There & Back Again

Kevin here.

Paris is quite possibly the greatest walking city on the Earth.  Maybe not.  I haven't visited them all, of course.  But it's gotta be up there.  You can walk just about everywhere, and there's always interesting or beautiful things to see.  Usually both.

Kelly and I do a lot of afternoon walks, sometimes strolling around, sometimes shopping, sometimes heading to the grocery store.  Often we're together with the kids.  But we often take off by ourselves while the other one stays back at the apartment with the kids.

I know that some of you love to see what we see.  So... here are more pictures of Paris taken from numerous afternoon walks!  Don't forget that you can click on them to enlarge.

First...  not everyone actually walks.  There are plenty of cars in Paris (most of them small, of course, but not all).  But there are lots of motorcycles and scooters.

Motorcycles and scooters, usually parked on the sidewalk.

A few are even enclosed:

A covered BMW scooter.

And one particular style is very popular: ones with three wheels.

Trike!

One particular memorable day had me walking a good 10-12 miles around Paris.  I was exhausted by the end of the day, but it was worth it.  I started by walking down Rue Monge -- which cuts right through the middle of the Latin Quarter, where we're staying -- towards the Seine.  When you get close to the river, you come across the famous English-language bookstore Shakespeare & Company.  This is a spot where Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and James Joyce would often hang out, buy books, etc.  It's an awesome place, steeped in Parisian history, and just cool to go and hang out in for awhile:


Next, I headed over towards the Champs-Elysees by walking west along the Seine:


And, of course, I stopped to admire many of the beautiful old barges moored along the river:

Barges on the Seine

And I looked around at all of the great old books and things sold by the bouquinistes along the river bank:

Bouquinistes!  Bouquinistes!  They are required by French law to be open at least 3 days a week or they lose their spot.  There is an 8-year waiting period for stalls.

After checking out some of the shops on the Champs-Elysees, I decided to walk over to Boulevard Haussmann.  Along the way, I came across this urban park.  No trees, no grass.  But permanent ping-pong tables!

Uh, I mean "table tennis."

Then I came across this old building.  I don't know what it is (I think an entrance to a parking garage), but part of the front is really just a facade.   I love that this matters in Paris.  From the street, it just looks like a classic Parisian apartment building:



And then I spy this great building, a little more contemporary.  But this is an arts district, so check out the columns:

Awesome columns at the front of this building.

On Blvd Haussmann, I ran across a great chocolate shop, full of exquisite chocolate figurines:

Beautiful -- and expensive -- chocolates.

And this wine shop.  It's hard to tell from the picture, but actual sized wine bottles are at the top of the picture, behind the glass, inside the store.  The ones at the bottom are outside the store, on the ground.  And are huge.

I like the "Bad Boy" in the middle.  Indeed.

On the way back to the Left Bank, I pass the Opera Garnier, the old opera house in Paris built in 1875.

Opera Garnier

Back on the Left Bank of the Seine, I come across the great old fountain at Saint-Michel.  Very cool:

Saint-Michel Fountain.

Over to Pont-Neuf.  Awesome bridge.  Thought the name means "new bridge" it's Paris' oldest one, built in the late 1500's.  I love the stone heads (mascarons) that are a part of it's elaborate design:




Paris can be a dirty city (trash and cigarette butts everywhere, for example).  But the city works hard to clean it up.  Every morning, the city is awash (literally) with workers sweeping and hosing it down.  Like these two guys cleaning the area around Pont Neuf:

Water comes from that hose that leads to a boat on the river that sucks it up from the Seine.

I've done quite a few walks in Paris.  But I really like exploring close to home as well. There are some great things to see within 5 minutes of our apartment, including the great Rue Mouffetard -- full of awesome shops and restaurants -- right around the corner from us, about a 3-minute walk.  For example:

Interesting graffitti as you approach Mouffetard from the east:


Or coming up to Rue Mouffetard from the west, this great little square:

Saturday market at Rue Mouffetard

It can get a bit crowded on Rue Mouffetard as well:



And why wouldn't it?  Here is the place that we often buy wine:

My favorite wine shop on Rue Mouffetard

And here is the fromagerie (right next door to the wine shop) where I like to buy cheese:

Fromage!  I'm not sure I can ever call it "cheese" again.

