And like that, we burned through the halfway mark of our trip and are in the final phase of our travel: the domestic stage, where we live in a house and the kids go to school and Jake goes to work every day.

Way back in mid-March, we rolled into the little town of Raglan, on the west coast of the north island.

Raglan is first and foremost a surf destination, one made famous in the classic 1960s surf documentary, Endless Summer. But even if your not a surfer, it's a sweet little place to live where you get to know people quickly and aren't ever far away from a stunning beach, fabulous bush walk or jaw-dropping views. Our first rental here left a lot to be desired, an unappealing mess of gross old furniture, half-assed construction, mold and rats. The good part was that it inspired (required) us to be outside a lot. The kids and I spent a lot of time wandering nearby bush trails and walking to and from the town centre and beach. We became regulars at the local library and had the skate park all to ourselves while everyone else was in school. Even under less-than-ideal living conditions we had a great time with learning at home and fell for this town quickly. The idea of moving yet again to another cramped, dark house in an anonymous mid-sized city was losing its appeal.

It's one of those wonderful consequences of extended travel - decisions that would feel so onerous in everyday life are so much easier when you are transient; if the current situation isn't feeling right, you change the plan. So we bailed on Hamilton (sorry, Hams, no offense to you), struck it lucky with a cozy rental home near the water and enrolled the kids in the tiny rural school of Te Uku.  Jake commutes  45 min to the Uni in Hamilton several days a week but has a good carpool group so he only needs to actually drive 1 or 2 days. On days when the kids ride the school bus in, we walk a hilly kilometer to get to our stop. Almost every day after school, I've walked the trail behind our house down to the bay with at least one kid, to play or swim or collect shells and rocks and sea glass; it's like a ritual reconnection to the outside world. Our seaside life will not last long, I hate missing even a day of sticking toes in the salt water. Our course correction feels exactly right.

In May, the new school term started here and the kids headed back to school. Enrolling them was a shockingly simple process; their dad's work visa allows them to attend any school as a resident for up to three months for free. Schools here group their classrooms by age in the calendar year so kids will sometimes change grades and classrooms mid-year. Flexibility is built in to the structure so starting anew in second term wasn't such a huge deal. Because of his age, Milo was placed into Grade 4 and Kyra was placed in Grade 1 (though grades are combined so Milo is in a 4/5 classroom and Kyra is in a K/1 classroom). While there are broad standards that children are expected to meet for a given year, the learning environment is set up to accommodate each child's level (and there is no standardized testing until intermediate school). The class is rarely together as a whole; rather there are lots of small group breakouts, individual time and peer learning between grades. In Kyra's grade, kids are transitioning from play-based to more traditional academic learning so they still spend half their day in play-based learning, which is awesome.

The biggest difference, though, is the length and schedule of the school day.  School starts at 9 a.m. and ends at 2:45. The kids get a 20 minute morning tea (recess and snack) and 50 minutes for lunch. There is physical exercise almost every day in the afternoon. Work periods are never more than 1.5 hours between physical breaks. It's easy to love this. I really hadn't thought about it before but this is a much more humane amount of time for kids to be in school. Mornings at home have a wonderful rhythm since everyone has lots of time to do their thing before school starts. There's no coercion and anxiety about dragging people out of bed and shoving them out the door in time. It's lovely and perfect when you are the parent of a later riser who needs lots of time to himself in the morning. Meanwhile, I get some great time to read and play with Kyra, who is up and ready a lot earlier.

Along with school, we have seen the start of soccer season. Milo is so excited to be playing football in NZ and Kyra, always looking for more opportunities to meet new friends, decided to give it a go. It turns out that girl has some moves. She played her very first game last weekend and was 100% INTO THE GAME: focused, driven, relentless, a veritable 6-yr-old machine of soccer. It was downright weird and all three of us were a little dumbfounded just watching her. I didn't even think she would know what to do on the field! I love being surprised by the people I live with.

