October 11, 2026 by trs

Sweden Summer, Part Three: A Splendid Day in Uppsala

The third installment of my daughter and my August 2026 visit to Sweden.

*Uppsala from the Iron Bridge over the Fyris River*

On the morning of our fourth day, we packed up our backpacks and said goodbye to Gamla Stan. After three nights there, we had grown comfortable. We knew which way to turn when we stepped outside, recognized the streets around us, and had settled into our little corner of Stockholm.

Naturally, that meant it was time to move on.

We walked to Stockholm Central to catch a train to Uppsala. Google Maps led me slightly astray near the station, and we ended up in the wrong place and missed the train I had planned for us to take. Fortunately, this was not much of a crisis. Uppsala is close to Stockholm, trains run frequently, and so I had not bought tickets in advance for this particular trip. We just course corrected, found the train station and departures, and caught the next train.

This was the first of several train journeys we would make as we traveled around Sweden, and it was an easy beginning. We settled in with our backpacks and had a quiet, comfortable, 40-minute ride north to Uppsala.

We arrived in Uppsala, and our accommodation was only about a five-minute walk from the train station. Once again, we got lucky. Even though we arrived around 10:00 in the morning, our room was already available, so we were able to drop our backpacks and settle in right away.

*Uppsala Cathedral – the beautiful facade, frescos, stained glass, and the Vasa Chapel bathed in sunlight*

This would be the smallest room of our trip, and it immediately reminded me of the sleeping compartment we had on the overnight train from Helsinki to Rovaniemi in Finland. The room was windowless, but it was perfectly sufficient for our needs. We had bunk beds, a small table that folded down from the wall, and folding chairs that hung on the wall when they were not in use. It was all very compact and very efficiently arranged. Very Scandinavian. We dropped our backpacks, freshened up a little, and headed back out to explore Uppsala.

From our accommodation, it was a quick walk into the center of town, where we crossed the Fyris River for the first time. The river runs right through central Uppsala, crossed by a series of small bridges, and it gives the city a particularly lovely feel. I would end up walking alongside it, or crossing back and forth over it, several times before the day was over.

Our first stop was Uppsala Cathedral. This was not just another pretty European church. Construction began in 1270 and continued until its completion and consecration in 1435. At nearly 119 meters high, it is the largest church in the Nordic countries, and Swedish kings and queens were crowned here from 1441 until 1719.

Inside the cathedral, what stood out most to me were the stained glass and the frescoes. I have come to find that I have a fondness for church frescoes. We saw several beautiful examples in the churches of Kosovo last year. They are beautiful, but I also love the way they tell stories visually. For centuries, they brought biblical stories to life, making them accessible to people who could not read or could not afford books.

*That plaza in front of Uppsala University’s main building*

The Vasa Chapel was particularly striking. Gustav Vasa and two of his queens are buried there, and the chapel is located at the eastern end of the cathedral, behind the main altar. When we visited, it was bathed in golden sunlight, which made the painted walls and ceiling and the tomb in the center even more beautiful.

From the cathedral, we walked over to Uppsala University. Founded in 1477, it is the oldest university in Sweden and the oldest in the Nordic countries. My daughter is 14 and just beginning high school, so college is still several years away, but she is beginning to think about where she might eventually want to go. Right now, the world is full of possibilities.

We wandered around the campus and stopped at Gustavianum, the oldest surviving building at Uppsala University. It is probably best known for its 17th-century Anatomical Theatre, although we did not go up to see it. What my daughter really wanted was the museum shop. She loves collecting T-shirts from places we have visited, and she was hoping to find one from Uppsala University. Success.

Walking around the university also got both of us thinking a little about the future. What if she actually went to university here someday? And, naturally, that led to what I would do. Maybe I could live in Uppsala too? It was fun to imagine.

*Some of the beautiful flowers of the Uppsala Uni botanical garden, including the Anthony’s Poison Arrow Frog*

After visiting the cathedral and university, it was time for lunch. Earlier, as we were walking through town, my daughter had announced, “I smell burgers. We have to have burgers for lunch.” So we found the interestingly named Bastard Burgers, a Swedish fast-food chain founded just ten years ago. While we were eating, I looked it up and found there was quite a bit more to like about it than just the burgers. The chain is New York-inspired, but very Swedish in its approach, with an emphasis on fresh ingredients, local sourcing, and sustainability. The burgers were some of the best I have ever had from a fast-food chain. C and I both gave it a thumbs up, and it was so tasty, we would visit Bastard Burgers two more times during our time in Sweden.

After lunch, we headed toward the botanical gardens. My original plan had been to visit the Linnaeus Garden and the house where Carl Linnaeus lived while he was a professor at Uppsala University. Linnaeus is one of Sweden’s most famous scientists and is best known for developing the system used to classify and name plants and animals. He became a professor at Uppsala University in 1741 and also took over its botanical garden.

Somehow, though, I managed to end up at a different botanical garden.

This was not entirely as random as it sounds. The Linnaeus Garden was Sweden’s first botanical garden, founded in 1655. By the late 1700s, it had become overcrowded and was also prone to flooding because of its location near the river. In 1787, King Gustav III donated part of the gardens of Uppsala Castle to the university for a new botanical garden. The plants were eventually transferred to the new garden, which opened in 1807.

So I had still found a Linnaeus-related botanical garden. Just not the one I had intended to visit.

*The Baroque Gardens of the Uppsala Botanical Garden*

We walked through the formal gardens toward the Linneanum, the large building at the far end. King Gustav III also provided money for its construction, and it opened in 1807 as part of the new botanical garden. I had been trying to get there before it closed, so there was a certain amount of determined walking involved.

Once inside, however, it felt strangely empty. With the exception of a succulent greenhouse that had little to make it a standout, there were no other exhibits in the halls and the other rooms were closed. This was quite frankly a let down. After some online sleuthing while we stood there, I discovered it was due to the season. During the summer, many of the plants kept inside had been moved outdoors. We had walked past them outside, and honestly, I had hardly noticed them.

This could not be all there was in a botanical garden with such history! I recalled a sign I had seen directing visitors to the garden’s Tropical Greenhouse across the street. Online information noted it was still open for about another hour and C and I decided to check it out.

As we headed over, I was reading more about the greenhouse and discovered that one of the rooms is home to a colony of poison dart frogs! I kept that little bit of information to myself for a while until we were inside. There I told C. No worries though, poison dart frogs in captivity have a different diet from those in the wild, they are no longer poisonous. So now we had a new goal: find one.

We started searching the room, looking especially around the bases of trees and near the small streams and other damp areas where we thought a frog might be hiding. It took a little while, which made it feel like a scavenger hunt. Eventually, C spotted one near the water. We were both enthusiastic about our find and told other visitors where they could spot it too. C immediately posted that she had found a poison dart frog to her social media. It was an unexpected and very fun addition to our visit.

After leaving the greenhouse, we walked up to Uppsala Castle. The castle has played a prominent role in Swedish history since Gustav Vasa began construction in 1549, and Queen Christina famously abdicated the Swedish throne there in 1654. By the 1600s, it had also become the seat of the regional governor, and the County Governor still has an official residence there today.

Because the castle is still a functioning government residence, there was only so much of it we could see, but the hilltop location made the visit worthwhile. From there, we had lovely views over Uppsala and toward the cathedral, whose twin spires dominate the skyline.

Afterward, I took C back to the room because she wanted to rest for a while. Late afternoon was also a good time for her to catch up with friends back in the United States. I headed back out on my own, much as I had in Gamla Stan. I enjoy getting in some extra walking, and I can move at my own pace, stop for photos as often as I want, and linger over things that C has absolutely no interest in photographing.

I walked the length of the main street and then made my way back along the Fyris River. I stopped for some ice cream and sat outside by the water near one of the bridges. By then it was golden hour again, and Uppsala looked especially pretty in the late-afternoon light.

*Another view across the Fyris River in Uppsala*

The Fyris River runs right through the center of town, and Uppsala has grown around it in a way that makes the river feel like part of the city rather than something running beside it. There are mills and reminders of its more practical past, but today the bridges, paths, and buildings along the water make it a particularly lovely place to walk. There were so many beautiful spots that I took many photos.

Before heading back to the room, I stopped at a supermarket and picked up a few things for dinner. Our one day in Uppsala had been very full, but it felt satisfying. The next morning, we would pack up again and head on to our next destination.

October 7, 2026 by trs

Sweden Summer, Part Two: Stockholm from Shipwrecks to SkyView

The second installment of my daughter and my August 2026 visit to Sweden.

*Gamla Stan from the bridge to Skeppsholmen*

C and I slept well and woke up early, so I felt my plan to beat jet lag was working. It was overcast and raining slightly as we set out. I had been watching the forecast carefully because we had two more days in Stockholm: one for museums and one with more time outdoors. The rainy day was clearly the day to visit the museums on Djurgården.

We set out through a light mist, planning to walk the roughly 30 minutes to Djurgården and take the ferry back. Google Maps led us from Gamla Stan onto Skeppsholmen, the neighboring island. The bridge was lovely, with a beautiful view back across the water toward Gamla Stan. Skeppsholmen itself was green and surprisingly hilly, with several lovely old buildings. We walked up a rise and down the other side, following the map toward Djurgården. Only when we reached the water did I realize that the route ahead was a ferry, not a continuation of our walk.

The ferry was approaching, so we got on. Unfortunately, it was headed back toward Gamla Stan. We stayed aboard and rode it back toward Djurgården, stopping a second time at Skeppsholmen along the way. The unexpected detour gave us a chance to see the islands from the water, and the approach to Djurgården was particularly nice. The ferry landed right in front of Gröna Lund, Sweden’s oldest amusement park, and from there we headed for the Vasa Museum.

Although we had woken up early, we had not left quite as early as I had planned, and I had not expected the Vasa Museum to attract such a crowd on a weekday in August. The line stretched up the rise toward another museum. Rather than join it immediately, we sat down for fika. C had hot chocolate and a snack, and I had tea and a cinnamon roll—a Swedish invention and one of Sweden’s great contributions to the world. It was fantastic, and the first of many I would enjoy on this trip. When we finished, the line had hardly changed, so we decided to visit the Wreck Museum first.

