Maybe I set the bar too low, but to me, a sign of a good vacation is when...
I arrive to my hotel room every day, with a singleminded obsession of showering off a day's worth of toddler smear, sweat, and dirt, yet forgetting to shave my armpits or pluck my sprawling unibrow. A good vacation is when I'm too tired to drink a beer, worry about scanty internet, or stress about paying for a dessert that is twice the price of dinner. It's when my family successfully avoids sunburns, food poisoning, or hideous injuries; which depending on perspective, we either avoided by the skin of our teeth- or failed: Mark and his epic toe stub where he ripped off a dime sized portion of skin; the thigh gash I received when a window pane crashed in our bathroom shower; or my mother-in-law's tragic black eye when she tripped and fell while hiking to the beach. (Don't worry, she's fine.) On the other hand, I know it's a good vacation when I see my children try new stuff and actually enjoy it: eating seafood, getting buried in the sand, swimming in open waters, even snorkeling.
All this (and more) was accomplished on my family vacation to Fernando de Noronha, an island located 220 miles from the coast of Brazil. Check any Brazil travel guide, this island is easily rated in the "Must See Top 10" with its ridiculously clear water, diverse sea life, and dreamy beaches. It didn't take much convincing to make the commitment.
Normally, we enjoy the challenge of finding our own adventures and places to stay, but found on initial searches it was difficult to find what we were looking for: a place to sleep the in-laws, kids, and ourselves. Preferably with AC and without visiting tarantulas. Quiet enough for our kids to fall asleep, but with enough white noise to keep them asleep. Turns out, these ideals didn't exist unless we shelled out $2,000/night- in which we'd also get a maid and butler. But the beach side mansion was booked anyway. Then we turned to "mid range" and "budget" options but became overwhelmed and bored with reading vague hotel reviews, and feeling nervous about finding something that would keep the whole family happy. So Mark ended up using a ecotourism planner named Adriana, to assist us in bookings. Her site is called Your Way and showcases handpicked resources for all budgets and tastes, and offers to set up as many or as few activities you would want. We're talking any activity you could conjure up: snorkeling, surfing, SCUBA, yoga, hiking, biking, jeeping, turtling, boating. Her story is adorable and filled with all sorts of do-good, heart warming, love the environment can-do attitude. We liked that- and thus our email relationship began. I didn't know at the time just how authentic and helpful this woman would end up being. She was amazing.
She set us up with three rooms at Lenda Das Aguas for the win. It ended up being a perfect setup with the basics: breakfast, hammocks, AC, and space for the kids to roam and play. There were little things too: a long clothesline to hang up the day; coffee with cookies every afternoon; fresh cut flowers on our pillows; and free range access to their kitchen or computers should we need them.
At Adriana's prodding, we signed up to do a boat ride with the company Trovao Dos Mares (amazing!) that included a bonus activity of snorkeling with a rope tow. Mark and five others took the first round, expertly jumping off the boat, breathing and swimming like dolphins to depths of 12-15 feet. The pull lasted only about 15 minutes and everyone emerged exultant and satisfied. Then it was round two. My fellow snorkelers gracefully plunked in the water immediately gliding into the crystal clear water. The guide took one look at me, laughed, and readjusted my mask with a sharp yank on the strap that my eyeballs almost popped out. Mark yelled "stay calm and you'll be fine" as I sprawled in the water, missing the last rung of the ladder. I understood my task at hand, but couldn't quite find the same rhythm as the others: while they spied thousands of fish, soared above blossoming reefs and encountered the mysteries and secrets of an old shipwreck, I enjoyed an instantly fogged mask and lock jaw on my snorkel straw as I fought to breathe through the salt water assaulting my nasal passages; I felt the sea simultaneously cool and warm my chest as the pull of the water yanked my halter bikini top down- which I couldn't do anything about lest I let go of my tow. I saw bubbles, shadows and the pale bodies of my sea-mates floating below me as they explored the depths. Fifteen minutes later, with bloodshot eyes and cramped hands, I gurgled my way back to the boat exultant in my own way.
Would I do it again? Ok, maybe. I also would consider this a sign of a good vacation.
