Amy

A Taste of Ho Chi Minh City

Ho Chi Min City is a huge city packed with people, buildings and motorized vehicles. The overwhelming volume of motorbikes at rush hour causes an involuntary jaw-drop and a test of faith while crossing the street. It seems the trick is to move slowly and steadily making eye contact with the oncoming drivers. If you do it right, they can accurately predict your walking speed and gracefully move around you. The number one rule is: DO NOT STOP. If you stop or change your speed unexpectedly, accidents are bound to happen or at the very least you will receive a good crusty (remember those? Middle school girls in my era perfected that scowling glare). The city is also home to the War Museum, dozens of interesting pagodas and a not-bad art museum. I could talk about those places and get myself and you really depressed writing about the war museum with its gruesome pictures of the destruction from bombs and impact of Agent Orange but I just can’t do it this time. I need a pick-me-up. Plus, the experience in Ho Chi Min City that caught our attention the most was, you guess it, food.

A bowl of noodle soup adorned with greens and bean sprouts
Phó
If you have never tried Vietnamese food GO DO IT. I am sure you can find a good restaurant in your city, especially one that serves the famous noodle soup called Phò (pronounced Phuh-uh). The herbaceous broth packed with soft rice noodles and meat (you choose beef, chicken or pork) is light and rich at the same time and is a perfect dish to dip your toe in the water before diving into the weirder, by US standards, flavors of Vietnamese food (I’ll let Jacob tell you about Balute, Google it and you’ll get some yummy images on your computer screen). Plus, Phò allows you to get involved with the creation of your dish by adding a squirt of lime, teaspoon of chili oil or pile of fresh Thai and Vietnamese Basil, mint and other greens. You can find Phò all over Ho Chi Min as they claim it originated there; we found a yummy one on a corner down the street from our hotel. You know you are in a good place when there are a lot of locals eating there too and they all look at you like you are an alien as you walk in and sit down.

 

In Vietnam, sometimes you find the best eats on the street and sometimes you find it by following the trail of tourists through review sites like Trip Advisor. Many avid travelers turn up their noses to Trip Advisor claiming the authentic experience is lost, which certainly can be seen in those restaurants around Vietnam who boast their trip advisor status with GIANT blown up pictures of the logo hanging beside their own sign. Perhaps it is true that some of these restaurants have lost their authenticity (especially those on the uber touristy backpacker streets) or perhaps using review sites is a way to find the new heartbeat in the city and the young budding chefs that are putting a modern spin on their hometown dishes.

One such place and my very favorite of all the food we tried in Ho Chi Min was at a restaurant called Mountain Retreat.Mountain Retreat Maybe it was because of their name (I needed a retreat from the city chaos by the time we went there) or the trail of red lanterns hanging down through the center of the twisting stairwell that took you up to their 5th floor digs. Maybe I loved it because it was filled with soft light from the bamboo basket light fixtures and the statues of the Buddha that were dotted throughout (you know I loved that). Ambience doesn’t always indicate that the restaurant will be special but creativity and vibe in the décor often means creativity in the food and this place did not disappoint. The Vietnamese people love their pork and you will find it in most dishes. At this restaurant we had BBQ pork ribs with a sticky lemongrass glaze. Vietnamese cuisine likes to find the perfect balance of sweet, salty, sour and spicy flavors and these ribs rang with that harmony. We also got our first taste of a popular dish called Bańh Tráng which is grilled, crispy rice paper topped with green onions, herbs and yep, pork. On the street you can find them folded up for easier consumption but here it was served pizza style. They added toasty sesame seeds to their rice paper and the creamy drizzle of a sort of aioli sauce on top pulled it all together, once again achieving the coveted balance of the 4 S’s.

Little ChefAnother of my favorite entrees in Ho Chi Minh City was Bún Thįt Nuóng or BBQ pork noodle salad. We ate this at another spectacular restaurant called Propaganda but Mackenzie and I also learned how to make it during a cooking class we took together on one of our last days in the city. The thinly sliced pork is marinated in fish sauce (an ingredient found in most dishes), lemongrass, honey and garlic and is then barbecued over an open flame. The pork is then laid atop a bowl of rice noodles, Vietnamese basil, mint, shredded Morning Glory stems and other greens. Then the dressing, whose key ingredients include more fish sauce and kumquat juice, is poured on top. As you can imagine diving into this bowl of smoky sweet pork and fresh herbs with the snap from the kumquat juice will stop all conversation at the table until it is finished. Oh, how I miss you Ho Chi Minh!Bún Chà

If you like to cook at all, I highly recommend taking a cooking class. You don’t even have to travel to an exotic location to do it (although it is a great experience if you do). There is nothing like learning the ins and outs of your favorite foods by learning to cook them yourself. For instance, did you know there is little to no wheat in Southeast Asian cuisine? They don’t grow it so they don’t use it. Everything is made from rice except the bread for the Bánh Mí, which is made from potatoes. Oh, you can find some amazing pastries in Vietnam but that is the French influence from the days of their rule.

I used to think that spring rolls were always those soft, fresh rolls filled with raw veggies but now I understand it is about the rSpring Roll Bundleice paper not whether it is fresh or fried. In my opinion, when fried, rice paper creates the best crisp of all the rolled and fried things that you can eat. If it is not made with rice paper then you are eating a Chinese influenced egg roll, which is made with a wheat-based wrapper. You can eat spring rolls in the classic way by picking them up and dipping them into that glorious sweet and spicy sauce (again, made with fish sauce). However, another choice is to ramp up the flavor by building a little bed for them first by diligently piling up herbs like Shisho leaf, mint and basil on top of a piece of green leaf lettuce. Then tie the whole package together with the green part of a green onion that has been blanched to make it pliable and THEN give it a dip and your whole spring roll world will be changed forever.

I could go on and on about the food we tried in Ho Chi Minh City like lotus stem salad with prawns or Bún Chà (another type of noodle soup and really is more from Hanoi than Ho Chi Minh). It was a great city to start us off on our food tour of the rest of the country. The cooking class gave Mackenzie a little bravery when trying weird dishes and made her a huge help when convincing her sister to eat something other than rice.   Crowds, chaos and cuisine that was our experience of Ho Chi Minh City and really a theme that ran through all of the cities we visited in the country of Vietnam.image

purple lotus flowers growing in water

From the Mud Blooms a Lotus Flower

As soon as we landed in Cambodia I felt an energy that I couldn’t quite name until we got to Phnom Penh a few days later. I began to wonder if I was sensing a deep sadness or a kind of low energy from the people. We of course met plenty of service providers who were welcoming and friendly. They too, were drawn into the girls’ tractor beam and then opened up a little to tell us about their own kids at home. Our hosts at the hostel in Siem Reap were wonderful and friendly especially young Meng who is in year 11 and making decisions about going on to study tourism at the university. Maybe I was projecting this feeling upon the people because from the little I have read about the history here, I felt sad. I felt sad when I saw people begging on the street who were missing limbs or the entire bottom half of their body seemingly due to a surprise landmine that are still found in the jungles, leftover from when the Khmer Rouge was on a killing spree. My heart was ripped in two with each child we encountered who was begging or selling trinkets on the street; I can still hear their haunting, monotone song of “one dollar, one dollar, one dollar”.