Now, buying cheese in France is quite an experience.  There are hundreds of different kinds.  And they don't speak English in this shop.  So... when these elements come together, you get something like this:

Whoa.

What that is above is $90 worth of cheese and two bottles of wine (and some strawberries from the market).  I did not intend to get so much cheese.  Nor did I intend to have it -- and the wine -- wrapped to travel on a plane with.  But,  my French is that poor.  But... this is the kind of mistake I can live with. :-) .   And just so you know... we won't be bringing any of it home with us.  We ate it.  And the Comte Fruite I got was some of the finest cheese I've ever had.

Patisseries abound on Rue Mouffetard.  This one has a great selection:

Patisserie

But, our favorite patisserie -- by far -- is Carl Marletti down at the bottom of Rue Mouffetard.  Carl Marletti is always in the top 10 of Paris patisseries.  With good reason.  Everything there is spectacular:

Carl Marletti, our go-to patisserie!

I also love walking by this intersection at the bottom of Rue Mouffetard as well:

Love that fountain.  And look at those cafes!  And that architecture!

After walking Mouffetard, I head towards our apartment.  Not too far away is our favorite cheap crepe place:

Crepes!

And across the street from our favorite crepe place is our favorite boulangerie.  We hit this place all of the time to grab a baguette or two.

I liked the "baguette traditionale" while the kids like the plain baguette.

Oh... and here is one of the cafes we frequent often, La Comedia:

All of us at La Comedia, just down the street from our apartment.

And this is the major intersection we cross quite a bit -- to get to our apartment from the Censier-Daubenton Metro stop --  where Rue Censier meets Rue Monge:




And this strange photo is actually the front of our apartment, #13 Rue de la Clef.  It's not the nicest Parisian apartment going.  Hardly classical.  But it's in a great location for us.



OK... one more picture.  I like this one.  Late morning/early afternoon from Pont-Neuf.  The light was perfect:


Oh, and by the way.  Here's a photo blog I found a few months ago.  It's the kind of thing I wish I had written.  I love it.  It's called Paris Daily Photo.  Enjoy!  I know I will, even long after we've left this great city!

Kevin here.

In a previous post, I took a shot at answering one of the questions we get most often about our almost 3-month journey to Europe.  This time I'll take a shot at answering a related -- and more difficult -- question:  why are you doing this?

We get the why question fairly often.  Not as often as the how question, interestingly enough.  I guess people assume they know why we would do something crazy (well, crazy for us) like home-school for a year and take our kids traveling all over Europe.  And they're probably right.  At least partially.  But we've had some very thoughtful friends ask as why enough for us to know that it's a great question to try and answer.  It clarifies things, even for we who have to answer the question.  And we've found that our answers have been encouraging to others, albeit in different ways for different reasons.  So... it seems like something we should talk about.

First thing, you should know that the answer to why we've done this is complicated.  There is not one reason, but several.  The second thing is that discussing some of those reasons is difficult due to the nature of those reasons.  We have some reasons born out of sadness and loss.  We have others that are more closely aligned with hope and vision.  Like I said, it's complicated.  But we'll do our best to sort through some of it, as imperfectly as we can.

First... well, come on!  Who doesn't want to go to Europe?!  And who wouldn't want to go for as long as they could?!  There really is something spectacular about heading to the Old World to see and experience it's beauty, it's history, it's architecture, it's food, it's people...  Taking a trip to Europe is something that Kelly and I have discussed for years.  But we never dreamed that we could do something like this for quite so long.  Still, the desire to go was there.  It's just... well, you know how it is.  There are always other things to do, other ways to spend your time and money.  There's school for the kids.  There's work.  And traveling with kids is hard enough.  Going to the grocery store can be a hassle with kids.  So, go to Europe?  Really?

So one of the biggest reasons we decided to take this trip now is because our kids are at a great age.  Daniel is 13, Justin 11, and Anna 8.  We felt like those ages were perfect to begin exploring some of the wider world and really take it in in formative ways.  They go to a really good school -- Intown Community School -- where doing something like this would fit in perfectly with what they are already learning and doing: exploring this great world, hands on.  For example: in 5th grade they study and build a model of a medieval castle.   The kids love it.  What a cool thing it would be, then, to have Justin explore a real medieval castle during his 5th grade year?  And last year Daniel got to play a role in a school production of Shakespeare's The Tempest.  It was great.  Wouldn't it be cool, then, to go see The Tempest on stage at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford-Upon-Avon after touring Williams Shakespeare's birthplace?  And that's just two examples out of dozens.

