Little did I know when I packed blank journals for the kids, they would become my favorite souvenirs. Truth be told, having the boys do journal time was more about me needing something for them to do. Also, it was an easy thing to pack in our carry on bags on our two month trip through Spain and Italy.
It was 2011, before Snapchat and Instagram. Before the kids (then ages 6, 8, and 10) had their own phones, and even before they had much of their own social lives apart from ours. Most of our vacations up to this point had been with grandparents, cousins and family friends. Needless to say, my husband and I were a bit worried about how – just the two of us – would keep the boys entertained all day, every day, without reinforcements for two whole months. We wondered (in a joking way but kinda serious) if we would end up hiring some stranger off the streets, with just enough English, to babysit our kids, so that we could get some time away for sanity sake.
Just before leaving, they picked a journal. Each choosing one so fitting to their personality at the time. The Harry Potter one, which included stickers, caught my youngest son’s eye. My middle son picked a black spiral with silver stars and inspirational quotes across the tops of the pages. And the oldest picked one with a map as the cover and magnetic closing flap. My husband and I created a WordPress blog and titled it Five Watsons. That would double as our documentation of the journey and our source for keeping our friends and family informed back home.
We landed in Spain in mid afternoon. Having hurdled time zones, we were severely jet lagged. Our apartment was in what we thought would be the hustle and bustle of Seville – the center of town. But yet, it was strangely quiet in the middle of the afternoon. Storefronts closed and few people out and about. But once we understood the Spanish tradition of the siesta, we jumped right on board.
Historically the siesta began in rural Spain as a way to give the farmers a break from the late afternoon heat. The concept quickly spread to the cities. Store owners, tradesmen and professionals joined the tradition. Today some probably do still take actual naps, but we understood it to be more of a simple break in the routine. Our boys at ages 6, 8, and 10, would refuse the idea of a nap anyway. We still, however, called it siesta time, but for us it meant journal time, or reading time, or just down time. That chunk of time turned out to became our saving grace and what would eventually lead to my favorite souvenir.
While the boys filled their pages, my husband and I filled our blog. We made our way through Spain, and Italy, falling into a routine – morning activity, lunch, back to the apartment, siesta, out in the early evening for dinner. What I found over time is that although we had done the same things – eaten at the same restaurants and walked the same paths – their interpretation had such a different focus.
When I wrote about the statue of David – the precision and it’s enormity – our middle son was more fascinated by Michelangelo’s “prisoners” – the sculptures Michelangelo was never able to finish, therefore leaving prisoners held captive in their block of marble. While having dinner on a patio overlooking the Grand Canal, our youngest would only remember his frustration when his brother ate too many bites of his noodles. Those journal entries were like a sneak peak inside their youthful brains. It’s the things that are important to us that leave the biggest impression. Of course a 6 year old is going to place a greater importance on his pasta than on the view of the Grand Canal.
Fast forward 8 years. Those journals are truly my favorite memoir. What started as just a way for my husband and I to maintain our sanity, or as a way to fill time – just something to do – has now become a frozen-in-time glimpse inside a 6, 8, and 10 year old brain. Their perspective was so simple and fresh. Their eyes so keen on what impressed them specifically, yet so different than mine. Their handwriting, their drawings, and their words depicting our epic family trip are like precious time capsules.
If we ever get the chance to retrace our steps, I would love to see what makes it into their journals now. Of course our perspectives and our modes of documentation would still be different.