Cambodia has a long, long history of war and devastation. I am positive the lasting result is a country full of people who are traumatized and attempting to heal from witnessing violence, the loss of their family members and culture. Their way of life and religion was all but wiped out at the hands of corrupt rulers, secret bombings by the US and genocide by the Khmer Rouge. The people are faced with trying to reestablish their stolen culture and heritage in a country racked with poverty, lack of schools and basic needs for survival. What I have learned in my 20 years of working in the field of Mental Health is that healing from trauma is beyond difficult when your basic needs are not met. The people here are still in survival mode just trying to find clean water, food, and a decent place to sleep. Can you imagine what it would be like if we didn’t have the luxury of good, public education in the US or the basic infrastructures we enjoy? Come to Cambodia and find out for yourself whether or not tax dollars are well spent on schools, keeping our streets and water clean and traffic organized and safe. Come and see the trash piled high on the sidewalk attracting flies, stench and starving people who pilfer through it. Come and see what happens when the government no longer cares about the people but only themselves.

While staying at our hostel in Siem Reap we met a lovely man who is from India but is now living in Thailand. We traveled with him to Phnom Penh. He was nice enough to help us secure a bus ticket and then Tuk Tuk to our guesthouse once we arrived. Not only did he help us to navigate our way but also provided great insight into Buddhist and Hindu symbolism and practices. While visiting the National Museum in Phnom Penh he shared with me the meaning behind the lotus flower in Buddhist culture. Before we spoke, I had a vague understanding that the Buddha was born from this flower but Raj told me that its symbolism is also about learning to grow out of the muck and the mud toward goodness and beauty. It is a reminder that there will always be bad, negative and awful things in this world but if you move toward the light, led by your heart, and toward goodness then you can provide that light and goodness for others to follow as well. I know this in my heart already but my faith in humanity has been shaken for a long time, longer than the beginning of our travels. So, for me, he came across my path as a little messenger to remind me how important it is to see the lotus flowers in the world.

I held onto this symbol very tightly as we spent our last day visiting The Killing Fields and learned more about the gruesome genocide perpetrated by the Khmer Rouge. The Killing Fields of Phnom Penh that hold over 300,000 bodies is just one of these kinds of sites in Cambodia, there are many, many more. It is estimated that 1-3 million people of Cambodia were killed and dumped into these mass graves. No one whom Pol Pot believed was a threat to his mission was spared, not even babies. He rationalized his murder through slogans used for propaganda, one of them was “Better to kill an innocent by mistake than spare an enemy by mistake”. After we finished walking through the grounds the girls each said a prayer and made an offering of incense and flowers to the deceased souls and afterwards I had to sit down and let myself cry. I felt the pain of Cambodians, of the Syrian refugees fleeing their lands, the people of Istanbul, of Baghdad and all people who have lost their family members to violence around the world including my home country. It seems this slogan does not just belong to Pol Pot but it is also the propaganda of war.

However, this is not the end of the story. Underneath the scene of the woman picking through the pile of garbage, underneath the child begging on the street, the pollution, and the crazy traffic is a lotus flower growing out of the mud. What I know about trauma is that it takes great strength to survive and also to heal. I can feel the sadness here but I can also feel the strength. I can tell there is a movement of Cambodians who are saving their culture, who are finding their happiness once again and working toward changing the darkness to light even in the face of continued government corruption. I can feel it in the love that spices their food; in the sweet smiles we receive from locals relating to our family and in the Khmer artistry. My wish for Cambodia is to be the lotus, to find your thriving people again and lift them toward the light so they may see they are living in a field of lotus flowers.

A Prayer
Refuse to fall down
If you cannot refuse to fall down,
refuse to stay down.
If you cannot refuse to stay down,
lift your heart toward heaven,
and like a hungry beggar,
ask that it be filled.
You may be pushed down.
You may be kept from rising.
But no one can keep you from lifting your heart
toward heaven
only you.
It is in the middle of misery
that so much becomes clear.
The one who says nothing good
came of this,
is not yet listening.

~Clarissa Pinkola Estés, The Faithful Gardner: A Wise Tale About That Which Can Never Die

 

 

line of stone Bodhisattvas holding a snake, forms the railing of a bridge leading into Bayon Temple

Scratching the Surface of Siem Reap

It was hot and oppressively humid the day we visited the Angkor Archaeological Park. The heat made it feel like we were moving in slow motion and actually, slower was better to mitigate any unnecessary sweating. We made the best of it and slathered on bug spray, donned our sun hats and billowy pants (at least the girls and I had the pants, I haven’t convinced JD to purchase them yet) and then headed into an amazing day of exploration. The going rate to hire a Tuk Tuk driver for the day is 15 USD. This includes the 7.5 km ride out to the park from Siem Reap where the driver will take you around to the sites you want to see within the 402 acres of the complex, wait for you while you explore and then take you back to your accommodation.

alert: USD is accepted all over Cambodia as well as their own currency, the Reil. This makes for a confusing buying experience when you pay with USD and get some of the change back in Reil. It also causes the exchange rate to be really poor. We figured we paid an extra 2.5% with every purchase.

The famous five tower Angkor Wat temple that is most associated with Cambodia is actually just one of the over 100 temples that make up this ancient city. You can spend days exploring this park, walking through temples and admiring the carvings embedded in the walls. We chose to explore the park for only one day and with just a little research we had our plan mapped out with our top three picks.

