Travel with Family & Kids

There are not too many places – so we were told – better to travel with a baby than Spain.

Still, my wife and I were feeling low-level anxiety as we arrived at our apartment in Madrid’s Sol district for five days of intentionally unplanned vacation time. The loooooong flight from Australia was a week behind us; our arrival in Madrid was just a short hop from Rome. Our little one, 8-month-old Seamus, had proven to be quite the little traveller, enduring long flights and long car trips with only as much complaining as his adult companions.

John & Seamus in Madrid

Still, we were a bit nervous: Would the apartment be ok? Would he settle into another new environment? With not much of the local language, would we be able to find suitable food? Would we be able to get about the city ok?

And, importantly, would we get the opportunity to sample the city’s famed nightlife, bar hopping and tapas-stuffing into the wee hours?

We needn’t have wasted our time worrying. Madrid was marvellous from start to finish. A great city, and also a great city to explore with a young child. Seamus wasn’t really crawling, but he was increasingly interested in his surrounds – his talent for smiling at strangers opened many doors for us (literally and metaphorically).

His sociability combined with the wonderfully generous Madrileños; from a 10-year-old boy playing peek-a-boo while both boys’ mothers browsed in a shoe shop to a twenty-something metro worker playing with Seamus’s toes while we waited for a train to a middle-aged shop attendant holding him while both mum and dad tried on clothes, our daylight wanderings were easier than anywhere else we’d been (including home).

Spanish locals operate to a different rhythm; a different sense of time. With a siesta during the day, it’s entirely common to see families - including children - eating and enjoying each other’s company at 11 and 12 at night. Dinner time in Madrid isn’t really until 10pm. How would our little man cope, given his usual 7pm bed time? For a couple of nights, we decided not to risk it. We’d have lovely long lunches, then retreat to the predictability of the apartment where we’d cook up some food, have him in bed at the regular time, and spend the evening reading, chatting and watching a dubbed version of Jaws on the TV (“Necesitamos un barco más grande”… still scary).

Miracle of miracles: Seamus has a kip in Madrid

Three nights in, we arranged to meet a guy I’d corresponded with as part of my work. He was English, living in Madrid with his Spanish wife, and they wanted to take us out. So we fearfully popped Seamus in the pusher and headed off at 7pm for the Plaza Major. Meeting up successfully, we went off towards La Latina and settled around an outside table at one of the many similar bar/restaurants that fill the streets. And – miracle of miracles – Seamus fell asleep. We kicked back, talked, laughed, drank and ate through the evening.

At about 11pm, the kid woke up for a feed. We’d moved inside by then, and he perked up more than usual. No problems, though – he was in a room full of locals! Everyone wanted their turn – grinning, talking, playing, nursing. By midnight, it was time to head home – our hosts had to work the next morning, and Seamus was starting to get a bit ratty – but we’d certainly proved a point to ourselves.

–John Ryan

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s tours and things to do in Madrid and Spain.

Editor’s note: Despite being somebody who “doesn’t do tours,” Jodi surprised herself by having a great time on a day trip to the Pyrenees from Barcelona. “It’s a great way to get out of the city, with everything arranged for you. There is no stress and plenty of time for independent exploration or lazing about.” Thanks Jodi, we couldn’t have said it better ourselves…

I decided to sign up for a day trip into the Pyrenees with a new company operating in Barcelona, whose philosophy is to take small groups to some of the best places in the countryside, and let you choose your own sights and adventures within their framework.

The market in Vic

It was a little like being shown around by your best friend’s friend, who looks after you and is well informed but doesn’t shower you with facts. Rather, the information comes out during conversation, and so the tour is tailored to the interests of the people on it.

The groups are small, around 6 people, and there is plenty of time for sightseeing at your leisure. The group was relaxed and friendly, it’s easy to do on your own, and there’s no being shepherded around monuments and castles by a tour leader with a megaphone. Think ‘traveller’ more than ‘tourist’.

The guide takes you to the first point of interest, hands you a map and outlines a few salient features of the place, things you might like to see, and where to meet in a few hours.

We arrive in Vic

On the drive out of Barcelona to our first stop, the charming town of Vic (third or fourth largest in Catalonia), we discussed all manner of historical and cultural events in the area. The textile industry had certainly left its mark, with abandoned stone factories scattered over the hills, some had an entire village, school and church for the workers. Oddly juxtaposed with the mushrooming apartment blocks that fill every available space in the outskirts of just about any town in the world.

