I love renting homes abroad, I get to go to the markets, the grocery stores, and feel like a local.  I learn more about the culture, I improve my language skills, and I get to push my comforts.  There are many reasons driving is our preferred method of travel, but the main reason is that you don't miss out.  It's like Jason Aldean's song Fly over States:

"I bet that mile long Santa Fe freight train engineer's seen it all

Just like that flatbed cowboy stacking US steel on a 3-day haul

Roads and rails under their feet

Yeah that sounds like a first class seat..."

You miss out on SO much if you don't venture outside of the box, outside of the common areas, the tourist traps.  

As we drove East from Bodrum in Turkey, heading to Gaziantep, we passed over beautiful mountains, the thermal baths at Pamukkale, and beautiful Mediterranean beaches.  We stopped at a roadside restaurant (that honestly had the best views, atmosphere, and food on the trip!), we stopped at a pomegranate juice stand, and we stopped at a nut stand.  We couldn't have done that from a plane or a train.  We improved our admittedly awful Turkish in these moments, learning how to say goodbye properly (it depends on if you are the one coming or going!), and took photos.  Our boys chased chickens, they picked flowers, and they explored ruins.

But, this post... this post is about Tarsus.  A location that wasn't even on our agenda before we began our trip; only when we were studying the map in our hotel in Bodrum did we notice it.  If we hadn't had our own vehicle, we wouldn't have been able to veer off course to Tarsus, an historic city in south-central Turkey, and the birthplace of Paul the Apostle.

Visiting Paul's well, and what has been discovered of his birth home, was an indescribable feeling.  It is such a heavy moment that I lack the words to express how it felt.  We stood above his home, which has been carefully excavated and covered to protect and preserve its history.  The man working the entry gate saw our interest in the water, and kindly came over to retrieve fresh water for us to clean our hands and drink from.  I can only speak for myself, but truly appreciating this experience was impossible.  Comprehending how old and significant my surroundings were, and how fortunate I was to be there is still very difficult; it is quite likely that Tarsus is one of the most significant locations I've visited.  Regardless of your religious beliefs, Paul continues to be an extremely significant figure today, having ignited the spread of Christianity; his ripple effect still reverberating.

The city was bustling near the center.  Mosques surrounded us as we walked the cobblestone streets from Paul's Well to the Mausoleum of Danyal, another significant and holy figure.  While Daniel's true resting place is debated, the Turkish stake in the debate is a good one, and I wholeheartedly believe that I was lucky enough to be there.  The story goes that when Tarsus was captured by the Rashidun caliph Umar, someone found a large coffin.  The deceased had a ring on his finger of a boy and two lions.  It was known that Daniel had traveled through, so Umar buried the coffin under what used to be a stream beneath an old bridge to protect the remains.  It was commonplace for remains to be stolen for various reasons, so for many years a fake tomb was erected well above Daniel's resting body.  In the photos, you'll see the "fake" tomb where the elaborate green sheath is.  Long before Daniel's tomb was discovered, the small mosque next to his remains was named after him: Danyal Makami. 

Tarsus is a remarkable city, and to think if we hadn't had a car we would have missed it entirely.  I urge everyone I know to just drive.  Make a tentative plan and just drive.  

"The journey changes you;

it should change you.  It leaves

marks on your memory,

on your heart,

and on your body.

You take something with you.

Hopefully, you leave something good behind"

-Anthony Bourdain

Admittedly, a camel ride was not the first thing that came to my mind when I was planning our trip to Turkey.  I came upon Savran Safari while perusing Instagram with #Cappadocia - can't miss those beautiful photo opportunities!  Seeing the wonderful pics, I hopped over to TripAdvisor to find rave reviews.  

Booking was done via WhatsApp; the Savran Safari Team was friendly, responsive, and easy to communicate with.  Leading up to our big day their team kept in touch and reached out to finalize our pickup time, choosing the best time based on our schedule and the weather.  They picked us up at our hotel right on time!  Personally, it was a bargain for what we got: an hour safari, wonderful memories, and beautiful photos taken by our guide. 

I could carry on, but we'll just let the photos speak for themselves. Don't miss the video at the end!
Camel Safari

Nothing can prepare one for the grandeur of Ephesus.  A sprawling ancient city, so carefully reconstructed and preserved.  Walking the stone roads provokes a genuine feeling of awe; and trying to comprehend this city's significance and age is incomprehensible.  