We wanted to take this trip then, in part, to have much of what they are learning in school and in life right now leap off the page into their hearts and minds in an even deeper way.  So we decided to take the leap and homeschool them for this year so that we could make it happen.  The relatively young ages of the kids made homeschooling seem more doable for us than I think it would seem if they were older.  Plus, we decided that it would be best to do this before our oldest started high school.  Once you start the high school years it seems far more difficult to pull something like this off.  Not impossible,  just more difficult.  So, doing this right before Daniel's 8th grade year seemed ideal: he could be back for the 8th grade and begin to prepare for High School.  And Justin would be back in time to begin Middle School.

No time is perfect.  But this was about as good as it was going to get for us.

But, besides being a good time to take the kids to Europe... it was a good time for Kelly and I to go too.  For several reasons.

The first of those reasons is one that, oddly enough, I can't go into too many details about.  It's just the nature of things, I'm afraid.  Suffice it to say that the past few years have been very difficult.  Some things in our lives -- relationships, areas of meaningful life investment, etc. -- disintegrated and disappeared over a long period of time; and with some general sense of violence, if I can put it that way.  Trauma.  It felt like "life capital" -- if you will -- was lost (or so it seems).  No, this has nothing to do with our marriage, so don't worry.  But it was all still in areas of our lives where we invested deeply of ourselves, where we found purpose and meaning.  And -- over and after several agonizing, exhausting years -- it was gone.

I'm going to guess that -- regardless of the specific circumstances -- many of you have had a similar time of loss in your lives (and maybe more than one).  So... you know the result: confusion, exhaustion, disorientation, frustration, anger.  And the sense of those feelings and experiences gets heightened by how prolonged your exposure to your circumstances was.

Now I know why the cliche back when I was a kid was that people went to Europe to "go find themselves." Remember that?  I get that now.  The disorientation that comes with loss is painful and palpable.  And there is something about... what is it?  Is it escape?  Is it a search for something to fill up that which has is now gone?  All of that?

So... I'm not going to lie.  Kelly and I were ready to blow town.  Time was right for us to take a break from the normal for us and get some distance.  Maybe we would have time to rest, to spend time together as a family, to begin to see some emotional and spiritual reserves replenished.  Maybe we could catch a fresh vision of what was next for us.  So... we took this trip for those reasons too.

And then in July of last year Kelly's father passed away.  Mac was a strong, healthy man.  Until he wasn't any more.  From his diagnosis of cancer to his death was 7 weeks.  His decline and death was surprising and relatively sudden.  It was a real blow to his family.  For Kelly it was more loss in an even deeper, more personal way.

We were already deep into our travel planning when Mac passed away.  But it confirmed our thinking and again brought into relief for us what we already know: time is passing quickly.  We all have friends who get sick and family members who are getting older.  Certain opportunities are now gone. And they aren't coming back.  So, through all of this loss,  we discovered a newfound sense of urgency.  If we want to take a trip like this... we should do it now, while we can.  We simply don't know what the future holds for us, what God's got in mind.  For us, for our kids.  Maybe a lot.  Maybe only just a little bit more.  We should do this while it's still called "today."

It's important to note that we weren't doing this thinking, this reflecting, this planning alone.  Kelly and I both have close friends that we've been able to walk through all of this with.  And so a lot of our we're thinking of doing this crazy thing with homeschooling and traveling talk with them was met with enthusiastic Yes, you should do this responses.

For me, in particular, I've had two good friends who have walked closely with me over the past few years.  They know who they are.  We would meet, talk, drink very good beer, even smoke a cigar (yes, Mom, a cigar :-) ) every now and then.  I can't begin to describe how valuable these relationships have been to me -- for my sanity, my emotional health, my hopefulness -- and I can only hope that I've provided a small percentage of that value in return.  But one of the most incredible things we've done together is to dream big dreams for each other.