One of our group asked about the Catalan language, sparking a lively discussion about cultural identity and politics, across the border in the French Pyrenees the local language has all been dominated by French, whereas Spain has four official languages. Our guide’s passionate response to this issue was inspiring, as was his knowledge of various fields and areas of interest.

Our guide tells us to “get lost”

Sculpture in Vic

The day unfolds at an easy pace, with plenty of room to do your own thing. The guide told us all to ‘get lost’ at one point – in the nicest possible way – reminding me that sometimes the best way to experience a place is to have no idea where you are.

This low-key approach works well for me, it lets you engage as much or as little as you like, and there is no pressure to hurry on to the next place, or loitering around somewhere you have no interest in. (And I’m not alone — read what other travellers have to say about this Pyrenees day trip.)

Once we arrive in Vic, our guide walks us to the marketplace to give a brief introduction to the area, hands out maps, and then leads us willingly to the best bakery in town. If you do this tour, take his advice and buy something for lunch here, as the other food options up in the Pyrenees are expensive and involve lots of queuing. The local specialty is a concoction of light pastry with almond and orange cream, delicious!

Strolling through the medieval twisty streets, another cathedral looms out of the square. This one has a surprising interior, the paintings are by a contemporary of Dali and I won’t describe any detail, just make sure you stop there if you do visit. “Another pile of old rocks,” laughs my companion, as we find ourselves in front of a Roman temple, hidden inside the courtyard of a palace for a few hundred years it is remarkably undamaged, except for a few pockmarks on the pillars, hard to tell if they are from civil war or the ravages of time.

Eschewing the street of small goods and meat delicacies, we take a turn around the market, which has the usual array of ultra-cheap fashion knock-offs, a few interesting craft stands, baubles, shoes and plants. The outfit I bought was fun at the time, but not really something to lug home if your suitcase is already packed with shopping.

Next Stop: Queralbs

Now we drive on into the hills, along increasingly winding narrow roads as the climb into the Pyrenees begins. There is a fantastic story here about one of the heroes from the 870s and the First Count of Barcelona, Wilfred the Hairy. He was responsible for leading the fight to win back much of the country from the Moorish invaders, and many of his descendants seem to be still living in the area.

Queralbs, in the Pyrenees

The next stop is Queralbs, a gorgeous stone village high in the mountains. It is in fact the last settlement accessible by car, and we then climb aboard the 1930’s-built rack railway that ascends the final 800m in a steep route through dramatic peaks and walking tracks. This is an absolute highlight, the thrill of an incredible landscape mixed with a sense of sheer terror at the vertical inclines alongside us, dropping away to canyons and sheer cliffs.

At the top is one of the most bizarre architectural blights I have ever seen on a landscape. It’s a strange amalgam of summer camp, monastery, cathedral and tourist park. My advice would be to avoid the organized activities – horse riding, archery, an igloo, water slide – and opt instead for walking into the hills. Probably if you have kids it’s a great place to bring them, but my only inclination was to get as far away from all those people as possible.

The cable car up to the next peak looked fun, but again the queues kept me away, and there was a momentary plan to go canoeing on the lake, which was quickly abandoned. Eventually we found a quiet spot along the water for our picnic, and enjoyed the spectacular scenery and a gentle walk into the hills. You can opt for a more strenuous hike, or even walk back down along the route of the railway, but wear sensible shoes and bring warm clothes, as it can snow up here in spring and the weather is very changeable. This would have been an amazing place to visit before the architecture took over, but is still well worth the trip for a glimpse of one of the world’s most famous mountain ranges.

There’s a story about the cathedral which may interest couples trying to get pregnant – but if you want to avoid such a thing, don’t stick your head in the bell! On the way back down you have time to stop in Queralbs and visit the Virgin in her simple 10th-century stone church, apparently built by fairies and witches, with some beautiful murals painted onto the stone above the altar.

–Jodi Rose

Editor’s Note: This is the third in a series of posts from Jeff Gates, the New Media Lead Producer for the Smithsonian American Art Museum and Managing Editor for its blog, Eye Level. Jeff is on a family vacation, which sounded like a great excuse to publish his trials and tribulations from the road. You can read Jeff’s first post and second post here.

“Some people are so nuts. They think every body of water is a wishing well.”

