Soaking up December rays on the island of Zanzibar

One month to the day later, I’m on a train headed north, back on the road again to conclude that journey home. Traversing the snow-kissed plains of “Middle America,” it’s the final stretch. We’re headed back to that Windy City, the place we once called home.

There’s something contemplative about train travel. The bellowing whistle and rhythmic cadence of clanking wheels singing along a steel track seem to put me in a trance. I find myself lost in thought, reflecting on the past month of my life and the uncertainty of the road ahead.

Home sweet home dressed for the holidays

Our homecoming has been many things, but at all times full of emotion. Arriving on the Eve of the Eve, we were flung full-throttle into the Christmas spirit. Stockings were hung by the chimney with care. Ceramic snowmen platters overflowed with goodies while Santa trays housed sausage puffs, crab dip and cheese balls. Bing Crosby belted out classics over the sound of a roaring fire and our parents’ homes were filled with cheery faces offering a warm welcome to their “world travelers.”

In the chaos of the holiday season, we had dinner parties and holiday dates galore. Catching up with familiar faces became a full time job. Our once dutiful packs now took reclining position on the basement floor as we tapped into our former selves. Dressing the part, we clad ourselves in spiffed-up leather shoes and holiday sweaters with toffee and Brandy Alexanders in hand. Acting out the scenes storybooks are made of, it was a truly white Christmas…the kind days before was a world away.

It didn’t hit me the first day we came home…nor the second, nor the third. The grand realization of the power of our journey, it has come to me in waves.

The first taste hit me like a ton of bricks. Walking into my pseudo room of my parents’ cozy suburban home, I pulled out the boxes of me I had left behind. Sunglass cases and lip gloss, heels and leggings, robes and jewelry, I was staring at a life I no longer recognized. Running my hands over piles of clothing, the cotton felt like cashmere and polyester like silk, as tears trickled down my face. And no, I recognized, these weren’t tears of joy, but rather tears of shame. Not a shame rooted in having the things that make up our comfortable lifestyles but for so long having taken this life for granted.

The comfort of our lives continued to amaze me. No longer did I go running earnestly to the clothing line when gray clouds starting to roll in. After months of hand-washing clothes in puny African buckets, the novelty of a washer and dryer left me speechless. Or how about taking a glass from the cabinet and running it under a flowing faucet of potable water? Doing it again made me plain giddy. And then there’s the reliable hot shower. I turn on the knob and boom goes the dynamite! There’s no half hour wait or crossing fingers it works. Hot water rushes out without fail. Weeks later I still find it remarkable.

Scenic run along the Seine

Back to the gym after a year and a half sojourn, now that was eye-opening. The flashing red lights of my treadmill twinkled under suspended rows of flat screen TV’s. Gym mates were glued to a spectacle of talking heads while iPhones sang and rang to them. As the soundtrack from my year played in my ear buds, I thought back on the last time I laced up these shoes. From the dusty roads of Central Africa to the sweaty locker room of 24 Hour Fitness, I could hardly believe my eyes.

A visit to the American grocery store, however, tops the chart for most awe-inspiring homecoming experiences. Shelves teem with plump strawberries and blueberries in the dead of winter and offer cereal bars, energy bars, fiber bars and any darn bar your heart desires. There are 20 kinds of peanut butter to choose from and umpteen loaves of bread that promise to last for a month. Canned foods offer ethnic cuisine from every corner of the globe and meat cases overflow with enough juicy goodness to feed the entire population of Zambia for a month. This was enough to make my head spin and my stomach as well. As sick as my body got adjusting to the curries of India and “delicacies” of China, it hardly compares to the protest my body staged upon returning to good ole American cuisine.

A pensive mood back in Brazil with the whole journey ahead of us

Returning, I feel I’ve undergone some sort of reawakening. Once meaningless tasks, like chores and errands, these are now novel. Yes, a run to Best Buy or stop at the gym, these have become exciting outings. But best of all, once simple encounters with family – like coffee around the kitchen counter with my pop or cleaning out the basement with my mom – these moments are treasured.

To tell you the truth, I feel like George Bailey in It’s A Wonderful Life. Clarence paid me a visit, only instead of saving me from the bridge, he saved me from the humdrum of my mundane corporate American existence. No, life wasn’t bad before. It’s now just rich.

The cookie tray has thinned now and the holiday bows have been put away. Friends have gone back to work. Rush hour traffic has ensued. A job search sits at our door, and we’re faced with the uncertainty of the road ahead.

Bumping into each other over PJ’s and morning coffee is our daily reminder that we relinquished the once status and stability of our corporate lifestyles. There are days when this fills me with anxiety, when I thirst for the answer to the question, “What am I doing with my life?” There are days when temptation seeps in, and the desire for structure, routine and a reliable salary entice me.

But a glance at our room, flooded with guidebooks, photos and memories, brings it all back. Suddenly that feeling of “unsettled,” and the tension and fears that come along with it, don’t seem so overwhelming. It’s then we say aloud with conviction that we’ve been changed.

In our search for home, one thing is certain: Life won’t be what it was. Those leather shoes didn’t fit well anyway.

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“Round We Go” was about living the life we imagined. We are searching for the way…our way…to bring that back home. We still have a few more photos and stories up our sleeves from the final leg of our trip and plan to share those, too. In the meantime we want to thank you for following our journey. Many days we felt we were writing just for ourselves, to document this trip of a lifetime. Discovering along the way that these stories might have meant something to someone else touched us deeply. Thanks for coming along for the ride!