I am glad they are enjoying school and some sports on the side. But I would be lying if I didn't admit that I miss our days learning together and having a completely open schedule. Unschooling for four months has been pretty terrific, and we have all internalized how learning can be so much broader than what we have been conditioned to. I can already see them both take so much more initiative to figure stuff out, look up how to do something that interests them, pursue a train of thought a little farther. Kyra was so worried that she hadn't been "learning" while not in a classroom and two weeks in to school, she's realized how far from the truth that really is. Driven by her own interest, she's picked up so much, both traditional and broader knowledge. Even Jake and I have been rejuvenated in our own motivation to learn new things. I've realized that if our family were ever to have a family motto, it would be this: keep trying new things that scare or intimidate you. Keep trying. That's why the surfing, even though I've fallen a hundred times. I am taking an aerial silk class too, another humbling reminder of gravity. Teaching myself to make kombucha. Jake cleared the space in his life to teach himself a new statistical computing code; it's been on his to-do list for years. He's been rewarding himself by going surfing. We have had so many good conversations around the dinner table about failing and falling and forging ahead with no guarantee of when (or even if) success will come. We now have so many examples of new things they've accomplished to illustrate that it pays off. They understand the difference between being students and really being learners. If that was the only thing we took home from this sabbatical, it alone would make the trip worthwhile.

Also, bare feet. A lot of bare feet. I echo my dear friend Jessica in being a champion of bare feet early and often. It keeps you so well-grounded and engages one more sense in your connection to the world around you. So take your shoes off more, let your toes remember that they should move independently of each other, feel the ground under your soles more often. And keep a bucket of water by the door to rinse the mud off before you go back inside.


Behind the Scenes: How have we been making this work?

March 6, 2016

It’s hard to digest that we have been gone from the US since January 15. Road trip living is a surreal time warp on many levels. The funny thing is, I am beginning to get used to the rhythms of being a nomad. There is so much we have seen and done in just five week of New Zealand travel, but what’s been equally interesting to me is how we’ve organically slipped into the lifestyle of travelling homeschoolers, how much of our normal day to day existence we’ve left behind and how our sum total of our earthly belongings has been compressed into one small van. I have had a few friends ask me about the details so I thought I’d share with you. Otherwise, you can just skip to the pictures of what we’ve been up to. 

What’s in the van?
Us, first and foremost. Jake almost exclusively in the driver’s seat (I am starting to drive in this left-handed country slowly now, but he’s really got it down like a boss) and me, navigator extraordinaire and general child-wrangler. The kids are eight feet behind us and good thing that because whether they are playing or fighting, they’re just plain less noisy way back there. Between us and the kids, we have a suitcase for Jake and I with about four changes of clothing stacked on a container of kids clothes. I won’t lie, we wear dirty clothes often and don’t really care. Running out of underwear though is the trigger for a laundry day. Once, we drove out of a campground and left the majority of our clothes in the dryer there and were several hours into a pretty distant destination before we remembered. So we wore the little bit we had left and came back through town four days later and collected it. The lesson here: we brought very little clothing and need even less of it.

We also have a dry bag duffel with sleeping bags and pads and another duffel with footwear and raingear. To maximize space in the van, we squashed these two bags up against one of the side doors of the van and just don’t use that door. We bought a bunch of small bins that fit beneath seats that hold toiletries, swimsuits, various critical hardware, cables and tools and we installed some clever bins in the front to hold travel books, ipad and maps. Bungee cords and binder clips are essential pieces of gear for all this to be MacGyvered into service.

The kids have a small milkcrate that sits on the ground between them with their workbooks, reading, drawing pads, playing cards, small games and is easily reachable by both of them. They also have their backpacks with hats, a warm layer, water, their blankets, a couple of stuffed animals, an e-reader for Milo and Kyra’s always changing collections of tiny things that she curates compulsively. That is the sum total of toys and stuff that they have. Milo mostly reads and draws in the car and Kyra loves her “boogie board”, an erasable drawing tablet that she uses for hours every day. 

There is usually a bag of car snacks back there too: fruit, nuts, crackers, biscuits. We pull it out when cranky boredom sets in.

In the small space behind the kids seats, we have packed all the food-related stuff. A jerry can of potable water and a small propane tank for the stove, two half-size coolers for food (the top one always contains lunch stuff) and then a plastic container of food basics like oil, spices, dry bulk goods, coffee and tea and on top of that a crate with pots and pans and plates, cups and cutlery. a 2-burner campstove slides beneath one of the seats. Also back there we fit a small folding table, folding chairs and camping stools and the tent. I’ve mentioned this before, but it’s a complex geometry problem to fit all that in a tiny space but we’ve got it down to a fine art by now. We buy food for about three days at a time because of our space limitations, but that has not really been a problem. There are grocery stores everywhere and we always have provisions for a backup meal or two in a pinch.