Angkor Wat view of five towers and lawn in front
Angkor Wat

Our first stop was of course Angkor Wat, which is the largest of the temples and is the most restored. The five towers that to me look like the buds of lotus flowers are actually designed to emulate Mount Meru, a sacred mountain in Hinduism. The green lawns shimmered with magic brought by the millions of flitting butterflies and swooping dragonflies. The walls inside were ornately decorated with scenes of Hindu stories and hundreds of Apsaras, female deities, carved into the stone. I later learned that the Apsara figure is one of the most important symbols of Khmer culture. Jacob and I took turns climbing the steep steps to the upper most towers (the girls had to be 12 or older to go). There, we were able to get close enough to see the intricate details of the towers and follow the path around the top floor for long distance views of the grounds. My favorite view was pointed out to me by the giant figure of Buddha sitting in the meditation position looking out on the grounds toward one of the gates.Apsara deities carved into the stone wall at Angkor Wat

After we left Angor Wat, Lee our Tuk Tuk driver, drove us along the forested road to the Angkor Thom complex and to see the Bayon Temple. This temple is filled with towers, which have giant, carved faces of the Bodhisattva (a Buddhist figure that represents a person on the road toward enlightenment). We learned that during the rule of Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge defaced many of the sacred statues and temples in the entire Angkor Park as part of the genocide and ethnic cleansing that took place. At the Bayon Temple, this defacement was very evident. Many of the heads of various figures were missing and there were large bullet holes in many of the walls. However, one step inside told me that the destruction did nothing to effect the sacredness of the space. Every stone and every smiling Bodhisattva face that looked upon us at each turn radiated with a quiet calmness.

Tree roots spill down the side of the ruins of a templeOur next stop was to Ta Prohm or the Jungle Temple. Locals also call it the Tomb Raider temple, as this was the temple that Angelina Jolie scrambled through for her movie of the same name. It definitely felt like we had been transported to an ancient time or a scene out of Indiana Jones (that one is more my speed). Nature has been allowed to run wild through the stone structures and I am so glad because the reward is the gloopy (Quinn’s word) roots that pour over the walls from trees that tower overhead. Moss and lichen adorn the walls and the smell of peppery earth fills the air. Here, too, there is a palpable silence of reverence that blankets the air and grounds (even with the many other tourists). Our driver met us on the opposite end from where he dropped us at the temple. As soon as we exited we were accosted by dozens of adults and children trying to get donations, sell us stuff or offer a Tuk Tuk ride,

“Tuk Tuk? Tuk Tuk? Hey Lady, Tuk Tuk?”

This was the first time we had experienced this level of begging and I’ll call it, one to one advertising. Like a little island oasis in the chaos, Lee waved to us from his Tuk Tuk across the sea people.

The night before our exploration of Angkor Wat we had planned to go into the park to experience the sunset that so many travel sites and people recommended. We made arrangements with our taxi driver from the airport to take us there but when he arrived at our hostel at 4pm, a huge black rain cloud had filled the sky to the north in the direction of the temples. So, as any good salesmen will do, our taxi driver convinced us to head to Tonle Sap Lake to see the floating village and the sunset from there instead. Oh, those moments when you know you have just been sucked onto the tourist conveyor belt can be just the thing you need to wake you up to find your travel legs again. We should have seen the trap a mile away but our three-month break from trekking had dulled our senses.

Nevertheless, there we were piling into a small fishing boat with a guide sitting at the front and at the back (not sure exactly why he was needed) and the boat operator. Because of the drought, the lake was actually really shallow and once we arrived to the village we could see several people wading in the water pushing their boats instead of motoring them. Even though we were ushered to a floating market and asked to pay $50 to buy a 50 pound bag of rice to give to the children of the floating school (we didn’t have enough cash so made a $10 donation instead) and then taken to the crocodile farm where our “tour guides” proceeded to drink 4 beers each and attempted to get us to join the party, despite these unfortunate surprises, the village was actually really beautiful. We learned that because it is too dangerous to be out on the water during the rainy season storms, the residents tow their homes into the jungle that surrounds the lake. For the rest of the year they bob around, their houses rising and falling with the level of the water; fishing and tourism their prime source of income (please don’t take me as insensitive to the needs of the children at the school but if your gut is telling you something is awry it probably is. Who knows how much of that $50 actually ends up going to the school because I know that bag of rice did not cost 50 bucks).

bright yellow cocoons inside a spiral basketOur last excursion into the cultural world of this region of Cambodia was to visit the Angkor Silk Farm that is located just a little outside of town. They offer free, guided tours to learn about the process of making silk (of course the end of the tour conveniently drops you at their silk shop with beautiful things to buy). The farm has several structures that are scattered around beautifully manicured gardens full of flowers and butterflies. Participants are only allowed to view two of the structures so that the silkworms’ exposure to humans and disease is kept to a minimum. The most interesting part of the process for me was to learn that the bright yellow cocoons of the silkworm actually hold the material needed for the thread. They are boiled to make it easier to extract the fibers. Sadly, if the worms were allowed to complete their metamorphosis and leave their cocoons, the fibers would be broken and therefore could not be made into silk. So, the worms are boiled in their cocoons (brutal, I know) and then after the fibers are removed, the worms are then savored as a nutty snack (the farm saves about 10% of it’s worms for reproduction). Our guide helped himself to a few and offered some to us; Jacob was the brave one. Witnessing the process from making the threads to then weaving them into fabric was truly educational and allowed us to have a further conversation with the girls about how cotton fabric is made as well.

Jacob holds a boiled silkworm in his hand
First this…
Jacob pops a boiled silkworm into his mouth
…then this

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our visit to Siem Reap was a brief glance at the surface of Khmer culture. Because of wars the Cambodian people suffer extreme poverty and live in cities and towns with little to no infrastructure. Witnessing their way of life opened up questions for me about whether or not this community can thrive in such a seasonal business that is tourism. The utter desperation of stall owners in the market, kids begging in the street and the Tuk Tuk drivers all piled up on the side of the roads unsuccessfully trying to drum up business was overwhelming to say the least. However, I feel very fortunate to have been able to see the amazing Angkor temple complex and learn a little bit about the spirit of the people that refused to be beaten as well as the strength of the spirituality that survived oppression.

yellow and black spotted butterfly gets nectar from white flowers

Ode to My Chin Hair

Barely had the bell of my 40th year rang

When from underground a wispy white beast did sprang

Stealth yes she was, she couldn’t be captured

I alone was no match for her slippery stature

Reinforcements called in

(A husbandly duty)

With giggling admiration of her unnatural beauty

Until finally was plucked from her den

Triumph! Oh Triumph!

To be rid of this goliath

I am the master of age!

No close of a chapter!

No turn of the page!

Not a month went by

(This beast is not shy)

Her tickle revealed by the wind

What? NO!

Into a giantess form she had grown

My earlier triumph now dim

Angered and spurned

Utterly confounded by her return

Thoughts flooded, “she must burn!”

Desperate, I snarled and snagged her myself

“No age of forty will put me on a shelf!”