Morning view of Mt. Kilimanjaro from Moshi, Tanzania

I’m in Moshi, Tanzania enjoying my morning cup of chai. The rooster crowing begs cloud-shrouded Mt. Kilimanjaro to peak out above me, revealing the fresh blanket of snow she received from the storm brewing the night before. I hear the whooshing sound of straw brooms whisking storefronts clean of the dusty roads amidst Swahili calls of “Jambo! Mambo?” from street-side vendors.

As the town wakes up and the locals of this verdant, coffee-growing, banana-planting town start their day, I’m packing up my bags. Gearing up for a long haul on the roads of Tanzania, I prepare for the journey to our next destination. It’s a typical Monday morning for me…only it’s not. This is the kind of travel day I’ve come to know, loathe and love so well, but this one, it’s the last.

Taking in sunset together over the Taj Mahal

On the road for 14 months, travel has become a part of me. With only a week left, I’m overcome with emotion, my head flooded with a million memories. From the bustling streets of Buenos Aires we’ve made our way around the world to the traffic-choked lanes of Nairobi. We trekked through the Alps – both Southern and Swiss – and climbed to great heights to the peaks of the Himalayas. On camel back, we caravanned deep into the Indian desert and bathed elephants in the rivers of Thailand. We biked through rice paddies in southwest China and kayaked through the crystal clear waters of the Fijian Isles. We’ve watched the morning sun peak out over the Taj Mahal and the Great Pyramids and cast afternoon shadows over the Sydney Opera House and Serengeti.

We’ve become well-acquainted with squat toilets and sleepless nights wrapped in mosquito nets and taken more journeys than we’d care to admit on rat-infested trains. We brush teeth under the trickle of our water bottles and share bathrooms with armies of ants. We pop anti-malaria pills like they’re Flinstone vitamins and that little pink bottle of Pepto-Bismol has become a best friend. We carry our closets on our backs and these memories in our hearts.

Embarking on our around the world trip, I was prepared to have my reality turned on its head. But after traversing the globe, I realize I could have never fully prepared for the unforgettable shift of consciousness that was to take place.

The journey was, in a word, transformative.

A New Zealand sunset over Marlborough Sounds

Reflecting on these experiences, I can’t help but think back on the girl I was. I remember packing up my backpack and feeling so uneasy leaving those jeans and hairdryer behind. I remember the cold, hard feeling of the backpack, fully loaded, on my shoulders for the first time, wondering why my business traveler, rolling suitcase couldn’t fit the bill. I remember standing in the airport getting ready to take off on our first transcontinental flight, realizing I didn’t have a phone, blackberry or voicemail to check. I remember feeling free.

And that feeling of freedom, of sheer adventure that comes with the uncertainty of where we will lay our head each night, that is what I think I will miss the most. I will miss when our days were our days, when every minute decision became a challenge. I will miss meeting fascinating people from around the globe – locals and travelers alike – whose stories have inspired and touched me deeply.

Of course there are countless things I miss from home. I miss talking to my mom every day and going on runs with my dad. I miss walking barefoot into the bathroom in the middle of the night. I miss the familiar sound of my friends’ voices on the other end of the telephone line. I miss crisp sheets and the smell of clean laundry. I miss the change of seasons, though I never thought I would.

The challenging part? I’ve begun to feel most comfortable in my skin when I’m uncomfortable. In our ever-changing environment, I’ve become a chameleon, continuously adapting to my surroundings. I thrive on the challenge, the vulnerability I feel when everything around me is unfamiliar and foreign. It’s in this raw, heightened state that I feel most alive, and somehow awakened to everything around me.

Standing proud atop Nepal's Annapurna Base Camp at sunrise

With an experience like this, not a day went by that I wasn’t overwhelmed with gratitude. The crippled Indian boy walking on his hands through our train car sweeping garbage for spare change, that Burmese rickshaw driver all gussied up for a day of waiting in front of our hotel for the chance to make a buck, those twelve precious orphans who captured my heart in Zambia, these are images that fill my head. Reminded daily in these surroundings, I’ve grown grateful for the things I’ve grown up taking for granted. The reality is that no matter where my path of life leads me, it’s not likely I’ll ever have to worry about putting food on the table, a roof over my head and finding clean water to drink. For the thousands of others we met along the way, these thoughts consume their days.

Carrying my little Zambian bundle of joy on my back, African-style

And with this gratitude, comes the sincere appreciation for having someone to share the experience with. Lots of people ask me how I could ever want to spend 400 consecutive days, every waking minute, with my husband. My thought: how could I not? Of course there are days when we’re more on par with the Costanza’s than the Brady’s, but this experience as a couple has been more profound than our thirteen years together combined. There have been so many moments of sheer bliss on this trip, when we pinch each other, knowing we are living our dream. But it’s been the trying moments, the weak and vulnerable times together, that have been the most meaningful. Catching each other’s watery eyes from across the taxi as we drive through the slums of Mumbai, laying awake together at night pondering the plight of the Burmese, a squeeze of the hand as we look down together in the alley at the families in Buenos Aires fumbling through our trash and watching each other coddle the orphans in Zambia as if they were our own, these are the moments I’ll cherish. These are the times when those often hidden layers of ourselves are revealed. Seeing each other react to a kind of helplessness and desperation that we before couldn’t have even imagine existed, it somehow connects us on a deeper level.

