I had "discovered" them the previous summer when I Googled other people's experiences living in New York, before heading up there myself for an internship.

After getting my first blog started, I eventually gathered a circle of people who checked in on me and who I checked in on, too. One of them was a hotsy-totsy, feisty Ukrainian gal that lived in Staten Island and worked in Manhattan. We learned a lot about each other by commenting on each other's blogs and now three blogs later for me (and I believe the same number later for her!), we're still "in" each other's lives, despite trans-Atlantic moves, marriages, babies and 8 years passing. The crazy thing is, we've only ever met once!

When Alla and Mu-Hsien created On the Same Page, I got it. Immediately. After all, what better way to define the relationship between Alla and myself than "global neighbors"—friends that support each other from far away? So of course when Alla sent me a note asking if I'd like to share a story about one of my favorite topics on OTSP, I immediately agreed!

• • •  

Eight years ago I decided the perfect way to bridge my college chapter and the rest of my life would be to travel around Europe by myself for a month. Specifically, Italy. I crafted a plan to do a giant figure-eight of the country, spending the last few days with a friend who would fly over to meet me for the final leg in Sicily. That's how it came to be that I had a witness to the first time my eyes locked with R, the man who would become my husband.

R and I have been married now for almost 4 years, so if you're following the math here, that means that for 4 years I lived on the East coast of the U.S. while he lived on the East coast of Sicily. While trans-Atlantic dating is not exactly what I would call easy (especially given the limited amount of vacation time we get in NYC!), it does make for wonderful reunions.

One year I planned to meet R in Stockholm for Christmas, and then to fly down to Sicily for his birthday before I had to return home. As Christmas was spent with family in Sweden, and his birthday would be with friends in Sicily, we decided to fly to the west coast of the island for New Year's alone before renting a car and driving across the whole of Sicily to Taormina, his hometown, for his birthday.

• • • 

Neither of us are big New Year's Eve revelers, so we looked for tranquil seaside towns to ring in the new year together. We found a lovingly restored agriturismo (a farm-turned-B&B) outside Marsala—which would be a quick drive from the Trapani airport, where we landed from Stockholm, and a good starting point for the two day's drive back to Taormina on the first of the year. After we landed in Trapani, picked up a car, and drove to the Agriturismo Masseria Baglio Tenute Montalto (yes, a mouthful!) on the 31st, we quickly got settled and then back to the car we went. 

• • • 

We were on a mission to find the nearest little town to stock up on the fixings for an in-room picnic: salami, prosciutto, formaggio al pepe nero (Sicilian cheese with black peppercorns), wine, sparkling water, dark chocolate, figs, grapes, mandarines, sundried tomatoes, marinated eggplant, a loaf of bread, and some olives. We found everything we wanted and then some, so by the the time the sun was lowering in the sky, we were camped out at the farmhouse on our bed with a feast before us. 

• • • 

I fully intended to stay awake until midnight, but with a full tummy, and all the sea air I had breathed in while tooling around the coast that day, I fell asleep by 9. R gently awoke me for a midnight kiss and then we both slept deeply until morning. 

The sky was still somewhere between night and dawn when we padded out of our room and took a walk along the water to greet the new year. We weren't the only ones out—a fisherman had been hard at work before the sun rose and was already coming in with his haul when we emerged from our cocoon. With our boots in the sand and a few stones in our hands, we broke the surface of the water with a wish for each ripple we made as we launched pebbles into the Mediterranean Sea—our own morning's work.

• • • 

When we returned to the farmhouse, the Signora welcomed us to breakfast in the cantina. We sat a midst the barrels and iron tools and broke bread as the sun that streamed through the windows went from weak, hazy light, to full on Sicilian rays.

• • • 

After checking out, and receiving a few bottles of wine as a gift from the proprietors (made from their own grapes!), I lugged the massive wooden doors open, and we wended our way back up the coast along the wine road (Strada del Vino), past Trapani, through Erice (which looks like Rio de Janeiro!) where we stopped for lunch, and on to Palermo for the night. The next day we continued on through the heart of Sicily, with a pause to stretch our legs in Enna before arriving home.