The drive from Las Vegas to the town of Lee Vining, the “gateway to Yosemite,” would be the longest drive of our trip: six hours, give or take a rest stop or two or three or four.

My vision of what my children would see when they first viewed the Sierras. The reality wasn’t quite like that. Albert Bierstadt’s Sunrise in the Sierras, courtesy of the Smithsonian American Art Museum

Susie and I had prepared as much as two parents could for the day ahead. Gameboys and travel versions of our girls’ favorite board games were conveniently accessible. We had entertained the notion of buying a portable DVD player but just couldn’t make ourselves go down that road. After all, the purpose of this “drive by” was to show our children the wonders of the West. Living in the former swamp that is Washington, I miss the mountain vistas of my youth. Passing this appreciation on to my children was important.

All was going according to plan until we got about an hour from our destination. Suddenly, my youngest announced she was about to throw up. The first and only other time this had happened was last year while driving the winding roads of Puerto Rico. Back then it had caught us completely off guard. And we were most relieved to return a prestine rental car by the time we left the island. We didn’t want to have this on our conscience this trip.

This time we flew into automatic pilot. Immediately upon Susie’s command I pulled over (the long and empty road cooperated). She jumped out and opened the back door. My daughter leaned out and all was once again just as I envisioned our family road trip would be. For the rest of the journey we allowed the girls to roll down the back windows for some fresh air while we blew the AC to the front. “Whatever works” is the parents’ first rule of survival. But a note to myself: next time bring a roll of paper towels and a big plastic bag. You know, for emergencies.

Mono Lake Panorama (click for larger image)

Immediately upon our full recovery we arrived at Mono Lake, our first close-up taste of the Western landscape. After the long drive everyone was happy to get out of the car for a bit of exploration. The serene and placid waters with the lake’s majestic tufas submerge the man-made political issues that defined the body of water that lay before us. The diversion of Mono Lake water was directly responsible for the growth of the city I grew up in, specifically the San Fernando Valley where I lived. As we walked along the shore I gave a brief history lesson on water use and the early 20th-century politics of Los Angeles.

The sand flies that feed on the lake’s shore provided a first for the girls: no fear of insect swarms as we walked along the beach (it helped that the flies didn’t bite). And we were rewarded for our nature walk with a huge and long-lasting rainbow on the eastern horizon. I was surprised by my family’s interest in this landscape. Given the unreal reality we had just left in Las Vegas, all of us made the transition to the real world nicely.

We had been preparing our nine year old for the next day for weeks. We would be exploring one of the largest noncommercial ghost towns in the West, Bodie. And we had to reassure her that there were no actual ghosts walking its streets. A short drive from our motel in Lee Vining, by the time we arrived she was fully in control of her imagination. But it was there I suddenly discovered a silly little secret about contemporary travelers: when given a chance they will throw money as a benefaction just about anywhere. In Las Vegas we noticed that any body of water became a “wishing well.” From the lagoon at Treasure Island to the Belagio’s huge fountains, any H2O could potentially answer one’s prayers. But in Bodie, this was taken to extremes.

Ghostly bedrooms, now sequestered behind protective mesh, held an abundance of cash, tossed in by passing tourists. And the town’s church, no longer in need of offerings, became currency pitchball to see how close to the last pew one could cast coins and bills. For the rest of the trip, whenever we encountered this phenomenon my children would repeat my words in unison: “Some people are so nuts. They think every body of water is a wishing well.”

–Jeff Gates

Coming up next: Jeff and family fend off the bears of Yosemite.

It’s always a difficult question — “Where are you going on your next trip?”

I’ve been thinking about this question recently, mainly because I don’t have a definite answer. For the first time in ages, I don’t have a trip planned. Sure I have a few weekend getaways up my sleeve, but there’s no mega-trip three-week hit-the-road adventure in my immediate future. (Note to prospective parents: this is what happens when you have a baby. In my case, I did go to Rome when Emmett was barely six months, but planning a longer trip with a toddler is much trickier.)

I’m not complaining, not at all. Rather I want to share some of the images that are currently inspiring me to plan that next long-haul trip, family and all. You see, it is dangerous spending time on the Viator Flickr site. All those images of far-flung places and happy people and relaxing beaches and serious adventures make me want to travel. Here are some of my favorites:
This was taken in Prague, on a foggy morning, on Charles Bridge. Don’t you want to be in Prague right now, wandering through the old town?!?!?