My close friends and family who have a real understanding of what this journey has been have expressed a bit of concern on how we will handle getting back. “How are you ever going to adjust to reality?” they ask. The thing is, I guess, our reality somehow seems different. We’ve opened our world and aren’t about to close the book.

My Zambian kids said it best. Gyrating their hips and tapping the water pump to the beat of the latest Zambian hip-hop song, they sang to me: “Bring it back now, bring it, bring it back now!” And that’s exactly what we plan to do. We’re going to bring these lessons, this global perspective, the heightened state of awareness, back home with us. It’s not going anywhere.

A week from now I’ll be standing in an airport again, ready to board that last transcontinental flight. Something tells me that backpack is going to rest a bit easier on my shoulders and those jeans just might feel a bit funny on my hips.

Some people grow up knowing they want to be a doctor or pilot. I grew up knowing I wanted to see the world. After 14 months on the road, I have to say: I’ve only just begun.

Here are true tales from this Botswana journey.

Chobe Riverfront

Elephant parading down to the riverfront for a morning drink

By the time we made it to Chobe, we were pretty well-versed in our safari routine. Up at sunrise to pack up our home (our trusty rooftop tent), we threw down a cup of instant coffee and brushed our teeth under the trickle of our water bottles. It was then time to hit those dusty roads for the sparkling blue waters of the Chobe riverfront.

The morning game drive was a testament to what we’d already read. The area is home to some of Africa’s best game viewing and the density of wildlife is simply mind-boggling. We could hardly drive ten feet without some outstanding wildlife interaction. With each turn more elephants appeared in the horizon before parading down to the waterfront for an early-morning thirst quencher. The white-faced African Eagle stood guard on the tip-tops of trees and Lappet-Faced Vultures hovered overhead awaiting their turn to pounce. Herds of cantankerous zebras leapt inches from our car while statuesque kudus listened to our every word with their conch-shaped ears. Onto the carpet of green we found warthogs, gazelles, bushbucks and wildebeest with tails a waggin’ as they grazed peacefully aside massive Cape Buffalo. It was the greatest show on earth, the circle of life, all around us.

The captivating eyes of a leopard just feet above our car

And the grand finale? That was the leopard’s alone. Not one but two of the typically elusive leopards made a grand appearance in the final hour of our day at Chobe riverfront. Parking our car on the edge of the lush woodlands, we were about to get a lesson on the birds and the bees – feline-style. A male leopard encircling our car tried to catch the attention of his coy, female counterpart lounging on the sturdy branch of the sausage tree just feet above our car. Her ferocious hiss showed us who was in charge and informed us our birds and bees lesson was on hold, at least for now.

Linyanti

Settling into camp in remote Linyanti

Moving on from the well-trodden safari path of the Chobe riverfront, we headed to the area known as Linyanti. For better and worse, Linyanti is way off the beaten track. Out in the middle of the bush in the secluded northwest section of Chobe, there is no other sign of life here but the elephants and hippos who inhabit the area. These are the kind of places that always attract us, but, in this case, we learned we should have come a bit more prepared.

We arrived early afternoon to Linyanti to find the most pristine, unspoiled campsite in all of Southern Africa. We set up camp to the sound of baboons jumping overhead and warthogs snorting gleefully as they munched on the branches leftover from the elephants’ lunch. It wasn’t till late afternoon, however, when we realized these would be our only companions way out here in the bush. No other travelers had decided to brave the drive out to this remote area of the park so here we found ourselves miles away from any sign of human life.

By night, it was thrilling. We were completely on our own. We built a massive fire and cooked a feast before settling up in our rooftop tent. Wrapped up like sausages in our sleeping bags, we fell asleep to the sound of splashing hippos feet away while gazing up at a sky twinkling with a trillion stars.

The sand roads of Chobe, just begging for us to get stuck

But when we woke up, this was a different story. Twenty minutes into our drive back to civilization, we buried ourselves knee-deep in sand. We were out in the open, bait for the hundreds of animals lurking around with no choice but to dig ourselves out. Ryan spent all morning with shovel in hand while I was stood watch for approaching animals. As I mentally prepared myself for camping out in this area where we were told it might be days before another person might pass by to rescue us, Ryan’s new-found 4WD skills saved the day. We made it out of the sand, but this issue presented another problem. In trying to get ourselves out, we’d eaten up loads of gas and were running well on empty. But lo and behold, the angels of the bush must have been looking out for us. These angels came in the form of a caravan of boisterous and well-prepared South Africans with enough extra diesel to fuel a jetliner.

No phone, no GPS and rarely a sign of human life, we were quite naïve being way out here on our own. In Linyanti, it was clear we’d used up our nine lives.

Savute

It was time for the flat expanse of the park known as Savute. The scorching sun of the desert landscape and dead trees providing a limited amount of shade usually transform this place into a thirst-land for animals scrounging for water. We had high hopes of big game sightings in Savute, but instead what we got was a big storm and a surprise reunion with friends from the road.