One deficiency: our van is too old to have an ipod jack and the radio does not work. But there is a CD player so we’ve bought four CDs from a used record store in Wellington and our travels have frequently been soothed by the ministrations of The Band, The Pogues, Macy Gray and JS Bach. As a result, the kids are walking around singing “Dirty Old Town” constantly and changing the words to include lots of poop references. Our family listens to music almost all the time so no “music on demand” has been a little hard on all of us.

Where do we sleep?

I’ve been forgetting to photograph our different sleeping locations. We’ve done pretty much every variation of lodgings from campgrounds to the rare cottages (or cribs, as they’re referred to here on the South Island). There are so many beautiful places to camp but we stick to the holiday parks mostly, for refrigerators (our food travels in a cooler with a frozen water bottle to keep it from spoiling) and for the creature comforts that keep the kids spirits’ up like pools and trampolines. More primitive free camping requires the ability to contain your human waste and since we don’t officially have a campervan, those sites are off limits to us. We camp mostly when we are going to spend at least a couple of days in a place, since setting up shop can be a lot of effort. In many places, we are only stopping over for a night and then we’ll usually rent a very simple hut or stay in a hostel. Also, if the weather looks like rain, rain and more rain, we opt for indoor accommodations since we only have a very basic, borrowed hardware store tent that will not withstand really inclement conditions. For example, in the Fiordlands, with their average of 4 to 7 METRES of rain a year, we found a stunning little solar-powered hut perched on a mountain with glorious views of the mountains and fjords for less than the price of a tent space at a holiday park. 

We have stayed in over 20 different locations since arriving in New Zealand on January 26th. With the exception of 2 (which were invitations to a home), we’ve had to research every stop along the way. It’s not trivial, especially with limited access to internet and it being peak tourist season, when the island is full of travelers and we need to be mindful of our budget.

When we camp, two of us will sleep in the tent and two in the van. The kids never want to sleep together because they inevitably scrap like wildcats. Kyra has staked out the van as her preferred bedroom and Milo loves the tent. Jake and I switch it up. At night, the back seats fold up against the side of the van and we covered the floor in a foam mat that makes sleeping in a van a little more comfortable. We sling some towels over bungee cords to block out light and we even bought some battery-powered starry lights to string up for reading at night in there. Instant cozy. 

The tent is nice because there’s lots of room to spread out -  a desirable trait when sharing a tent with a kid who sleeps sideways often. The hard moments have come with the prolific sandflies of the west coast (like black flies, only their bites itch a lot longer) because somehow they get into the tent, and with the occasional cold nights that overwhelm the summer-weight sleeping bags that Jake and I brought. But all in all, the camping goes pretty smoothly and when everyone pitches in, the logistics don’t feel as burdensome. We have all developed the capacity to pretty much fall asleep anywhere.

What are the rhythms of our days?
All over the map. We arrived here with a loose plan to travel and that was it. So, just as with accommodations, we have been deciding our itinerary a few days at a time on the go. At first, it mainly happened at night, after the kids were in bed but we were usually pretty burnt out by then so now we just take a leisurely morning every few days to plan out the next leg of the trip, call to book accommodations and activities and set a rough schedule. Having a somewhat firm plan for three or four days out has been really important because then we can put down the books and maps and brochures and just really be in the moment a lot more rather than scrambling to figure out the next step all the time (that’s how we spent the first couple of weeks - not ideal). 

A frequent view from the navigator's seat: Balancing our GPS, the guidebook and my cappuccino in my lap simultaneously. Also, flip-flops and wool long underwear is totally fashion-forward.

A not-uncommon picture of the backseat with one kid asleep in a weird position, the remains of car forts and shit everywhere.
Taking on some of the work of daily life. 
Anywhere we’ve been so far, there has been no shortage of amazing things to do. But we have two young travelers with us who don’t have as much control of the schedule and so we’ve had to dance a delicate dance of embracing the crazy adventure and keeping little kids feeling sane and stable. I don’t exaggerate here, there’s a lot of pushing limits that happen when you take kids to hike glaciers or cross wobbly swinging bridges over cataracts or have to steel themselves on a tumultuous whale-watching excursion or ride horses up the sides of mountains. It’s thrilling to me and to Jake, but it can be nerve-wracking to push your limits too many times in a row when you’re 6 or 9 years old. Kyra was becoming a walking risk management brochure, citing all the ways we could die with every activity we were undertaking. 

She runs across these swing bridges every single time. So she can get off them as fast as possible.

Sea kayaking at Abel Tasman National Park. We followed that up with smoothies and wood-fired pizza hidden down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. 

