Tulum, Quintana Roo, Mexico

Defining Adventure:

I remember going to Mexico with my parents when I was young. A true American vacation: airport transfers, queen beds at the Holiday Inn, chlorinated swimming pool overlooking the ocean. They would go out for dinner at the local Mexican restaurant while I stayed back and ordered a room service meal of club sandwiches and french fries - salsa was not part of my vocabulary. So now as I take my young children to Central America I have to smile as I reflect on the differences between vacations and adventures.

We woke up last Tuesday at 2:30 am to a waxing moon and several inches of falling snow. As we drove two hours towards the airport, the kids sat wearily in the backseat cuddled up with the one toy they were allowed to bring on our season-long journey. Too tired to talk, but too excited to sleep, we slowly began our 22 hour adventure south to Tulum, Mexico. We endured grueling layovers, vertical naps, a packed lunch of goldfish crackers and sunflower seed (our peanut butter was labeled as a potentially hazardous "paste" and confiscated by checkpoint security). Nothing was easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is.

As hour 21 of this character building adventure approached, I noticed three European girls in their early 20's taking photos of each other with their iphones while standing in the isles of our bus. I struggled to understand what they were photographing until I heard the blonde one say in broken english, "No one will ever believe we took a 2nd class bus!" I giggled outloud. My 7 year old, world-traveling daughter looked up at me as if to ask 'what's so funny?' I just hugged her and said, "I am so proud of you guys." And she hugged me back and said, "We are proud of you too mom!"

We enjoyed six sandy days in Tulum. We made our second visit to the city's name-sake ruins, we cannonballed off the sacred Mayan cliffs of Cenote Escondido, we sucked on cool, sweet treats from the Michoacan, we dressed up in heels and skirts and ate fine local cuisine at Don Cafeto's, we shared Christmas Day with Mexican families in the Central Plaza, and above all else, we chased, tackled and wrestled wave after wave, day after day, on the ever-enchanting Caribbean Sea.

Treasures in Tulum:
Our hotel - www.hotellamariposatulum.com
Natural food restaurant - www.azafrantulum.com
Local eatery - Don Cafeto (Ave Tulum y Orion Sur)

Fit for a Queen

Anyone who knows me understands that a fanciful lifestyle is not my thing. But I admit, I have always wondered what it would be like to be royalty. This week I got a taste of what it might feel like. It started when my good friends, Lynn and Paul, hosted a classic Greek dinner party complete with spanakopita, organic feta salad, and an aged Greek wine which danced elegant circles on my lips and tongue. A few days later I was treated to a band concert starring my niece on alto sax. They performed complex warrior marches and savory holiday jazz melodies. When I realized that this was the 7^th grade band I was in disbelief. The talent of these students was inspiring. The very next evening I attended a Christmas party at the prestigious Golf Club where decadent treats were served, a choral quintet beckoned, and notable community members discussed clever politics. And as if these regal occasions weren’t enough, I woke up the next morning to the most majestic day of all. As a gift from my sister I was treated to an afternoon at the spa. Our senses were delighted with aromatherapy steam baths, relaxation massages, pedicures and facials. Then, in a daze, I came home to prepare for my evening at the symphony orchestra.

Dressed in my Sunday best, I sat entranced in my balcony seat, feasting on the sights and sounds of Minnesota’s most skilled musicians. During the orchestra presentation, guest musicians and dancers appeared from the Suzuki school of music and the local ballet company. Both of my children have started violin this year and my daughter will be performing in the Nutcracker this week. As I watched these children sing and dance and play their tiny violins, my energy started to shift. Although it had been a whirlwind week for me, getting a taste of palace life, suddenly I started to realize that my life really isn’t about me anymore – it is about them. The orchestra began to crescendo and my thoughts began to race. Those children, my children, are the future Hall of Famers and the first chair violins. They are the ones who will be delivering the keynote address on the importance of global citizenship in an ever-changing world. And the wake up call is that I have a responsibility to ensure that these young members of society are getting off on the right foot!! The music reached the climatic finish; the sounds vibrated off the theatre walls. Then for one moment all was still. My mind settled. And in that moment I thought about all the activities of the week, but what stood out the most were the seemingly uneventful ones: reading a chapter of Wind in the Willows to the kids each night before bed, writing ‘I love you’ in the snow with our footprints, making animal-shaped pancakes from scratch. And in that moment I calmly understood. The audience began to applaud wildly, the musicians made a final bow, the curtain closed.

The next morning my son woke me up by crawling into my bed like he does every morning. He was already smiling. We laid there and hugged and talked for a few minutes, then we decided to make pancakes for breakfast – the funny-looking ones. I turned on the cd player and cued up Della Grant. My daughter heard the music and joined us in the kitchen, her eyes sparkling. As we made the pancakes together, this seemingly uneventful activity, we listened to the sweet words of Miss Della Grant penetrating through, “We are the mothers of creation ‘cause we build the nation…”

….and so it goes.

Counting Down the Days....

I watch the snowflakes tumble down, as if they are racing to the pile that lies beneath. The kids are watching too and they are elated. I can see the visions of sled rides and snow forts dancing in their heads. We are in the midst of a two-day blizzard. A classic Minnesota December, the white Christmas awaits.
Relatives have been obsessing since November over the perfect Christmas gift for great grandpa - the 80 year old, flannel-wearing man who would be more content with a 12 pack of Milwaukee's Best than all the oil in Texas. All my facebook friends are complaining about the intense traffic at the mall or gossiping about their husbands' inability to get the lights hung on the house in time. Everyone looks tired and no one is smiling, but all the while everyone says the same thing, "Don'tchya just love the Holidays!?!"
I think Jesus was righteous, the perfect lion and lamb rolled into one. But when I feel like celebrating all that is Holy, shopping at the mall doesn't come into my consciousness. I turn inwards to the spirit, to the laughter of my children, to a place in the Caribbean where the Sea meets the Sky in radiating beauty. I give thanks and begin to preen my feathers. I spread my wings and take flight.
So as Christmas approaches, I too have my countdown in place. But when I cross the last day off my list, there will be no last minute wrapping of gifts or baking of pies. It will just be me, my kids, and four months of inspiring adventure on the beaches of the Caribbean Sea.
14 days and counting....