I already waxed on and on about how much I love to travel. Now, the How To.
This is going to vary greatly depending on what the food allergies are and how severe they are.
If the allergens you need to avoid include ingredients
(milk, egg, wheat, etc) vs just treenuts and/or peanuts then your travel
is going to look different. Avoiding a nut is easier than avoiding a drop of milk.
Heading overseas with someone who is prone to anaphylaxis? If your allergen is lurking everywhere, making restaurants and street food off limits with the allergic person (but you really, really want to go!), this is what we have learned:
1) The internet is your very best friend. Use it to plan, plan, plan. Used to flying by the seat of your pants? You might need to alter a few things about how you travel for now.
2) Find a place to stay with a kitchen. The internet has again proven itself to be your soul mate. You can find a place to rent via AirBnB, VRBO, Tripadvisor, etc. that will have reviews and a kitchen. Hostels usually have kitchens too and many have family rooms so you'll have privacy. You might be groaning about having to cook while you travel. Instead, focus on the fact that you get to travel and that this is just part of your reality. It might not be fun to cook while you're on vacay but at least you're not watching TV and going to the mall.
3) Pack a suitcase with food. I know, I know. But trust me, it's worth it. Plan out each meal for each day. Find out if there is a grocery store nearby to buy produce and meat. Pack extra food in case there is some kind of travel bump. Put a note in English and the local language in the suitcase (politely) explaining why its important not to steal this food. Also pack containers (thermos, lunchbox, baggies, etc) to bring food on outings. I pack food that N doesn't usually get to eat at home so that she can have fun eating. Out of respect, I never order food she would order if it was safe. That's just good manners, in my opinion.
4) Be prepared for the airline to lose that essential suitcase. When we went to Belize last year, I had enough food for 2 full days in my carry on and travel insurance on two of our tickets. If they lost our bag (which they did of course), I could feed N for two days without stress and if it didnt arrive then I would fly us home and leave Lil'Bit and Andy to snorkel without us. Luckily we had our bag after a few hours and didn't need to abandon ship. Like climbing mountains though, don't get so focused on the summit that you make bad decisions. Be prepared to turn around if conditions change.
5) Bring a lot of wipes. When you get on the airplane, wipe down EVERYTHING the allergic person might touch. From experience I can tell you that giving a child an epipen is petrifying. I personally have no intention of finding out how much worse the experience is at 30K feet. Wipe, wipe, wipe! Some airlines will let you do a medical pre-board so that you can wipe, wipe, wipe in (relative) peace.
6) Pack a lot of epinephrine. We travel overseas with six pens, steroids and an inhaler.
7) Know how to get the Eff' Out of Dodge. Have a plan on how to evacuate should an accident happen. Bridging cultural gaps does not include trying to explain that you're not comfortable with a used needle.
8) Carry cards with the allergies and required treatment translated into the language(s) where you are going. Make sure they are laminated. Make sure you know how to read the allergens various names in every language you'll have to function in.
9) Have fun. I know it all sounds really scary and stressful after reading this but trust me, you'll still have an incredible experience and adventure. I've watched my girls get out of their comfort zones. Ive stood by while they looked past another childs poverty and saw just the freedom that child has compared to them. They've grilled me with questions about history and religion as we walk out of historical cathedrals and through caves. At 5 and 7yo, it drives them to ask questions they would never have asked otherwise. They've jumped off a boat, into shark infested waters because the glimpse of the reef was too tempting not to snorkel. These trips connect them to the world outside of their bubble. It's worth the 10 minutes it took to make and pack a safe lunch.
Monday, August 31, 2015
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.”
Thank you, Mark Twain. I couldn't agree more.
The first time I ever flew away from the US was one of the most defining events of my life. It was the 1990's. I was in college and my (totally unreliable) room mate and I had planned to head to Europe for the summer. I picked up extra shifts in the bar and the lab. I picked up a research project to do in Spain and that breathed some life into my suffocating credit card.
I spent hours researching backpacks, small towns and train schedules- before there was the internet. I had paper tickets for planes and trains in hand.
She (of course) bailed out and assumed I would too because what 20 year old girl goes to Europe alone? I wrote a check for the summers rent, put on an overpacked backpack and boarded an Air India flight bound for London.
I have never, ever been the same.
That summer I fended off an attempted rape in a hostel in Lyon, France*. I slept on the floor of a bus in the north of Spain and experienced a riot when a protest got out of hand. I had to give a report to the US military because the cute African American Navy Boys we were walking around with in San Raphael in the south of France were attacked by members of the racist National Front.
I kind of left out those details when I made my weekly calls (with a calling card! from a pay phone!) to my Dad.
More importantly, I stood in front of the Louvre and danced at midnight. I wandered Roman ruins in the dark with only the moon to light my way and breathed in the stories I would never know. I figured out bus and train schedules in several languages. I saw a lot of art and a lot of cathedrals. It never got old. I arrived on a Sunday in a small town in Spain and no restaurants or shops were open. So, I sat down with a family I had never met and spoke spanish and ate tapas until 2AM with a castle 50 feet away. I made friends at every turn. Western History, the Great Wars and the reality of it came into view for me with all of its twists and turns. I started to pick up newspapers and read them with my new eyes. It changed the course of my life.