I got you! I got you! I screamed from my cage

I glared upon her but away drained my rage

And the pride of the war I had waged

A door stood open a knowing emerged

 Emotional tirade I must purge

And from fear diverge

Right then and there to the beast I befriended

Temper tantrum now ended

My age I embraced as splendid

(but don’t get me wrong I still don’t approve

her presence I’ll will happily remove)

 

 

Quinn and Mackenzie hold hands with flowers in their hair walking behind Jacob

Bangkok and Kids

Soon after arriving in Bangkok, Thailand, we quickly discovered that Thai people love kids. They smile and attempt to catch the girls’ attention with winks and funny noises. The women love to touch the girls’ arms and hair in a really endearing way and they are the stars in a dozen photos. Eight days in this crazy city may seem like too many for some and for folks with a shorter time frame in Thailand it probably is but we travel slowly to accommodate lots of play and rest for the girls. The week also allowed us to get in the last of our vaccinations, visas for Vietnam and our first taste Thailand.

tip: Japanese Encephalitis vaccine is WAY cheaper here than in the States and you can make an appointment online with the Thai Travel Clinic to get it done soon as you arrive

Upon arrival, we quickly realized we needed to fine-tune our gear for Southeast Asia in the rainy season (umbrella sized hats are must to protect from the sun, a water proof cover for your daypack and water shoes for those suddLine of sitting Buddhas and Mackenzine examining one of themen storms). Luckily there is no shortage of markets that sell cheap clothing and everything else you can imagine (like the entire block of umbrella covered tables piled high with bras, which gave Mackenzie and me a little chuckle).

Like most cities, Bangkok has a plethora of “must see” places to visit. The first place on our list was the Grand Palace with its numerous temples and palace for Thailand’s royalty. Across the street is Wat Pho a beautiful temple complex with the famous reclining golden Buddha who stretches the entire length of one of the temples. Street food is abundant and one must set aside any apprehensions and take part in this piece of Bangkok’s culture. We tried weird foods like the fried wanton with a whole hardboiled egg inside (Quinn loved these) and the more familiar pork Satay on a stick (Mackenzie went for these a couple of times). We also joined the electric energy of nighttime in China Town where we gorged on a tapas style dinner on the street. We loved a dish with soft white dumpling things that had a yummy sort of mushroom hash piled on top (wish I knew the name and Google won’t tell me).

Another must when visiting Bangkok is a ride on the bus like boat that runs up and down the Chao Phraya river transporting loads of people both locals and tourists. Take care to choose the boat with the orange flags as they stop at every pier. For the environmentalist in me, it was actually really depressing to watch the black smoke of the idling boat engine pour into the river as the boat waited for passengers to board. Oh, and try to ignore the plastic bottles and bags that are floating in the water, too. Otherwise, it is a cultural anomaly to behold and you must be quick getting off and on as the boat waits for two seconds and two seconds only. Here are a couple of great travel blogs/guides that I like to use for SE Asia:

Nomadic Matt ;  Travelfish;   Rough Guides

Aside from the regular tourist track we also found that activities for kids are scattered throughout this giant city and if you are willing to go just a little outside of the Central Business District, you can find some really beautiful parks. I wrote most of this post from the Funarium. It is an indoor playground sort of like a McDonalad’s play structure on steroids. It has a trampoline, ball pit, a swirly slide that is pitch black inside and one of those slides with multiple hills that is so fast it made the girls’ hair fly back, eyes widen and voices squeal with each trip. While the girls played, Jacob and I thought we would use the “free” Wifi and solidify our plans for Cambodia and Vietnam. This didn’t work out so well for us; he left almost as soon as we arrived to go search for a cell provider and purchase a sim card.

tip: when staying in Bangkok and I imagine the rest of Thailand, if you are not using your regular carrier, a sim card is a must. Many of the business that advertise “free wifi” require a text from the cell provider to be able to sign on.

We also took the girls to the Children’s Discovery Museum. If you can believe it, the city recently invested about 70 million Baht to build this FREE museum for the kids of Bangkok. It has two buildings with three stories in each that Three story playground with bridges and next connecting the rainbow colored structuressurround an outdoor courtyard with a really fun jungle themed, multilayered playground and splash pad. Plus, there is a sand pit where kids can excavate giant dinosaur bones. Inside of the museum the girls built their own city, learned about Thai culture, created art and played in a room full of mirrors. If we had more time they would have had a little Thai cooking class too (and that was just one of the buildings).

Located on the backside of the museum is Queen Sirikit Park. This is a beautiful park with several picturesque bridges that take you over slow moving rivers whose banks are lined with big trees sporting their best colorful flowers. For every one of the park’s attendees there were three gardeners, which made this a magically picturesque after-lunch walk. Most tourists come to area where the children’s museum is located to shop at the huge Chatuchak weekend market. I wonder how many of them took the time to go across the street to wander through the magnificent Queen Sirikit Park.

Another place the kids absolutely loved is called Kidzania. It is located in the Siam Paragon Mall, which is a GIANT five story, two-tower complex that caters to the high-end, designer shopper (I felt very underdressed in my blowy Thai tourist pants and tank top). On the fifth floor of one of the towers is the Movie Theater and bowling alley. On one of the rainy days, we opted to see Finding Dory. It is such a fun experience to see movies in other countries. This one gave us our first chance to stand for the Royal Anthem of Thailand called Phleng Chat. It is played before the beginning of most state and entertainment events, even TV and radio programming. After many, many commercials and previews the anthem began and we joined the audience on our feet to show solidarity for the country.

Kidzania fills the fifth floor of the opposite tower. It is an entire city built for kids. To start, they each get about 100 Kidzo (money) that can be used for beauty treatments, cooking classes (literally they can learn to make sushi then get to eat it), eye exams, and Mackenzie’s favorite, a climb up the side of a building. If they spend all their money then they need to get a job to earn more. There are factory jobs like packaging peanuts, green tea and bottling coke. Kids can work in a hospital, dental office, or vet clinic. They can be police and fire people, judges, lawyers, and investigators. Mackenzie climbs a building at KidzaniaThere is even a carwash in this crazy place. People must step aside for the fire truck and ambulance filled with kids on their way to sort out an emergency as well as move over for the slow moving tour bus. The kids were thoroughly entertained for three hours and would have stayed longer if it wasn’t closing time.

