How disasters can become wonderful memories

My brother and I’s first trip to Egypt as adults with our parents quickly went off the rails.

After spending Christmas in Sinai, we drove our rental car back to Cairo. At the hotel, a well-dressed man, whom my father mistook for a hotel attendant, offered to move our car. “Thank you,” my father said with a smile as he handed me the keys. The only thing the impostor left behind was a 10-foot skid trail.

The car robbery set off a series of bewildering encounters. First, I had to convince the rental car company that I wasn’t trying to rip off the Toyota. Then we battled the police, who arrived at the hotel at 3 a.m. with dusty books filled with thousands of mugshots, who demanded a bakshishi, or small bribe, before filing a crime report. I had to.

My luggage was stolen along with my car, so I had to make arrangements for basic necessities like buying underwear. At least I could get comfortable Egyptian cotton.

We considered returning home, but instead accelerated our visit to Kenya, the second stop on our itinerary. I will never forget the surprised reaction of the Kenya Airways staff when the four of us handed out small plastic bags containing our clothes as our only check-in “luggage”.

This first African adventure became the template for 20 years of traveling the world with my parents.

We ventured to new places at least once a year, often twice. Significant people, friends, and later my son also joined these holidays, which eventually spread to over 40 countries.

The only rule we followed was to do something new each time. As we did so, we quickly noticed a pattern. That means that we millers tend to attract disaster.

Our second African adventure was even more harrowing.

In Zimbabwe, we decided to go rafting down the majestic Zambezi River below Victoria Falls. This area is considered one of the biggest and worst whitewater rafting destinations. There are several Class V rapids with names like “Mother” and “Oblivion.”

Our raft held on with white joints and gritted teeth as it sailed through a tricky section called the “Stairway to Heaven,” which had a 30-foot drop over a 50-foot distance.

Then our raft capsized. The only thing worse than going down the Stairway to Heaven on a raft is going through the Stairway to Heaven without a raft. My stepmother and I were swept downstream. I was so focused on avoiding the rocks that dotted the rushing river that I didn’t pay attention to the alligators that lived in the water.

Then it became very real. I struggled to stay afloat in the vortex, gasping for air as the powerful vortex pulled me into it. I didn’t think death was inevitable, but I quickly accepted it as a possibility.

I don’t know how, but somehow the vortex spit me out. I then swam to calm waters and found the raft and the rest of my family..

That episode happened 25 years ago. What will forever be burned into my mind is the memory of my father standing naked up to his ankles on a capsized raft, his angelic white butt glistening above the water.

That disastrous rafting trip was an accident, but none of the family’s adventures were accidental.

Each trip required careful planning and scheduling. I had a demanding corporate career at a major Hollywood studio that involved frequent travel. So I sometimes added family trips to my work trips. There were also times when I forced myself to leave space in a crowded calendar.

I usually start planning a year in advance and make sure I have time to spend with my family first. We were committed to traveling together. Spending quality time with my parents is the best investment I’ve ever made.

These shared experiences have enriched our lives immeasurably and strengthened our relationship. After traveling through Central America, you will become a different and closer-knit family. The joy, laughter, and tears born from our travels are the core of our family structure.

We still laugh about Cairo. We may have lost something, but we gained something far more valuable.

Travel has a way of upending family dynamics and hierarchies. At home, it is easy to fall into familiar patterns, many of which are set in childhood. But on the street? It’s a whole new universe. It is common for the roles of parent and child to be reversed.

Usually I suggested the idea of ​​traveling, but my parents were up for almost any adventure. The conversation usually went something like this:

Me: Have you ever been to a camel fair?
Parents: We don’t have anything like that in Kentucky.
Me: If I have to visit only one place, I would say Pushkar.
Parents: “When are you going?”

Then move into planning mode. We love exotic and remote destinations, often combining multiple countries and authentic experiences into one trip.

But sometimes things got too real.

In Tikal, Guatemala, we booked a jungle lodge near ancient Mayan ruins. We were stunned when we opened the door to a sparse room with two metal-framed beds, a dirty concrete floor, and a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

The bed linen was a dark beige color and the pillows were decorated with sweat rings. It was dilapidated – a shock compounded by our last hotel, the luxurious Blancano Lodge in the Belizean rainforest and the former hideout of film director Francis Ford Coppola.

Before I went to bed that night, I covered every surface area of ​​my body from head to toe with clothes, only to realize that more misfortune was brewing in the mirror.

We still laugh about our road trip to Cuba. I ended up driving in circles for hours trying to drive the entire length of the island from Havana to Santiago de Cuba, near Guantanamo.

That was before GPS. There were no road signs and everyone pointed us in different directions. I drove around in circles looking for the “national highway,” which was a two-lane road at the time. The humor in it all fed our continued resilience.

And then there was the Mother of All Camels festival, held every November in Pushkar, a small town in the Indian state of Rajasthan. Each year, temporary but impressive tents are erected to accommodate visitors.

We stayed in a luxurious royal tent with en-suite bathroom and butler, and enjoyed sumptuous meals in a luxurious tented dining hall. Pushkar was an unusual trip for us. Because for once everything was fine.

We started dating as a family when I was in my mid-20s and my parents were in their 50s. As the decades passed, adventures became less daring, less frequent, and took place in more familiar locations.

Then the adventures stopped.

I’m glad we made the effort to explore the world together then. The reality is that the window of opportunity is limited, and it often closes sooner than we think.

This holiday season, if your family rhythm is your default setting and you’re curious about the world, consider the following.

Mix.
Let’s make life interesting.
Go out with your loved ones.
Go beyond your comfort zone.

This does not happen by chance and requires some effort. But if you do, you may be forever grateful.