The calm before the storm at Savute campsite

We’d met two French families during our journey through Namibia. We bonded quickly after learning they too were on similar year-long around the world trips (theirs with kids!). Because misery loves company, our mutual vehicle woes did even more to solidify the bond. We spent the day with our Frenchie pals rehashing bush tales around camp, only interrupted by elephants traipsing around our tents and the afternoon sun colliding with heavy rains.

Hiding from the rain on the tailgate of our car, we paid homage to our hometown on this Halloween night over cans of the classic Botswana brew, St. Louis Lager. Then it was time for one last rendezvous with our travel pals with burgers and baked beans cooked over a roaring fire.

Catching up at camp with our French travel pals

While this day was nearly devoid of game sightings, sharing this night with our Parisian friends was special in and of itself. Quitting our jobs to travel the world had many of our pals back home wondering if we might have a screw loose. It’s so refreshing on the road meeting people like this…who share the same thirst for adventure, who are looking for more out of life than the that nine to five gig and who are willing to take the risk to find it.

Out here in the middle of the African bush, we watched our new pals share these transformative experiences with their kids. And, well, it makes us pretty certain this isn’t the last time we embark on this sort of journey.

Sunset over Moremi Game Reserve

Under this African sky littered with stars, I’m fighting off mosquitoes while journaling to the flicker of a citronella candle. We’ve just set up camp for the night, pitching our tent on the roof of our car. Two massive t-bone steaks sit beside me on a smoky braai (bbq) while our puny fire attempts to ward off the cacophony of sounds that surround. Hippos snorting, elephants trumpeting and lions roaring intermittently in the distance, it is the raw, rugged Africa we dreamed of. Deep in the African bush of Botswana, we realized we’d made it.

It didn’t take long for us to realize Moremi Game Reserve is a special place and quite unlike any wildlife park in the world. Encompassing 5,000 square kilometers in northern Botswana, it’s part of the inland river delta expanse known as the Okavango Delta. In stark contrast to the thorny forests and desert-like terrain of many of Africa’s great game parks, the Okavango Delta consists of a network of streams and marshland sustaining vast quantities of wildlife. The Moremi Game Reserve, however, is the only part of the Delta officially sectioned off for wildlife preservation, creating a flourishing oasis with the highest density of wildlife in all of Botswana.

Pitching our tent for the night in Moremi Game Reserve, Botswana

Aside from mass quantities of animals here, the exclusivity of the park helps add to its appeal. Accommodation is limited to those willing to fork out up to $1,000 a night for the handful of high-end luxury lodges or those experienced or brave enough to embark on a solo-4WD bush-camping expedition. This means absent in Moremi are those massive tour groups traipsing around the continent and crowds of people looking for their taste of the bush.

Experienced we were not, but armed with a, now reliable (story on this saga coming soon), 4WD vehicle, lots of guts and maybe a naïve sense of confidence, to Moremi we were bound.

There was a lot we couldn’t be prepared enough for. First off were the roads. We’d just wrapped up two weeks of bush adventures in Namibia where there was lots of talk about how nice and smooth the roads were. We didn’t know where the hell this reputation had come from as they were quite possibly the worst and most dangerous roads we’d ever seen. There we’d been the first to arrive to the scene of a fatal accident and had several close encounters ourselves. Once we arrived to Moremi, however, we got it. Roads here hardly exist. Tracks in the reserve are made of clay and sand. And boy is it ever thick. Like a Zamboni machine floating over ice, you’re not really driving, but just steering as you hover over the sand, weaving around windy paths of the forest.

Facing deep water on the roads of Moremi Game Reserve

The deep sand roads are reason enough to require a 4WD vehicle to enter the park, and then there is the water. Driving through the Delta meant we often came across marshland where water stood in our tracks. And it wasn’t just puddles of water we encountered. In some cases it was more like a river – waist-high. We had no choice but to test our wheels in the croc and hippo-infested water while crossing fingers we didn’t get trapped in the clay floor bed.

These were some trying moments, no doubt, but without them it wouldn’t have been the experience it was: the raw, rugged Africa we came for.

Now that I’ve painted a bit of a picture of the challenging conditions of the park, let me tell you about the beauty.

Marshland envelops Moremi Game Reserve

We arrived to our campsite mid-afternoon to begin our three days in the park. We were staying at Third Bridge Campsite, named after the third log bridge you pass from the South Gate entrance. Rustic would be an overstatement for the condition of the bridge over the idyllic Sekiri River, but picturesque would be an understatement for our locale. The campsite consisted of 10 isolated plots of land interspersed in the forest equipped with no more than a small stone slab on which to build a fire. Ours was number 10, way off in the distance in the most isolated section of camp.

The rustic log bridge over idyllic Sekiri River

Upon checking into our campsite, a hard-headed Batswana woman gave us a reality check on our surroundings: always be armed with a strong flashlight, build a big fire and don’t get out of your tent for any reason in the middle of the night. Midnight bathroom breaks are strongly discouraged and in an emergency we were to go together, right next to our vehicle and be on a guard for hyenas and big cats lurking. Confirming we were, in fact, flirting with a bit of danger way out here in the bush, Ryan declared this was the best check-in rundown we’d ever gotten.