Part of it for us was reading a book.  It's a book called The 4-Hour Workweek by guy named Tim Ferriss.  Fair warning:  I don't necessarily buy into the whole book.  A reviewer once wrote that Tim Ferriss reminded him of "Tony Robbins crossed with a meth addict."  And I can see that.  But what Ferriss did for my friends and me was to help guide us into deeper discussions about what our lives are about, how we live them, and the things that hold us back from doing greater things.  These were great discussions.  (And we're not through having them.)

I'd like to think that you would agree that those are important questions, regardless of how you get to them.  And it was out of wrestling for answers -- some of them, at least -- that this trip was partly born.  And also where wrestling for answers intersected with our Christian faith.

How?  Simple: because death, loss, and sorrow are wrong.  Just wrong.  It's not the way it's supposed to be.  Death and injustice have entered the world through sin.  You and I... we feel it.  We know in our bones that nothing is quite the way it ought to be.  Every experience, every moment, every relationship falls short somehow -- and often in ways that we can't explain, but still know to be true.  As one of my friends says, it's a sad, sad world.  And it is.  It's not all sad, of course.  But it's too sad, too dark, too sorrowful.

But it's into this sorrow that Jesus comes bringing with him a Kingdom.  That's the Gospel for me: this good news that Jesus has come.  There's more to the Gospel then this, of course.  But there's not less than this.  He's going to put away sin, sorrow, and death and restore me -- and everything -- to the way it ought to be.  This is what justice looks like.

What does that have to do with taking a trip with your family to Europe?  Well, for me, everything.  Dreaming big dreams is a part of pushing against the fallen nature of this world to see -- if even for just a fleeting moment -- something bigger, full of joy.  It's an anticipation today of some future reality, when the world is put to rights by Jesus.

Here's a different way to look at it.  One of my two friends I mentioned earlier sent me the text of the Dylan Thomas poem Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.  You should read it.  Go ahead, I'll wait.

So... dreaming big dreams and taking some chances that others might find foolish... it's a kind of raging, if you will.  Raging against the time that slips away, raging against the thieves of joy in our lives, raging against sorrow, loss, and death.

But it's also raging for something.  A raging for the Gospel reality that is to come.  It's a raging to experience something today that gives you hope for tomorrow.  I look at every attempt at experiencing true joy as a kind of participation.  You are participating -- foretasting, really -- something today that you know you will live in in the future.  Now you don't have to go to Europe to do that.  You can practice this kind of raging with a great conversation with a friend, helping someone in need or who is suffering, having a glorious meal, drinking a great glass of wine, and so on.  But... hey, if you can... why not have that conversation and wine with your wife at the foot of the Eiffel Tower!   This kind of raging is attempting to live in the light of at least part of the Kingdom of God right now.  Sitting by the Seine -- next to old, wooden barges -- looking out over Paris while eating a tremendous cheese and drinking a nice Bordeaux... it's like pulling a bit of the future into the present.  It's enjoying a small part of a promise of Jesus' restoration to come... right now.  It's a stick in the eye to all of the forces that conspire daily to destroy what God intended; a reminder of their sure defeat.

So... I'm here to rage.  And this trip is a part of raging together as a family; of teaching our kids to rage.  But raging is not really an out-of-control berserker thing.  It has about it a sense of purpose.  It takes planning.  And sacrifice.  And determinedness in the face of challenges, setbacks, weariness, you own frailties, and all of the naysayers.

I hope that makes at least a little bit of sense, and how it ties into taking chances, and dreaming big dreams.  Life is short (and will be even shorter after you finish this looooong blog post).  Don't wait.  Starting praying, starting talking, start dreaming... and start raging.

Hoping you will rage with us,
Kevin & Kelly



But take heart; I have overcome the world.  ~ John 16:33

Our trip is nearing its end since we leave on June 1st.  In some ways it's gone by fast, but in some ways it's felt longer.  Kevin has posts that have more in depth thoughts about our trip, but here's some thoughts each of us had during a fun dinner at home!

Here's the our kitchen.  Notice the top windows.  Can you imagine a cat walking by?

Kevin here.

It's fairly often the we get asked how in the world we are able to take an 80-day trip to Europe with our kids.  This question normally follows some sort of mild (or not so mild) expression of surprise accompanied by either bewilderment (why would you want to do that?) or -- more likely -- envy (how could we do that too?)

