The Number Field

Ten years ago my college rowing team traveled to England to compete in the Henley Royal Regatta. It was a bittersweet experience for me because I was not selected to be in the boat, and instead was a spare rower in case of injury. However, the other spare and I did lots of good rowing in our two-man boat, and the overall experience was great. I put Henley on our list of things to do as soon as I knew that we would be in the UK this year, and our trip to the coast meshed well with the plan to go to Henley and do some other travel in conjunction with Independence Day.

The Henley Royal Regatta is one of the most historic and famous rowing events in the world. It's a five-day, head-to-head, single-elimination tournament including events for different boat classes and competition levels, including international, club, collegiate, etc. Each day the winners move on, while the losers go home. The entire 2,112 meter course is demarcated by heavy wooden posts and beams, presenting a real challenge to crews with bad steering. It's been held every year since 1839, with the exception of years during the World Wars, and served as the rowing event in the 1908 and 1948 Olympics. In fact, the Olympics organizing committee is modelled after the Henley committee.

We didn't arrive at Henley until the teatime break before the Friday evening session, but found good parking near a playground where Roman and Elena played until it was time to walk to the course. As we walked along the Thames to the Regatta Enclosure, for which we had purchased badges, we joined in with a crowd full of signs of British society: rowers and former rowers wearing blazers, often in the garish colors and bold patterns of their clubs and schools, ladies in summer dresses and fancy hats, even a few people in true formal wear heading to dinner appointments.

Although the weather was threatening, we only had to put up with one short rain shower as we watched the races, which came down the course on ten minute intervals. We were close to the finish line and most of the races had been decided much further up the course, but there were at a few where the outcome was still in doubt and the racing was still heated. Elena didn't care how big the margins were--she cheered for all the boats, even those warming up towards the start.

After several hours in the car earlier in the day Roman wanted to stretch out and crawl around, but we were sitting right next to the water. Eventually he wore me down and I took him to a grassy area just behind the waterside seating area, where he attracted the attention of lots of people walking by including a security guard, an Italian lady, and a drunk grandpa who exhorted me "not to miss a moment of this time!"

The next day we didn't have tickets to go into the enclosures so instead we watched from different vantage points further up the course: one at about halfway and the other near the start. On Saturday almost all the rowing is good, even if the races are not all close, so I really enjoyed watching. In between races there's always something to watch in the veritable parade of boats that occurs on the river outside the course. I think that Elena has an increased desire to row someday, and even though Radcliffe was down by a length to a Canadian National Team boat just past Temple Island, I told Elena that maybe she would be in a boat like that someday. Jenny asked why I wasn't saying the same thing to Roman about the men's teams, but he's still too young to understand.

The hardest part of the day was the walk back to our car because of the throngs of people headed in both directions, overflowing the very narrow path. We escaped into a vendor area for a while and browsed through the tents--Elena even tried out a rowing machine--but eventually we had to return to the stream of people and push our way all the way back. I was not happy when people wouldn't yield the pavement to our small-wheeled stroller, but managed to contain my anger and only throw elbows at a couple of them.

Sadly, Henley was not the only rowing-related event that affected me last weekend. A strong storm on the East coast of the US did severe damage to my boat. Even though I'm far away, the coach and boathouse manager where it is in storage are taking good care of it, and it should be repairable. I hope so--Elena might win Henley in that boat someday!

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When Elena started eating solid foods she ate everything, and a lot of it. In one meal she would easily put down 3/4 cup of homemade oatmeal mixed with another four ounces of baby food. That was in addition to the food I gave her to tide her over while I was preparing that main course: crackers, cereal, tortillas, etc. I can only ever remember her disliking one food that I offered: avocado. After trying several times I decided to quit wasting it on her, since Mark and I like it quite well.

Roman is a different story--he's already a picky eater. I don't do picky, but I would like my child to eat. We don't give him oatmeal because it causes problems, which may or may not be an allergy, but hopefully he'll grow out of the sensitivity someday. He won't eat rice. He spits out any type of meat we try to trick him into eating. He throws cereal on the floor without even trying it. He will not open his mouth for eggs. He will not eat cheese or bread. Sometimes he tolerates crackers or pretzels, but for a little guy that still does not have teeth, being picky severely limits his meal options. This is what he eats: toast (but only for breakfast), yogurt, pears, peas, strawberries, pasta, mashed potatoes, and formula. And except for the formula nothing is a sure bet.