Before concluding our check, the woman added, “Oh by the way, there was a kill today just up the road.” Within seconds we were off weaving down the sand roads and over dilapidated bridges to get a glimpse at our first kill and first real taste of Moremi. No more than 15 minutes away from where we were sleeping, we came across a male and female lion feasting on an enormous buffalo. It was just the two of us in the wild with two lions just feet away. We could hear their roaring purr and the crushing sounds of their jaw breaking the buffalo’s bones as well as the heavy, almost exaggerated, panting from the day’s work. Out there on our own with no one else around but the king of the forest with his lady and cub, we could hardly believe our eyes.

Female lion and her cub snack on their latest kill

Male and female lions cuddle up after noshing on a buffalo

This was the first of many spectacular wildlife moments in Moremi Game Reserve. We spent the next three days jaws dropped in complete awe of all that was around us. Morning and afternoon game drives brought us to all corners of the park. We watched giraffes graze on branches of trees where monkeys gathered with their young. In the shallows of rustling reed beds, we witnessed a ballet staring every hoofed mammal on the planet. There were kudus, impalas, gemsbock and springbok galore. Wildebeest, jackals and the ever-comical warthogs were plentiful and even a momma rhino and her baby made a debut. And splashing hippos were sure to make their presence known , with one trampling through our campsite one night amidst his thunderous snorts.

A male kudu proudly shows off his warrior markings

The king of Moremi takes a break from the sun

Ever-comical warthog grazing the grasslands

Hurrying back to camp each night after our sunset drives, we raced to beat the falling sun so we could set up camp in the comfort of the last light of day. One night we didn’t quite make it. But this was for good reason. On our way back to Third Bridge, we experienced, quite possibly, the most beautiful moment of our trip. Driving into the unrivaled African sunset the sky was adorned in a symphony of colors as we drove directly into a herd of 40 elephants.

Elephants fill the horizon against the unrivaled African sunset

At first startled by their mass presence, we started to veer our car elsewhere. We’d been taught to be on guard as the African elephant can be extremely aggressive, in some cases actually chasing down cars and tipping them over to protect their young. But this incident would be different. The approaching herd was nothing short of peaceful, graceful and magnificent, throwing the earth’s red dust into the air amidst the sinking hot sun. Now out on the top of our car, we looked at each other in pure amazement and were reminded again why we travel.

Taking in the breathtaking sunset in Moremi Game Reserve

While not technically on the Garden Route, we included a stop in Oudtshoorn on our journey down the Garden Route. Located about an hour and a half inland from the coastal Garden Route the area claims to be the ostrich capital of the world. And rightly so. Home to countless ostrich farms, these farmers have been in the bird business for nearly 150 years making a pretty penny breeding the birds for their meat and leather.

On a brief detour from our coastal escapades, we headed to the harsh and desolate landscape of Oudtshoorn for a visit to an ostrich farm. The visit began with a tour of the farm’s facilities and thorough explanation of the breeding process and business. We got a chance to hold a massive ostrich egg where a baby chick was hatching and were shocked at the size of the day-old ostriches as we held one in our hands.

Truly not a place for animal rights activists, the ostrich farm also gives you a chance to saddle up on a full grown ostrich. After hand-feeding the gangly birds, one was selected for the ride. Our lucky feathered friend Bessie must have picked the short straw. She was soon lead to a small pen where a bag was put over her eyes. We were then instructed to mount her before taking off running full throttle on her back.

And what a ride it was! You don’t realize how high up you are until you are actually sitting on top of the ostrich and how little control you have. We were told to steer the bird by pushing the neck to either side and hold on for dear life by wrapping our hands around the wings and legs around the chest. Words do little to describe how equally comical and terrifying this experience was so I’m not going to try. I’ll let the videos and photos do the talking.

Enjoy!

Exclusive suburbs of Cape Town enjoy spectacular coastal scenery

Surrounded by mountains, gorgeous beaches and diverse flora and fauna, I do concur: Cape Town is home to one of the world’s most stunning settings. And its privileged location isn’t its only claim to fame. Where mountains meet the sea, the multi-ethnic Capetonians also enjoy a lively cultural scene. Colorful architecture, diverse restaurants and trendy boutiques (all with a unique ethnic flare) make this city worth a visit. But it’s what lies beyond the city limits that give this cosmopolitan melting pot its well-deserved pride.

We got ourselves some wheels and were now free to explore all the Cape area had to offer. Hemmed in by the Atlantic Ocean and False Bay, we soon discovered the Cape Peninsula Loop is one of the most stunning drives in the world. Just south of Cape Town, this area boasts magnificent scenery, quaint fishing villages, beautiful beaches and lovely vineyards, making it the place to uncover the real beauty of South Africa.

Our journey began just outside of Cape Town in sophisticated Camps Bay where Capetonians sip iced lattes under the shaded umbrellas of seaside cafes. Next up was the surfers’ paradise known as Llandudno Beach. The water along this particularly beautiful stretch of sand are renowned for having some of the best surfing in the area. Although we didn’t try our luck on riding the waves, admiring the perfect swells and sinking our toes in the soft-sand made this an idyllic pit stop.

View of beautiful Hout Bay just outside of Cape Town, South Africa

As the drive continued so did the coastal beauty. With each turn, the scenery grew more dramatic. Mountains became more precipitous and waters more blue. Each bay we passed could only be rivaled by the next. Soon we came upon Boulder Bay in Table Mountain National Park where hundreds of African penguins call home. Down at the beach we watched as penguins waddled by us, out of frigid waters to bask under the hot sun.