I'm so glad that I fell in love with a Sicilian. There's something about the uninhibited, but many-times-over-inhabited land that makes sense to me. The fiery spirits and fiery food, the wildness of the plains, the roughness of the rocky crags, the introvertedness of people living in small, remote hilltop towns where they only speak Ancient Greek, the hooded glances and double-voweled and -consonant'ed dialects that echo Arabic origins, the fierceness and protectiveness of a much-conquered people. I don't think I'd ever set foot in a place that I recognized as much as I did as when I first rode the night train from Reggio Calabria on the mainland to Messina, the port of entry into Sicily.

Of course I could always return by myself if I hadn't met R, but experiencing the whole of the island from left to right, reading it my way, instead of the Arabic way, alongside someone who could guide me, and more importantly, translate, helped me see what I would never have been able to see on my own. There's no passport or visa that will open the doors and hearts of the Sicilians—the only way to gain entry, especially for someone that's passing through, is by the hand of one of the island's own.

Or by a glance from one of her sons.

• • • 

When we reached the summit of Erice and took a walk after lunch near the city walls, we leaned against the stones that have supported many who stopped to inhale the same magnificent views and saw an elderly shepherd herding his flock through the pasture below. He looked up and caught R's eye—perhaps recognizing the soul of his Sicilian brother. Then he directed his glance my way and tipped his head ever so slightly, acknowledging my presence. 

We paused to watch him walk slowly, purposefully, stopping every few paces to check that he was being followed by all of his sheep, and maybe to see if we were still observing him. He finally chose a boulder—his boulder, I'm sure—to sit upon while he took his canteen and wrapped lunch from his satchel, carefully unfolding the waxy paper and linen wrappings. His flock took note and found their own patches of meadow to chew contentedly on. The leader and his followers, all pausing for their midday meal.

R tightened his arm, which was draped across my shoulders and said to me, "Who do you think is the richer man, him? Or, Donald Trump?"

The answer was so clear, I didn't even need to say it aloud.

Goethe was right when he said, "To have seen Italy without having seen Sicily is not to have seen Italy at all, for Sicily is the clue to everything."

- - -
Thanks for inviting me over, Alla!

XOXO,

J. of *sparklingly

• • •   ARE YOU A GLOBAL NEIGHBOR?   • • •

Would you like to introduce us to your part of the world
or take us along on a discovery? Write us!

---

READ NEXT:

---

IDEA119 : Bake the Easiest Lemon Tart Just Like the One in Normandy, France

Let me tell you a story about my search for the perfect lemon tart recipe. It all started last summer in Normandy, France where we went on a family vacation. My dad and brother joined from New York, Vito's mom and brother with his girlfriend made us a merry little group of eight. We stayed in a lovely town by the sea called Saint Aubin sur Mer, where time didn't hurry, tourists were not many, yet there were plenty of things to do and see. It was a delicious week of family bonding, discovering the sites and of course eating as many pain au chocolate for breakfast as humanly possible (well, maybe this last one was just my personal achievement).

We stayed at a camping (Cote de Nacre) a ten minute walk from the seaside promenade lined with sunny colored villas, happy little cafes and restaurants. Our mornings consisted of sightseeing, and afternoons in the pool or at the beach and of course no day went by without promenading up and down by the sea.

Walking from Cote de Nacre camping to the beach. 

Pastel villas along the promenade in Saint Aubin sur Mer. (Mo has just two settings, run or sit.) 

But back to the lemon tart...  as you can imagine a family of eight including one 1.5 year old boy and one 13 year old boy there is always someone ready for a snack (or a 5 course meal).

Dinner on the promenade.