I also learned that I was an incredibly capable person. I was so glad that my room mate had stayed behind because this adventure was completely mine.
I have since had the extraordinary privilege of jumping across many oceans on many occasions- by myself and with the love of my life. I have lived and worked in another country and that has changed how I live and work here. When I sat there, massively pregnant and fantasized about the world we would show our Bugaboo, Pad Thai in the northern Thailand rainforest came to mind. Croissants outside of Notre Dame! Bike rides to castles! Hikes through ruins!
Well, things havent gone exactly as planned while I was pregnant. I know, shocking, right?
It can be tedious to travel with young children. I think you should do it anyway. It's okay for things to be hard. It will be worth it. You don't need to cross oceans, just head somewhere that isn't right where you are. Lets be honest, going from Palo Alto to Alabama should require a passport. Take them to a National Park. Take them to a city. Just take them.
It can be petrifying and exhausting to travel with a young child who has severe food allergies. It is even worse when one of those allergies is perhaps the most common ingredient in food around the world. Eggs.
We have figured a few things out though. I'll fill you in.
*In case you were wondering if you and your daughter should take a self defense class, the "attempted" part of this story is why I think you should. The (disgustingly misogynistic) French police threatened to charge me because the attempted rapist was apparently in a lot of pain. Ooopss. I also learned to keep the American consulate number close at hand in case the (disgustingly misogynistic) French Police behave badly.
The first time I ever flew away from the US was one of the most defining events of my life. It was the 1990's. I was in college and my (totally unreliable) room mate and I had planned to head to Europe for the summer. I picked up extra shifts in the bar and the lab. I picked up a research project to do in Spain and that breathed some life into my suffocating credit card.
I spent hours researching backpacks, small towns and train schedules- before there was the internet. I had paper tickets for planes and trains in hand.
She (of course) bailed out and assumed I would too because what 20 year old girl goes to Europe alone? I wrote a check for the summers rent, put on an overpacked backpack and boarded an Air India flight bound for London.
I have never, ever been the same.
That summer I fended off an attempted rape in a hostel in Lyon, France*. I slept on the floor of a bus in the north of Spain and experienced a riot when a protest got out of hand. I had to give a report to the US military because the cute African American Navy Boys we were walking around with in San Raphael in the south of France were attacked by members of the racist National Front.
I kind of left out those details when I made my weekly calls (with a calling card! from a pay phone!) to my Dad.
More importantly, I stood in front of the Louvre and danced at midnight. I wandered Roman ruins in the dark with only the moon to light my way and breathed in the stories I would never know. I figured out bus and train schedules in several languages. I saw a lot of art and a lot of cathedrals. It never got old. I arrived on a Sunday in a small town in Spain and no restaurants or shops were open. So, I sat down with a family I had never met and spoke spanish and ate tapas until 2AM with a castle 50 feet away. I made friends at every turn. Western History, the Great Wars and the reality of it came into view for me with all of its twists and turns. I started to pick up newspapers and read them with my new eyes. It changed the course of my life.
I also learned that I was an incredibly capable person. I was so glad that my room mate had stayed behind because this adventure was completely mine.
I have since had the extraordinary privilege of jumping across many oceans on many occasions- by myself and with the love of my life. I have lived and worked in another country and that has changed how I live and work here. When I sat there, massively pregnant and fantasized about the world we would show our Bugaboo, Pad Thai in the northern Thailand rainforest came to mind. Croissants outside of Notre Dame! Bike rides to castles! Hikes through ruins!
Well, things havent gone exactly as planned while I was pregnant. I know, shocking, right?
It can be tedious to travel with young children. I think you should do it anyway. It's okay for things to be hard. It will be worth it. You don't need to cross oceans, just head somewhere that isn't right where you are. Lets be honest, going from Palo Alto to Alabama should require a passport. Take them to a National Park. Take them to a city. Just take them.
It can be petrifying and exhausting to travel with a young child who has severe food allergies. It is even worse when one of those allergies is perhaps the most common ingredient in food around the world. Eggs.
We have figured a few things out though. I'll fill you in.
*In case you were wondering if you and your daughter should take a self defense class, the "attempted" part of this story is why I think you should. The (disgustingly misogynistic) French police threatened to charge me because the attempted rapist was apparently in a lot of pain. Ooopss. I also learned to keep the American consulate number close at hand in case the (disgustingly misogynistic) French Police behave badly.
Monday, August 17, 2015
This is what is different
Ice cream shops have a mythical status in most kids lives. Magic happens in the hands of those scoopers. There is one place in Boulder where the ice cream does not have eggs. However, several flavors have eggs and almonds so when we stop for a cone, the (lovely) staff disinfects a scooper and heads into the hard freezer for a fresh bin of ice cream that hasn't been cross contaminated. Having spent a summer working at Ben and Jerry's in college, I am fully aware of the workout they are getting in the deep freezer.