Vrak, or the Museum of Wrecks, is an award-winning interactive museum on the Djurgården waterfront (it was a finalist for the European Museum of the Year Award in 2024 and won Sweden’s Museum of the Year Award in 2026). It is housed in a World War II-era boat hangar. We took few photos inside because we were too busy with the exhibits: a VR dive that let us search an underwater wreck, an immersive film telling the Baltic Sea’s story, and holographic images of objects from the wreck of a 17th-century ship. We learned not only about famous Swedish wrecks, but also about how people search for them and salvage objects from them. It was quite cool, and we really enjoyed it.

After visiting Vrak, we returned to the Vasa Museum. The line was significantly shorter, and I am so glad we visited the museums in that order. Vrak may have won awards, but after seeing Vasa, nothing could compare. As soon as we walked in, there was the ship towering before us. It took my breath away. It was several stories high—an entire seventeenth-century warship standing inside a building—and its craftsmanship and carvings were gorgeous. I was enthralled.

Vasa was built at Stockholm’s navy yard between 1626 and 1628. It set sail on its maiden voyage on August 10, 1628, but after about 20 minutes began taking on water and sank. Only a little way into our visit did it occur to me that we were there on August 10—398 years to the day after Vasa set sail. That felt extraordinary, and I wondered whether the anniversary might have helped explain the size of the crowd that morning. The ship was raised in 1961, after 333 years underwater, and more than 98 percent of its original structure survives.

The museum is built around the ship and tells so much more of its story: the people who built and sailed it, life aboard, its brief maiden voyage and sinking, and its eventual discovery and salvage. We spent probably three hours there and left only because we were hungry. We could have stayed longer, and I think even C could have stayed a while more—though perhaps not quite as long as I would have. It is one of the most incredible museums I have ever visited.

*Just some of the magnificence of the ship Vasa*

Motivated by food, C and I left Djurgården behind. We had considered the ABBA Museum, which sounded fun, but the reviews I read suggested it was small and pricey. After seeing Vasa, I was good, and C was as well. We were tired after a good four hours of museuming. We walked back across the bridge to the mainland and had lunch at an Italian restaurant in the elegant Östermalm neighborhood. Afterwards, we meandered through the streets back to our hotel in Gamla Stan. We had had such a busy first day, followed by another busy day, that I did not want to pack anything else in. We needed time to rest and reflect on what we had done so far.

We woke early on our third day in Sweden to head to Stockholm City Hall for a tour of its tower. Completed in 1923, Stockholm City Hall sits on the northern shore of Riddarfjärden, a broad stretch of Lake Mälaren in central Stockholm. The building has hosted the annual Nobel Prize banquet since 1930.

Although it is called a tower tour, it is not guided. The tower is open to visitors only during the summer months, and the number of people admitted during each 40-minute block is limited. We were given 10 minutes to climb, 20 minutes at the top, and 10 minutes to descend. At 348 feet high, the tower offers a panoramic view over central Stockholm. It was a bright, gorgeous morning, and although it was windy at the top, we had a tremendous view across the water and several of the islands that make up Stockholm, including Gamla Stan.

*Stockholm City Hall and the view from the tower toward Gamla Stan*

Just a two-minute walk from City Hall was the departure point for our boat to Drottningholm Palace. The trip took about an hour, winding among the large islands and narrow waterways of Lake Mälaren. I was surprised to learn that we were traveling on a lake at all. It looked much more like a network of rivers than any lake I had seen before.

The boat was crowded, and all the seats on the upper deck were taken. Given how chilly it was on the water, however, I was quite happy for C and me to huddle on benches near the snack bar inside, stepping outside whenever I wanted a better look at the view. We also took advantage of the snack bar for a morning fika. I had my second cinnamon roll of the trip, and it was every bit as delicious as the first.

As we drew closer to Drottningholm, I went outside to watch our approach. Arriving at the palace by water is spectacular. Its sunny yellow façade appeared ahead of us against a startlingly clear blue sky, and even before we docked, I could see why the royal estate had been named a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Drottningholm is Sweden’s best-preserved royal palace from the 1600s and remains the home of the Swedish king and queen. Because it is still a functioning royal residence, only part of the palace is open to visitors, and, as at the Royal Palace in Gamla Stan, it did not take us particularly long to walk through the available rooms. I loved the building itself. Inside, however, I discovered that I apparently have a much higher tolerance for grand architecture than for gilded interiors. After a certain number of royal residences, one lavish room begins to blur into the next.

Once outside, I connected with Drottningholm in a way I had not inside. The gardens were still carefully shaped and unmistakably royal in scale, but they felt like a place to explore rather than a collection to admire from behind a rope. The palace and grounds were French-inspired and borrowed heavily from French Baroque design, making the connection to Versailles easy to see. Yet Drottningholm, though one of Sweden’s top tourist attractions, did not come with the crowds found at Versailles. The farther we wandered from the palace, the fewer visitors we encountered.

My favorite part of the grounds was the Chinese Pavilion and the quiet area surrounding it. I particularly liked the long path lined with chestnut trees and the views across the open spaces framed by long rows of trees. Tucked away a substantial walk from the main palace, the pavilion felt far enough removed to serve as the royal family’s getaway from the big house. It began as a birthday gift from King Adolf Fredrik to Queen Lovisa Ulrika in 1753—because what do you give a queen who already lives in a palace? A vacation mini-palace, apparently. European royalty at the time was a bit obsessed with all things Chinese, and that enthusiasm carried through not only the architecture but also the wallpaper, furnishings, and decorative details inside. Having spent quite a bit of my own life living in, working in, and traveling through China and elsewhere in East Asia, I could understand their interest.

*The dining pavilion at Drottningholm’s Chinese Pavilion*

We had lunch at the Palace Café and then, rather than returning by boat, took a bus and the subway to the Avicii Arena in southern Stockholm. We were there to ride SkyView, a one-of-a-kind attraction—the only one in the world—in which a clear, spherical gondola crawls up the outside of the Avicii Arena, the world’s largest spherical building.

We arrived at the SkyView ticket counter at 3:15 p.m. only to learn that a group of more than 100 people had booked several rides just before us. There are only two gondolas, each holding 12 people, and a complete ride, including boarding, takes about 25 minutes. The next available tickets were for 5:30 p.m. We had nothing else planned for the day, and the Avicii Arena is next to a shopping mall, so we bought the tickets and headed to the mall to look around.

There, we discovered Normal, a super-fun non-pharmacy drugstore. It was sort of like CVS in the United States, but with a cute, maze-like layout, colorful displays, and lots of delicious imported snacks and sweets. Exploring Normal and enjoying some more fika helped the time pass quickly.

Finally, it was our turn to board SkyView. We were supposed to watch an introductory video first, but someone forgot to show it to us. No matter. We went directly into the gondola, where only two other passengers joined us.

The gondola slowly crawled up the side of the arena until it reached the top, 130 meters, or about 425 feet, above sea level. It paused there for a few minutes so that we could take in the view. The immediate surroundings were more residential and commercial than picturesque, but beyond them Stockholm spread out below us, and we could see toward Gamla Stan and the historic center. It was another gorgeous, clear afternoon; on a cloudy day, I doubt the view would have been quite as spectacular. SkyView was one of those special activities to check off the list—something we could do nowhere else in the world.

*Left: A gondola travels along the side of the Avicii Arena; Right: C looks out at Stockholm from inside a gondola at the top of the Avicii Arena*

Afterwards, we returned to the subway and rode back to Gamla Stan. We picked up a few things from the supermarket to make dinner in our room. Once again, C remained at the hotel while I took one more late-afternoon spin through the gorgeous streets of Gamla Stan. Then I returned to the room so that we could both prepare for the next day, when we would leave Stockholm for our next destination.

October 3, 2026 by trs

Sweden Summer, Part One: Planning and Arrival in Stockholm

*Crossing from the island of Stadsholmen, where Gamla Stan is located, to the mainland; Weather on our first was fabulous.*

Late last year, only a few months after our wonderful summer road trip through Kosovo, Albania, and Montenegro, I began thinking about where C and I might go the following summer. The Balkans had been C’s idea and, delighted by how well that trip had turned out, she was keen to see another part of Europe. Italy initially rose to the top of the list, but the thought of traveling there during the heat of August gave me pause. A few years earlier, after a DNA test estimated that C was around 10 percent Scandinavian, she had expressed an interest in learning more about Sweden and visiting someday. August also seemed one of the best times to go. And with that, we had our destination.

Once I settled on Sweden, I began imagining how we would travel through it. I love traveling by train and have fond memories of rail journeys in China, Australia, New Zealand, and across Europe, as well as our more recent cross-country trip from Chicago to Los Angeles. Sweden seemed like an ideal place to build an itinerary largely around train travel. We would ultimately take a little bit of everything, but this would not be another self-drive trip. To make it easier to board trains and walk between stations and hotels, C and I would also leave our suitcases at home and travel with backpacks.

Sweden has a reputation for being expensive, and when I backpacked through Europe in my twenties, I largely avoided Scandinavia and other places where my limited budget would not go very far. More than two decades later, I could finally make Sweden happen, but I still wanted to keep the costs under control. I booked our plane tickets using miles, chose relatively inexpensive accommodations, and used hotel points for about a third of our stays.

Using miles meant accepting a less-than-ideal itinerary: Dulles to Rome, Rome to Munich, and finally Munich to Stockholm. Two connections were not ideal, but since I was paying little more than the taxes, I went with it. Then the war with Iran began, oil prices rose, and I started hearing about shorter flights within Europe being cancelled. I worried that one of our European flights might disappear. I figured that once we were in Europe, we could always take a train—but Rome is a very long way from Stockholm, and getting there by rail would have taken days and unraveled much of our carefully planned itinerary.

Then, in May, the trip faced a far more personal threat when I developed a debilitating case of sciatica. For three days I could barely get out of bed, and for a time I struggled to walk even with a cane. This was not going to be a relaxing beach holiday; our plans depended upon my being able to carry a backpack, walk between train stations and hotels, and spend full days sightseeing. I became genuinely worried that I would not be physically capable of taking the trip at all.