Before I end I must give a shout out to 80/20 BKK. We ended our tour of Bangkok with a fantastic meal at this relatively new restaurant located in Old Town. We spotted this place as we were walking back from the pier stop close to our hostel. The vibe we saw from the windows made an impression because we couldn’t shake the feeling we needed to go back for dinner. The menu consisted of foods that were both familiar and unfamiliar which, according to one of the owners we spoke with after our meal, is their intention. Their mission is to make classic Thai flavors and recipes feel accessible to the outsider. The owners are Thai and the chef is from Toronto. They seem to be following the trend of so many spectacular restaurants around the world: to create simple, elegant food from locally sourced ingredients. With each bite of our meal we felt the love that was put into the food. We savored amazing fresh ceviche made with delicious green mango for crunch and dried Thai chilies for spice (the chef kindly put the chilies on the side to make it kid friendly) and the cheese plate with blue cheese made in Chiang Rai (Northern Thailand). The crowd pleaser however was the brazed pork shoulder with garlic rice berry and house-made Kimchi. Garlic rice berry is black rice, goji berry and garlic and is divine. The entrée is brought out deconstructed so that you can pile the ingredients into a piece of romaine lettuce and top your creation with toasty sesame oil. Don’t you wish you were in Bangkok right now? Me too.Quinn looking out of a giant silver ball perched in a tree at the playground

Traveling as backpackers with kids has it pluses and minuses. Jacob and I don’t get to party in all night bars or catch the spontaneous train trip (frankly, I’m ok without the all night bar; hangovers are a beast after 35 much less 40). However we love to discover people and culture through food and it is rubbing off on our girls. They have become adventuresome eaters and I love listening to their dialog as they describe the food. Our kids allow us to find the spots off the typical tourist track and understand, a little more closely, the daily lives of the people where ever we go.

Herd of elephants run toward the camera from the bush behind

Just Say No to the Ride

Since we were unable to go to Johannesburg and Kruger National Park due to my rehabilitation needs and the girls’ school schedule, we needed to find an alternative animal park somewhere else to satisfy one last fix of the African wildlife. We decided on Addo Elephant Park, which is about 45 km from Port Elizabeth and seemed to fiBaby elephant reaches for water at a waterhole standing at the mama's feett nicely into our plans to drive along the Garden Route and stay overnight in one of the costal towns in the Eastern Cape. Addo is a national park a little over 1,600 square kilometers in size. Zebra, lion, Cape Buffalo, rhino and of course elephants are among the large animals you can see in the park. Hippo also live there but are found in an area of the park only accessible by 4-wheel drive. We heard that because of its size it is almost guaranteed that you will see all the animals. Unfortunately, we still missed the elusive lions but watched as a herd of about 15 elephants came charging out of the bush to drink at the water hole where we had front row seats. Our favorite character was the baby bouncing (and occasionally stumbling) alongside the mother with its trunk flopping around uncontrollably and exuding pure joy (actually we read that baby elephants have little control of their trunk for the first 2-3 weeks of life).

While planning our route, I read about Knysna (pronounced with the K silent) and Plettenburg Bay two coastal cities close to Port Elizabeth who are regaled for their beauty. I booked accommodation in Plettenburg or “Plett” as you would say if you were a local. I was also told to check out Knysna Elephant Park or KEP, which is located between Knysna and Plett. It is a privately owned elephant rescue program that also allows tourists to walk with, feed and ride the elephants. According to the website and the elephant caretakers we spoke to while there, KEP is a rescue sanctuary and their prime goal is to care for injured elephants and provide a safe haven for elephants from other game parks who are threatened for one reason or another, such as an aggressive older rhino who is on the attack. Once the elephants are safe and nursed back to health, they are reintroduced into larger, private game parks. These rescue elephants never see tourists. The elephants that tourists meet are the nine that make up their “resident herd”. One of the trainers was keen to make a differentiation between an elephant sanctuary and elephant park whose prime goal, according to him, is for tourism and profit.

Even though the option to ride the elephants was enticing, Jacob and I knew right away that we did not want to support this practice. Abusive training protocols in Southeast Asia has gained much publicity in recent years.  From my research, I learned that elephants are not built to be pack animals and their backs cannot tolerate very much weight. I also read that many elephant tours in Southeast Asia use saddles perched in the middle of the elephant’s back and the elephants are forced to carry one to two people on long rides for up to 12 hours per day with little water. There was a story in April 2016 of an elephant at Angkor Wat in Cambodia that collapsed and died of exhaustion.  The practice in Southeast Asia to train elephants for tourism as well as perform pack-animal work for farmers is called Phajaan or “the crush”. Baby elephants are stolen from their mothers and undergo this abuse and torture to break them of their “wildness”. Smugglers tranquilize the baby elephant so they can transport it and often they will shoot and kill other adult elephants that linger over the collapsed baby. The “trainers” will submit the baby to isolation, starve them of food and water and use bullhooks to beat and prod the elephant into submission. In Northern Thailand, there are now a few parks whose mission is to rescue and protect abused elephants.  These elephants are already desensitized to humans and the park allows tourists to get up close and personal but not ride them.

Knysna Elephant Park does not use saddles to transport the riders. Instead, they use blankets and riders sit at the front of the elephant’s body above their shoulders where their backs are stronger. Additionally, the rides there are only 15-20 minutes long, which is more tolerable for the elephants. However, I still did not want to support riding elephants even if their way was more “humane”. As soon as the girls saw the other tourists getting ready to ride, they challenged our ability to hold steadfast to our decision with immediate tears and protests about how we are unfair and horrible parents. However, we are not parents who cave easily just to keep our children from experiencing disappointment. You know me, I of course think it is valuable for kids to experience the breadth of their emotions as well as understand that the world does not need to bend to their every whim. That is how they will learn that they have the strength to tolerate tough emotions and make responsible choices. Actually, this event gave us the opportunity to talk with them about the controversy and why we were choosing to walk instead of ride.Jacob and Quinn walk with their elephant ahead of Mackenzie and Amy's elephant

Our walk with the elephants was magical. I did not envy the riders one bit because all they did was sit on top holding onto the elephant’s trainer. They missed out on the relationship we created with our walking partners, Nandi and Thandi (mother and daughter). The trainer who was walking with Mackenzie and me told us that Nandi and Thandi have never been willing to accept riders and the trainers are of the belief that they will not force an elephant to do a job they do not want to do. As we walked, we got to look into their eyes, put our hand on their warm, rough skin and feel the wiry hairs on their bodies and trunks. By the end of the experience the girls had come around and understood that this experience was just as good if not better than a ride.

Still, after our walk, the memory that the trainers at KEP all carried bullhooks floated to the front of my mind. I started thinking more about elephant abuse and the training required for elephants to allow people on their backs. I wondered if KEP’s stated method of positive reinforcement was really all they use and if so, why the need for bullhooks? I watched how the trainer, walking with Mackenzie and me, used his hook to sort of push Nandi back into her line; he also used a strong voice like you would with a dog so maybe the bullhook is like a leash. I have an undergraduate degree in Psychology in which I learned all about positive reinforcement and how to get rats and pigeons to do tricks for me using food as a reward. I imagine this is what they do with the elephants as well but is this really humane? If elephants backs are not built to carry weight why do we think it is ok to put two adults up there even if their agreement is a bucket of fruit at the end. I then started to wonder about how much poking and prodding the elephants endure so that people can walk next to them? Is it really any better? I decided to ask Google about elephant abuse in Africa and guess which “sanctuary” came up in the feed? The owners of KEP also own and an elephant park called Elephants of Eden. In 2014 the owners were charged with and admitted to cruel and abusive treatment of baby elephants at Elephants of Eden but denied that the practice also occurs at KEP. Click to read for your self.