Built in the 10th century BC, Ephesus grew over the centuries becoming a flourishing city in 129 BC.  Having been destroyed and rebuilt multiple times, Ephesus remains one of the top international tourist destinations in the world.

What makes Ephesus so special?  Well... many things:

• Ephesus was the location of the Virgin Mary's final home.
• Paul wrote 1 Corinthians and Letter to the Ephesians in Ephesus.  
• The Temple of Artemis, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, is located in Ephesus.  
• The tomb of John the Apostle lies in the ruins of the Basilica of St John.
• The Church of Mary, which is housed in the main ruins, was the first church named after Mother Mary.
• The ruins of Celsus Library, once the third largest library in the world, was able to store 12,000 scrolls!
• The Grand Theatre, with its awe inducing stone seats, accommodated 24,000 people!

It is impossible to put my thoughts into words as I strolled down Marble and Curetes Streets.  My mind wandered from how old these ruins are, to the meticulous work people have put in to restore Ephesus, and everything in between.  

Our boys had a ball, running up and down the ancient stairs of the theater and the roads; their curious little minds unable to process the magnificence before them.  We were blessed with low crowds (one benefit of COVID), beautiful weather, and memories to last a lifetime.

So, when COVID hit, and it was clear that our trip to France wasn't happening, we took the plunge.  Oh, was this change a blessing in disguise.  In addition to our kids being exposed to such a stark cultural difference, I had no idea how many significant religious and historical sites were tucked away in this gorgeous country.  We rode camels, took a hot air balloon ride; we visited Ephesus, Kusadasi, Bodrum, Pumakkale, Adana, Gaziantep, Goreme, and of course, Istanbul.  

Whenever we begin planning a big trip like this, we use every resource we have to research cultural differences.  Our starting point is, quite literally, is it safe?  Is it family friendly?  There is nothing like traveling to another country totally unprepared and insulting everyone you cross paths with.  It is also so much more enjoyable to be prepared, you'll feel like you fit in a bit more and the trip goes smoothly.  It is worth mentioning that some places might be overall quite safe, yet something like renting a car is a risky venture.  So we always consult our friends, the internet, and travel books thoroughly. 

I was SO excited to dive in to Turkey, it was far more exotic than anything we'd done.  I was a little nervous about the Call to Prayer, mostly nervous that the kids would do something to completely embarrass me while it was happening (which is five times per day).  Did I need a headscarf?  What would the kids eat?  Of all the things in Turkey, I miss the Call to Prayer the most.  There was something so ethereal about it: five times a day we got a reminder to turn to God and prioritize our lives.  It was peaceful, and beautiful.  

The people of Turkey could not have been more accommodating.  In all our travels, this trip was one of the most family friendly and kind cultures we've encountered.  Whether in a hotel or restaurant, we thoroughly enjoyed everyone.  The trip was such a success that until writing this I'd forgotten about our one pretty bad experience at a Double Tree in Izmir; which resulted in my being sick for two days and us cutting our stay short.  

The food... oh the food.  I ate way too much of it.  The spices, the fish, the lamb; the best way to describe it is to explain it as a massive melting pot of some of the best foods in the world.  You have the Mediterranean influence, paired with the rich Middle Eastern flavors and spices.  

It has been a few months since we returned home, and our entire family is still moved by our experience.  The middle kid insists he is moving to Istanbul someday, something I would not protest!

A while back, our family entered our last state.  Number 50.  Years ago, Frank and I decided that we would get our last state together and that state would be Montana, since it was collectively the remaining state we were most excited about.  Montana, you were worth the wait!

Despite that we went in an off season, and many of the parks were closed, we had the best time.  In fact, we are all itching to go back and stay for longer.  Glacier National Park was phenomenal.  We dragged the boys on an 8 mile hike in the snow, they did a fantastic job!  We went to Big Fork after church and built a snowman.  We ate pizza in an old saloon; the boys loved the swinging doors.  

Georgia might be on my mind, but Montana has my heart.  (I know, that was really cheesy - but its TRUE!).

I’d been following the Beekman Boys since their show in 2010 called “The Fabulous Beekman Boys.” Quite the odd couple, and former city dwellers, I lived vicariously through them as they renovated their beautiful old farmhouse and became farmers. I laughed when they had to do something new and gross, and cried when it was time to say goodbye to their pigs, Porky and Bess, so they could cook them for supper (and many other meals). Like other viewers, I fell in love with them, their goats, Farmer John, and the late, beloved Polka Spot.  I wished I had their courage and drive to follow my dreams, and dreamed of living in a community like theirs; one that seems to have always been neighborly, but to the credit of Josh and Brent has thrived more than ever. Josh and Brent know the importance of giving back. 

