Wanderlust

Santa Teresa Beach, Costa Rica

I have an incurable, insatiable case of wanderlust. It's in my DNA. Ask anyone that knows me and they will tell you I am a total and complete travel nut. No, make that a travel hound, always sniffing out the next hot spot that's off the beaten path. Whether it's riding elephants in Thailand (honeymoon), ice climbing in the Swiss Alps (most frightening stunt I have ever attempted), skiing in Austria (exceptional), working the grape harvest in the beautiful wine region of Alsace, France (definitely the most physically demanding and exhausting), or sitting on Copacabana Beach in Rio de Janiero, Brazil (purely indulgent and hedonistic) every trip has pushed my personal limits in one way or another and broadened my perspective and respect for the world around me.

When I was fifteen I was lucky enough to travel through Southern Spain for a month. The following year, a summer in Brazil. After that, a college semester abroad in Copenhagen. My parents just believed it was part of my education; equally important as algebra and chemistry. Finances didn't allow for international sojourns each year so we found scholarships- one through my Dad's employer at the time and another grant that sent me abroad in college. I worked part time to supplement spending money and trip by fabulous trip, away I would go. When I was younger, I always preferred traveling alone, which allowed for detours whenever needed. I was hanging in Prague with a great group of Australians, Kiwis and California surf bums when they all decided that spending Halloween night in a castle in Transylvania (yeah, it's a real place!) seemed like a fantastic idea. Me, not so much. Traveling solo allowed me the freedom to hit the trail again in search of something just a touch lighter, which is how I found myself hanging over the side of a "glacier crevasse" in Switzerland with cramp-on's and a pick ax. At that point Transylvania sounded like Disneyland.

My travels earlier in life bordered on the thrilling and dangerous, which I am sure to this day my parents still don't know all the details. After college, as soon as employment became a necessity my passport seemed to get stamped with much more civilized locales- Australia, France, Italy. Corporate frequent flier miles put me in the front of the plane and expense accounts landed me in cushy hotels and world class restaurants. It was pretty plush, but after a few years it all left me exhausted, unfulfilled, and most importantly, guilt ridden with one little guy at home and another on the way. Something had to give, so almost eight years ago I hung up my corporate hat and traded it all in for carpools and Caillou. As you can imagine, travel came to a screeching halt and I was left behind as Mr. C packed his bag every week for a different destination. I made him promise that as soon as our babies got bigger, we would hit the road again in search of great adventure and places far flung to introduce to our children. Hallelujah! The time has come.

My boys have all been passport holders since before they could walk and little by little they have each hit the road with us. Our oldest saw the Hawaiian islands three times before his younger brother came along. Our middle son screamed his way through Paris for a long weekend. And sure enough, just as I hoped, they all look forward to the experience of seeing new places, tasting new foods and exploring new cultures. They truly love traveling like I do. They pack like pros and navigate security as if they were seasoned business travelers. In two weeks we are heading to a remote area of Costa Rica for bug hunting, monkey handling, zip lining, and surfing. It will take us nearly eight hours and three planes (one being a twin engine Cessna) to reach our destination but we are thrilled and our kids are literally squirming out of their skin with excitement. I am proud of their sense of adventure and willingness to explore the world. We have many places on our list- Africa, China, The Galapagos, India. I am thrilled that my travel companions now include Mr. C and my three sons.

Wanderlust lives on...