Tag: travel

The Beginning?

Posted on April 15, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

When I was a little girl I never traveled that much. Sure, we did the traditional summer vacation camping trips to the mountains, and dutifully drove to visit the grandparents for every holiday. But REAL travel-to different states, not to mention countries-was definitely not part of my childhood experience.

I remember my big adventures taking my first plane flights to Burbank to visit my Los Angeles area grandparents. Boarding the PSA airplane felt like stepping into a magical amusement park ride-I never knew quite how I would make it there, kind of felt like I wanted to get off right when I started, and couldn’t bear to leave when it was over.

To my youthful sensibilities, it was paradise.

As I grew, so did my expectations. Road trips replaced plane travel as my most frequent mode of transportation, and despite a few college trips to Hawaii and a graduation backpacking Eurail trip to Europe to myself, life seemed to get in the way of adventure. I guess getting married, starting a career and having two children will do it to the best of us.

It actually came as a surprise to my family when in 2010 I decided to go for it and take my kids on a service trip to Nicaragua with an educational non-profit group, Seeds of Learning. It just felt like the right thing to do at the right time in life.

And boy, was I right. It was the trip of a lifetime.

I learned more about myself than I ever imagined. I learned about how I deal with intense situations, how to keep my children safe while allowing them to experience the scary, and how truly vast and stunningly beautiful our world really is.

I hold the memories of that trip close to my heart, and yearn to have another experience that tugs at my soul and provides my kids the chance to learn about life outside our little northern California university town existence.

As most things in my life happen these days, however, another opportunity presents itself to me. This experience gives me the chance to fly solo, testing my ability to stand alone in the world and trust that again, I’m doing the right thing at the right time in life.

I’m going to Jakarta, Indonesia in three months. And I’m feeling kind of uneasy.

To be continued…

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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No Shoes In Nicaragua

Posted on March 14, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

One of the hardest parts of our trip to Nicaragua was leaving the children behind. Victor was a very special little boy who exemplified the happiness and heartbreaks we experienced during our stay:

“His dark brown head appeared from out of nowhere as the small pickup truck slowly lumbered up the rocky Nicaraguan road. Clad in bright yellow athletic shorts and a royal blue soccer jersey, he looked like many 9-year-old boys at my son’s Californian elementary school.

He shyly called “hola” as he hopped into the back of the truck. It was then I noticed his feet – bare, broad, and dirty. While he climbed aboard, I glanced at the muddy, rocky trail he had appeared out of and wondered where he had awakened that morning. ..”

Please follow this link to read the rest of the story about Victor and Nicaragua and how he stole our hearts.

Jennifer Wolfe

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The Ride of a Lifetime

Posted on March 6, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

We loaded into the back of the small, dilapidated whiteToyota pickup truck. No safety restraints were in sight, unless the roll bars along the top counted. Eight children aged 6 to 14 years couldn’t believe their good fortune. Eight adults searched each other’s faces for solidarity. This went against all our instincts, but so did waking up in a Nicaraguan compound with an armed guard standing at the door.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Although native English speakers, my kids had only ever attended school in Spanish. They had no choice about it – from kindergarten on, they attended a public Spanish Immersion elementary school and quickly became fluent.

At first, the road started out dusty but flat. As we pulled out from behind the large black iron gates, I knew I was embarking on something that would take me far, far out of my comfort zone. Dressed in shorts, t-shirt, sturdy shoes, bandanas, and hats to protect us from the blazing sun, I wondered how hard could it be? I had plenty of fresh water and granola bars in my backpack. Two bottles of hand sanitizer – one in my pocket and a backup in my pack – would prevent any illness. Our daily doses of malaria medication and enough industrial strength DEET bug spray to kill all the bugs in Nicaragua would keep us from insect driven disease.

As the pickup truck left town, I relaxed a bit. Beaming smiles of bliss radiated from each child – there was no fear on their faces. Moving slowly down the dirt road we waved as we passed children and parents beginning their days in their humble, dirt-floored homes. Cement walls created a shelter for them, and chickens and skinny dogs sauntered in and out. Wisps of smoke rose from the outdoor fire pits. Broad, white grins mixed with confused countenances met our white-skinned faces and shouts of greeting – not many ‘chelles’ in this part of the world.

The tiny truck wound its way down the road, the homes spreading further and further apart. A caballero and his companion greet our driver as he slows to a halt, carefully avoiding the emaciated cows on the road. Relationships are key to survival in this part of the world. The adults grab their cameras and snap away, most never having seen a real cowboy at work before. The kids smile broadly in disbelief.

Sparse, green grassland dotted with the occasional tree line both sides of the road. Every few miles family home vegetable gardens interrupted the rocky outcroppings. Undeterred, the farmers work around them.

Slowing to a halt, we notice a wrinkled old man on the side of the road. Victor, our driver, calls out a greeting and waves him closer. The man approaches the back of the truck, and I realize he intends to squeeze in with us. As he throws one arm over the side and carefully enters the pickup bed, his two-foot long machete enters with him. Our young American sons’ eyes widen in disbelief at the weapon within arm’s reach. The old American parents’ eyes widen in momentary panic.