By August, however, none of our flights had been cancelled and, although I had not fully recovered, I had recovered enough to go. I would ultimately do remarkably well in Sweden, but I did not know that when we arrived at Dulles. I was simply thrilled that after months of worrying about whether the trip would happen, C and I were finally on our way.

*Storkyrkan* or the Stockholm Cathedral bathed in late afternoon light of our first evening

Or so I thought.

Nine minutes before boarding, United apparently discovered that our flight did not have pilots. Storms had snarled air traffic that day, leaving our assigned crew stranded elsewhere. United announced a two-hour delay, but two and a half hours passed before we finally took off. We had only a three-hour layover in Rome. It did not look good.

Before takeoff, one of the pilots walked through each section of the plane to apologize. He told us that he thought he could make up nearly an hour during the flight. Everyone cheered—and he did it. We landed in Rome shortly after 3 PM, leaving us about an hour and a half before our next flight departed.

We followed the signs for transit, passed through immigration to enter the European Union, and then somehow found ourselves all the way outside the secure area. We had to go upstairs, pass through security again, and find our gate. By then, we were running. A good portion of the plane had already boarded when we arrived, but we made it.

Our flight from Munich to Stockholm also departed about 40 minutes late. Instead of arriving just before midnight, we landed closer to o-dark-thirty and did not reach our airport hotel until 1 AM. It had been a very long journey, but we were finally in Sweden.

Knowing that we would arrive late, I had planned for us to spend our first night at a hotel near the airport. We arrived even later than expected, but after a good night’s sleep, we were up early and ready to begin our first full day in Sweden. We returned to the airport and took a bus into central Stockholm. The train would have been faster, but shortly before the trip I learned that the bus cost roughly a third as much. Given that we were not in any particular hurry that morning, the bus won.

*The grand west staircase in Stockholm’s Royal Palace*

From Stockholm Central Station, we walked toward Gamla Stan, Stockholm’s historic old town. Stockholm began to take shape there in the 13th century, and the district still retains its medieval lanes and street pattern. Many of the buildings seen today, however, date from the 16th through the 18th centuries, with much of the architecture reflecting the Swedish Empire period.

I very much wanted us to stay in Gamla Stan. I loved the idea of being able to step outside and wander its old cobblestone streets early in the morning or later in the evening, after many of the tourist hordes had departed. I have stayed in the historic centers of several cities and find something extraordinary about briefly feeling as though those streets are also part of my neighborhood.

Our accommodations were simple: a small room with two twin beds and a shared bathroom, the only one we would have during the trip. It was C’s introduction to one of the “joys” of backpacking—accepting fewer amenities in exchange for a central location at a price that did not break the bank. We would be just steps from history, although, honestly, it is difficult not to be steps from history in Stockholm.

Even better, although we arrived well before the usual check-in time, our room was already ready. We dropped off our backpacks, turned around, and headed straight back out. Our first stop was the Royal Palace.

The Royal Palace was just a hop, skip, and a jump from our modest accommodations. The area outside the palace and neighboring cathedral was already full of people, and as we approached, C spotted three Scouts sitting at the base of a nearby statue. “Let’s go talk to them,” I said, at which point C promptly disappeared around the corner of a building while I went over to introduce myself. I learned that they were British Scouts on a Scouting holiday in Sweden and had spent the previous week on an island with some Swedish Scouts. It seemed like a pleasant but incidental encounter at the time. Later in our trip, however, it would make a significant difference.

*The front facade of the Royal Palace during my golden hour walk of our first evening*

Like much of Gamla Stan, the Royal Palace has medieval bones beneath its Baroque exterior. We opted for a self-guided tour through the 23 lavishly decorated state rooms open to visitors—a small portion of a palace with more than 600 rooms. I am always struck by the layout of old palaces, where one room opens directly into the next, whether a bedroom or dining room, rather than onto a hallway. The palace felt to me like an urban Versailles, while its location in the old city reminded me of Luxembourg Palace. C and I spent about an hour wandering through the rooms but opted not to visit the Treasury.

Just across from the palace stands Stockholm Cathedral, its warm, peach-colored Baroque exterior concealing a church whose history stretches back to the 13th century. It is the oldest church in Stockholm and served for centuries as the coronation church for Swedish monarchs. Among its treasures is the striking wooden sculpture of Saint George and the Dragon, dating from 1489. Of all the cathedrals I have dragged C to over the years, I had never seen her take such an interest in one. She really took her time looking around and seemed to enjoy it even more than the palace.

After leaving the cathedral, we crossed one of the bridges linking Gamla Stan to the rest of central Stockholm. I had promised C that we would visit the shopping area, although this was not exactly how I had envisioned spending our first day in Sweden. She particularly wanted to visit Brandy Melville. Never mind that there is a Brandy Melville in Georgetown that she visits regularly; this was the first and only Brandy Melville in Sweden, and she hoped to find some Sweden-specific merchandise. Unfortunately, the last of it had sold that very morning, only hours before we arrived. Still, she was happy to have gone. We continued along the shopping streets, stopped for a few nibbles, and then returned to our room for a short rest.

Later, we headed to the Nobel Prize Museum on Stortorget, Stockholm’s oldest square. The museum is housed in the former Stockholm Stock Exchange Building, constructed in the 1770s and now also home to the Swedish Academy, which selects the recipient of the Nobel Prize in Literature.

For visitors, the entire museum is on one floor, and that floor also includes the entrance, the information and ticket desk, a café, and the museum shop. That does not leave all that much space for exhibits. One of the museum’s more unusual features is that Nobel Prize recipients are asked to donate a personal item that reflects their journey. Some of their choices are certainly interesting. Among the objects we saw were a jar of peanut butter and a pair of nail clippers, both of which we found especially odd. Overall, C and I were amused, but not particularly engaged, and we stayed for less time than I had expected.

*The stunning Stortorget, meaning “Great Square.”*

Afterward, we had dinner at a restaurant on Stortorget. C was ready to return to our room, while I took advantage of the golden hour to walk the streets of Gamla Stan by myself and take photos after the crowds had thinned. My solo walk also gave me time to take stock of our day. After all my worries that the trip might not happen—or that I might not be physically able to manage it—we had made it. I had walked nearly 25,000 steps, and we had seen so much on our first day. Our summer trip to Sweden was off to a great start.

May 7, 2026 by trs

2026 Spring Break in NYC: Part Two

*View of Lady Liberty from the museum roof viewing platform*

This is the second and final installment of my daughter’s and my trip to NYC in March 2026.

We woke early on our third day in New York City, ready to take on a full day of sightseeing. Thankfully, the weather was on our side. The blackout curtains in our swanky, but tiny, hotel room slowly lifted with the push of a button to reveal bright sunshine. Though it was still a bit chilly, temperatures were warmer than the previous two days, which was key given that our itinerary included plenty of time outside and a lot of walking.

We once again set out to take on the New York subway, this time heading downtown to Battery Park and the terminal for Statue City Cruises, which would take us to Liberty Island and Ellis Island. The quickest route required a transfer, and I very confidently guided us onto the wrong train. Sigh. The New York subway system is very different from what we are used to in Washington, D.C. (it is significantly larger, with 472 stations, 36 lines, and 665 miles of track, compared to 98 stations, 6 lines, and 129 miles in D.C.). Still, we managed to right ourselves and arrived at the Battery Park ferry area right on time.

*Just one of the extraordinary views of the Statue of Liberty*

We had 9:30 a.m. tickets, the third ferry of the day. The line seemed long when we arrived, but it moved quickly, and before long we were on the small jetty preparing to board. Though the sun was out and the sky a deep blue, the waters of New York Harbor were a steely gray. The waves were active, and the ferry, sans passengers, rocked furiously. Thankfully, boarding moved quickly, and it was perhaps the added weight of some 500 passengers that made for a smoother ride to Liberty Island than I had anticipated.

We found standing-room-only space on the second level alongside the deck. Unfortunately, it was on the wrong side of the ferry, leaving us without a view of our approach to the Statue of Liberty, though we did have a stunning view of Manhattan. This was my fifth trip to New York City, though my first three visits had been brief—a senior year trip in high school, a day spent with a college friend visiting from Connecticut, and another quick trip that consisted of a long day of sightseeing after taking the train up from Washington, D.C. I had long wanted to visit the Statue of Liberty, and finally seeing it there in front of me made my heart flutter, if only just a bit.

*Buildings on Ellis Island facing toward the Statue of Liberty*

With the wind picking up, we first made our way through the gift shop to warm up a bit before heading along the path that offered a view of the statue’s front. This, however, was where the wind was at its strongest, and we could not stay long. We continued around and made our way to the pedestal, where we explored exhibits on the statue’s design, transport, and construction. During my visit to Colmar, France, in 2023, I had visited a museum in the childhood home of Frédéric-Auguste Bartholdi, the statue’s designer. Both C and I had also visited the Eiffel Tower, built by Gustave Eiffel, who created the statue’s iron framework. Standing there, it felt especially meaningful to finally be at the Statue of Liberty itself.

From the pedestal, we took in a few more views before heading along the promenade to the Statue of Liberty Museum. With the crowds in the museum and displays covering much of what we had already seen, we opted to move on to Ellis Island. The main immigration building, a beautiful Beaux-Arts structure completed in 1900, is an iconic sight, but much of its façade was covered in scaffolding for renovation during our visit, which I found disappointing. We had lunch, took in the Great Hall, and wandered through the exhibits. My favorite displays were the old travel advertisements promoting voyages to America, along with the interactive exhibits showing the number and origins of immigrants to the United States over the years. The advertisements have a certain romantic quality, though the journeys themselves were likely anything but for most travelers. Still, the promise of a new beginning may have made them feel that way. By this point, the crowds were starting to wear on us, so we made our way back to the ferry and returned to Battery Park.

