Rocking the Casbah and an Embarrassment of Travel Riches.

When we considered moving to London, the greatest lure for me was to be able to easily travel to all these cool places that are so hard to get to from the States.  And I've been proud of us that we have managed, in the midst of cancer treatments, to squeeze in some amazing trips. It has made the difficulty of all this much more deal-able and kept our family close. So, this trip just had to happen.

The boys had a week off of school before I was to start treatment for the transplant. For days we labored over travel websites and Trip Advisor for where to go.  I really wanted a memory-making trip; an adventure that would linger through four to six weeks in the hospital. But where?  Most Londoners seem to head for the ski slopes for this half-term break because everywhere else that might be warm is either if-y weather-wise or far far away.  

Sadly, I want to like skiing much more than I do like skiing. I know Andy would LOVE it if I did.  I just didn’t grow up doing it and I have a hard time being a really enthusiastic adult while slapping slippery planks onto uncomfortable boots and taking off down an even more slick mountainside with abandon and a smile on my face. I’ve only skied three times in my life.  I’ve only had two panic attacks in my life.  One was on a slope in Colorado.  Fun! 

So, we were looking for the right place for all of us.  The first thought was Provence.  Who WOULDN’T that be right for?  But as we researched we weren’t sure if things would be open, would it be bustling, and would it just be chilly and rainy?  And even though it’s truffle season, I don’t think the kids would like truffles…

So then I became really enthusiastic about going to see the Northern Lights in Iceland.  Doesn’t that sound amazing?  We were all on board until Andy checked the weather and the sunrise and sunset times. Hmm. Three hours of light and below 30 degrees for a week.  Ugh. That’s a weekend trip for sure…

Then we considered the fantasy dream vacation of South Africa.  It’s so great because even though it’s a 10-hour flight, it’s the same time zone as London. Folks just whip there for a week, no prob. But then the prob came when I looked at flights and hotels. That is NOT a last minute destination.  Expensive! So we’ll go when Ari is older. If we’re going to spend big money, he better be old enough to remember the Big 5!

I’ve been dreaming about Marrakech for a long time and when we moved to London I was so excited to be so close and couldn’t wait to book my trip. And then they had a worrying political upheaval last year. I was admittedly selfish because I was upset it meant I couldn't travel there.  But things seemed calm enough there lately that we decided to go for it. We hooked up with another family; our friend Amal and her twins joined us. I immediately downloaded “Marrakech Express” and “Rock the Casbah” and we were on our way...Eight of us headed to the most colorful, chill, humorous, amusing country I may have ever been to.

I didn’t really tell anyone I was going. Just did it. I don’t mean to sound like a Nike ad at all. But there are always so many sides to every decision. Sometimes all those sides are just a pain in the ass and I just want to do the fun thing.  I can be a big worrier and I know it’s probably gotten in the way of my enjoying a few things in my life.  I worry about the kids if Andy and I go away for more than two nights. I worry how they cope when I’m in the hospital—how’s that shaping their lives?  But now I’ve been in for eight hospital stays.  They have survived. They’re super loved. And super well adjusted.

We saw a funny movie two weeks ago. Carnage. It’s directed by Roman Polanski,  and it’s freaking hilarious.  It’s all about what parents go through.  The worry about their children’s well being and how they’ll fare in the community of other kids. How will they ever possibly negotiate their lives when we parents just can’t be around to hover.  And of course, there’s that unconscious worry that exists because we see them as a reflection of us.  How they carry themselves, treat other people, feel in the world…  It’s all about us. Because every time I’ve worried about them, they’ve been OK. They really have!  So now, when I find myself worrying lately, I softly say to myself, “Carnage” and giggle a bit.  As if to say, “Remember! Don’t’ make such freaking big deal about everything. It’s all going to be OK”.

I guess I should have put a Spoiler Alert at the beginning of this entry. Sorry…