It takes extra time and usually embarrasses her - other people have to wait and she stands out because of her allergies (and not her awesomeness). Because not one of those college kids has ever done anything but happily oblige when they've seen her big brown eyes, our bill usually includes my 50% grateful gratuity.
Then I hold my breath while she eats her ice cream and I act normal. You see, that's what I've done. I've acted normal. I never felt normal. I felt really, really scared. I was always scared. So was she. There was constant fear, everywhere we went.
Last week, we went in and just ordered the ice cream she wanted. We read the ingredients and with no special treatment, we sat in the hot sun and chased our melting ice cream down the cones. Just like everyone else.
We only eat in a few restaurants with her. Three restaurant- epi-pen-needed- accidents will do that to you. If we eat somewhere else, we pack her food. That was fine until her pre-tween (is that a thing now?) self started sinking into her long body because of the unwanted attention. When we went to the dinner theater with friends, she waited until the lights went down to pull out her thermos.
Dammit.
But now? I breathe. I'm not always scared. Her world is profoundly safer. Today she ate 300mg of her allergens combined. She does that every day (until Thursday when she starts eating 600mg). That's more than might be on your hands after your lunch so go ahead and give her a hug! Hell, kiss her on the cheek! She'll be fine.
We went to the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. We never went there because their chocolate is cross contaminated with almonds. She sucked down four chocolate coins while strolling along the river. We still need to check ingredients but if you flip her burger and an egg with the same spatula, we wont even know it. We wont be leaving the ER four hours later.
She was petrified but she pushed her way through a rib at a random restaurant. She couldn't eat more than that but that rib, that one rib was glorious and took profound courage. I wonder what bystanders thought while I was pep talking her in the middle of the BBQ joint off of I-70?
This morning, both girls were driving me up the wall. So? I sent them to the park. Since the dawn of the suburban reality, parents have been kicking kids out to the park to preserve their (lingering) sanity. Now, my sanity stands a (limited) chance. I didn't go with them (I did send the walkie- talkie in case someone needed stitches). Spilled bag of almonds next to the slide? Toddler with a muffin? No worries.
We aren't *there* yet but this place is safer than the world has been since she was four months old. I go looking inside of me for the fear but its gone. There is only a scar. Even if we never go further than this, we can all exhale. Touch is no longer dangerous. Your car doesn't need to be vacuumed before she gets in. We meet new neighbors and don't even mention her allergies.
The freedom and possibilities are making me downright giddy.
The trial ends at 36 weeks. She hits her maintenance dose at 20 weeks. We are about to start week 14. Who wants to have us over for dinner in October?
It takes extra time and usually embarrasses her - other people have to wait and she stands out because of her allergies (and not her awesomeness). Because not one of those college kids has ever done anything but happily oblige when they've seen her big brown eyes, our bill usually includes my 50% grateful gratuity.
Then I hold my breath while she eats her ice cream and I act normal. You see, that's what I've done. I've acted normal. I never felt normal. I felt really, really scared. I was always scared. So was she. There was constant fear, everywhere we went.
Last week, we went in and just ordered the ice cream she wanted. We read the ingredients and with no special treatment, we sat in the hot sun and chased our melting ice cream down the cones. Just like everyone else.
We only eat in a few restaurants with her. Three restaurant- epi-pen-needed- accidents will do that to you. If we eat somewhere else, we pack her food. That was fine until her pre-tween (is that a thing now?) self started sinking into her long body because of the unwanted attention. When we went to the dinner theater with friends, she waited until the lights went down to pull out her thermos.
Dammit.
But now? I breathe. I'm not always scared. Her world is profoundly safer. Today she ate 300mg of her allergens combined. She does that every day (until Thursday when she starts eating 600mg). That's more than might be on your hands after your lunch so go ahead and give her a hug! Hell, kiss her on the cheek! She'll be fine.
We went to the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. We never went there because their chocolate is cross contaminated with almonds. She sucked down four chocolate coins while strolling along the river. We still need to check ingredients but if you flip her burger and an egg with the same spatula, we wont even know it. We wont be leaving the ER four hours later.
She was petrified but she pushed her way through a rib at a random restaurant. She couldn't eat more than that but that rib, that one rib was glorious and took profound courage. I wonder what bystanders thought while I was pep talking her in the middle of the BBQ joint off of I-70?
This morning, both girls were driving me up the wall. So? I sent them to the park. Since the dawn of the suburban reality, parents have been kicking kids out to the park to preserve their (lingering) sanity. Now, my sanity stands a (limited) chance. I didn't go with them (I did send the walkie- talkie in case someone needed stitches). Spilled bag of almonds next to the slide? Toddler with a muffin? No worries.
We aren't *there* yet but this place is safer than the world has been since she was four months old. I go looking inside of me for the fear but its gone. There is only a scar. Even if we never go further than this, we can all exhale. Touch is no longer dangerous. Your car doesn't need to be vacuumed before she gets in. We meet new neighbors and don't even mention her allergies.
The freedom and possibilities are making me downright giddy.
The trial ends at 36 weeks. She hits her maintenance dose at 20 weeks. We are about to start week 14. Who wants to have us over for dinner in October?
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