Because let's be frank:  this is crazy.  80 days in Europe?  That's nuts.  Normal people don't do this.  Maybe they would like to.  But how?  Seems impossible.

But we've also had a number of friends with an even more thoughtful question:  Why are you doing this? And what do you hope to get out of it?  Many of them know why they would do something like this if they could.  But why would we?

I thought I would take a minute to share some thoughts on these questions.  Partially, I'm doing this so that I won't forget.  But also because perhaps it will serve to inspire some of you to do something similar.  Or just something.   Actually... I can tell from the thoughts racing through my head as I begin to type this out, that it's going to take more than a minute.  Perhaps you should grab some coffee...

But, I'll say this up front:  the process has not been linear for us.  We've come at it from different angles, moved forward and backwards, etc.  Our thinking and the steps we took don't lend themselves to any easy step-by-step blog post.  But... here goes:

Kelly and I had talked for quite awhile about taking a trip like this -- i'll get to the "why" in the next post -- but two things stood in our way:  my work and the kids' school.  Actually, I guess three things:  work, school, and money.  It's not cheap -- at all -- to go to Europe for any length of time.  But 11 weeks or so?  Insane.

The money issue and the work issue are tied together for us, so addressing work was key.  And here is one of the greatest benefits of my job:  I can work anywhere.  I am a software developer by trade -- and self-employed.  I do have one primary client, however: a, um, very large telecommunications provider with offices that cover the country.  So, I have team members who work from home as well as work all over the nation (Seattle, Dallas, Chicago, St. Louis, etc.).  Given that context, I was in good shape to propose something to my client:  I would be taking some additional time off during the first part of 2012 to travel Europe with my family... but with my laptop in tow and prepared to work 40-50% of my time away.

Now... I won't go into all of the details, but my client is not known for it's flexibility in such matters, particularly as it relates to its contractors.  While you and I might think contractor = freedom, that's not what my client thinks.  It prefers strong oversight of contractors.  The result is that going to my client with this proposition was more risky than you might imagine.  It's not unheard of for a contractor to propose a different working relationship and have this particular client say "no, that doesn't work for us.  We'll find a new contractor."  Hardball.  It has its costs to the company, but it's their call, so fair enough.

Knowing this possible outcome, Kelly and I spent many, many hours and days discussing whether or not we should risk it.  I lost more than one night's sleep over it.  We worked through the worst case scenario which would be having the contract terminated.  I would be out of a job, no money coming in.  That's... not good.  Not good at all, frankly, especially with today's job market, etc.  This was quite worrisome.  It seemed foolish in some ways to put my work at risk at the same time we knew of so many others who did not have a job at all. So, we wrestled and we prayed... and then we decided to go for it.  Given all of the reasons why we wanted to take this trip, we decided to take the risk and see what happened.

My client's initial reaction was not encouraging.  Lots of hemming and hawing, "I'm not so sure company policy allows contractors to take company equipment out of the country," etc.  I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.  So, my manager said he would think about it and get back to me.  And, of course, he did not.  So, I had to go back to him 3-4 weeks later and do it all over again.

Essentially, what I had to do was:
1.  Contact the corporate IT department and find out if what I wanted to do -- work from Europe -- was technically feasible.
2.  Contact HR and find out if there was any policy against contractors taking company equipment (my laptop) out of the country.
3. Write up my proposal more formally and submit it to my department's Executive Director.  I did that only to have him ask me to submit it to one of the the Vice Presidents for his approval too. Good heavens.  By now, I'm sure I've outed myself as a high-maintenance contractor who doesn't really want to be here, etc.

After several weeks of phone and email wrangling, all of the approvals came together.  Technically, there would be no issues and there was no policy against taking a laptop out of the country (which I knew their wouldn't be).  And the ED and the VP gave their approvals (although in a somewhat reluctant "let this be on your head if it doesn't work out" kind of way).

I was surprised and relieved.  I also needed to discuss this with my technical team leader to make sure he was OK with my plan.   He was and things began to fall into place.

But... what about the kid's school?  That seemed insurmountable.  So, we began to think of trying to do this in the summer, maybe for just 2-4 weeks or so.  We weren't thrilled with that idea though, since summer is high season:  crowds are terrible and costs for everything are much higher.  We could make it work, but we weren't thrilled about it.