In the room, Stacie and I awkwardly chatted, observing the pretty flowers on the table, and the scenery outdoors. A beautiful grassy marsh runs behind the restaurant, with scattered old oaks dripping with Spanish moss. Noticing a corn hole game set up, a giant connect four, and some bench swings, we agreed we had to come back to eat here with our families. 

Soon, waitresses began circling the room with hors d’oeuvres and people began to excitedly stir. Chatter spread as we all waited for the guests of honor, due any minute. As I ate the most delicious pimiento cheese I’ve ever had, I leaned over to Stacie and said “I saw black boots, I think they’re coming!” After some pause in the hallway, in walked Brent (in the aforementioned black work-type boots) and Josh alongside Paula Deen’s son Jaime Deen.  Deen, who must be the Pete Carol of the restaurant world, is arguably the most charming, friendly, and charismatic man I’ve ever encountered. It was difficult to remember that I’d never met him before, and by the look of the people he chatted with, I believe everyone felt the same way. Without missing a beat, Josh and Brent had the room filled with laughter and smiles, things that seem to magically spread wherever they go. 

They spoke about their rough beginnings, braving winter in a barn because it was warmer than the home they could not afford to heat. They wittingly educated us on the sexual fortunes of their 3 male stud goats, with their 114 girlfriend goats that all get impregnated around the same time frame. “17 a night!” Josh said to a roar of laughter. We spoke about goat poop - look for the peppermint varietal next year as one of the goats got into some candy canes - and general life on their farm. They were candid, and genuine, and answered questions until there were no more. 

Peppermint goat poop? Goat poop is one of their latest delicious food items. So good, in fact, 10,000+ tins sold out at remarkable speed. Small chocolate balls, filled with various things like cookie dough, caramel, and more. Being a fortunate receiver, I can assure you they are delicious and next year everyone on my Christmas list is getting Goat Poop. 

As Josh and Brent made their way to the table to sign books for everyone, the room came to life.  What was once a quiet, awkward room, now overflowed with conversation and laughter. These boys are fabulous, indeed. People were helpful, happily taking pictures for others, and getting to know one another.  

The room began to empty, and we decided it was our turn to get in line. The event included a cookbook, a little swag bag, and of course a hug. Officially meeting them was surreal, and not in the way I expected. They are so humble and down to earth, that I truly felt like I already knew them. In person they are exactly as they are on the screen.

I left realizing that Josh and Brent are so much more than gentleman farmers and celebrities. They are examples. Examples not only of how we should treat ourselves (fight for your dreams, work hard to see them through), but also how we should treat others. They may have traded in their city life for the simple life, but by no means are their lives simple. They work hard, taking care of the farm, each other, their community, their employees, their product lines, and even their fans. They are inspiring. They are kind. They are neighbors. 

When the line of mostly semi-trucks advanced, we followed until directed to our spot on the Apollo by a fellow in a yellow reflective vest and hardhat. The ferry was split into halves, two lanes on each side.  The dirtied vehicles were tightly packed, to accommodate as many as possible.  Gathering up our coats, we stepped out onto the damp and rusted car deck; the dank sea air engulfed us.

We ascended the staircase at the middle of the boat to the passenger deck. The gritty old boat was showing her age.  The white paint on the walls of the stairwell was peeling away revealing rust, and the maroon carpet was worn through.  We made our way to a table in the cafe next to a window.  There were few foot passengers, so the boat was quiet and empty.  We grabbed some warm drinks and waited for the horn to blow.  

With the port of St. Barbe behind us, we ventured to the outside deck.  We would have to watch our children closely, the only barrier between the railing with 20 inch gaps was orange construction fencing tied with black zip ties.  The white walls of the Apollo contrasted with the occasional red fire extinguisher, orange life preserver, and dark green floors.  The ocean was as smooth as glass, the only ripples created by the boat itself.

As the fog thickened, ice began to appear on the water.  The icebergs quickly became larger and denser, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle.  A horn blew in the distance, followed by the Apollo's horn; we now had an escort.  

The icebreaker in front of us carved a path to the port of Blanc-Sablon. When the Apollo safely docked, we were instructed to return to our vehicles.  Not knowing when we would be able to return to Newfoundland, we excitedly disembarked the boat for a new adventure.