Whale watching off the coast of Kaikoura. It's a good thing these dolphins (and one sperm whale) put on a show to offset the terror of 15-foot swells and a boat full of hurling tourists. 

Doubtful Sound, Fiordlands National Park. No. More. Hiking.

And sometimes, they get to choose the activity of the day.

"It's like biking on marshmallows!"

Punakaiki. She spent a whole afternoon at our campsite getting to use a pocket knife and making her own flax-leaf dolls.
Duntroon. Digging out fossils from nearby sandstone. You couldn't tear her away and the docent finally just let her take the while chunk with her.

Wanaka. We'd been plagued by rain for days but a sweet traveling circus saved us from a night of being huddled in the van at the campground,

We got the message. 

We are learning to intersperse days of mellow with days of adventure and days of being tourists in the city. It doesn’t come easy to either me or Jake but it actually is good for us to sit still too. We spent four nights at a friend’s bach (holiday home) in the Waitaki Valley and gave ourselves plenty of time to do nothing at all, between bigger hikes in Mt Cook National Park or cool local sites. We were convinced to have a stay home day, the two kids happily played at home all day long, making up elaborate fantasy games, playing with legos and each spending a good chunk of time doing math or writing in their journal. I took a nap. Jake read a book. It’s almost unheard of for us to be so still. It felt great, though; we had a lot of wonderful conversations throughout the day. It helped us to decide to park ourselves in a beach cottage for another five days to slowly explore Dunedin and the Otago peninsula with lots of time to just play on the beach or curl up with a book on the sofa.

Sheep: Nature's playdate.
A day at 'home". They never took their PJs off.
Even spaghetti and sardines feels like a luxury meal when it's at a table and with actual cutlery.
Homeschool morning in Kaikoura. 

Bookstore in Dunedin + woodstove in Long Beach = happy family.

One of the real delights of this trip has been to take the lead of one kid or another who’s interest is sparked by a particular activity or place. We had an amazing morning of horseback riding a couple of weeks ago in a hauntingly beautiful area called Farewell Spit. I wouldn’t have put riding horses on my list of “must-do’s” except that Kyra asked us no less than 10 times if we could do it. We finally agreed to book a horseback riding excursion with a lot of trepidation, given that she had never been on a horse before. True to her word, that kid not only overcame her nervousness, but she looked like she loved every minute of the three hour excursion, even the mountainous parts. And both kids enthusiastically list the horse trek as one of the best things they’ve done in New Zealand. 

Riding horses on the beach, Farewell Spit.

Two weeks ago, as we made our way south on the West Coast, we spent a night in the quaint town of Hokitika. Milo got totally enraptured by the gold mining history of the place (not to mention the gold nugget on display) and so we spent the next day and a half visiting museums and gold stores, old mining towns and we even rented a pan and panned for gold at an active mine site on the Hokitika River. Jake and Milo successfully found a fleck of gold dust, which Milo has kept in a small vial of water. One kid’s fixation led us to really immerse ourselves in a vital piece of this island’s history that I know I would never have paid much attention to on my own. On our way out of Hokitika, I bought the novel The Lumineers which is set in Hokitika during the gold rush of the 1860s. It’s been really fun to read because I can picture the places they reference in the book, thanks to our foray into the gold mining past of the west coast. 

Panning for gold on the Hokitika River.
Our learning curve has also incorporated the need for Jake and I to carve out some alone time in the midst of all this very intense family time. We try to take turns going for a run or even a walk on our own. I try to make time for meditation or yoga. I don’t need a lot but I do need it regularly. We even have taken to splitting the kids up and taking one or the other out for a mini-date to a cafe or for a bike ride. This is a vital ingredient to sanity. But again, it took us a while to clue into how important it is. The lesson here: an ounce of prevention is worth 10 pounds of cure when you are all together every day. Also, a glass of wine or beer goes a long way to restoring sanity on a hot day after too many hours in the van.

Sampling the microbrews and signature dish at the Mussel Inn, Takaka. Tire swing  bought us enough time for a couple of beers.

So that’s some of the behind the scenes aspects of this trip so far. In just one more week, we head back up north to settle into our first home on the beach. A whole new rhythm to adjust to. There is a lot of excitement about it here. Although, I’ll admit, there really is something very bewitching about being on the move a lot, and the anticipation of what’s coming around the bend all the time. I wonder if I will have an easy adjustment back to a more sedentary existence...