On one such occasion we stopped at a cozy cafe with cream colored furniture, nautical prints and walls lined with book shelves giving you a feeling of a sea side day lounge. Lemon tart was the first thing we saw on the chalk board menu and that was enough of a suggestion for all us to order a round. The tart was incredible! The lemony filling was creamy with sweet and tart flavors in perfect harmony. The crust, a wonderful companion, perfectly yummy yet not trying to compete jealously with the filling for attention. The tart was so delicious that we immediately ordered seconds nervous that the cafe might not have enough! Thankfully they did, so there was no need for violence. And since that moment I've been looking for a recipe that will reunite me with my perfect lemon tart...

My brother reclining after the lemon tart and Nutella crape. 

Until finally! I have come across this recipe on Julia's blog.  She in turn found it in a newspaper article about a German illustrator who lived in Lisbon for a while. This illustrator upon tasting this tart at a rowdy summer backyard party asked the cousin of her neighbor, a certain Anita, for the recipe. She then illustrated the recipe which Julia transcribes on her blog. (In English thankfully.) 

So there! A recipe found via our global neighbor Julia, from literally someone's actual neighbor (well cousin of said neighbor) has made its way to me in The Netherlands! AND! What has set off this world wind recipe search? Why a visit to a little seaside town in France called Saint Aubin sur Mer... Now tell me we are not all connected. :)

• • • 

If you are like me and have been searching for an easy way to make lemon tart feel free to raise your hopes high.  Real high! This tart does not require intimidating baking thermometers, high scores on your math tests to perform calculations involving heat, altitude, timing, and egg yolk temperaments. There are two, JUST TWO ingredients for the filling. Condensed milk and juice of 2 lemons, ok 3 if you count lemon zest. That's it!!! The crust? The easiest ever, and you don't even have to have your butter at room temperature. I hate it when recipes call for that, when I want to bake, I must bake right then and there before inspiration leaves me and I can't wait for princess butter to arrive at room temperature. (Excuse me, I'm an Aries, it's a biological fact that I can't wait for stuff.) 

Now I'm not a baker and trust me when I say, you can't do this recipe wrong. I did have to look up how to beat egg yolks stiff on youtube because I wasn't 100% sure of the right way to do it. I know my grandma did it by hand with a fork but after 2 minutes (ok 15 seconds) I gave up and looked it up on youtube.  Here is the video, listen to the nice Italian lady all the way to the end, that's when she tells you how to make your egg whites really stiff.  

Lemon Tart 
Recipe: on Julia's blog.
 

Saint Aubin sur Mer, Normandy, France.
Stay at: Camping Cote de Nacre  (Groups)

Eat at: Wherever speaks to you on the promenade, however for dinner you should make a reservation, and of course lemon tart and other deserts at Aux Bains des Mots.

To do: Visit the town of Cabourg on market day and eat lunch on the promenade, bring your swim suits for when the inevitable desire strikes for a dip in the sea.  Normandy is also the land of apple brandy, do visit Château du Breui, a Calvados distillery and a historical manor house. 

Sight see: Saint Aubin sur Mer is a great base for discovering Normany. Not to miss  Omaha Beach and the Normandy American Cemetery Memorial. Visit the UNESCO heritage site, the medieval monastery Le Mont Saint Michel.  

Take home: a bottle of Calvados. Hemingway would have approved.  

Now, what have we conclude from all this madness? 

• • •    LESSONS LEARNED    • • •

You might find your lemon tart exactly where
you didn't think to look for it.

Love it? Share it! - We are dedicated to sharing stories that spark ideas and are meaningful to you. The best way to let us know is to post a comment, like below or pin on Pinterest! ~ For more ways to Live Like You're Traveling, follow us on Feedly, Bloglovin, Pinterest, or Facebook. 

---

READ NEXT:

---

Blog

Make Delicious Sweets with Your Instagram Photos

about 11 years ago

Blog

IDEA122: Sweeten Your Day (and Tea), Russian Style

about 11 years ago

IDEA113: See the Best *Sights* in Costa Rica

When traveling the best sights are not the ones you find in a guide book but the insights you discover about yourself and your travel companion.    