I'll never forget the moment.  Driving in the car, out on a date night, when Kelly turns to me and says:  "you know, I think I could homeschool the kids for a year.  You know, so we could do our traveling during the school year."

Oh.  My.  Really?  Are you sure?  Oh, wow.  Oh. Wow.

This really blew open the doors on what was possible.  All kinds of ideas starting coming up.  Our 2-week trip became 4 weeks.  And then I was like "well, if we can go for 4 weeks, then we can go for 6."  And then it was 8 weeks.  And then it was 10 weeks.  And it finally settled at about 11 (mostly so that we could fit the trip after the worst of winter was over -- since we wanted to go to Scotland -- but before the summer began).  So, the time frame was driven now largely by the seasons and the calendar rather then by work and school.  And the we added a week-long trip to the beach in November.  And we added a trip to Orlando for 4 days.  And we added 2 1/2 weeks out west to the National Parks.  We've traveled more in the past 8 months than we have in our entire lives.

The homeschooling decision was not an easy one for us.  I'm not sure what the phrase "they're not really homeschooling people" means, but I think it applies to us.  The bulk of the work would fall to Kelly who is not a teacher by training and was nervous about it.  There was a good deal of trepidation in this for us.  But, thankfully we knew quite a few people who also homeschool who encouraged us and resourced us.

And -- as a side note -- it's gone great.  The kids are thriving.  They've been working through math and language.  Plus they are all voracious readers.  And.  And!!!...

...they've climbed through ancient Scottish castles, seen Napoleon's throne, walked Culloden Battlefield and studied the end of the Scottish/English civil wars, seen the Rosetta Stone, learned about the Parthenon, traced the family tree of the British Monarchy, seen Mummies, rode the Falkirk Wheel, visited St. Giles Cathedral where John Knox preached during the Reformation, viewed the Venus De Milo, walked Omaha beach in Normandy, fought their way through the crowds to see the Mona Lisa, touched a stone from the Bastille, learned the story of William the Conqueror, discovered Robespierre, learned a bit of British naval history and about trade with India, seen the rooms where Churchill fought WWII, viewed the bedroom of Louis XIV, and ran around the gardens that Monet painted.  Oh, and they've ordered their own meal in french, paid for books and souvenirs with Euros, planned and led trips around London and Paris using their maps, and learned how to navigate the Tube and the Metro.

There are other reasons we've taken this trip (which I'll get to in the next post), but this gives you some insight into one of the biggest: our kids.  Even though it is sometimes unclear how much of this has impacted them, changed them, informed them, etc.  It's been worth every minute, every penny, every hassle.  Not for a minute have we doubted that this trip would -- in some way, perhaps in ways we won't know about for decades -- be a gift to them that they will reflect on with joy.

Will we homeschool again?  No, I don't think so.  Never say never, but I think this one year has been enough for us.

So... that's how we've been able to do this:  I'm working here in Europe.  It's not all vacation, unfortunately.  But the bills keep coming, even across the pond.  So I put in 3-4 days of work a week.  We often head out to sightsee or something from 10am - 2pm or so.  And then I work from roughly 2pm - 10pm or 3pm - 11pm or whatever.  Occasionally we switch it up and I'll work in the morning through the early afternoon while Kelly homeschools and we'll head out for something in the evening.   Honestly, it's not easy to put in many hours of walking and seeing a sight or a museum or whatever with your family and then come back to another 8 hours of work.  Not every day is a restful wonderland of European experiences.  But it's worth it.

This has been a long post, so sorry about that.  But I hope it gets you thinking.  How could you pull something off like this?  Maybe you can work from anywhere too?  I have all kinds of technology-related tips to make it happen.  I've been toying with writing a short e-book about how we did all of this.  I've learned a lot.  Or... maybe you can take a leave of absence?  And perhaps consider homeschooling for a year?

You have to do what it takes.  And be willing to take some risks.  And... you have to have reasons for doing so that make it worth it.  Coming soon:  Why we did it.


Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men's blood.  ~ Daniel Burnham

An elevated walkway

This is a science museum, and inside the huge reflecting ball is a 360 degree theater.

We loved seeing all the houseboats too!




  

No, this isn't the Bastille prison, but it's an Opera House that stands where the Bastille used to be.