This is one of Viator’s travel managers, in Switzerland. Doesn’t she look happy? Doesn’t Switzerland look beautiful? Why aren’t we all riding a train through the Swiss Alps right now?!?!?

Here’s a shot from Hong Kong, from the top of Victoria Peak, along with what must be the world’s most relaxed, friendly-looking rickshaw driver. If I close my eyes, I can almost taste the bowl of pipping-hot noodles waiting for me…

These two people are standing in a “capsule” on the London Eye, enjoying the hands-down best view of London. They look happy. Would they mind if I joined?

OK, can you guess? Yup, it’s fabulous Las Vegas. An inside shot of the Peppermill’s Fireside Lounge. Fancy drinks, glowing fire, 1970s disco neon. I am so there.

Ahh, Venice. One of the world’s most stunning cities. This is a sunrise shot of a lone gondolier on the canals of Venice.

This is an action shot. Every now and then I need some action and adventure on my holidays. This photo had me reaching for a sailor’s cap and my deck shoes. It was taken in Australia’s Whitsunday Islands.

The Olympics are coming up in 2008, hosted by Beijing. I imagine if I haven’t already booked my flights and hotels in China, I still have a little time. But just a little. This shot was taken on the Great Wall of China.

This photo was taken by a Viator staffer in Hawaii, with his kids. He also wrote a great blog post about traveling in Hawaii and Oahu with kids. It reminds me that, yes, even with young ones in tow, you can still travel like you mean it!

This is just a small sample of all the travel photos that have been inspiring my recent late-night trip-planning sessions. Head on over to the Viator Flickr site for more travel photo inspiration.

–Scott McNeely

Editor’s Note: This is the second in a series of posts from Jeff Gates, the New Media Lead Producer for the Smithsonian American Art Museum and Managing Editor for its blog, Eye Level. Jeff is on a family vacation, which sounded like a great excuse to publish his trials and tribulations from the road. You can read Jeff’s first post here.

Landing in Las Vegas at night is a bit like landing at National Airport in DC: an incredible view of the city beckons you. McCarren International Airport is just south of The Strip. So our first look at the city lights came from our airplane’s window. Despite our destination’s proximity to the airport it would be two hours before we finally arrived at Treasure Island, our hotel. Baggage Claim, Rental Car, and finally the 24/7 traffic jam of Las Vegas Boulevard took precedence. After our 10 hours of airplanes and airports we were hypnotized by the lights of the The Strip. And it wasn’t until two days later as we drove north to our next stop in the Sierras that we realized there was a real and quite normal metropolis just beyond these lights.

“Statue” with offerings at the Venetian’s version of St Mark’s Square

Looking out our hotel window the next morning was like taking in a view of each “land” at Disneyland. You had your Italian Renaissance Land courtesy the Venetian across the street, Francoland as seen by the Paris’ iconic Eiffel Tower replica, and Ancient Rome Land at Caesar’s Palace. My nine year old daughter immediately announced “It’s better than Disneyland!”

We had intended to go to Hoover Dam while in the area. But after experiencing the canals of pseudo-Venice and “St. Mark’s Square” at The Venetian, we wanted more of that man-made reality. So we spent our two days walking from casino to casino, marveling at the wonders of the Sphinx at the Luxor, the skyline of New York, New York, and the white tiger at the Mirage. We must have walked 15 miles that first day.

It wasn’t all fake postmodern pastiche. Our need to keep our feet in reality took us to an exhibition of Picasso’s ceramics and stopped us in wonder at Dale Chihuli’s glass sculpture installation (my wife studied with Dale), both at the Bellagio. And I took the opportunity to teach my oldest, a budding photographer, how to use fill-in flash to bring out detail when taking pictures in hotel lobbies. Yes, Las Vegas can provide some educational opportunities if you try.

We topped off our first day with a performance of Cirque du Soleil’s Mystère. There are five different Cirque venues along on The Strip. I was interested in “O” and their underwater staging while my ten year old was interested in Love, their tribute to the Beatles. But invoking our first rule of family vacations: thou shalt be sensitive to others’ phobias, we went with Mystère. Our oldest, after viewing each show’s promo video, thought this performance would be the least likely to scare her younger sister who claims to suffer from coulrophobia, a fear of clowns (ok, but are there any traditional clowns at any Cirque?).