I thought I could keep feeding him baby food, but much of the time he won't eat that either. He knows it's different from what the rest of us are having, and what he really wants is to eat what we're eating. At least that is what he thinks he wants, but he won't let us spoon feed him--he wants to pick it up and feed himself. And of course, once he shoves the food into his mouth, he'll spit it out unless it's on his list of acceptable foods. I keep thinking that if he gets hungry enough he'll eat whatever I give him. Logically that's how it has to work, but this little guy has already proved to be quite stubborn!

Update: Since the original writing of this post, Roman has had at least one good food day, eating substantial portions of things he usually rejects, including rice and avocado pieces.

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We have spent the last week in a southwestern coastal town. Our hotel is cute and has a great staff, the town is small, and the beach is very close. The kids and I went there on Wednesday afternoon and they both had a fantastic time! Roman continually tried to eat sand, rocks, shells--whatever he could reach. When he realized that I would continue to intervene indefinitely and not let him get things into his mouth, he found a new strategy: dive into the sand face first! He also loved to crawl to the edge of the wake as the waves came in and then follow the water as it went back out.

Elena didn't mind that it was overcast and not hot, she was excited to be wearing her swimsuit and have permission to splash, run, jump, and kick in all the tide pools! We picked up a couple of plastic shovels and a sand castle bucket earlier in the day and put them to good use. The great thing about the beach is its size; there is plenty of room for Elena to run around crazy, which she did! We had so much fun, we headed back the next day, when it was even sunny and a little bit warmer!

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More than a month later, here is the second half of the story about our trip over.

After a morning fraught with fear as we worried about making the flight until the very last minute, we hoped that the moment we boarded the plane together would signal the end of our troubles and allow us some peace. We knew better, because taking two children on a trans-Atlantic flight is guaranteed to be interesting and not particularly relaxing. The euphoria of being together still carried us through most of the first leg of the flight without incident. Elena seemed mostly happy strapped into her car seat by the window, although she did play with the window cover more than we would have liked before she fell asleep for a nice long nap. Roman wiggled a lot and fussed some, but no more than usual. We were seated in the very back row, so we had easy access to the rest room and the flight attendants played peek-a-boo with Roman when he had hard times.

Elena even slept through the landing which normally scares her, and woke up as we taxied towards the terminal. All of a sudden and without warning she threw up. We had dealt with some illness over the previous several days, but the day before our flight neither children had a problem and both seemed to be well on the way to recovery. Something in the combination of the flight and lingering illness pushed Elena over the limit. Luckily, Jenny had packed several extra outfits for each child in our carry-ons, and they were able to clean up and change at the first opportunity once we deboarded the plane.

During a long layover we tried to rest and recover as much as possible. We kept Elena calm and contained by turning on some shows on our new laptop in a first real test of its battery life, during which it performed admirably. Roman and I walked around, but he never fell asleep, as he way paying too much attention to the activity all around the busy airport. The time to board the plane came on all too soon. We got on early and sat together, trading one seat with a young woman who was all to happy to sit in the aisle seat assigned to me. Takeoff went okay, but eventually Elena's illness expressed itself again and she had to have her clothes changed again.

With that past, we all needed to catch whatever rest we could. Roman's dislike of cuddling and sleeping in our laps complicated things, but after the long day he succumbed to my embrace and ended up asleep, sprawled out across my lap. Once he was down, I arranged myself as best I could so that I could close my eyes and not worry about dropping him on the floor. It worked surprisingly well for me--I think I got at least a few hours of rest--but locked Jenny in an uncomfortable position. Flying from west to east on a northern route during the late spring doesn't afford many dark hours, but we slept through the sunrise, like many of the people on the plane, although we were all up before the final descent began.

The airport was mostly quiet when we arrived, and it took extra time for us to get to and through customs, so most of the other passengers from our flight were gone by the time we picked up our baggage. We had to wait even a while longer for our taxi to arrive for the long drive to our destination, but the driver was quite nice when he arrived and his van had plenty of space for us all to stretch our legs and enjoy a nap while he carried us through the English countryside. It was a peaceful conclusion to the trip, but only the beginning of our adventure.