*The unique and beautiful Sea Glass Carousel*

After returning to Manhattan, we focused on catching a few sights in the Financial District. We started with the SeaGlass Carousel in Battery Park. We added this to our itinerary after C came across several TikToks highlighting New York attractions. We used to be very into carousels and still have a great deal of affection for these simple, but fun, amusement rides. The SeaGlass Carousel is one of the most unique and beautiful carousels we have come across. It is a relatively new addition to the city, opening in 2015, and its theme pays homage to Battery Park as the site of New York’s original aquarium, which opened in 1896.

Unlike a traditional carousel, there is no center pole. Instead, the floor rotates while the illuminated fish glide and gently move up and down. Riders sit inside the fish rather than astride them, creating a much more relaxed and immersive experience. The entire ride feels almost dreamlike, particularly with the lighting, music, and movement all working together. At $6 for a surprisingly long seven-minute ride, this ended up being one of our favorite activities in New York City.

We then wound our way farther into the Financial District to track down some of the area’s well-known statues. We started with the Hello Kitty and Miffy statues just across the street from Battery Park before heading to one of the city’s most recognizable landmarks, the Charging Bull, the bronze sculpture symbolizing financial optimism and prosperity. We had the Sanrio statues entirely to ourselves, but the scene around the bull was quite different. It was nearly impossible to get a photo of or with the statue without also capturing lines of tourists waiting their turn or frustrated New Yorkers trying to weave their way through the crowds.

*My delicious Liberty bagel with avocado and herb cream cheese*

I managed only a few less-than-spectacular photos before we headed to our next stop: a well-earned snack at Liberty Bagels, located just a minute away. This was another New York spot C had discovered online and insisted we add to our itinerary. Though the company only opened in 2018, it has quickly become one of the city’s top-rated bagel shops, which is especially notable given that bagels are considered one of New York’s signature foods, alongside pizza and hot dogs. Liberty Bagels is known for its fresh, hand-rolled, kettle-cooked bagels made daily. Given the popularity of its Wall Street location, I had expected a far worse line than the one we encountered. We still had to wait a bit, but that gave us time to take in the scene, including the mounds of colorful cream cheese behind the counter that resembled gelato. We each ordered one of the shop’s signature bagels. I chose a Liberty bagel with half regular cream cheese and half avocado cream cheese, while C went with a rainbow bagel topped with strawberry cream cheese. Both were enormous and far too much for one person, so we each ate half, wrapped up the rest for later, and continued on with our sightseeing.

We made two final stops in the Financial District: first at the Fearless Girl statue and then at Trinity Church. While the Charging Bull may be the more famous landmark, I appreciated bringing C to see Fearless Girl more. From there, we walked down famous Wall Street before crossing over to the striking Neo-Gothic Trinity Church. Though the current structure was built in 1846, the church itself was established by royal charter in 1697 by William III of England. Given that he and his wife, Mary II of England, also established the College of William & Mary—my alma mater—in 1693, I have always had something of a soft spot for him. Though I would have liked to spend more time there, we had already spent hours sightseeing and simply did not have the energy for much more. We did, however, wander through the cemetery, where we found the grave of Alexander Hamilton. With that, we caught the subway back to our hotel for a bit of rest.

That evening, we made our way to the Lena Horne Theatre to see the musical Six, a high-energy pop musical centered on the six wives of Henry VIII, reimagined as modern pop divas competing over who had the most difficult experience being married to the infamous monarch. It was an amazing show filled with infectious songs and an incredible amount of energy. C already knew some of the music, but I had not heard a single song beforehand and still found myself practically singing along by the middle of each number. Since the trip, I have caught myself humming the songs and playing the soundtrack on repeat.

*A Starduster, one of Ellen’s singing waitstaff, beautifully belts out a song*

On our fourth and final day, we slept in. After several early mornings, it was nice not to have to rush anywhere and instead take things a bit slower while Broadway stretched out below our hotel window. We eventually headed to Ellen’s Stardust Diner for an early lunch. The diner, where aspiring Broadway performers serve meals while belting out songs, felt like a quintessential New York experience mixed with a themed restaurant. Though we arrived around 10:30 a.m. in hopes of beating the lunch rush, there was already a line stretching halfway down the block. Ellen’s is extremely popular with tourists and does not take reservations. Thankfully, we managed to get inside just before 11 and were able to order lunch. It really was a blast. One sing-along followed another, which honestly made it a bit difficult to focus on eating. We both loved it.

For our final major stop of the trip, we headed to Museum of Modern Art, with a brief stop at Rockefeller Plaza along the way. Long ago, when I visited my former college roommate in New York, we ended up at MoMA on a lark. What I remember most from that visit was not necessarily the art itself, but riding the escalators, goofing around, and trying to make sense of some of the more abstract pieces. I have never been a huge fan of modern art, though there are several works at MoMA that I absolutely love, including Salvador Dalí’s The Persistence of Memory, Andrew Wyeth’s Christina’s World, Vincent van Gogh’s The Starry Night, Gustav Klimt’s Hope II, and Edward Hopper’s Gas. On the other hand, I strongly dislike Joan Miró and Jackson Pollock and remain somewhat undecided on Pablo Picasso and Andy Warhol.

*What is this? Seriously. C tries to puzzle out the meaning of this exhibit with a room all its own at MoMA.*

Still, much like that earlier visit years ago, C and I probably had the most fun with the strangest pieces in the museum. I had not been entirely sure how much she would enjoy MoMA, but we ended up spending a good two hours there before finally calling it a day.

We had an extraordinary time in New York City and truly made the most of our four days there. From world-famous landmarks and museums to Broadway, bagels, subways, and even a few roller coasters, we managed to experience so many of the sights and activities that make the city so memorable. Most importantly, though, it was another great mother-daughter trip that I think both C and I will remember for a very long time.

April 27, 2026 by trs

2026 Spring Break in NYC: Part One

*A beautiful view of the gardens at the MET Cloisters*

I cannot quite pinpoint when New York City became the plan for Spring Break this year. With everything that happened last year—and 2026 not exactly starting off on an easier note—I did not plan this trip as early as I normally would. For a while, I was not even sure we would go anywhere at all. The idea of staying home, though, was not all that appealing to either me or my now 14-year-old daughter C. I needed something to look forward to, something to plan. A return trip to New York City seemed to fit the bill. It may not have been the best bang for the buck—NYC is not cheap!—but it felt like the kind of place where we could fill a few days with the mix of things we both love, without needing to plan something overly complicated.

To keep this trip more affordable and less complicated, I opted for four days and chose to take the train. I had no interest in dealing with stressful driving in Manhattan or paying city-center parking costs. I have always enjoyed train travel; it feels far more relaxing than driving or flying. We had not taken a train trip since our journey from Chicago to Los Angeles, and I was more than ready for another.

*Our itty-bitty, centrally-located high-rise room just off Times Square*

We boarded Amtrak’s Northeast Regional at Union Station in Washington, D.C. The 3.5-hour journey was comfortable, and the time passed quickly. Before long, we were arriving at Moynihan Train Hall in central Manhattan. We gathered up our belongings and made our way along the crowded city streets. Weaving through the steady flow of people as we walked the 20 minutes to our boutique hotel just around the corner from Times Square. I wanted us to be in the center of the action. On our last trip, C had been ready to turn around immediately after we witnessed a bloody assault within minutes of our arrival. This time, as a teenager, she declared she was much more prepared to take on the city.

Soon after getting our things into our hotel room, we were off. We headed down to the subway just off Times Square, catching a glimpse of the No Kings protest as it was making its way down Broadway. We then took the subway north to Upper Manhattan to visit The Cloisters. Part of the Metropolitan Museum of Art system, The Cloisters sits in Fort Tryon Park and is dedicated solely to the art and architecture of medieval Europe—the only museum of its kind in the United States. Opened in 1938, the building itself is as much a part of the experience as the collection, constructed using architectural elements brought over from five French monasteries, including windows, doorways, and columns. Until a few years ago, when I read the thriller The Cloisters by Katy Hays, I had no idea this museum even existed. Since then, a visit to the Cloisters has been on my must-do list for New York City.

*Beautiful sights from the MET Cloisters, including my favorite piece, an ivory knight chess piece*

I really enjoyed our visit to The Cloisters. Many of the pieces on display are absolutely exquisite, including the seven extraordinary Belgian tapestries known as The Hunt of the Unicorn, created between 1495 and 1505. It is remarkable to see these works still intact more than 500 years later. Even C seemed at least mildly interested in parts of the collection, which I took as a small win. Still, it is not just the artwork that makes this place special. The building itself—its chapels, stained glass windows, long halls, cloisters, courtyard, and gardens—is very much part of the museum’s collection and ambiance.

Though the day was sunny and clear, it was still quite cold. The season felt just a bit too early for the gardens, with little in bloom. There is a beautiful view of the Hudson River from the grounds, but C had no interest in lingering outside for long in the chill. Even so, we spent about two and a half hours exploring before making our way back to the hotel.

We had a nice dinner near the hotel, then headed over to the FAO Schwarz toy store. C had made it through several hours of medieval art, so it felt like the right time to shift to one of her main interests: Jellycat. These are high-quality plush toys from London, many featuring whimsical designs, including a food and drink line called Amuseables. They are incredibly popular right now and can be surprisingly difficult to find in the United States, often limited to specialty shops, quick to sell out, and sometimes have long waitlists. At FAO Schwarz, there is something called the Jellycat Diner (the only one in the world!), which is not actually a diner but a small, ticketed experience within the Jellycat section. I had to log on four weeks in advance to secure our spot. The experience itself lasted about ten minutes, with an employee “cooking” C’s chosen Amuseable. She picked out a plush pancake. I did not entirely understand the appeal, but C was all smiles during and after. As she walked the streets of Manhattan carrying her Jellycat bag, she looked like she had just won the lottery.

On our second day, we took a bus from the Port Authority Bus Terminal to the American Dream mall in East Rutherford. At approximately 3 million square feet, American Dream is the second-largest mall in the United States, with the Mall of America holding the top spot. The mall offers far more than shopping. It includes an indoor amusement park, a water park, an aquarium, an indoor skiing center, mini golf, a LEGOLAND Discovery Center, and much more, alongside the usual mix of retail stores.

That weekend was my niece NH’s 18th birthday. She is currently a student at the School of Visual Arts in Manhattan, so it worked out well to meet up and celebrate together. My sister, brother-in-law, and nephew had driven up, and we made plans to meet all of them at the mall.