At 6:30 the next morning our youngest woke us gently reminded us we owed the girls a visit to the pool. She had miraculously overcome her “deep-end” aquaphobia earlier in the summer and was eager to demonstrate her swimming prowess. Given the heat of Las Vegas in July, we decided early morning would be best. Shortly after breakfast we made our way poolside. The girls swam while I showed my wife how she could effortlessly chart her stocks via my iPhone all from the comfort of her lounge chair (part of my devious wonderful plan to get her hooked on this tasty bit of technology).

Susie and I are always on the lookout for the consummate souvenir. We like kitsch, but it has to be good (so bad it’s good). We had very high expectations for this city. If you can’t find quality kitsch here, where can you? We were dumbfounded when, at the Luxor, we discovered they didn’t have a pyramid-shaped snow globe (a family of collectors, my nine year old has a neatly arranged and catalogued case of them from our travels). A pyramid or sphinx with gently falling snowflakes would have been a natural and wonderfully ironic keepsake. Come on guys, get with it.

Kitsch nirvana at the Liberace Museum.

Our hopes and souvenir dreams were realized, however, when we arrived at the Liberace Museum. The Liberace Museum IS so bad it’s good. The whole place is one big beautiful nexus-o-kitsch. Of course, look who they had to work with. It resides in a strip mall and I took the best picture of the trip at its entrance, something that summed up my experience perfectly: the camp of the performer with the backdrop setting in which he is remembered.

That, in itself, is a great souvenir. I bought a chocolate Liberace “CD” (in a jewel case, natch) as an ephemeral remembrance of our visit, hoping to get it home intact. But when I next pulled it out of my backpack to show my sister a few days later it was a melted mess.

While Vegas has submerged its seedier side in an effort to draw families, it still exists. Hawkers pass out handbills for strip shows on the street. That was pretty easy to navigate. And the “adults only” bars and lounges are clearly marked. However, the nightly “Sirens of TI” caught us off guard.

Our girls were eager to see this free extravaganza which takes place four times a night in front of our hotel. The story is simple (and I wished I had read this on the TI Website before our visit):

The Sirens of TI ® begins with a 17th century clash between a group of beautiful, tempting sirens and a band of renegade pirates. With their mesmerizing and powerful song the Sirens lure the pirates to their cove, stir up a tempest strong enough to sink a ship, and transform Sirens’ Cove into a 21st century party. Experience music, dance, excitement and seduction…

Like these renegade pirates, Las Vegas’ Disneyfied edifice had lured Susie and I into forgetting what had built this city. We were surprised that such a stereotypical sexist message was so blatantly displayed in the amusement park-like atmosphere at street level. We assumed it was family-oriented since it was in a public area directly in front of our hotel. To be honest, the girls enjoyed the show for its special effects. But it wasn’t the Las Vegas we expected to see. We’ll stick with the Cirque du Disney version for now.

–Jeff Gates

Stay tuned for the next installment of Jeff’s family vacation, “The Eastern Sierra: Gateway to Yosemite,” coming soon.

Years ago when I lived in an apartment near a local donut shop, every morning I would awaken to the smell of fresh donuts being made. I’d get up, hop on my bike and ride over for a fresh bear claw or a good old glazed donut – the best I’d ever had. Of course, I’d then spend the next four hours climbing myself down from the ceiling from the sugar high I’d get.

Now that I’m older and more health-conscious do I worry about the effects of donuts, including the probable weight gain? Absolutely not.

In fact, since moving to Portland, Oregon, more than four years ago, I’ve actually searched out the perfect donut. I’ve even found a few places. Portland is known for many fine things: a bazillion microbreweries, sustainable living, great coffee, and the nationally renowned streetcar transit system. But, can you get a good donut? Yes you can.

The Best Donuts in Portland

No Portland donut screed would be complete without a mention of Voodoo Doughnut. Located at 22 SW Third in the heart of Old Town, next to Berbati’s Pan, they have been serving up spectacular creations for the locals for years. Want a simple glazed donut? Not here. Though you can get a “Butter Fingering,” which is devil’s food, vanilla and crushed Butterfinger, or the “Triple Chocolate Penetration” which is described as a chocolate donut, chocolate glaze, and Cocoa Puffs.

Voodoo also distributes around town to various coffee shops so you don’t have to travel to the ripped-up downtown area to get one. I usually get my fix at Common Ground on Hawthorne. Heck, even their vegan donuts rule.