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Mark takes good care of all of us, so I wanted him to really feel loved on Father's Day. I had been thinking about the day long before we traveled here, but I waited until we arrived before I purchased any gifts. The first item on the list was a new watch to replace the one I gave him as a Christmas present when we were engaged. It has been on the blink for the last year and I keep "kinda" getting it fixed. That's "kinda" as in I almost replaced the battery, but then it seemed to be working again, so I gave it back to Mark and pretended that I had something done to fix it. Then it stopped working again. Or "kinda" like when I took it in to a jewelry store and asked them why it kept starting and stopping and they said it wasn't the battery, but that it needed a special lubricating spray which would get it working consistently. Then it stopped working again. Mark saw a watch he wanted to buy at Costco, but I told him I would go back and get it for him as a present, but when I went to get it they were sold out. Oops. The first week here Elena and I found the perfect watch. We decided to wait before purchasing it and our plan was almost foiled again when we went back and it was out of stock! Luckily, they had time to order it before the big day, so Mark has a working watch once again. Hooray!

My other focus was incorporating some local flavour. At first I wasn't sure exactly what I meant by this, but I started by finding some British-branded shirts and a tie. I also wanted to incorporate British cuisine into our menu for the day. There were some challenges with this part of plan, namely that

• We have a bare bones kitchen setup regarding pots, pans, and so forth, so I had to make sure that I had the proper equipment to prepare the food, and
• Grocery stores are still somewhat unfamiliar to us--if I want to get a particular item that I might commonly use in the states, often I don't know if the store carries it, what it's called, or where to find it, and
• I need to carry everything home in my backpack so it's hard to buy large quantities.

I decided to venture into a butcher shop for the first time, although I was worried about looking ridiculous when I tried to order a hunk of meat. The worries were unfounded, because the butcher was very kind and helpful. I literally asked for a good cut of meat for Father's Day, and when the clerk starting naming animals I thought I should stick to one I had had before, so I chose beef. He selected a big hunk of meat from the display case, asked me how many people it needed to feed, and cut the appropriate amount (including, per my request, enough for some leftovers). Next I requested some bacon--he cut 10 pieces. I took notes as he gave me instructions for cooking the beef because by that point Elena was pulling things off the wall and Roman was crying and kicking his feet. Time to head home.

On Father's Day morning Elena might have been the most excited one when it was time to open presents. Since we had to leave for church early, I cooked breakfast (pancakes and bacon) while Mark worked on opening the gifts. I think he liked everything and was even delighted to see that Jewel had sent her standard gift of maple syrup--just in time for the pancakes!

Dinner worked out in the end, but not without some adventures and delays. Cooking in this oven makes me feel like I am learning to cook all over again. Some things burn, some things take longer, some things have to be rotated mid-baking--it takes time to establish a good oven relationship. The cake was a little burnt, but nothing that strawberries and Extra Double Thick British cream couldn't fix. We still have bits of mashed potatoes on our kitchen walls because shallow bowls were the only thing I had to mix them in. Despite the fact that Elena now announces what she doesn't like as you put it on the table (e.g. "I don't like mashed potatoes!", "I don't like roast!", "I don't like roast carrots!"), we all had an enjoyable dinner. Mark felt loved and cared for, which was the whole point in the first place! I hope all the fathers we know had fantastic Father's Days as well!

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Congratulations to Elena for learning how to keep herself dry at night! Jenny put up a sticker chart--Elena would get a sticker for each successful night, and after she had earned ten stickers she would receive a new nightgown, one that she wanted the first time she saw it in the store several weeks ago. After only eleven days, Elena is proudly modeling her new sleepwear. Good job, Elena!

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Earlier this week we got our first real taste of the Olympics here, when the Olympic Torch Relay came through barely a block and half away from our flat. I read a report not long ago about how hard the Olympic Organizing Committee was working to get the entire country to feel like they were hosting the Games, not just London. They've tried their best to route the relay through every little town and village, drumming up support and excitement. I think it worked here--I wasn't sure how many people would actually turn out for the event, but it appeared that the whole town turned out. People left work early and schools released their students, so the route was lined with people several rows deep.

Mark came home at lunchtime and we woke the kids up early from their naps so we could walk over there together. I immediately realized that we did not have anything patriotically British to show our enthusiasm. Luckily there were balloon and souvenir vendors working the crowds, and with the change in my pocket I was able to get flags for the kids to wave. We found good spots on the side of the road and when traffic came to halt in front us and threatened our view it was no problem--we just went around the cars and stood in the street. The parked car even gave us something to lean on while we were waiting for the show! Several buses came through with music and dancers; at some point there was someone on a PA system talking about following our dreams, but then there was a long lag before the actual torch bearer came through. The actual event itself was brief, but it was great to be a tiny part of something much bigger!