African Penguins bask in the sun on the shore at Boulder Bay

Waddling penguins take to the beach in Boulder Bay

Our final stop for the day was the Cape of Good Hope. Also inside Table Mountain National Park, we learned this is a must-see for anyone visiting the area. The Cape makes up the tip of the most southwestern point of the African continent and the scenery here is really spectacular – definitely the culmination of our day and perhaps the most beautiful area in all of coastal South Africa. Here the Atlantic Ocean meets the Indian Ocean and a rocky peninsula jets out into water stretching as far as they eye can see. When not dodging baboons who frequent this area of the park, we took our time taking in the fantastic views.

With friends at the Cape of Good Hope

The road to the Cape of Good Hope, South Africa

In the distance, the mountainous coastal road that brought us here looked almost ethereal, as we stood on what felt like the edge of the world. It was one heck of a drive and was certainly the Cape experience we were after.

The city skyline of Cape Town, South Africa

It was time to leave behind Europe. We were hitting the road again, moving on to our fifth continent and final stop: the Mother Continent of Africa.

Boarding a southbound, transcontinental flight, we said ciao to Roma and touched down in Cairo, before planting our feet in the continent’s most southerly city. It was destination Cape Town, South Africa.

For our African adventure, we were giving ourselves three months to make the journey from Cape Town to Nairobi, Kenya. To kick off this final leg of the trip we reunited with our fellow around the world travel friends, Greg and Ashley. Coincidentally, these Chicago pals of ours embarked on a similar journey this year, and we’ve been fortunate enough to meet up with them several times along the way. On our fifth and final continent we were together again to take in the splendor of Cape Town and tackle South Africa’s famed coastal road: the Garden Route.

Victorian-era buildings line Cape Town's colorful Long Street

With a handful of days to spend in the affectionately named “Mother City” of Cape Town, we took our time soaking up the many attractions. Walking our way along the Atlantic coast, we enjoyed spectacular scenery of white sandy beaches and Antarctic winds that nearly knocked us off our feet. Jouneying over to the city harbor, known as the V&A Waterfront, we found tug boats and sailboats splashing along the docks beside masses of shops, restaurants and pubs geared towards tourists like ourselves. It was in the City Bowl, however, along bustling Long Street, that we found all the action. Victorian-era buildings welcomed us with wrought iron balconies, and a plethora of second-hand bookstores and cafes. By night we were back on the main drag of Long Street, diving into its thriving culinary scene. Where Cuban cafes and gourmet burger bars sit beside Mexican eateries and stylish sushi joints, there was no lack of gastronomical diversity to suit these pallets.

It was no coincidence that the Cape Town Marathon was taking place during our visit. After making our city rounds, it was time for Ryan to take to the streets. In his goal to run around the world, Ryan has set out to run a marathon on all seven continents. His stellar performance in the Cape Town Marathon takes him one step closer to this goal. With Africa under his belt, it’s four continents down and three to go. Bravo, Ryan!

Ryan completes his seventh marathon in Cape Town

Cape Town Marathon bib number and medal

With the race behind us, we were off to tackle Cape Town’s main attraction: the flat-topped Table Mountain dominating the city skyline. We were waiting for that perfect day to ascend the iconic mountain, and it just wasn’t happening. Weather in Cape Town is more than iffy and, on more than one occasion, we experienced all four seasons in a single day. On our final day, the weather did finally break, however, upon arrival our dreams were crushed. The cable car was suspended due to high winds, and we were strongly advised not to make the hike with a series of recent muggings on the mountain at this time of day. Two things were certain: we were definitely in Africa and we wouldn’t be seeing the top of this mountain.

View of the iconic Table Mountain from V&A Waterfront

Aside from missing out on the quintessential Table Mountain experience, I must admit, in Cape Town I expected a bit more. This city gets a lot of hype, and while I enjoyed my stay, there wasn’t anything really pulling at me here. I was itching to find that vibrant flare I always associated with the Rainbow Nation of South Africa.

On our journey south, however, to the outskirts of Cape Town, I learned this Cape does pack a big punch. Check out our journey here.

Our location in Italy along the northern lakes meant we were a hop, skip and a jump away from its serene, green, pristine neighbor. Yes Switzerland lies just an hour away from our Italian abode and my parents agreed: we simply had to take advantage.

Winding our way around Lago Maggiore, the scenery began to change. Posh villas were replaced by wooden huts with brilliantly-colored shudders and window boxes overflowing with geraniums. Where the Alps once hugged Italian lake shores, they now embraced rolling green hills of impossibly perfect pastoral landscapes. “Ooing” and “ahhing” at every turn, we took pleasure in admiring the sprawling pine forests and meadows while snow-capped peaks towered high above.

I imagined Switzerland would be picture perfect, but nothing, not even The Sound of Music, could have prepared me for this kind of beauty. My mom said it best: “We are walking into a nursery rhyme.”

High in the Swiss Alps we got our first taste of Switzerland over heaping portions of apple and blueberry pies. What started sweet, just got sweeter. We were en route to Zermatt. The little hamlet is built into the slopes of the mountains below the famed Matterhorn. People come from all over the world to ski, hike, summit or simply get a glimpse of this precipitous mountain peaking out of the clouds and rising high above the rest. We were here to do the same while soaking up all the Swiss culture we could get.