There are many businesses and organizations in the world that use animals in captivity to bring in money and raise awareness. It is pretty damn cool to be that close to an elephant or pet a cheetah but is my life going to be any less full if I just see these animals from a distance instead?  Is keeping animals in captivity the right method to bring about awareness and conservation?  Would people care as much about endangered species and land conservation if they didn’t get to see the animals in person and develop an empathetic connection?

Sally, the matriarch of the herd
Sally, the matriarch of the herd
These are multilayered, difficult questions and I really don’t have a clear answer. However, after all this research, what I do know is that if an elephant park or sanctuary offers elephant rides, it is best to steer clear.  These parks are keeping their “resident herds” well stocked, so to speak, which means that when a baby like Thandi is born at the park, they are “training” her early to be willing to allow people to walk and/ or ride her. True sanctuaries, like the ones in Northern Thailand, are rescuing elephants from establishments like these and offering a place for them to retire and have a better life not further abuse and hard labor.

Heart made out of lichen on a rock

Saying Goodbye

Today is our last day in Cape Town and the girls’ last day at Auburn House School. It is hard to believe we have already been here three months and that our time in South Africa must end.   We had lots of tears today at the school as we said goodbye and now at home it is sinking in that we really are leaving and the tears are flowing again. I asked one of the teachers today that if she knew ahead of time how painful it would be to say goodbye, would she have agreed to accept our girls in for the one term. She laughed and said “No!” and then went on to say how special they are and how wonderful it has been to have them be a part of the environment. I asked myself the same question this evening as I sat with each of my daughters comforting their tears. My emotional answer is ‘no’, I would rather avoid this difficult goodbye and protect my daughters from pain. The wise, balanced answer however, is ‘yes’. In spite of the pain they are feeling tonight, I would still enroll them in Auburn House School for the one term because if we had not, we would never have been a part of this wonderful, welcoming community of parents, kids and staff.Sign for Auburn House School with Table Mountain in the background

By the time our last month rolled around, the girls’ friendships were in full swing and each day at pickup time, more and more kids would ask us to arrange times with their parents for play dates. We knew we would never be able to coordinate each one in the short time we had left. This led us to the idea of hosting one big play date for all the kids in the Junior Primary (grades 1-3) who could make it to a park near the school on our last Saturday in town. In my experience, these things are typically hard to coordinate and often require more than two weeks notice, so I was blown away by how many parents and kids were able to come. I only wished we would have thought of this sooner because in that one afternoon we enjoyed easy conversations, made friends with the parents and understood why the girls so quickly fell in love with the community at Auburn House School.

I write this post tonight to say thank you to the principal and teachers for opening your doors and allowing the girls the opportunity to learn in an environment different from their own. They had a taste of two languages, Afrikaans and Xhosa (well three if you count the differences in terms between our English and the South African English). Perhaps you also saw the opportunity for learning and potential benefit of more diversity that a couple of girls from the United States could add to your classroom as well and for that, we are grateful.

We take our new friends with us in our hearts, the medicine of Table Mountain in our bodies and the warmth of community at Auburn House School in our spirits.

 

 

sculpture at top of signal hill that reads "your respect is my strength"

The Golden Rule

The drivers in Cape Town are some of the most courteous I have ever encountered. In our daily trek over the mountain pass of Ou Kaapseweg, from Simons Town to the southern suburbs, I have witnessed several small gestures of kindness from the local drivers. For example, similar to the mannered protocol of a ski lift line, when traffic is backed up and someone is trying to merge into the flow, drivers here take turns at the intersection. A practice I have wished for while cursing other drivers when merging into a packed highway in Denver. There is a busy right-hand turn we make every morning on the way to the girls’ school (here, that means turning across oncoming traffic) and if we were in the States, I know we would sit for a long time waiting for a break between cars to gun it across the intersection. However, here, oncoming drivers will slow down to create that break and allow you make your turn without stress. The first time it happened, Jacob was mistrustful of the driver and so hesitated but the driver patiently continued to pause his forward movement and flashed his lights to communicate for Jacob to make his turn.

Many of the major roadways around town are two lanes. Here, a slower driver will move over to the shoulder to allow faster cars to pass (this driving norm also causes me to grit my teeth and hold my breath because there is a huge number of people who walk and hitch hike on the shoulders of the road). Admittedly this shoulder-driving behavior can be observed while driving on the rural highways around Texas so I can’t give all the credit to the South Africans. However, the use of hazard lights and headlights to say “thank you” to the people behind or ahead respectively sets the citizens of Cape Town apart. In the States, it is true that use of goodwill while driving is occasionally met with a wave of a hand to express gratitude but in our era of road rage, in my experience, this is the exception rather than the rule. After discussing our Cape Town traffic observations with a parent from the girls’ school, Jacob was informed that this behavior is more about “car karma” a sort of pay it forward mentality. Whatever the intention, these small acts of kindness have made our commute a little more tolerable (as well as the amazing sunrise every morning).

The theme of kindness and courtesy has been alive throughout our travels. Before we left the States, Jacob and I conversed with a gentleman at a party who gave us the sage advice that simple acts of courtesy will go far with Peruvians, especially with the taxi drivers. He was not wrong about Peruvians and you may be thinking to yourself that common courtesy goes along way with most people. In fact, in the U.S. children are taught the Golden Rule: treat others the way you would like to be treated. However, I have seen in others and experienced in myself the way stress can barricade access to social judgment and highlight the worst in people instead of the best. Self-centered tunnel vision has caused my blood pressure to rise when things are not going the way I anticipated. When this happens, my lessons on the Golden Rule fly out the window and I end up treating my fellow human in a way I would not like to be treated.

One of the first people we met when we arrived to Namibia told us that it is considered rude to launch directly into requests and/or questions of a local person without first engaging in a little small talk or at least an inquiry into how that person is faring. In a simple five-minute conversation with the man on the street corner from whom you are asking directions or the person behind the counter at a gas station taking your money for a coke, a warm connection is made between two strangers.  (warm fuzzies and cold prickles ring a bell for you kids of the ’70s?)  It may not turn into a lifetime of friendship but it allows for each party to be seen and acknowledged as more than just a customer and attendant but rather a person to a person who share more similarities than differences. This social behavior is one that I and I am sure many others around the world already engage in regularly; however, since making these Namibian mores a conscious practice I have learned two things:

  1. It allows me to slow down and realize that nothing is so urgent that I can’t spend a few moments engaged with a stranger in an exchange that will leave us both feeling good.
  2. When a service person approaches me to ask what they can bring and/or help me with and I first inquire into how that person is doing, I get to watch my impact and see their demeanor immediately soften and a smile cross their face. Philosophically, I guess it’s really a selfish act and I’m ok with that.