I arrive to my hotel room every day, with a singleminded obsession of showering off a day's worth of toddler smear, sweat, and dirt, yet forgetting to shave my armpits or pluck my sprawling unibrow. A good vacation is when I'm too tired to drink a beer, worry about scanty internet, or stress about paying for a dessert that is twice the price of dinner. It's when my family successfully avoids sunburns, food poisoning, or hideous injuries; which depending on perspective, we either avoided by the skin of our teeth- or failed: Mark and his epic toe stub where he ripped off a dime sized portion of skin; the thigh gash I received when a window pane crashed in our bathroom shower; or my mother-in-law's tragic black eye when she tripped and fell while hiking to the beach. (Don't worry, she's fine.) On the other hand, I know it's a good vacation when I see my children try new stuff and actually enjoy it: eating seafood, getting buried in the sand, swimming in open waters, even snorkeling.
All this (and more) was accomplished on my family vacation to Fernando de Noronha, an island located 220 miles from the coast of Brazil. Check any Brazil travel guide, this island is easily rated in the "Must See Top 10" with its ridiculously clear water, diverse sea life, and dreamy beaches. It didn't take much convincing to make the commitment.
Normally, we enjoy the challenge of finding our own adventures and places to stay, but found on initial searches it was difficult to find what we were looking for: a place to sleep the in-laws, kids, and ourselves. Preferably with AC and without visiting tarantulas. Quiet enough for our kids to fall asleep, but with enough white noise to keep them asleep. Turns out, these ideals didn't exist unless we shelled out $2,000/night- in which we'd also get a maid and butler. But the beach side mansion was booked anyway. Then we turned to "mid range" and "budget" options but became overwhelmed and bored with reading vague hotel reviews, and feeling nervous about finding something that would keep the whole family happy. So Mark ended up using a ecotourism planner named Adriana, to assist us in bookings. Her site is called Your Way and showcases handpicked resources for all budgets and tastes, and offers to set up as many or as few activities you would want. We're talking any activity you could conjure up: snorkeling, surfing, SCUBA, yoga, hiking, biking, jeeping, turtling, boating. Her story is adorable and filled with all sorts of do-good, heart warming, love the environment can-do attitude. We liked that- and thus our email relationship began. I didn't know at the time just how authentic and helpful this woman would end up being. She was amazing.
She set us up with three rooms at Lenda Das Aguas for the win. It ended up being a perfect setup with the basics: breakfast, hammocks, AC, and space for the kids to roam and play. There were little things too: a long clothesline to hang up the day; coffee with cookies every afternoon; fresh cut flowers on our pillows; and free range access to their kitchen or computers should we need them.
At Adriana's prodding, we signed up to do a boat ride with the company Trovao Dos Mares (amazing!) that included a bonus activity of snorkeling with a rope tow. Mark and five others took the first round, expertly jumping off the boat, breathing and swimming like dolphins to depths of 12-15 feet. The pull lasted only about 15 minutes and everyone emerged exultant and satisfied. Then it was round two. My fellow snorkelers gracefully plunked in the water immediately gliding into the crystal clear water. The guide took one look at me, laughed, and readjusted my mask with a sharp yank on the strap that my eyeballs almost popped out. Mark yelled "stay calm and you'll be fine" as I sprawled in the water, missing the last rung of the ladder. I understood my task at hand, but couldn't quite find the same rhythm as the others: while they spied thousands of fish, soared above blossoming reefs and encountered the mysteries and secrets of an old shipwreck, I enjoyed an instantly fogged mask and lock jaw on my snorkel straw as I fought to breathe through the salt water assaulting my nasal passages; I felt the sea simultaneously cool and warm my chest as the pull of the water yanked my halter bikini top down- which I couldn't do anything about lest I let go of my tow. I saw bubbles, shadows and the pale bodies of my sea-mates floating below me as they explored the depths. Fifteen minutes later, with bloodshot eyes and cramped hands, I gurgled my way back to the boat exultant in my own way.
Would I do it again? Ok, maybe. I also would consider this a sign of a good vacation.
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| Eastern view of Morro de Pico. |
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| Bird poop can be so beautiful. |
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| Things seen on boat ride: 1 dolphin x 700 others and their babies. Seriously. |
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| Things seen on boat ride: Dois Irmaos and western view of Morro de Pico. The water- I'm not even kidding. |
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| He's four and a better snorkeler than me. |
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| Me: clearly not understanding the purpose of the snorkel. |
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| Bury her. Unbury her. Bury her. Unbury her. |
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| Pre black eye and thigh gash, but post toe stub. View of Praia do Leao, where turtles lay their seasoned eggs. |
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