The aquarium was quite a good one. It featured a great touch pool, a large central tank with rays and sharks, and several displays of seahorses. Seahorses are one of my favorite sea animals, and they are not found in many aquariums since they require specialized care. Afterwards, C, my sister, my nephew, and I made a beeline for the riding mechanical animals. My sister and I are still very much kids at heart, and we thoroughly enjoyed our ten minutes zipping around with our teens. We could not convince my brother-in-law and my niece of the joy they were missing. Boo. Their loss.

*SeaLife Aquarium at American Dream, including C taking a break in front of the large tank*

Following our lunch at the mall food court, we headed to Nickelodeon Universe. C and I have visited our fair share of theme parks, including every Disney park around the world. I have been to two other indoor amusement parks – Lotte World in Seoul, South Korea, and Trans Studio in Makassar, Indonesia. The Nickelodeon park at American Dream is the largest indoor amusement park in the Western Hemisphere.

I had purchased our tickets ahead of time and just needed to print our wristbands at a kiosk. Getting inside, however, did not go quite as smoothly as I had planned, because I had purchased C and my tickets for the wrong park! I bought ours for the Mall of America in Minneapolis! That was a costly mistake, but I had to shrug it off so we could all get in and have some fun.

The park itself is bright and colorful, with natural light coming in through overhead windows and reflecting off the white interior. The layout lets visitors see much of it at once, with roller coasters and other rides weaving through the space in a visually appealing way. I quickly realized, though, that my sister and her family are far more enthusiastic about thrill rides than I expected. Since it was my niece’s birthday, she set the plan: start with the easiest rides and work our way up. There are some rides that I just want nothing to do with — like rocking rides, especially ones that go up too high, spin, or go upside down. And while I will consent to take on some roller coasters, others are not for me. But my sister and family wanted us ALL to get on everything.

*Bright, airy, and colorful Nickelodeon Universe Theme Park*

I managed to dodge two of the rides, but my sister dragged me, unhappily, to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Shellraiser coaster. And the front row. I never, ever ride in the front row of a coaster. The Shellraiser has the world’s steepest coaster drop, at 121.5 degrees. It makes the climb excruciatingly slow, then hangs at the top for the longest 15 seconds of one’s life, before plunging down. I might not have hated it so much had it not whipped my head around repeatedly. I closed my eyes and wished for it to be over.

After working our way through the major rides, we said our goodbyes to my sister and her family and shifted gears to something C and I had been looking forward to—shopping. That had been our agreement all along. We spent some time exploring the stores before eventually making our way back to the bus and returning to New York City. It had been a full day and a great way to spend time together as a family.

It had been a full couple of days. We were tired, but in the best possible way, and looking forward to what the second half of the trip would bring.

February 23, 2026 by trs

Cruising Away, December 2025 Winter Vacay: Part Two

This post continues our winter vacation, a few days into the cruise. On our fourth day on board, we stopped at our second port: Falmouth, Jamaica. Here we would have our longest onshore activity, and one that all five of us would do together. CZ had come to Jamaica as a young adult and loved visiting Dunn’s River Falls, and wanted to experience it again with her son, Little CZ. C and I had visited Jamaica for a week in December 2018, when C was nearly seven years old. At that time, we joined a tour that included Dunn’s River Falls, but we opted not to climb. Now that the kids were old enough for the adventure, we hoped us adults weren’t too old!

We had booked a seven-hour shore excursion, though, like so many cruise-organized tours, it began with the familiar half hour of staging and instructions in the ship’s theater before we were led off together and loaded onto buses. We were told the drive from Falmouth to Dunn’s River Falls would take about an hour. Everyone was in good spirits—chatting, speculating about the climb, and looking forward to the day ahead—and we didn’t really register the time when we arrived. We were ushered off the bus, funneled through ticketing, and then into the Falls area itself. From there, we were divided again into smaller groups of around fifteen people, each assigned a guide who would lead us through the maze of slippery rocks and fast-moving water, up the tiered terraces of the Falls.

*The gorgeous terraced falls at Dunn’s River, Jamaica*

It had been overcast as we disembarked the ship and drove to the Falls, so we were a little worried the water might be cold. But as we formed a daisy chain with our group and stepped into the thigh-high pool at the base of the Falls, the sun broke through the clouds, and we found the water quite pleasant. And here I will admit: when we visited the Falls back in 2018, I hadn’t just been worried about climbing with a small child—I had been nervous, period. Over the past few years, though, I’ve become braver, taking on more adventurous activities, and I was genuinely excited to climb the Falls.

It was so much fun! Our guide took us slowly. There were spots where he led us up one route, only to recalibrate and take us another way. There was a lot of laughing, plenty of tentative foot placement, a few close calls, and some slips—but we made it.

But then there was the waiting. Standing around while each family reviewed the tour photos and debated whether to purchase them. It took a while. Eventually, our guide gathered us up and led us back through the inevitable souvenir gauntlet and onto the bus. We piled in and headed toward our second destination, the Blue Hole. What should have been a 20-minute drive felt longer.

*C and the great leap at the Blue Hole at Ochos Rios*

The Blue Hole is a beautiful place: a natural limestone river sinkhole filled with aquamarine water, framed by lush greenery and fed by a series of small falls. It’s the kind of spot meant for swimming, rope swings over deep pools, cliff jumps, or simply standing still and taking it all in. Once again, we were herded off the buses and grouped together, only to wait for our guides. Having cooled off in the air-conditioning on the drive, CZ and I didn’t want to get back into the water, but we had no opportunity to say so. Instead, we were swept along with everyone else, driven like cattle toward the falls, without explanation.

C, Little CZ, and his dad were up for the adventure. From the upper terraced falls, they jumped into pools—first from around six feet, then from ten—all in preparation for the twenty-five-foot leap beside the largest waterfall. CZ and I stood back and watched, and I couldn’t help but feel proud of C. Not one of them hesitated, and except for Little CZ’s dad, who was good with one go at the big jump, Little CZ and C quickly swam back for another go.

*We made it back to the ship at Falmouth just in time for sunset.*

This was our first inkling that the tour was falling behind schedule. Our bus tour guide approached us at the observation point and asked if we were ready to depart. We pointed out that our kids—and much of the rest of our group—were still in the water below. The guide muttered that guests were only supposed to have one go at the jumps, which didn’t seem right. Where was the leisurely swimming in the pools downstream? The rope swing? There was suddenly a push to get everyone out of the water and back onto the bus. This felt odd, given that the only items on our tour were Dunn’s River Falls and the Blue Hole, with an “if time” stop at Reggae Hill. It was now around 1:30 p.m., and we still had more than an hour’s drive back to the ship. With sail-away set for 3:30, we clearly didn’t have time.

But they took us anyway. There wasn’t much at Reggae Hill. There was a lovely view of the river, where other tourists drifted past on bamboo rafts, but we were there largely for an overpriced lunch: a piece of jerk chicken, a cup of Jamaican rice, a fried plantain, and two drinks for twenty-five dollars. There was nothing else to eat and no other food to buy. And we were rushed. They ran out of beverages. Before some people had finished eating—or even received their food—we were already being herded back onto the buses. It was after 2 p.m.

We made our way down the winding streets toward the single road back to Falmouth harbor, only to find it clogged with traffic. We inched along. I fell asleep. I woke up sometime after 4 p.m., and we were still driving. Someone from the cruise ship must have called in a favor, because we were suddenly accompanied by a police escort for our minibus caravan. We arrived back at the pier around 5 p.m., two hours late, and we all hurried aboard.

That evening, we were back on board in time to catch another round of family karaoke. C met another teen girl, and the two of them headed off to the teen club together—the start of exactly what my daughter had been hoping for: making friends on the ship. After that, we settled into an easy rhythm. We each had our own things to do: CZ booked massages or hit the gym; C spent time with the other teens; Little CZ and his dad hung out by the pool; I took long walks around the decks. And then we came back together—sometimes just C and me, watching the ice show or going ice skating; sometimes CZ and I, sharing a trial massage, walking the jogging track, or spending time in the Solarium; and sometimes all of us, meeting for dinner, making candy sushi, or enjoying family karaoke.

*Christmas on a private island — just us and the other 5,000 passengers of our and another cruise ship.*

On our last day of the cruise—Christmas—we docked at Perfect Day at CocoCay, Royal Caribbean’s private island. It truly was the perfect day. The temperatures had warmed, the wind had finally died down, and the sun shone brightly in a cobalt sky dotted with cotton-ball cumulus clouds.

C and I disembarked early to join a tour to a neighboring island to swim with pigs. I have taken C to pet cheetahs, bathe elephants, hold sloths, and swim with stingrays; it felt fitting to add one more unique animal experience to the list. After a quick fifteen-minute motorboat ride, we landed on another cay, where we were introduced to some of the cutest water-loving pigs imaginable. At first, the experience felt more like a swim-with-pigs assembly line—no personal cameras allowed on the beach, lots of handlers, and interactions that felt a bit forced. But back on the deck, things relaxed. Tourists, guides, and pigs alike chilled out, and it turned out to be a lot of fun.

*C and a piggy friend enjoy the waters off Coco Cay*

Back on Coco Cay, C met up with some of her teen friends from the ship, while I joined CZ, Little CZ, and his dad for lunch and then spent the afternoon on one of the beaches. In the afternoon, C rejoined us so that she, Little CZ, and I could do the island’s ziplines. It felt glorious to be warm, safe, and among friends in such a beautiful place. I wished we could have spent another day or two there.

We reboarded the ship in the afternoon, eager to make the most of the little time we had left. CZ and I took on the twin waterslides—the kids refused to join us, but we wanted to be sure we had tried them at least once. Afterward, we sat at the back of the ship overlooking CocoCay as the sun set and, eventually, the ship cast off, pulling away from our final stop and beginning the slow steam toward home.

That evening, all five of us dressed for Christmas dinner and then headed down to the theater for the finale of family karaoke. C peeled off to join her new friends for their farewell teen party. It ended at midnight, when she sat with two of her ship friends in the open doorway of our cabin—first laughing, then whispering, and finally, crying their goodbyes.