Canyoneering Tour in Arenal, Costa Rica

Mu-Hsien may look delicate, but I saw nothing delicate about her while she fearlessly scaled down a 120 foot waterfall.  My cautious suggestion the day before that we should perhaps skip this unnecessary endangerment of our lives was met with "I'm booking it for us tomorrow morning."  

• • • 

 Baldi Hot Springs in Arenal, Costa Rica

She never likes to be the center of attention, but in Costa Rica she totally left Volcano Arenal fuming in the background as she proceeded to steal the show by acting like a lounging "Bali Princess".  

• • • 

Olga's Cafe in Tamarindo, Costa Rica

Alla is rarely calm! Except strangely enough, when in stressful situations such as finding us a hotel room in a fully booked town during Christmas...or when she's eating. Like a wild animal, she must not be disturbed. Especially during our *wow-this-must-be-what-real-fruit-tastes-like* morning ritual.  

• • • 

Guanacaste coast, Costa Rica

While on a rough ride through the Guanacaste coast Mu-Hsien took artsy snaps of beautiful flora and fauna, while Alla excitedly pointed out large private villas in the distance.

• • • 

ATV Adventure in Tamarindo, Costa Rica

At least we both agree that there are few sights that eclipse the magnificence of a radiant sunset overlooking golden rolling hills, undiscovered beaches and a friendship beyond borders.

What's the most surprising thing you've ever discovered about a travel companion? Have you ever acted out of character while traveling?

Love it? Share it! - We are dedicated to sharing stories that spark ideas and are meaningful to you. The best way to let us know is by posting a comment, like below or pin it on Pinterest! ~ For More ways Live Like You're Traveling follow us on Feedly, Bloglovin, Pinterest, or Facebook. 

---

READ NEXT:

---

There are no items to display from the selected collection.

Blog

Do What You Love...Right Now.

about 11 years ago

IDEA111 : Find Fairytales in Scotland

Europe can be so many different things depending on where you're standing at the moment. I thought about what it means to me...and that's when I was transported to an outdoor summer lounger at the family dacha back in good ol' Ukraine circa 1986.  The only way I could sustain myself during the most boring hour of the day, after lunch when all the adults and my cousins snoozed, was with a good adventure book full of pirates, sword fights, castles and elaborate princess dresses.  This is the hour I spent in the company of gentlemen such as Robert Luis Stevenson, Alexandre Dumas and Jules Verne. I dreamed to visit the world they described one day.  A bit silly of course since events in these books took place a few centuries earlier...  

Fast forward to current day.  I now live in Europe (after about 18 years in the US) and have been enthusiastically fulfilling my travel dreams connected with this continent.  I have roamed the streets of London, sat in cafes in Paris and went castle hopping in the Loire Valley...  While I found it all extremely impressive and beyond beautiful I had yet to visit the Europe I read about in my adventure books.  Alas, it must not exist, I thought. Until last summer when we went to the Scottish Highlands.  At once I was precisely in the places described by Robert Louis Stevenson in one of my favorite novels "Kidnapped". I was smelling the same salty breathe, seeing the same castle ruins as young David had a couple of hundred years ago. Scotland delivered the mystery, the stillness and the landscapes that I have imagined as a child. Somehow there were never hordes of tourists and many times we'd have the sites all to ourselves.  The nature was so abundant that you forgot that you're in the over populated Europe. The lonely old castles perched on the rocks right at the sea, the empty stretches of north sea beaches with turquoise waters and white sand, the tiny villages with stone cottages. It does exist, and I have finally found the magical, mysterious Europe of my dreams. Don't you just love happy endings? 

 

Where have you traveled that surprised you the most? Have you visited a new place and found it just as you always imagined?

Love it? Share it! - We are dedicated to sharing stories that spark ideas and are meaningful to you. The best way to let us know is by posting a comment, like below or pin it on Pinterest! ~ For More ways Live Like You're Traveling follow us on Feedly, Bloglovin, Pinterest, or Facebook. 

---

READ NEXT:

---