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.

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

A beautiful face welcomes us at the Tenikwa Wild Cat Center

There’s little debate that wildlife is Africa’s main attraction. With nearly two weeks since stepping foot on the continent and no more than a few baboons and bird sightings, we were due. It was time to step it up a notch with an up close and personal encounter with South Africa’s wild cats.

On our journey down the Garden Route we learned of a unique experience at the Tenikwa Wild Cat Activity Park. The park is dedicated to taking in injured cats of all shapes and sizes to nurse them back to health. Those that are prepared to return to the bush are released back into the wild.

Putting a special emphasis on cheetahs, the park rangers make long walks with these magnificent cats a daily priority. At sunrise and sunset they walk these cats through the surrounding dense forests to give them a chance to get much needed exercise. They now allow visitors to the park to share in the experience, and it was an opportunity we would not pass up.

Meeting our girl Tandy for a walk in the woods

Arriving to the park on a misty spring morning, we were greeted with freshly baked scones and piping hot coffee before meeting our furry friends. Just outside, brother and sister Tandy and Shockra awaited us. When we caught our first sight of them, we were awe-struck with how just how beautiful they were. They also seemed much bigger, taller and brawnier than expected. Upon entering their man-made den, we could hear the rumbling roar of their purr and were quite hesitant when given the okay to run our fingers through their fur. Cautiously extending our hands into their hay-like hair, we were surprised to find the coarse spots on their coat actually raised above the rest of the fur.

Gracefully spotted body of the cheetah

Don't fear, this cheetah is just taking a yawn

The park is home to five cheetahs with Tandy and Shockra the youngest at 22 months. These cheetahs weren’t rescued directly from the wild but from other game reserves where they had plenty of human contact. Though there was no doubt they were wild cats, their upbringing ensured they were much more docile than many of their feral relatives.

Cautiously buddying up to Tandy the cheetah

We learned all about the beautiful animals with whom we’d be spending our day. The cheetah is the fastest animal on land, however, in recent years has become critically endangered. Its timid ways, non-confrontational demeanor and picky eating habits have all affected its survival. Unlike most cats which are nocturnal, the cheetah hunts during the day. They typically hunt at sunrise and sunset in open plains where they can use their speed to run down predators. We were surprised to learn that while the cheetah is fast, endurance isn’t their strong point. They can reach 60 miles an hour in three seconds flat, however, can only hold the speed for thirty seconds before needing a half hour to recover.

Another interesting factoid we learned about the cheetah is the function of the distinctive black “tear” running from their inner eye down to their mouth. This actually works much like sunglasses do for humans, blocking the sun from the cheetahs’ eyes, thus allowing them to hunt during the day.

Sunrise walk with our cheetah Tandy through the forest

After a brief introduction, we set out to begin our sunrise walk. The cheetahs were strapped into a small harness with leash attached and soon we were on our way. We were instructed to hold the leash and walk behind the cheetah, letting our Tandy lead the way. Should Tandy take off running, which she did several times, we were instructed to drop the leash. Of course there was no way we could compete with this kind of speed.

We were also told, for good reason, they don’t allow small children in the park. With children the size of their prey, cheetahs feel they can dominate them and may opt to take advantage. At my petite size, I learned this first-hand. Accidentally stepping in front of Tandy’s path, she closed in, wrapping her front paw tightly around my leg. Though I was soon freed, it certainly gave me a good scare.

The lack of endurance in the cheetahs was certainly evident. Tandy tired fast and plopped down several times, seemingly unwilling to take a step further. A few water breaks and toss of a soccer ball helped to get her going again as we lead her back to her home. Here she and her brother were delighted to find raw chicken awaiting them and within seconds they had torn into it and gobbled it down.

What a surreal feeling it was walking through the forest with a cheetah by my side and during our hour walk, this feeling never got old. I didn’t want this experience to come to an end, but it was time to say goodbye to our cheetah friends.

After quite a memorable morning, we were off to meet some other wild cats.

The petite-sized, spotted serval

Next up was the spotted serval. It’s almost as elusive as the leopard, but a much smaller cat. It has large, bat-like ears and has a distinctive hunting style of using high leaps to pounce on prey. Entering serval land the little guy welcomed his visitors by jumping up in the air in excitement, and we got a chance to see the leaping bounds this cat is known for.

Our visit with the small but aggressive caracals

We closed this special morning with a visit with two caracals. The small cats have a brown coat and big, pointed ears. Though small and size, the father and son duo we met were a bit more aggressive than the other cats so we were warned to watch our backs when entering their den. Hard to believe these little guys, just larger than your typical domestic cat, could do any damage but we weren’t going to test our luck.