The following morning, we disembarked in Port Canaveral. None of us was quite ready to say goodbye to CZ, Little CZ, and his dad, so the five of us headed instead to the Kennedy Space Center. My only previous visit was as an infant with my parents. C had never been, but after two summers at Euro Space Camp and earning her Astronomy and Space Exploration merit badges through Scouts, I thought she would appreciate it.

*The sun setting on Perfect Day at Coco Cay as we steam back towards Port Canaveral*

The place is enormous—140,000 acres in total, though the visitor complex covers “only” seventy—and we quickly realized that six hours would barely scratch the surface. We wandered through the Rocket Garden before making our way to the Space Shuttle Atlantis building. After a short film on a massive screen, the doors opened dramatically to reveal Atlantis itself, suspended in a darkened room as though still in orbit. It was quietly breathtaking. There is enough in that building alone to fill a day—interactive exhibits, a shuttle launch simulation, even a slide—and we lost track of time entirely. By the time we boarded the bus tour to the Apollo/Saturn V Center, with a stop at the Gantry at Launch Complex 39, the afternoon was already slipping away.

At the Apollo/Saturn V Center, we ate lunch beneath the massive Saturn V rocket and watched the stage-and-screen presentation on the Apollo 11 launch. It was an ambitious way to spend our final hours together—rockets, spaceflight, and human daring—before returning to our condo in Jacksonville for one more evening with my aunt. The next day, we began the long drive back to Washington, D.C., each mile carrying us north, back toward winter.

It was the kind of vacation I needed at the end of a hard year—simple, grounding, time with close friends and family, and full of the small unpredictabilities that make a trip its own.

February 16, 2026 by trs

Cruising Away, December 2025 Winter Vacay: Part One

*The colorful exterior of Nassau’s Straw Market*

For our 2025 winter vacation, I wanted to keep things simple. Even back in March, I could tell it was going to be a hard year, and while I knew I would want a getaway at Christmastime, I also knew I would not have the energy to plan much.

My daughter C and I had cruised before: once with Royal Caribbean to the Norwegian Fjords in the summer of 2023, and again with Celebrity Cruises to the Southern Caribbean in December 2024. And though cruising never really fit my younger self’s travel style, these days I have found that while it isn’t how I want every vacation to go, it can be a welcome break from my more heavily planned, detail-oriented holiday.

By the time December rolled around, I was incredibly grateful to have a simple, straightforward trip set up—one that let us escape the Virginia winter, spend time with friends and family, and have ample mother-daughter time, with enough activities on the ship for both of us to allow for valuable time apart, and very little additional thought on my part.

To further uncomplicate our trip, I decided that we would drive to and from Port Canaveral, our port of embarkation. For last year’s cruise out of Puerto Rico, our flights were changed repeatedly between purchase and departure, each time becoming less convenient. I did not want to go through that again.

Traveling by car gave me back a small amount of agency, which felt good in a year where so much felt out of my control. Later, I realized that the decision also felt very on brand for 2025. We ended up with more road trips than I would have predicted, including drives to Lancaster, Philadelphia, and New Bern, our summer southern European driving vacation, and a road trip to Ohio for a friend’s wedding.

—

*South Carolina’s South of the Border: Kitschy but quiet. Next time, we should time our stop for midday*

On the Wednesday afternoon before the cruise, we packed up the car, stocked up on road trip snacks, and hit the road. We were excited to get out of town, and I was thrilled that traffic on I-95, notorious for traffic jams, was light. We made good time and stopped for the evening halfway through North Carolina.

The following day, we were up and on the road early. It would be a long slog to our condo in Jacksonville, Florida, our next stop. Driving I-95 can be mind-numbingly boring. We broke up the morning with a stop at South of the Border, just over the South Carolina border. On many a trip along this corridor, we have passed this mega attraction, but never stopped. It’s the quintessential kitschy 1950s roadside stop blown up to 2000s excess with a motel, camping, restaurants, oversized fiberglass statues, mini golf, and the largest indoor reptile exhibit in the U.S. Though, at 9 AM on a random Thursday morning in winter, it was nearly deserted. So, we just filled up on gas, stretched out our legs for a bit, and got back on the road.

It was many more hours and miles before we arrived at our condo in Jacksonville, where we would spend the next two nights relaxing and catching up with my aunt. It was wonderful to have the temperatures warming between North Carolina and Florida, to gradually shed our coats and sweaters. We had nothing in particular planned. Just spending time with family, which was another benefit to driving over flying. Then on Saturday, C and I once again loaded up the car and drove the last 2.5 hours to Port Canaveral to board our cruise ship.

*View of the Royal Promenade inside Royal Caribbean’s Adventure of the Seas*

There was the usual madness at the port—parking, walking to the cruise terminal, shuffling through the line—but overall it went pretty quickly, and we soon found ourselves on board in our cabin. Putting down our bags was like setting down the baggage of the past year. It would be temporary, but for a little while, I could feel lighter. Then C and I headed to the café on the promenade to meet up with my long-time friend CZ, her son Little CZ, and Little CZ’s dad to catch up and explore the ship for the rest of the afternoon and evening. That night, as we steamed off into the Caribbean, I slept the best I had in months.

The following day, we arrived at our first port of call: Nassau. When I booked the cruise, Nassau was not part of the itinerary. It was instead Labadee, Haiti, a 260-acre private and secure beach area exclusive for Royal Caribbean. However, after the State Department reissued the Level 4-Do Not Travel warning in July, due to an increase in violent crime and civil unrest, the cruise line suspended visits to the island. Though Labadee is really just a private playground with little cultural interaction with Haitians and it wasn’t clear to me how much money actually reached the locale population, I was still curious about the stop, though not heartbroken it was cancelled. We waited many months to find out the alternative destination, which online sources indicated could be Nassau, Grand Cayman, Grand Turk in the Turks and Caicos, or Puerta Plata in the Dominican Republic. I had my fingers crossed for the latter two as they sounded more interesting, but in the end Nassau it was.

Having been to Nassau many times, CZ opted to stay on the ship. Little CZ and his dad headed out on a food tour, while C and I disembarked for our own self-guided walking tour. The heat hit us immediately. The port was crowded and loud, full of Caribbean brass drum music and the buzz of excited passengers spilling off their ships. Little wooden shops, painted in bright Caribbean shades of fuchsia, coral, azure, lime, and yellow, lined the way. The energy was contagious. We were here! In the Caribbean.

*The pink facade of Government House and C on the Queen’s Staircase, Nassau*

And all my teen wanted to see in Nassau was Starbucks! Fine. That was our second stop after the Straw Market, which, unfortunately, was not quite open when we arrived. Some shopkeepers were just setting up, but most stalls still had tarps over their goods. Frankly, the goods looked like the same old beach wear, t-shirts, rattan bags and hats, and kitschy goods we had seen in so many Caribbean stores. Then we walked over to Government House, a beautiful, flamingo-pink Georgian colonial-style building in the center of the old town. Though that too was hard to see as metal bleachers, likely set up for a Christmas parade, blocked the view.

I then dragged C to the Queen’s Staircase, a 66-step limestone staircase carved out of the rock between 1793 and 1794 to link Fort Fincastle to the waterfront area. To reach the stairs, one walks through a shaded corridor between the limestone walls, covered in vegetation. It was really lovely. But it was also crowded. I waited quite a long while to capture my daughter’s photo on the stairs with few other people around. At the top of the stairs, my plan had been to explore Fort Fincastle, but it was closed for renovations. We decided to return to the ship for lunch, planning to disembark again later to see the Pirate museum and perhaps another museum, but we did not get back off.

*A partial view of the Adventure of the Seas mini golf course*

Day three was a cruising day (the cruise line counted boarding day as Day one), and we had a few activities planned. C and I had an early morning pickleball lesson on the sports deck, but it was very windy—the net wouldn’t stay in place, and the balls were quickly blown astray. We later tried mini golf, where the wind sent our golf balls skittering just as easily. Though we weren’t going to win any tournaments anyway. CZ and I took a short walk around the pool deck, our hair whipping into our faces; it was warm, but the wind made being on deck feel like an endurance sport. Thus, CZ and I retreated to the adult-only solarium to relax and talk. After lunch, C, CZ, and I headed to a lounge for a geography quiz and ended up taking first place. Later, all five of us joined up to watch family karaoke, where even C and Little CZ’s dad went up on stage to sing Men at Work’s “Down Under.” We followed that up with dinner together in the main dining room. All in all, a nice day at sea, and a great start to the cruise.

November 29, 2025 by trs

A Hard Year

*Cherry blossoms in Spring 2025; nature (particularly trees and flowers) and nature photography are two things that help me cope with life’s challenges*

It has been a hard year.

Although the year isn’t over yet—and I may be tempting fate by writing this now—I’m hoping that putting these thoughts down will do two things: first, keep any more surprises at bay; and second, help me process everything that has already happened.

The first big moment of the year was Inauguration Day on January 20. I rarely wade into politics on my blog, and it’s perfectly normal at any time not to feel enthusiastic about a particular candidate taking office. But this year, I felt particularly anxious about the start of this administration and the policies it would sweep in. Even so, I wasn’t fully prepared for some of what followed—but more on that later.

At 8:47 PM on January 29, an Army Black Hawk helicopter collided midair with American Airlines flight 5342 over the Potomac River, just minutes before the plane was to land at Ronald Reagan Airport. All 64 people on the flight and the 3 aboard the helicopter died. Among them were 28 skaters, coaches, and family members from the figure skating community—11 of the youth skaters were ages 11-16.

My 13-year-old daughter began figure skating in Arlington last year. Although she didn’t know the skaters personally, she had seen them on the ice. The MedStar Iceplex in Arlington—where she practices—was also the home rink of many of those skaters. At the memorial, as she stood taking in the names and photos of skaters her age, my daughter sobbed. I felt helpless to guide her through a loss of this kind; there was nothing I could say that would make it understandable. The tables of stuffed animals, flowers, photographs, and memorial books remained at the rink for about two weeks, a quiet reminder of how many lives had been intertwined there.