Not much had changed in Honfleur since I last visited, it was precisely as I remembered.  It is the type of place you can feel at home while being a first time visitor.  Old, narrow cobblestone roads invite you to wander amongst the quaint shops and restaurants.  I noticed more English speaking Brits this time, as England is only a short trip across the Channel. My adventurous and culture-loving self felt slightly disappointed by the growing use of my first language, but how could I blame anyone for wanting to visit this charming place; as a visitor myself, who was I to judge? 

While my five year old and two year old tugged my hands, begging to go on the carousel, I watched a fishing boat sail past us into the marina to dock in its slip.  There were about 40 boats already parked tightly for the night.  It was a Saturday night,  and as the sun was setting the village was coming to life.  

The narrow and old dilapidated wooden buildings that lined the marina were three and four stories tall.  Their age was evident.  They leaned into each other, supporting one another like dominoes refusing to fall.  The first floor of each building housed a restaurant, and the upper floors were apartments.  I promised our boys that we could go on the carousel after we took a loop around the marina.  

The marina was large and square.  Like a disconnected horseshoe, about 20 buildings lined each of three sides.  The fourth side at the north end, where we were standing, had a drawbridge for the boats to pass through, the famed carousel, and a pale brick building.  We began our walk around the marina, dodging the waiters scurrying back and fourth from the restaurants to the outdoor seating carrying copious amounts of mussels, bread, and wine.  The great weather had drawn out a crowd, and laughter filled the seafood infused air.  

As we made our way back to the carousel, my overly excited boys raced to the ticket counter. It was a magical sight, especially at night. A beautiful fixture within the marina, it lit up the sky.  A vintage double decker, with the most intricate details.  As it spun, carefully painted scenes of famous French locations passed by at the top of the carousel.  When it was our turn, our two year old and five year old jumped onto their chosen horses, as I held tightly to our one year old.  I smiled, as we spun into the night. 

On a sunny June day, I paused in front of Green Gables, realizing that no words would suffice.  Anne herself once stated, "Oh isn't it just wonderful?" It was more than wonderful.  Standing before the old two-story white farmhouse with its dark green trim and shutters, I stepped into one of my favorite childhood stories. 

The "White Way of Delight" was absent, and I wondered to myself if it was fiction all along or is now the parking lot.  Purple lilacs grew wildly along the white picket fence, permeating the air.  A cherry tree arose in the yard, surrounded by vivid green grass that spread and sloped down into the hollow.  Visitors wandered about, and to my surprise considering the excitement of such a place, politely waited for others to snap their picture in front of the Cuthbert home.  Except for the singing birds, it was silent, as everyone absorbed the peaceful surroundings that had once inspired Montgomery to write her popular series.  Six paned windows faced me, and the door was open, inviting me to enter.

Stepping through the front door was surreal, like a step back in time.  I recalled that this had once been the home of a real family, Montgomery's cousins.  To most of the world, it would always be Anne's home.  It was dark and old, but more spacious than I'd expected.  Rooms were staged with appropriate furniture and decor.  Visitors, including myself, passed through quickly, winding through the roped off path.  Most paused the longest at Anne's room, where her prized brown puffed sleeves dress from Matthew hung from her closet door.  My heart tugged a bit, as the child in me hoped to see Anne skip around the corner and ask me to be her bosom friend.

Eventually I was guided out of the house to Lover's Lane.  An approximately five foot wide dirt path led me through a forest filled with spruce and maple trees, ferns, moss, and blue violets.  Sunlight dappled through the trees, birds chirped, and a small brook babbled.  A quote by Montgomery was posted at the end of the path, "I had always a deep love of nature.  A little fern growing in the woods, a shallow sheet of June-bells under the firs, moonlight falling on the ivory column of a tall birch... all gave me... feelings which I had then no vocabulary to express."  Relating to her love of nature, I hoped that one day I too would find the vocabulary to describe such a beautiful place.

Here is an oldie but goodie photo, I even caught the monorail flying by in front of the castle!  

I hope you have some fun goals set for yourself this year.  There is little more satisfying than achieving our goals, no matter how big or how small.  Plan a trip to a new place (I can help with that!), take on a new hobby, or join a book club!  Whatever your goals may be, I join our youngest in wishing you a very happy and prosperous 2018!

I am so excited to share these pictures from a recent shoot.  I adored Pippi as a child, and had such a great time recreating one of my favorite childhood stories/movies!