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Roman has been a solid stander for the past couple weeks, but made no signs that he would actually be ready to pick up either foot to walk until today! He has enjoyed standing so much for so long, Mark and I actually thought he would be walking before we left Maryland (which would have been helpful because then he could have carried some of his own luggage at the airport). Yesterday, I alerted Mark that maybe Roman was trying to take his first steps, but he would just lift a leg and then fall over. Today when I set him down to get him dressed he stood there for a moment, then took three steps towards me! I think he surprised himself. He was so excited and full of giggles afterwards that I couldn't get him stable enough to try it again. I did see him try a few more times this morning before we headed out the door, but since Elena was trying to help him, they just both ended up on the floor giggling. His crawling days are limited, pretty soon he'll be running everywhere trying to keep up with Elena!

In other exciting news, Elena has started preschool, but here they call it nursery . Since I have been trying to use the British terms for things, I've been calling it nursery to Elena. I may not be able to stick to it with this particular term since on Monday when I was telling Elena to get ready so we could head out to nursery she asked me if it was Sunday. We interviewed two different nurseries and chose the one we felt a stronger connection with. It is further away than the other--nearly a mile walk. It isn't bad when the weather is nice and sunny like it has been this week, but I am not looking forward to it in the rain. Inevitably, Elena gets about 5 minutes into the 25 minute walk (Elena pace) and starts to hunch over as if her sweater has suddenly become as heavy as rocks. "I can't make it!" she declares, but if I keep walking she generally catches up. Today she spent most of the walk running and then waiting for me to catch up to her and then running ahead again. She also picks up leaves and sticks to entertain herself and right now the stroller contains leaves for both Mark and I as well. What a thoughtful girl!

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My father is a hero. He always has been, and I've known it since I was a little child, but his feats continue even now that I am fully grown with my own family.

Our flight was scheduled for a Thursday mid-afternoon departure. Jenny and I were already stressed out by packing, planning and even just the idea of heading to a foreign land for an extended trip. We didn't even know where we would be living after the first week, for which we had booked a hotel. Added to that was an even more urgent stressor: I needed to bring some paperwork with me, which I didn't have on Thursday morning. I had thought it would be all ready several days in advance, but it wasn't. Luckily, my father made himself available all that day to take us to the airport.

We left early so I could stop in at work and pick everything up, but as the minutes passed, our flight time drew nearer and I didn't have the paperwork in my hands, we decided to switch to our back-up plan: My father would take Jenny and the kids to the aiport with all of our luggage, and I would call a taxi and catch up when I could. I had booked travel through work and my reservation was fully refundable, but their fares were the cheapest we could find, and would have cost hundreds of dollars in change fees. Still, we were all sweating bullets, Jenny especially, because she did not want to fly across an ocean by herself with Roman and Elena as well as all the luggage.

Once the plan was in motion, I called the taxi and arranged the earliest possible pickup, knowing that if things worked out I would still make the plane. As I finished up the call to the dispatcher, the paperwork came in and I signed for it and headed out the door. There was one small problem--I didn't have my cell phone, because it was in the car. When the taxi driver didn't show up on time, I was able to find a landline and check in with Jenny, who explained the situation. The driver had gone to the wrong location, due to a missed communcation with the dispatcher. Jenny answered my phone when the driver called and had the presence of mind to direct him to where I was. The delay only cost us about ten minutes, but it was enough that I started to fear that I wouldn't make the flight.

The taxi driver seemed pretty mellow. His company specializes in taking people to the local airports, so I was reassured when I explained the time pressure to him and he said that we should still be able to make it. Pretty soon the driver began taking calls from someone he eventually described as "a very concerned doctor," who turned out to be my father calling every five minutes for status updates. Despite some traffic, we arrived at the terminal where my father was waiting just outside the terminal. He showed me in to the priority check-in, where the desk agent who had helped Jenny was waiting to check me in, then showed me to the of the security line. After sending Jenny a text message that I was on my way, he said goodbye.

I didn't hear the rest of the story until long after takeoff. My father was not familiar with how to get to the airport, and was trying to listen to the GPS voice directions with Roman crying unconsolably in the back seat. In the middle of all that, Jenny expressed worry about navigating the aiport alone with all the luggage and the kids. My father offered to help any way he could, so instead of dropping them off he parked in the garage, unloaded all the luggage and began wrestling hundreds of pounds of our bags towards the terminal while Jenny dealt with the kids. Once they got inside, he stormed the check-in desk to inform the staff that his daughter-in-law required assistance, in return for which he was directed to a star agent in the priority lane (the same one who would later help me). The agent not only worked efficiently and kept everyone calm, but also managed to figure out a legal way to get all of our checked bags on the plane for free.