What a morning it was getting to know some of the many wild cats that walk this land. We left even more anxious to meet again out in the wild.

Road trippin' it down South Africa's Garden Route

Arming ourselves with some wheels, we took off from Cape Town with our pals Greg and Ashley for a proper road trip along the acclaimed Garden Route. Our journey commenced in picturesque Hermanus Bay.

Whale-Studded Shores in Hermanus Bay

Our charming digs in Hermanus Bay

The town of shake-shingled cottages with thick slated-roofs overlooking a rocky shoreline of crashing waves was straight out of a New England dream. We settled into a delightful little B&B on the Atlantic shores and the intricately hand-carved furniture and African accents were the only thing reminding me I was far away from home. While our adventure hungry pals, Greg and Ashley, set off to organize a cage swim with Great White Sharks (check out their blog for stories on this adventure!), I tended to my wifely duties. Ryan was suffering from a bad case of food poisoning – South African style – from the ostrich burger he mowed down the night before. Between caring for my sickling, I soaked up views from the balcony of our room of the sun setting over the dramatic coastline line.

Whale-watching on the shores of Hermanus Bay

With the ‘bird flu’ behind us, we had the following day to enjoy Hermanus Bay. We were more than pleased with our charming digs and the coastal scenery, but what had drawn us here could be found along the water’s edge. We’d arrived in October, peak whale-watching season, to watch the massive water beasts put on their show. To our delight, a fleet of enormous fins poked out of the water followed by a stream of rolling, colossal bellies revealing themselves amidst breaking waves.

A Taste of the Wilderness

Canoeing through Wilderness Wildlife Reserve

Next up was the eponymously named town of Wilderness . Here we found ourselves in the midst of – you guessed it – the wilderness. Surrounded by dense forests, deep ravines and rippling streams, the area is any outdoor enthusiast’s paradise. With little time on our side, we had to forgo the variety of nature hikes encircling the area and opted for a day on the water. Saddling up on canoes we spent a leisurely afternoon paddling our way to the waterfalls of Wilderness Wildlife Reserve. Paying proper adieu to the day, we then watched the sunset from the white-sandy beaches of Wilderness Bay with a bottle of cheap wine and block of cheese in hand.

Enjoying sunset with friends over Wilderness Bay

The unexpected highlight, however, of Wilderness was a visit to a hobo camp on the outskirts of town. Our buddy Greg had gotten word of this remote encampment from a fellow traveler and was adamant we pay a visit. To my surprise, it did not disappoint. Following deserted train tracks around the side of the mountain, we walked through a long tunnel. This lead us to an enormous cave with unparalleled views of the rocky coastline. We immediately recognized this was no ordinary cave and were soon greeted by cautious hellos from the cave’s inhabitants. The cave is called home by thirteen homeless people and on a brief tour conducted by the mastermind of this eccentric ‘residence’ we learned it was unlike any place we’d ever seen.

View inside the Hobo Camp in Wilderness

Entering the cave I felt as if I were walking into a Tim Burton film. Proudly leading us through his whimsical home, our dutiful guide explained how each ‘room’ had been constructed out of various relics found on the shoreline or around town. In reality this group of hobos had simply taken others’ rubbish and used it to create a residential masterpiece. In the three years of occupying the cave, they had skillfully crafted a beautiful home. Old mops and brooms were converted into ornate bed posts and vases. Fanciful strands of seashells strung together with fishing line magically hung from the cave ceiling and elaborate chandeliers made of pebbles and rocks look fit for a spread in Better Homes & Gardens. It was sheer genius.

Great New Heights in Storm’s River

Ryan preparing to take the plunge off of Boulkrans Bridge

On the eastern edge of the Garden Route, Ryan chalked up another one on the adventure list: bungee jumping from the highest jump on the planet. Located near the town of Storm’s River is the towering Balkans Bridge standing proudly over a deep ravine. It’s become the place for adrenaline junkies looking to take the plunge and claiming to have highest bungee jump in the world, my superlative-seeking husband wanted in.

About to make the jump off the highest bungee jump in the world

After getting strapped into his gear and getting an earful from me on how stupid I thought it was, he braved his way to the center of the bridge and made the jump. Standing a football field away, it was quite unsettling watching him make the jump and witnessing his flailing body suspended in the air hundreds of feet above earth. After confirming it was the most terrifying moment of his life, I crossed my fingers hoping it might be the last.

Ryan makes the jump at 708 feet above the earth

From pristine coastlines and whale-studded shores to cascading waterfalls and hobo camps, the Garden Route was a special place. And this was just the beginning. Standing out from our Garden Route journey were the wildlife encounters to come. Graceful cheetahs and fierce ostriches awaited us on our journey and wet our palette for the host of African wildlife adventures to come.

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!