Available only during the fall, which seems entirely proper, are the apple cider donuts from Lee Farms, 21975 SW 65th Ave in Tualatin. Maybe it’s the crisp fall air, the turning color of the leaves, or the hunger pains from missing breakfast, but the smell of warm, sugary donuts always gets to me. Served with hot cider and a cool October night breeze, these freshly made donuts are small enough to make you feel a bit less guilty for eating six in one sitting.

Two other of my favorite places are Annie’s Donuts, 3449 NE 72nd and Sesame Donuts, 6990 SW Beaverton-Hillsdale Hwy. Annie’s has the small-town ambiance with a fine selection of donuts – try the glazed. Last time I was there, they were still under a buck each. Meanwhile, across the river, is Sesame Donuts, famous for the sesame-covered donut. Kind of like General Tso chicken. But sweeter – and round, with a hole.

Donuts in Oregon City? Yes.

Muno’s Bakery, Oregon City

I’ve saved the best for last. For my money, the best maple bar I’ve ever had, anywhere, comes from Muno’s Bakery (616 1/2 Main St, tel. 503 - 656 4335) in Oregon City. To many if not most Portland hipsters, Oregon City is too far away to travel for a maple bar. Their loss.

Oregon City, which I will write exclusively about in a future post, was Oregon’s first capital and once jockeyed with Portland to be the port city/shipping in the region. It lost. Oregon City’s main street called, surprise, Main Street, sits almost untouched by time. And on Main Street is where you’ll find Muno’s. Closed Sundays, Muno’s sell pastries, wedding cakes, donuts, and cookies. The first time we visited one cloudy Saturday, we had high hopes – the old 1940s wedding photos on the wall, the long line, and the history must have proved its worthiness. Sadly, we were let down by the cookies. They were a bit stale, chalky and mostly tasteless. We left disappointed.

Then months later a co-worker mentioned Muno’s in a conversation and how wonderful their maple bars were. Another visit was due.

Back to Muno’s. Tried the maple bar. And Lord yes, the co-worker was right. Amazing. Even the two-dozen day-old ones that we bought, took home, froze and heated up in the microwave were just as tasty. Go to Muno’s. Experience the ambiance. Chat with the counter lady. And enjoy the maple bar.

Honorable Mention

Dippin’ Donuts on 82nd in Clackamas. I’ve actually never stepped into the place. I’m merely mentioning it for it “Dunkin’ Donuts” font and colors it uses. The first time I spotted it I thought I was back in Boston – where there’s a Dunkin’ Donuts on every street corner.

–John Chilson

Editor’s Note: John Chilson blogs about mid-century Portland history at Stumptown Confidential and lost Oregon hotels and eateries at Oregon Roadside.

Editor’s Note: This is the first in a series of posts from Jeff Gates, the New Media Lead Producer for the Smithsonian American Art Museum and Managing Editor for its blog, Eye Level. Jeff is on a family vacation, which sounded like a great excuse to publish his trials and tribulations from the road. You can read Jeff’s original post on his Life Outtacontext blog.

A cryptic photo-op at the MGM in Las Vegas

As a boy family vacations were always an exciting prospect: traveling on adventures to the great unknown in the comfort of our 1953 Pontiac. No seat belts and open windows, the early morning desert air blowing in my face (no air conditioning of course). The 1950s and early 1960s were indeed an era of post-War American expansionism and hegomony over my small world of the San Fernando Valley. It was a prosperous and exciting time for a ten year old. Of course, I didn’t have to plan the trip, just totally immerse myself in it.

As a parent, I now know the truth. Putting together a family vacation is hard work and even torture if you wait too long to make reservations. Getting four people out of the house and on their way, which seemed so much fun as a boy in the 4 am darkness of pre-dawn, can simply be hell when you’re now the responsible one. They never taught this in any parenting class (well, if we had taken a parenting class). We only know what we knew. Now I know what I know.

Susie and I had wanted to take our nine and ten year old girls on a road trip out West for a while. But the thought of driving across country for five days just to get to the West was never an option (we were naive but not dumb). My wife wanted to show the girls the Grand Canyon. The West. She suggested we fly into Las Vegas, rent a car, and go. Simple. Sounded good to me. In April I made plane reservations and counted our four free frequent-flyer seats a major planning coup and a very good omen.