*In the aftermath of the Flight 5342 disaster, the Medstar Iceplex remembered those lost.*

In June, when my daughter performed in the annual Ice Show, several competitive youth skaters put on a beautiful program to honor their friends and teammates. The photos of the skaters and community members we lost still hang on the rink’s walls and will soon be included in a permanent memorial to Flight 5342.

Two weeks later, things became more difficult. On the evening of February 13, a doctor called to tell me that my mother—who lived in a memory care unit—had been admitted to the hospital. This wasn’t unusual; ever since her fall in January 2024 and her hospitalization on February 14, 2024 for severe infections and psychosis, she had required ongoing care in various facilities and continued to experience medical complications. I had been the main point of contact for her care and had received many such calls over the past year. But this time, the doctor explained that she was in respiratory failure and was not expected to recover.

After speaking with him, I informed my siblings and aunt, then called my father. When I told him my mother was back in the hospital, he became distressed and started breathing rapidly, and I had to call 911. Emergency responders forced entry into his home and transported him to the same hospital.

I spent most of the next two days there, moving between my father’s room on the second floor and my mother’s on the third, coordinating with medical staff and notifying family. On February 15, around 5 PM, the nurses made my mother comfortable and we turned off her oxygen. My sister CH and I stayed with her for several hours. She rallied unexpectedly, and I left around 11 PM.

My mother lingered until the evening of February 19, when she passed away. My father stayed in the hospital for two more days before being transferred to a rehabilitative facility, where he remained for six weeks.

In the first weeks after my mom passed, I was busy managing the bureaucratic details that come with death. As the point person with the crematorium, I provided and reviewed the information for the death certificate, handled the billing, and arranged for the collection of her ashes. I also closed out her room at the assisted living facility. At the same time, I was supporting my dad—visiting him during his rehabilitation, coordinating with his care team, and eventually taking him back home. It wasn’t until several months later that I was able to think about my mom herself.

We had not been close for a long time, but certain things still stay with me. She didn’t have an easy childhood as the youngest of seven in a working-class family outside Pittsburgh. She worked hard, often two or three jobs at a time. When we were little, she told us stories and made up songs—good enough that my sisters and I once performed them in our elementary school talent show. She made excellent handmade Halloween costumes, and when I was ten and my sisters were eight and six, we swept the local contest with first, third, and fourth place. I was a bag of McDonald’s French fries (and it was I that won first!).

*Tulips next to mom’s urn; Co-workers sent me tulips after mom’s passing, not knowing that they too were her favorites*

She loved yellow corn on the cob (not the terrible white kind!) with plenty of butter, Big Macs, stove-popped popcorn drenched in real butter, and those pink wintergreen candies that tasted vaguely like Pepto-Bismol. And she loved Coca-Cola. When I was a kid, we kept two two-liter bottles in the fridge at all times—one for her, and one for the rest of the family. And when she visited me in Jakarta in 2010, an animal handler at the Taman Mini Indonesia Reptile Park invited her into the Komodo dragon enclosure, and she enthusiastically said yes! And then she forced me to go in as well (she called me “chicken” and I could not let that stand), even though I really did not want to get into a cage with a 9-foot-long lizard whose bite could kill me.

I had little time to mourn my mother, though, because other difficult things were unfolding—this time in my professional life. The new government administration began rapidly cutting the federal workforce. It wasn’t done with care or coordination. USAID was quickly dismantled, leaving many of my friends and colleagues—people I had worked alongside in Indonesia, Malawi, and Guinea—suddenly without careers. Across the State Department, others took early retirement, resigned, or were abruptly fired.

The stress and uncertainty were constant, and there was real sadness in seeing so many good people lose the work they had devoted their lives to. And underneath all of it was the worry that my own job might be next. It was a different sort of grief.

*Sign in Washington, DC, in June showing support for federal workers*

I have been a near-daily meditator since 2018, and I started seeing a therapist in the fall of 2024. At the start of 2025, I added ice skating to the mix. My daughter was learning, so I figured I might as well try it too, and maybe pick up something fun that pushed me a bit. I love getting out on the ice—with no cell phones, I couldn’t read the news, doom scroll, get caught up in cat videos for far too long, or really think about anything other than remaining upright and finding joy in that. These activities helped, but halfway through this year, I knew I needed more to help me cope.

I started with some 5Ks with my daughter. She had asked to see my old running event tees and medals, and after looking them over, she asked if we could run together. Back when I started this blog, I was a runner. I had participated in numerous 5K, 10K, 10-miler, and half-marathon races. But once I left Shanghai, went into training, and then moved to Malawi, the running fell by the wayside. I am not in great shape now, but C and I have already done 4 5ks in the latter half of this year.

We also went ahead with our vacation to Europe in August. With everything that had been happening, including the uncertainty swirling around continued federal government employment, I had debated about canceling. I am extremely glad I did not. Going on that Balkans travel adventure with my daughter was amazing and restorative.

My sister was struggling with the grief, too. She had lost her job, a close family member on her husband’s side, and two friends in the same timeframe as Mom. I had been looking into a grief circle for both of us, but the timing did not work at first. So I asked her if she wanted to go to a rage room with me. I thought she might think it was dumb, but she did not even know what a rage room was. When I explained it, she agreed without hesitation. So in early August, the two of us went to a place out in Winchester. With the music turned up loud, we took baseball bats and smashed a bunch of things for thirty minutes. It was certainly not a solution to everything, but it was very therapeutic.

*The overlook of the Ohio River near my mom’s childhood neighborhood in Beaver, PA*

In September, C and I drove to and from Toledo for the wedding of a college friend of mine. Along with enjoying a ceremony and reception at the Toledo Zoo and Aquarium, I planned a few activities connected to my mom. While we were in Toledo, I visited my Aunt Julia, my mom’s only living sibling (my mother’s brother passed away in May), and my cousins. We spent a Sunday morning at her house and then had lunch together. On the drive home, I stopped in Beaver, Pennsylvania, where my mom grew up, and sprinkled some of her ashes along the river overlook near her childhood home.

*My sister would have preferred horses, but the donkeys sure did take a shine to her*

Finally, in October, my sister and I joined a grief circle led by a Foreign Service friend of mine. JS and I began our Foreign Service careers in the same orientation class years ago. During her second tour, she experienced three devastating personal losses in a short period of time. After moving through the initial stages of grief, she sought more ways to live with and accept the losses, from running a marathon to writing a book, and then helping others by becoming a certified yoga and grief coach. We joined her and four others who were experiencing loss at a small farm near Purcellville, Virginia. We meditated, shared our grief stories, and then took part in equine therapy with several sweet and friendly rescue donkeys.

None of these activities alone solved the grief or completely lifted the weight of the year, but each one helped me keep moving. Meditation, therapy, ice skating, time with family, the rage room, the trip to Toledo, and the grief circle all gave me different ways to breathe and stay grounded. Together, they helped me find small moments of steadiness during a very hard year. Here’s to hoping 2026 is a little lighter.

November 5, 2025 by trs

In and Around DC: Activities Autumn 2025

*I do love the changing of the leaves in Northern Virginia*

Being posted to Washington, D.C. has been a different kind of Foreign Service experience for us—one rooted in home, routine, and the chance to enjoy experiences we often miss while overseas. I packed this September and October with outings and activities that maximized the season and kept us very busy.

I kicked off the season with a visit to the George Washington University Textile Museum, a team outing my office director organized as a bonding activity. As Foreign Service Officers, we’ve all lived in various countries and many of us have collected meaningful textiles along the way. We began by sharing a textile of personal significance and telling its story before heading into a guided tour of the museum, just a few blocks from our office. The galleries were filled with stunning pieces—carpets, tapestries, kimonos, and intricately decorated clothing. It all reminded me of my own travels and life abroad—and of the (much more modest) pieces I’ve picked up along the way. Our guide—a former Foreign Service Officer herself—made the tour especially engaging and relatable.

*Amazing acrobatics, stage presence, and storytelling of Cirque du Soleil’s* Luzia

Our next few outings were all performance-related. I had been hoping to take C to a show at Wolf Trap National Park for the Performing Arts, but hadn’t yet found the right performance. I have fond memories of Wolf Trap, as my family went a few times when I was a child, and I spent a summer in college working at the concession stand. When I learned that Cynthia Erivo would be performing there, I tried to get tickets, but they sold out quickly. As luck would have it, friends of ours were unable to attend and offered us their tickets! Cynthia Erivo was wonderful—so interactive with the audience, engaging and funny, and her voice is absolutely stunning. It was truly one of the best performances I have attended.

C had also been eager to go to a concert, so when two of her favorite artists, Hozier and Gigi Perez, announced a show in Virginia, she begged to go. Even though it fell on a school night, I said yes and bought lawn seats, imagining a perfect September evening. Instead, it was cold and rainy, but armed with ponchos and surrounded by thousands of equally soaked but cheerful fans, we made the best of it—and both artists were fantastic live. And to round out our performance streak, we kept a tradition going and saw Cirque du Soleil for the third September in a row.

We rounded out September with a visit to the Maryland Renaissance Faire with my sister and her family. I had long heard of the festival but had never been, and I thought it would be a great experience for C and me. Good thing we went with my sister—a seasoned pro who has been more than a dozen times. Now in its 49th year, the Faire is well-established. It’s set in a fictional 16th-century English village called Revel Grove and spread over 27 acres in Crownsville, Maryland. C and I were unprepared for its size and the sheer number of performances, activities, food options, and shops. We made it only half the day before we were worn out. Next time—and C definitely wants to go back—we’ll need a better game plan!

As we moved into October, things slowed down a bit. I’ve always enjoyed this month—my birthday falls in October, and I love the changing leaves in places with four seasons like Northern Virginia. After such a busy September, I didn’t have many firm plans lined up, and when the federal government shut down, it made the month feel even less predictable.

To celebrate my birthday, I took a day off work that lined up with a day C had off school, and I booked us tickets to the Maryland Zoo in Baltimore—plus a penguin encounter! C and I have seen penguins before, including at Boulder Beach in South Africa, but the chance to be up close to them (and maybe even touch one) felt like a special treat.