Cars aren’t allowed in the pedestrian-only town of Zermatt so we arrived to the mountain hamelet in a bright, red train, cutting through the mountains at the speed of lightning. This was our firt experience with Swiss efficiency. Everything is run like a well-oiled, ‘cheery’ machine, and it’s so clean you can literally eat off the train station floors. Here we were also introduced to the outrageous cost of travel in Switzerland. The mere 15 minute train ride cost a whopping $40 per person! When we learned the price of hotels and dinner out on the town, we knew we wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. Time to soak up every moment we have!

Arriving in the main square of Zermatt we were greted by the neighing whispers and clicking of horse hooves towing well-heeled travelers by carriage to their Zermatt digs. We found our home at a quaint little chalet and from our balcony of our room, we laid our eyes on the prize. There, staring us in the face, was the Matterhorn herself. Like icing on a cake, we saw her peak was topped with a dusting of fresh snow as she revealed herself against a brilliant blue sky.

Taking a brief sojourn from our budget travel days, Ryan and I felt like two kids in a candy store. I wanted to jump on the bed, yodel from the balcony and rob the mini bar. Thanks to mom and pop, we were living high on the hog!

And after so long on the road, Ryan and I hardly recognized each other. We’d put in requests for a few ‘creature comforts’ prior to my parents arrival and were now basking in this new-found glory. I was now armed with a hair dryer to tame my unruly mane and even a pair of jeans, which hadn’t made the packing list cut. Ryan, too, got a little wardrobe upgrade for the occasion and we were feeling quite sharp from our Swiss-style makeover.

Switzerland was decadent and my parents succeeded in spoiling us silly. When we weren’t indulging in a hot pot of cheesy fondue, nibbling on decadent Swiss chocolate or diving into a fabulous dinner of venison or lamb, we were on the move. We took the gondola known as the Matterhorn Express up to the very top of the mountain to the base of the Matterhorn. On this clearest of days, we looked out over a panorama of snow-capped peaks for as far as the eye could see. We were told we were actually seeing 37 peaks with an altitude of over 12,000 feet. I’m no mountaineer, but I can tell you the view was awe-inspiring.

Once on top, we tackled the Matterhorn Trail. The trek was a full day of hiking through incredible Alpine scenery and had us descending on picturesque Zermatt just as the sun was setting.

There are some days so special you know you’ll remember them the rest of your life. Trekking through the Swiss Alps with my parents and Ryan beside me, today was one of those days.

We met a man who lives by a simple travel rule: pick a destination and give yourself a 200 mile radius from which to explore. After our recent slow travel visit to the northern lakes of Italy, we couldn’t agree more.

With many a months on the road under our belt and my parents by my side, these two weary travelers were quite content slowing down the pace and handing over the travel torch. Basing ourselves in the village of Lesa, my dad became our dutiful guide. On an Italian lakeside odyssey, we discovered the alluvial charm of Italy’s best kept secret: the great northern lakes.

Maggiore’s Small Town Sophistication

With our home base, Casa Sue, resting along the forested shores of Lago Maggiore, we got to know this glorious lake rather well. An hour north of Milan and the Swiss border to the east, Maggiore is the second largest lake in Italy. Sitting on the edge of the Alps, Maggiore boasts heavenly alpine scenery studded with enchanting lakeside villages.

It was sophisticated Stresa that caught our eye. Opting for opulence, we took an afternoon stroll along Stresa’s lakefront where we gawked at posh villas and poked into its gracefully decadent hotels. With cocktail in hand, we pretended to be part of the generations of exclusivity that surely graced these halls. Admiring marble steps, ornate chandeliers and gold-framed furniture, we discovered the kind of worldly wisdom and moneyed elegance of a bygone era. The history and natural grandeur of Stresa had arranged it to perfection.

It was the quaint villages of Maggiore, however, that captivated our hearts. On our daily rounds to bread and cheese shops in the villages of Lesa and Meina we grew to know and love small town Italy. Fumbling over words and signing food orders, there was hardly a word in common yet I could tell it was the kind of place I could put down my roots. We’d ventured into that place where strangers become friends, where “everybody knows your name” and where only that kind of down-to-earth , gentle spirit can survive. This was the Lago Maggiore for me.

Mist and Devotion on Lake Orta

The splendor of Lake Orta has an untouched innocence. Just a half hour away from our home on Maggiore, we arrived to a morning mist revealing the quiet beauty of the lake. On the water’s edge, we discovered the unspoiled hamlet of Orta with its cream-colored houses topped with thick slates. After stopping in a cozy wine cafe for lunch, we wound through the tight cobblestone alleyways to the magnetic central square. From here we caught our first view of the star of the show: San Giulio island.

We grabbed one of the water taxis docked on the piazza and took the boat over to the picturesque island. On our visit to the island of devotion, we visited a Benedictine monastery and passed the privileged villas that hug the shore. Wandering down the stone pathway known as “The Way of Silence” we wrapped our way around the island, enjoying these precious moments far away from the frenzied Italian tourist trail.

Swish, Swash: Lake Como

Lake Como probably rings a bell. A regular on the glossy pages of the tabloids, it’s home to the opulent villas of Italy’s elite and mega-superstars, including, of course, George Clooney. While our visit to Lake Como didn’t include a stopover at Mr. Clooney’s lavish abode, our time on Lake Como was nonetheless luxurious.