The last time I was in Vegas was 30 years ago with my father and stepmother. Highlight of that experience: coming upon a failed gambler who had jumped from the heights of a downtown hotel. A lot had changed in the city and I was eager to see the sights (and erase that ugly memory).

Only after the reservations were set did we realize the Grand Canyon was a five and a half hour drive in the wrong direction. We needed to end up in San Francisco for the wedding of my BFF-from-the-first-grade’s daughter 10 days later. Wife and I reconnoitered for new plans: we would instead go west through another scenic icon, Yosemite, then head to Gilroy for a couple days with my sister before heading up to SF.

Our itinerary seemed to have it all: the glitz of The Strip, the beauty of the Sierra Nevada, the garlic of Gilroy (by sheer coincidence our arrival would coincide with the annual Gilroy Garlic Festival), ending up at the classy Fairmont Hotel in the City by the Bay.

–Jeff Gates

Stay tuned for the next installment of Jeff’s family vacation, Living La Dolce Vegas, coming soon.

I had the good fortune of marrying a Midwesterner. My wife, Aimee, is from Indiana. Before we met I didn’t know much about her home state. Purdue, Larry Bird, the Colts — that’s pretty much all I could tell you about the Hoosier State before we were married. (Note to self: what’s a Hoosier? I must ask Aimee.)

Martha eats corn

Each spring Aimee and I have a version of the same argument: to visit or not to visit Indiana in summer, in order to spend time with her family. We already trek to Indiana each Christmas holiday, and let me tell you, Indiana is not a recommended travel destination in December.

So I’m always hesitant to commit to an additional summertime visit, especially when we could travel instead to Spain, Turkey, France, Italy, Thailand… to anywhere BUT Indiana.

This year I relented and decided we could go to Indiana for a summer holiday. (Note to self: explain to Aimee that I feel better using words like “relented” and “decided”, even if I didn’t actually have a say in the matter.) So we packed up the family and headed to Sweetwater Lake, about 45 miles south of Indianapolis.

And after a mere week in Indiana, I gained a new appreciation for the season of summer.

Isaac & Drew go fishing

Much to my surprise, summer in Indiana is a blast. I’m talking about swimming in a lake for hours on end. Little kids catching worms for bait and then fishing off a dock for bluegill. Eating sweet Indiana corn until your taste buds explode. Cooking pulled-pork on a barbecue grill in 90-degree heat. Water skiing. Tubing. Wake boarding. Sitting on a porch with four generations of the same family. Coolers overflowing with cans of ice-cold beer. The blaring of cicadas at dusk, outboard motors at dawn, air-conditioning pumps all night long.

For a city kid like me, all these experiences transformed a run-of-the-mill vacation into a near-perfect summertime experience.

Megan eats corn

What’s the secret? I’ve decided to make a list, I’m calling this one “Scott’s 4 Essential Summer Ingredients”.

1. First, you need the great outdoors. We had a lake surrounded by 100-foot-tall ash and maple trees. But you could be anywhere as long as you have easy access to the outdoors
2. Second, you must do things. No televisions, please, not in summer. Instead play cards, tell stories, run around in circles, walk the dogs. Go to the store for groceries and chitchat. Eat some ice cream. Go swimming. Clean up the shed. Take the boat for a joy ride. It doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you’re doing something.
3. Third, you need family. Ironically I’ve spent my adult life taking family-free vacations. Yet there’s something to be said for having dinner on a lake with 18 of your cousins, spending quality time with aunts and uncles who tell the same funny stories over and over again. I don’t want all of my holidays to revolve around family. Yet I’ve decided that summer vacations and families are made for each other. I’ll save my trips with friends for winter or spring.
4. Finally, you need a big barbecue and some of that sweet Indiana corn…

–Scott McNeely

You can see more photos of summer in Indiana over on the Viator Flick site. And if you’re looking for summertime inspiration, be sure to browse the thousands of things to do available on the Viator site.

Yes dad, it’s a real submarine

OK - so I’m heading to Waikiki and Oahu with my family (two boys - 8 and 6) and my lovely wife. What to do? Of course we planned on spending time on the beach, heading to the north shore (no waves in June… doh!) and enjoying the multitude of shops and restaurants. But we needed some adventure!

So browsing the Viator products for Honolulu I stumbled upon the Atlantis Submarine. Interesting… I wrongly assumed that submarines were limited to Paul Allen and the world’s major navies. I decide to give it a go.