Continuing up the road, local Nicaraguans looking for a ride repeatedly greet us. No one turned away; we realize the amazing opportunity to meet them up close and personal as we squish back to back and side to side in the shrinking truck.

The truck takes a sharp left turn and wheels begin to spin. Victor, unphased, eases it into low gear and we begin to climb a hill. The flat road has disappeared, replaced by small rocks at first, then enormous boulders. The adults begin to bark safety directions and plan for the eventual rollover. The truck lurches to the right, and I yelp in terror. The boys fist pump in jubilation, and we find ourselves right side up.

After an eternity, we make one last turn and the tiny pickup groans and lurches to a halt. As I wait for my brain to stop spinning and my heartbeat to ease, a sound like thunder reaches my ears. Children, teens and adults begin to crowd around, pulling on the doors and grinning widely. The entire community is cheering and screaming as if Justin Bieber has just walked on stage, when in reality it is just us, 16 Americans about to continue the ride of a lifetime in Nicaragua.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Flying Alone

Posted on February 23, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

Last week I did something new. It wasn’t as delicious as trying a new flavor of ice cream, or as adventurous as flying down a zip line. It wasn’t as bold as a new hair color, or as daring as quitting my job.

Last week I flew alone. Solo. No friends, no kids, no spouse, no colleagues. Just me, my overstuffed suitcase and a carry-on bag full of papers to grade, books to read, and stories to write.

Flying alone meant trying something new. I could get myself out of the house quickly because all I had to worry about was me. It meant that for the first time in a very long time I didn’t forget a thing.

Flying alone meant it didn’t matter where I stood in the boarding line because it was just me. I wasn’t concerned about entertaining anyone, or making sure I was close to the window or the bathroom. It meant I could be the very last person aboard because I had a confirmed seat and I didn’t need overhead luggage space.

Flying alone meant I wasn’t worried about sitting next to a chatterbox or a screaming baby-I had my earphones, my iPod, and a book to bury my face in. I didn’t even have to check who was sitting in front or behind me, just in case they received an accidental kick in the seatback or a quick seat recline in the face.

Flying alone meant I could actually watch the entire movie from beginning to end without interruption. My tray table only had my drink on it, and I didn’t worry about elbows flying over to spill it. It meant could read my book, write an article and listen to music for five glorious hours. I only had to pack the snacks that I liked, and didn’t have to ration them. And if it wasn’t 7:00 a.m. I could have even indulged in a cocktail without guilt.

Flying alone meant that in Dulles airport I didn’t have to take small companions straight to the bathroom, or wait for anyone to catch up with me. It meant that I actually had one hand free to maneuver through the shuttle, and arrived first to the baggage claim area. And when my luggage came off the carousel, I was completely free.

Flying alone meant that the next moves were all mine. I got to choose what I ate, where I went, and how I got there. It meant I could browse the gift shop and the bookstore for as long as I wanted.

Flying alone also meant that I didn’t have a hand to hold on take-off and landing, or anyone to watch my bags while I went to the newsstand. It meant that I had to eat lunch alone, and keep my thoughts to myself.

Flying alone also meant that I didn’t have anyone to ask for advice or opinions. I had to decide which shuttle to use, and how much to tip the driver. It meant that I didn’t have anyone to exclaim to as I spied the Pentagon or crossed the Potomacfor the first time.

Flying alone meant that I had a lot of time to myself to think. I had to wonder what my family was doing, and if they got to school on time. It meant that I couldn’t see their faces as they raced down the ski course or before they fell asleep.

Flying alone made me realize how much I wished I wasn’t flying alone. It meant that I missed my family.

Next time, I’ll take a kid or two with me.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Friday Photo: City By Dark

Posted on February 19, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

Traveling in a new city can be intimidating. Add to that traveling alone, in a new state, using unfamiliar public transportation, and you have a recipe for a pretty intense experience. I’m too stubborn, though, to let a little dark get in the way of what I want.

Having never before visited the nation’s capitol, I was determined to do the tourist things. I’m not shy about asking for help, advice, directions, or anything else that will keep me from doing what I want and seeing all the city has to offer.

Last night was one such experience. After dinner I headed to the metro, and introduced myself to Calvin, the friendly older gentleman in charge of the L’Enfant Metro Station at night. He couldn’t have been happier to help this California girl navigate herself around the city.

After assuring me there were ‘lots of police’ out at night, he directed me onto the ‘blue line’ towards the capitol. Upon exiting the underground stop I was astonished to be the only person within sight-and it was 8:30 p.m. on a Friday night!

Heading towards the Capitol Building I was struck by the majestic glow coming through the barren trees. The strength, beauty and majesty of our country shone brightly, and I began circling the grounds to see it from every angle. Turning, I caught a glimpse of the Washington Memorial towering high in the sky, lit up like a beacon. I began walking, sure that there would be more undiscovered beauty waiting for me along the way.

Walking the city alone, in the dark, may not be for everyone. But for me the calm and solitude of the chilly night was the perfect backdrop for the brillance I encountered. And I didn’t have to share it with anyone else-it was all for me tonight.

Are you letting something get in your way?

Jennifer Wolfe

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