Throughout our journey, I have tried to hold on to this idea of courteous travel and keep it in the front of my mind. Not surprisingly, I have noticed that it often puts my irrational, knee-jerk reactions to stress in check. More than a few times, it has helped me to step back and take a breath. Even in the face of bad service or the high-pressure street vendors this approach offers me a way to give feedback or be firm in my ‘no’ while also being respectful.  Still, some might think that if I’m rude to the gas station attendant in Outjo, Namibia, flip off the driver who won’t let me into traffic or rant on some stranger’s post on Facebook it won’t matter, right? Why should I care? That person doesn’t know me and I’ll never see that driver or gas station attendant again.  On the contrary, we should care about the way we treat our fellow humans and our actions definitely matter.  It matters how we speak to each other, how we drive, how we express frustration or give feedback.  If we have the intention to be respectful and kind in our interactions with each other, we will spread more kindness.  If we “pay it forward” using disdain and anger, we will create more animosity in the world. Kindness shouldn’t be reserved for people in our own circles of family, friends or people who work in establishments within the radius of our homes.   Respectful, kind and courteous behavior is more than just about manners written in the book by Emily Post. Kindness is a way to create the type of community I want to live in wherever I go, moment by moment at home and across the globe.

The golden way is to be friends with the world and to regard the whole human family as one ~ Muhatma Gandhi

 

Oryx stands alone in front of a red sand due and blue sky

Namibia: Sand, Sea & Sossusvlei

When we left the green, grassy plains of Etosha and said goodbye to our last Wildebeest, I was not fully aware of the vastness of the desert lands that cover a large portion of Namibia. Some stretches of the landscape felt familiar and reminded us of Texas with its scraggy trees and tall grasses. Others, the tall red mesas and rocky ground looked like we could have been driving in Western Colorado, Arizona or Utah. However, as we traveled from Ethosha to Damaraland (an area that, after Apartheid ended, was renamed the Kunene region) and then on to the costal town of Swakopmund, we drove through deserts the like of which I had never seen before; deserts that make myths and fairytales.

Tan sand stretched in all directions with short bushes the horizon

Miles and miles of flat sand dominated the view out the windows of our trucks. The heat rising off the road tricked our eyes into seeing shimmering water on the horizon. As if in a storybook, I half expected to see figures traversing the barren sands on camelback.  In reality, the only tall object to break up the view was the occasional lone Ostrich with his fluffy black feathers blowing in the hot wind. Africa is one of those places where you have to keep pinching yourself as a reminder that you are indeed awake and not in a dream. One of my favorite images of our drive was on the road through the Kunene Region. We drove up and down dirt roads past random, single shacks made of driftwood and then, in the distance, we saw a woman spinning around and around; her billowy, brightly colored Victorian-style dress caught the sun with the hope that we would stop and buy one of the glittering crystals she had on display at her roadside stand.

The Kunene Region has over 45,000 ancient rock paintings tucked into the red, sandstone peaks; the most famous is called The White Lady and is found on Brandberg Mountain. Much of the time, the Desert Elephant is also found in this region. Their feet are wider than those of other elephants, which allow them to lumber through the sand and over rocks with greater ease. Sadly, we were unaware that they actually migrate long distances in search of water and move away from the heat of the Namib Desert in summer. Other than the elephant crossing signs on the side of the roads, the only evidence we saw of them were the broken trees left in their wake on the hike to The White Lady (it was a dangerously hot hike and should only be taken at daybreak during the summer or not at all).Elephant crossing sign with puffy clouds in the background

For most of our trip through Namibia, azure blue coated the sky; a blue equal to that of the famous blue of Colorado’s skies. However, as if passing through some invisible curtain, the sky suddenly changed to thick, gray clouds and the dry, hot wind became cool and sticky with moisture it had picked up from the ocean. We arrived at Skeleton Coast where the desert meets the sea. Low bushes growing in the sand were the only signs of vegetation we saw as we snaked through the dunes on black, salt roads. Swakopmund is a German colonial town that houses most of the people of this coastal area. We were told that more often than not the sky is overcast and gray but it rarely rains. There is a quaint, walk-able downtown with tons of tourist shops and cafes.

Walvis Bay, 20 minutes down the road, has a large wetland area where you can get your National Geographic moment and watch millions of flamingos munch on shrimp and algae; their zipper-like chatter fills the air. We watched them for what seemed like hours as they flew through the sky and landed with a run on the surface of the water. I had never seen them fly and so I was unaware of their gorgeous wings with a swath of pink changing to black at the tips of their feathers.Dozens of pink flamingos wade in water and fly in the sky

We stayed at a bed and breakfast in Swakopmund called The Alternative Space. This home, with its white washed walls and interior garden courtyard, was our oasis from our regular hot, dusty campsites. The description of the guesthouse on the itinerary from the travel agency said, “The Space is not recommended for persons who find pictures of nudity offensive”, which of course gave us a bit of a pause. In reality our hosts, Sibyle and Frenus, have a beautiful collection of paintings from local artists and their own photography adorn the walls like a gallery.   Frenus thinks of their establishment as one for the “upscale backpacker”; its aim is to attract those wanderlust people who no longer want to endure the smells and snores of hostels but also want to travel on a budget. It did feel like a luxury resort with the gorgeous spread of food provided at breakfast and the large, airy rooms with comfy beds. Our room was a sort of a “free-form” family room with no walls or door for the bathroom. A lovely claw foot tub sat toward the back of the room to signal the bathroom space and a single pipe with a shower-head hung down from the ceiling. It was liberating to take a shower out in the open with no doors to restrict your movement.