The big day!

We show up outside our hotel to find an Atlantis Submarine trolley-bus picking up our fellow passengers. They even had our names on the list - very organised. A short trip to the Hilton Village took us to the departure point. We checked in with the office (on the beach) and headed down to the wharf to get ferried out to the submarine on a nice big boat.

I was still kind of thinking that the ’subs’ may be some kind of glass-bottomed boat or similar, cynic that I am, and was surprised at the announcement over the PA: “Please look off the port side of the vessel and watch for a big bubbling spot on the ocean surface”. Apparently the subs release some air to identify their positions to the mother ship, to ensure they won’t surface in the path of a pleasure, commercial or even navy vessel. Whoa - up it came - a real submarine!!

The dive…

Alongside the mother ship

We pulled alongside and a ramp was dropped so we could cross over onto the sub and down through the watertight hatches. Down below it was quite spacious and bright (no Hunt for Red October here).

Everyone got a padded seat across from a nice big porthole. We all got settled, sealed the hatches and quickly started submerging - cool!

As we descended, we could start seeing fish and even sea turtles. We toured around the bottom ranging from 90 to 130 feet or so, and got to see several shipwrecks, a couple airplanes and a University of Hawaii underwater pyramid structure (dunno what that was about, but it looked cool).

We cruised around for quite some time and the guide was both entertaining and knowledgeable about the sub, surroundings, wildlife, etc. Once we viewed the seven or eight sites, we announced our impending surfacing with a release of bubbles, then a quick ascent. Interestingly as we ascended, we got color vision back again, red stopped being black and the blue hue of the deep receded.

Back on top

A very happy submariner

Once we surfaced, the mothership came alongside once again, and we cracked open the hatches, marched up the ramp and enjoyed the scenic boat ride past Waikiki back to the wharf.

We were whisked back to our hotels and free to enjoy the rest of the day.

It was a lot of fun, didn’t take too much time and the kids loved it. I can now claim to be a submariner. A great adventure!

–Jeff Lewis

Editor’s Note: You can browse more of Jeff’s holiday snaps on the Viator Flickr Site: Atlantis Submarine Tour in Oahu, hanging out with the kids in Waikiki, and the Waikiki Fun Cruise.

Planning a trip? Browse all of Viator’s Oahu tours, things to do in Hawaii, Maui attractions and tours of the Big Island of Hawaii. Aloha, mate!

Let me start off by saying I am not a huge Harry Potter fan. I’ve read the books, but until recently I’d never bought any of them (all borrowed from friends). I mostly have seen the movies on tv. Of my friends and colleagues, I am the exception not the rule. I am not going to tell you how many Amazon boxes with the final Harry Potter were shipped to Viator’s San Francisco office this last weekend, or how many discussions about good Snape versus bad Snape I have overheard or how many visits to mugglenet happen during lunch breaks. Let’s just say there’s some Harry Potter fans working at Viator.

I thought the mania was primarily US and UK based, so when I headed out a week before the final book’s release to India and Singapore I didn’t expect to hear much more about Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. And that’s where I was wrong. Harry Potter has cast a spell over every corner of the globe.

Every bookstore I saw, in any country, had Harry Potter fanfare. The newest Harry Potter film, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is being widely promoted in billboard ads all over India (in Hindu and English). I actually helped a dad and his son learn to pronounce “phoenix” properly when they were reading the book title in an airport bookstore in Hong Kong (”its more like fee-nicks not fo-nicks“). In Singapore I finished all my reading material, and realized that I needed to buy something for the thirteen hour flight back home. While meandering about I stumbled across the Kinokuniya bookstore, on the final Harry Potter book’s release day.

Singapore Wizards

While the store was definitely doing brisk business in Harry Potter it wasn’t as crazy as you might think. The best part were the wizard outfits worn by the staff. So what book would you buy? I walked away with the British English version of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I read it all on the plane home, and I wasn’t the only one, I would conservatively say half the plane was reading the book, including the woman sitting next to me.

Rarely do you get to witness first hand a worldwide cultural phenomenon sweep across the globe, it was fun to be part of Harry Potter mania, if only for a few days.

– Kelly G

Really into Harry Potter? Consider apparating to London and taking the three day Harry Potter tour of England. Or Viator’s exclusive Harry Potter Black Taxi Tour.