*Montage of the Maryland Zoo, including the friendliest penguin Ambassador, Olive, and the wonderful zoo enclosure with rhinos, zebras, and ostriches*

We arrived at the zoo about two hours before our penguin encounter start time, so we had ample time to check out the rest of the animal exhibits first. I was surprised by how great the Maryland Zoo is! I grew up outside of Washington, D.C., and had many visits to the National Zoo with my family and my school or Girl Scout troop. Yet we never once visited the Maryland Zoo. I did not even know it existed until I chanced upon an advertisement for the penguins. Open since 1876, it is the third-oldest zoo in the United States. I found the layout inviting for visitors with plenty of nature, and its enclosures large and well-designed for the animals. And they had an okapi, an endangered animal of the giraffe family that looks part giraffe and part zebra, and also happens to be one of my favorite animals. We then had a magical small-group experience with a group of penguins specifically selected as ambassadors for their species. They were largely uninterested in us, but a few brave souls got close enough to touch.

We next attended another of my sister’s interactive theatrical performances by Naut Human Productions at Dodona Manor in Leesburg, Virginia. Following last October’s Halloween-themed Dracula, this year’s spooky offering was the Frankenstein Experience. Unlike in past years, when she has usually had a more glamorous role, this time she appeared as Igor—the first of Dr. Frankenstein’s attempts to bring a human back to life using rat DNA—and she was far more frightening. There were plenty of jump scares and screams throughout, and Igor was undoubtedly the star of the evening.

When the federal government’s funding lapsed on October 1, I was notified that my position was considered “non-excepted,” which meant I would be furloughed and unable to work. During a shutdown, most federal employees—whether “excepted” and still working or “non-excepted” and sent home—don’t receive pay until the government reopens, which can make things a bit uncertain. As a single parent with one income, the prospect of going without a paycheck made me grateful that I hadn’t planned much for October, and I knew I’d need to keep a closer eye on my budget. I spent the first week tackling long-overdue items on my to-do list, catching up with friends, and enjoying the still-pleasant weather on long walks.

*Some of Hillwood Estates autumn beauty in the Cutting Garden*

A friend of mine—who used to work in the federal government and knows how much I love gardens—sent me a notice that Hillwood Estate was offering free admission. So on a beautiful autumn day, I headed to the gardens at the former estate of Marjorie Merriweather Post. Post purchased Hillwood in the mid-1950s and transformed it into both a home and a showcase of her interests, including exquisite gardens and an impressive art collection. I wasn’t looking to tour the manor that day; I simply wanted to be outdoors. And since I went on my own, I could wander at my own pace without worrying about a teenager growing bored. Two of my favorite spots were the Japanese Garden and the Cutting Garden—the latter especially, with so many unique and colorful flowers in bloom.

Later in the month, C was working on the Bird Study merit badge for Scouts, and one of the requirements was to identify birds in the wild. I searched for good birding spots in Northern Virginia and came across Huntley Meadows Park, so we headed out on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The park was stunning, and the boardwalk trail through the wetlands was spectacular—but we saw far fewer birds than we expected. Back at the visitor center, we asked the staff for advice, and they told us about a birding group that meets on Monday mornings at 8 a.m.

*A stunning autumn vista in Fairfax County’s Huntley Meadows Park*

Since I was still furloughed the next day and C happened to have (yet another )Arlington school holiday, we decided to return. It turned out to be a gorgeous autumn morning, and the birding group could not have been more welcoming. They were delighted to hear about C’s merit badge and helped us spot and identify birds, use our binoculars properly, and even try out their much more advanced ones. To my surprise, one of the birders was a retired Foreign Service Officer—and a former Ambassador—which made the outing an unexpected full-circle Foreign Service moment.

We wrapped up our autumn adventures with the Monster Mash 5K—our third mother-daughter race since July. Well, “mother-daughter” was a bit of a stretch this time, since C invited a friend and the two of them dashed off together, leaving me in their dust. And with that, our busy fall came to a close. Now we turn toward our third full winter in Washington, looking forward to the next adventures.

October 28, 2025 by trs

Balkans Bound, Part Seven: The Final Days in Pristina and Gračanica

This is the seventh and final installment of my daughter’s and my trip to Kosovo, Albania, and Montenegro in August 2026.

*The Newborn Monument in Pristina, unveiled in the capital on February 17, 2008, when Kosovo declared independence*

We left Peja and headed east toward Kosovo’s capital, Pristina — trading the mountains that had framed so much of our trip for rolling hills. Pristina sits in a flat valley, and at one point along the highway encircling the city, we caught a sweeping view of the entire capital spread out below us. It felt almost strange to see such a wide, open landscape after so many days of winding mountain roads.

We checked into our hotel in central Pristina. I had originally booked our final two nights near the airport but changed plans so we could spend a day exploring the city more easily. Once we settled into our room, we headed out for lunch nearby and then began a self-guided walking tour. Our first stop was the Newborn Monument, a large block-letter sculpture that celebrates Kosovo’s declaration of independence from Serbia on February 17, 2008. The monument changes its colors and design each year on that date, symbolizing the country’s evolving identity. Across the street, we visited the Heroines Monument, which depicts an Albanian woman formed from 20,145 metal pins — each representing the contributions and sacrifices of Albanian women during the 1989-1999 Kosovo War. The Newborn Monument felt celebratory and hopeful, while the Heroines Monument carried a quieter, somber weight. Facing one another, the two together formed a powerful message about the devastation of war and the hope that follows in its wake.

*Left: C sits in the Newborn Monument; Right: the Heroines Monument*

From there, we continued our walk along Mother Teresa Boulevard, a broad, pedestrian-only avenue lined with shops, cafés, and people out enjoying the day. We passed a statue of Mother Teresa herself — an important figure in Kosovo, as she was ethnic Albanian and is said to have found her spiritual calling in the small village of Letnica, in southern Kosovo. We followed the boulevard until we reached the Kosovo Parliament building, then crossed the street to the Çarshi Mosque. Built in 1389 to commemorate the Ottoman victory in the Battle of Kosovo, it is the oldest surviving building in Pristina. Behind it stands the National Museum of Kosovo, housed in an Austro-Hungarian building from 1889, though unfortunately it was closed for renovation during our visit.

Sights of Pristina–Left: Statue of Mother Teresa in central Pristina; Center: the Brutalist/Futuristic beauty of the National Library of Kosovo; Right: the Çarshi Mosque, Pristina’s oldest building

We continued on to the campus of the University of Pristina to see the National Library, famous for its striking architecture — a brutalist design with a distinctive futuristic appearance. C, who has an interest in architecture and a surprising fondness for Brutalism (perhaps thanks to Washington, D.C.’s share of concrete buildings), had especially wanted to see it. Our final stop was the Cathedral of Saint Mother Teresa. Built between 2007 and 2017 and officially consecrated in 2017, it is the largest structure in Kosovo and the first cathedral built in the country since the 16th century.

In just a few hours of walking, I felt as though we had passed through centuries of Kosovo’s history — from Ottoman rule to war to hard-won independence. It was a beautiful day and a satisfying walk, but it carried a certain weight. While there isn’t an overwhelming amount to see in terms of traditional sightseeing, Pristina clearly has momentum. Construction cranes dotted the skyline, signs of an economic boom fueled in part by the Kosovar diaspora. The city felt youthful and hopeful. We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening resting up for our final day in the country.

On our last day, we packed up the car for one final sightseeing drive, heading to the town of Gračanica, just five miles from Pristina. Our goal was the 14th-century Serbian Orthodox Gračanica Monastery — the fourth and final of the UNESCO-designated Medieval Monuments in Kosovo that we would visit. Like the others, the monastery centers on a stand-alone church within a walled complex, its interior lined with offices and living quarters. Inside, the church walls are covered with magnificent frescoes depicting scenes from the Bible — vivid, detailed, and deeply expressive. It was beautiful, though also the busiest of the four UNESCO sites we’d seen, and the strictest about what visitors could and could not do.

Outside the monastery, we took a short walk around town. One of the first things we noticed — or rather, C did, with her knack for recognizing flags — was the presence of Serbian flags and the use of the Serbian language. It was a noticeable change from what we had seen elsewhere: in Prizren and Peja, Albanian flags and symbols were everywhere, while in Pristina, we had seen a modest number of Kosovar flags. Here, the Serbian presence was unmistakable. A statue of the legendary Serbian knight Miloš Obilić stands prominently in the town center, and nearby is the Missing Monument, a somber memorial honoring the Serbs who were kidnapped or went missing during and after the Kosovo War.

Even amid Kosovo’s visible economic growth and youthful optimism, reminders of the region’s divided past remain close at hand. I had thought I’d managed to keep politics at bay during our trip, but it was impossible to ignore the quiet signs everywhere — reminders of how deeply history, identity, and faith are still woven into daily life here, and how the past continues to shape the present.

For a change of pace — and to end our trip on a lighter note — we drove to the Bear Sanctuary Prishtina, a rescue center that provides care for brown bears once kept in captivity in Kosovo and Albania. The sanctuary is set on forested land by a lake, and the bears have large enclosures that give them room to roam and explore. It felt spacious and well-run, and as we followed the winding paths up and down the hillside, C and I got quite a workout. Watching the bears lounging and playing was a lovely way to close out our travels.

*It was so fun* *go-karting on this track in the Pristina Mall!*

I had one last surprise for C: for our final final activity of the vacation, we went to Prishtina Mall. At 1,233,140 square feet, it’s the largest shopping and entertainment center in southeastern Europe. We had lunch, did some window shopping, got gelato, and drove go-karts on a cool indoor track — yes, right inside the mall! It was the first time either of us had gone go-karting, and it was an absolute blast. Afterward, we drove to our hotel near the airport, returned the rental car, and spent our last night in Europe before the early morning flight that would begin our journey home.

Our two weeks in Kosovo, Albania, and Montenegro were everything I could have hoped for — full of adventure, discovery, and connection. We packed so much into those days, from mountain drives and monasteries to coastal towns and caves. More than anything, it was a memorable mother-daughter journey, one that I know neither of us will forget.

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