We began our visit on the southern edge of the lake in the town of Como. Over cappuccinos and espressos at a lakeside café, we immediately recognized why this area gets all the hype. Lake Como is breathtaking. The midnight blue water is enclosed by lush, precipitous mountains on all sides. Colorful villas cascade down the mountains while white Chris Craft boats cut through the water like glass.

Winding our way around the slender lake, we passed scenic villages built into the wooded lakeside slopes until reaching the village of Bellagio. Ringed by gardens and forests and overlooking azure-hued Lake Como, Bellagio sits pretty in a large inlet on the western shore of the lake. Waterfront promenades, upscale boutiques and swish hotels dripping in décor provide an appropriately extravagant setting for enjoying this jewel.

And to no surprise, the food fit the bill. In Bellagio we enjoyed a three course lunch consisting of smoked goose breast served over sliced apples and topped with aged balsamic followed by Sardinian dumplings in a sausage ragu. Simply decadent as Lake Como should be.

This year of travel would certainly not be complete without sharing our adventures with my favorite traveling partners. These partners of mine happen to be twice my age. They’re also my parents.

I’d been looking forward to the day of our reunion since our tearful goodbye last fall. Standing in the St. Louis Lambert Airport, my mom whispered to me as she hugged me tightly goodbye: “Think of all your eyes will see before we see each other again.” She was right. These eyes have seen quite a lot, but no exotic locale has brought these eyes more joy than seeing my favorite traveling partners again.

First came the great debate: where to meet up on our around the world journey. With my dad’s thirst for adventure, the sky was the limit. A remote corner of Africa or isolated region in Asia, he was in. My mom’s adventurous appetite is, well…quite malnourished. She sticks to a strict diet: no further west than France, no further east than Italy.

With this in mind the decision was made: la dolce vita it would be with a little Swiss chocolate on top.

Italy is a special place, and in my opinion, the perfect holiday destination. There’s abundant sunshine, rich culture and history, friendly people and arguably the best food and wine in the world. We had all gotten a taste of this on previous visits to Italy, making the Italian Grand Tour -Rome, Florence and Venice. This time around it would be different. We were here to discover how to live like Italians.

And so our adventure began. We greeted my parents in the fashion capital of the world and from Milan headed north to our new Italian digs.

Our Italian home away from home goes by the name of Casa Sue. Located on the shores of Lago Maggiore in the Piedmont region bordering the Italian Alps, Casa Sue is owned by a relative of mine who so graciously lent us their Italian holiday home for our stay. Just an hour north of Milan, the home sits on the mountainside between the lakeside villages of Lesa and Stresa overlooking one of Italy’s great northern lakes.

I fell in love with Casa Sue from the moment we walked through the doors. Housed in a renovated paper mill, the place oozes with charm. High ceilings and well-appointed furniture give it a Venetian ambience and the hanging copper pots, hand painted cupboard and sun-choked kitchen take you out to the Tuscan countryside. But above all, what really got me with Casa Sue is the veranda. This is the heart of the home and where many of our sweetest Italian memories were made. Country-style barn doors open up to an unparalleled view of idyllic Lago Maggiore. Flower boxes exploding with purple, orange, pink and white flowers welcomed us as we sunk into the bouquet of pillows awaiting our arrival. We thought our view was even better than that of octogenarian president Berlusconi whose ‘humble’ abode sits on the large swath of real estate resting just beneath our lane.

For the next 10 days we would use Casa Sue as our Italian headquarters from which to explore the surrounding region. My dad set the tone of the trip early on. Within the first hour, we ventured into the town center to feast on an Italian lunch of cannelloni and eggplant parmesan, hit up the local gelaterria and stocked up on meats and cheeses, breads and pastries and copious amounts of red wine.

For the next week we took pleasure in exploring the traditional villages dotting the northern lakes of Italy while indulging in all our Italian fantasies. Our to-do list each day consisted of two things: eat well, drink better. Mornings were spent lounging on the veranda preying on flaky pastries while plotting out the day’s drive and culinary escapades. Afternoons consisted of leisurely walks into the neighboring villages for cappuccino and stand-up espressos. At sunset we assumed position: the ladies preparing the veranda with candlelight and men uncorking bottles of wine and laying out a platter of antipasti fit for a king.

From here, with our hosts’ restaurant Bible in hand, we faced the biggest decision of the day: where to eat. After selecting our ristorante di giorno, poor Pop had to cut his cocktail hour short as the windy roads to dinner necessitated sobriety.

Like all regions in Italy, Piedmont has its own assortment of provincial specialties. Each night we set about making the second most difficult decision of the day: what to eat. Again, my dad set the tone, always ordering a primi and secondi piatti, surreptitiously, if we ever chose to forgo the two courses. As luck would have it, the famed white truffle was in season as well a myriad of Italian game. As such, primi piatti often consisted of homemade tagliatelle topped with white truffle or a wild boar ragu. The second course was often fresh fish and seafood from one of the surrounding lakes or local game. A favorite dish, and certainly hard to top, was the sage-stuffed quail wrapped in prosciutto and served over parmesan and truffle risotto. Back at the homestead with bellies full, we eased our way out of the food comas with chocolate liqueurs.

This was la dolce vita at its best and the reunion with family proved well worth the 11 month wait. Truly the trip of a lifetime within our trip of a lifetime. Thank you, Mom and Pop!