Security was the final hurdle, and Jenny still had two carry-ons, a stroller, and a car seat to take through. My father didn't have a ticket, so he couldn't help her directly. Instead, he found two friendly young women at the front of the security line and made a deal with them to help Jenny and the kids through security and to the gate. According to Jenny, the girls made her life much easier even though one of the bags had to undergo additional screening. They were good with Elena and Roman, who did their best to be cute all the while.

At the gate, no sooner had the helpers said goodbye so they could catch their own flight than a woman approached Jenny. A mother traveling alone, she could see that Jenny would still need help boarding, and offered to help her board. Jenny thanked her for the help but explained that she was expecting me. They were still chatting when I arrived, just minutes before the boarding began. We walked on the plane together as a family, something that had been in doubt all that day, thankful to be reunited, and ready for at least a few minutes of relaxation. Although our trip was far from over, we felt extremely fortunate at the successful resolution of the first stage.

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Before I tell the epic story of our journey from the United States to Great Britain, I would like to describe some of the key components of our travel gear. Jenny requested that we upgrade our luggage when we began making plans for extended and extensive travel this year, and we made the upgrades after research and discussions about what we needed and wanted. Although the pieces we added were surprisingly economical, price was not the only driver for our decisions. I've been very happy so far, and expect that what we have now will be durable and serve us long into the future.

I had a few guiding principles in looking for new luggage, which I adopted from traveling light forums and websites, most notably this one .

• Most radically, I was convinced that wheeled luggage doesn't make sense--the wheel system might take up to 20% of the weight allowance and significiantly reduce the amount of room available in the bag. A suitcase that can turn into a backpack is more versatile than a wheeled bag, and the shoulder straps take up much less space than wheels.
• Soft-sided luggage is preferable to the hard-sided kind, especially if it's sturdy, heavy-duty nylon with strong zippers. No luggage is secure, not even hard-sided luggage, so that consideration isn't even worth worrying about.
• Rectangular bags maximize space. Airlines give allowed dimensions in terms of maximum length, width, and height, and the carry-on checkpoints are always box-shaped. Plane weight limits mean that a maximum-size bag might not be completely full, but flights are not the only time we need the bags.

With those points in mind, and following some of the websites' recommendations, I found the eBags MotherLode carry-on, and the Eagle Creek No Matter What duffel bag, which carries an impressive lifetime guarantee. We got two of each. The MotherLode was my go-to bag for driving back and forth when we were on the west coast. Jenny wasn't entirely pleased with the cavernous duffel bag, with no internal organization. We solved that problem with an assortment of eBags packing cubes, which Jenny loves. Their modularity makes them much more versatile than a traditional suitcase, and they even have handles so can be useful on their own, not packed into luggage. Low cost was a happy side-effect of following my luggage principles; we could have easily spent as much for one new suitcase as we did for the all the new carry-ons, duffel bags, and packing cubes.

We didn't replace everything that we had; we're using two traditional wheeled suitcases that we already had, mementos of my time as a rowing coach in Texas (although I was a volunteer, they were allowed to give me free gear). When we travel on an airplane, we also bring a stroller, a car seat, and personal items--a purse for Jenny and backpacks for Elena and I. It may look like a lot, but it really isn't when you take into consideration the fact that we were packing for a six-month-long trip. In fact, we could have brought several more bags while remaining within our luggage allowance.
We can still fit all of this and ourselves in a compact car without sacrificing too much leg room. And if we go slow and I get the balance of duffel bags atop wheeled suitcases just right, we can move everything, including the kids, all at once.

We've seen at an extra benefit from the carry-on bags being convertible to backpacks--it's that they make very good backpacks. Without a car, we do a lot more walking and are generally limited to what we can carry with us, but a big backpack means that isn't too much of a limitation. One pack can hold everything that we need for a long day of sightseeing, for instance at the Knaresborough bed races. It can also hold everything we get on a substantial grocery trip, causing the half-mile walk home to be much more pleasant than it would be if we had to carry a dozen plastic bags the whole way. With Roman in the tummy pack and a fully-loaded backback behind, I'm always balanced and ready to go.

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