We left Swakopmund and drove back through the mysterious curtain into the hot desert. The road took us around Zebra Mountain where we watched a herd of zebras run next to the car and then across the road (remember that pinching yourself thing? Yeah, had to do it again). We landed at the Sesrium Camp just in time for sunset. Out of all the campsites, I think this one was my favorite. It was a large circle with a huge Camelthorn Acacia tree in the middle that quenched our thirst for shade. Our site was located on the edge of the campground and so we had an unobstructed view of the rocky field where Springboks quietly grazed in front of the mountains as the sinking sun washed everything in an auburn hue.Springbok grazing during sunset, red mountains in the distance

Sesrium is located in the Namib-Naukluft National Park and the main reason to visit here is to explore the red sand dunes that surround Sossusvlei and to see the ghostly trees of Deadvlei. The best time to venture into the dunes is either just before sunrise or sunset and many hikers climb to the top of “Dune 45” to take in the show. The sunlight at dawn and dusk paints the dunes in amazing purples, rusts and deep red and the acacia trees pop with lime green. If you have a bucket list, put this place on it. A 4 x 4 vehicle is a must if you want to make it all the way to Sossusvlei or for a small price, catch a ride with a large transport truck in the high season. We all piled into one truck, my Dad at the wheel, and bounced and slid through the dense sand — true four-wheeling style. I know my Dad was thankful for his expertise in driving through snow because we had a moment when we thought we were stuck and would be locked out of our campsite (I guess everything turns back into a pumpkin at sundown if you are not through the gates in time).

Words cannot adequately describe the beauty of these dunes. The wind blows the sand into artful designs and in some places, with the help of the long shadows creates the stripes of the zebra. Jacob and Mackenzie scrambled up and over several of the dunes to catch a glimpse of Deadvlei. I think Mackenzie could have cared less about seeing the skeleton trees.   She really just wanted to slide down a dune, which she did and then preceded to empty her shoes of the bucket loads of sand that had collected inside them.

red sand dunes at sunset, long shadows highligh the zebra stripes in sand
Zebra Dune (courtesy of Quinn)

Our last stop before heading back to Windhoek was in the Kalahari Desert. The Kalahari actually receives between 5-10 inches of rain per year so instead of a barren wasteland, it is filled with soft grasses, bright yellow flowering bushes and of course Acacia trees. The Kalahari also has its share of dunes and the locals call the space between them the streets of the Kalahari. We stayed at the Bagatelle Kalahari Game Ranch outside a town called Mariental. It was another cherished oasis and a free upgrade since the original booking was closed for repairs. We quickly found the outdoor patio, shade and cool drinks savoring our relaxation until it was time for dinner. The girls donned their swimsuits, jumped into the cool clean pool and rescued dragonflies and grasshoppers from drowning in the water. Springbok were of course in plenty and the owners of the ranch have even adopted one for a pet who came for a visit during dinner.

I am so very aware of how privileged I am to be on this trip and also to have parents who could come and share a piece of it with us. I love that I have a picture of my parents looking through binoculars into the game reserve searching for wildlife. I love that we shared the experience of the crazy rooftop tents, baboons, the scorching heat of the desert and the magical elephants. I love that I have a memory of watching them try to negotiate the overwhelming persistence of the sales people in the street and were duped (as was I) into buying too many carved nut ornaments. I love that they are home now telling their friends and family about their adventures with us (and hopefully getting us more followers… hint, hint.); proudly owning the Namibian stamp in their passports with the realization that they might need more stamps from other countries to keep it company. I know I do.

Mackenzie, Quinn, and Jacob riding horses in a line surrounded by red sand and green desert trees
Our last Safari
Quinn in a swimsuit stands in front of a pool with arms crossed a smirk on her face

The Vitamin Showdown

Scene: The famous whistle music of the classic western movie plays in the background as mother and young daughter stand on a dirt road, staring each other down, guns cocked and ready for the other to make a move. Dusty wind blows through their hair and tumble weeds roll and bounce across the space between them. Mother’s thoughts play over the scene: “I will win this stand off with my youngest daughter over taking her vitamins even if my legs are starting to shake and arm is cramping”.

One Month Earlier

Mom and daughter in the kitchen. Mom is holding a bottle of chewable multivitamins:

Quinn: “I don’t like raspberries”

Mom, speaking flatly: “you don’t know that until you try it, Quinn.”

Quinn with a note of attitude: “I do know, mama”

Mackenzie who had been standing by watching the interaction pipes in with a brown-nosing quality to her voice: “I love them Mama!”

Uuuuhhhg, ok, I decided, I’ll play along one time. I agreed they were crunchy vitamins instead of the chewy type of which she was more familiar. Fine. Jacob said he would grab a new kind when he went to the store that afternoon and brought home bear shaped vitamins of the gummy version. Quinn conceded, tried one and immediately spit it out.

Damn our family rule that says one must try something before forming an opinion and if you don’t like it you can spit it out! We need an amendment to that rule that says, ‘except in the case of vitamins’! Over the next week we tried all the typical bribery, but Quinn used savvier methods. She perfected a dramatic gag reflex to powerfully highlight the amount of torture and abuse she was experiencing by our forceful demands of vitamin consumption. “Fine! If you won’t take these then you will need to use your own allowance to buy more and you can pick them out!” (I’ll be honest, I tried one and they were gross but hell if I tell her that)

This new solution seemed to appease her. She bounced home with Jacob one afternoon (I actually don’t think Quinn has another way of walking) and proudly presented her new strawberry and vanilla flavored selection…We only got one willingly down her throat.

Mom, face turning red: “If you don’t take your vitamin, then you don’t get to have treats later in the day and you just don’t know what those will be so you might as well set yourself up for success now”.

Quinn with a power voice: “I don’t want any treats”

Mom with sing-song sarcasm:  “Ok, we will see how you feel later”.

We all had milkshakes that evening except her. She appeared unaffected. For the next two weeks we fought with her, pleaded with her, offered rewards, and helped her plug her nose all with about a 50% success rate. Jacob grew tired of the nose plugging drama and told her he wouldn’t help her anymore and into the deep mud she dug in her heels and then poured cement on her feet.

I made cookies the other day (really my purpose wasn’t to torture her, but I secretly hoped it would tip the scales in my favor). She saw me eating one and asked me if it was one of the cookies I had made. “Mmmhmph” I nodded a confirmation with a mouthful of cookie. “humph” she said as she shrugged her shoulders and walked into her room clearly communicating with her body her complete disinterest. Who is this six year old and when did she become a teenager? I was sure to send her the same message back with my own nonverbal communication, but she was already gone. Score one for Quinn. However, it dawned on me that my little one prefers salty treats to sweets. Ha ha ha! This will get her. I have now restricted her fry and chip consumption. No cheese cubes or crackers in her lunch for snacks she gets double helpings of veggies and fruit. She is still unaffected in fact asked if she could pick out new veggies at the store.

Ok, I’ll admit the fact that double veggies in her lunchbox is not a bad side effect of this vitamin showdown but that’s not really the point is it? Jacob is now on her side, begging me to let it go. This morning Quinn said to me, “Mama, did you know there are nine vitamins in each cornflake? I’ll eat those, I love cornflakes”.

Blast! Who taught her how to read? Now I have to take away her books.