Please excuse my temporary absence. We are traveling this week (a “working” vacation since I’m researching a couple of travel stories) and I assumed I’d have time to update from the road…but apparently I momentarily forgot what it’s like to travel with four children when I made that assumption, because I have barely had time to breathe or sleep, let alone write. I have eaten enough, thankfully, since checking out local restaurants is part of my research.A common complaint among serious travel writers is the misconception that travel writing is all glitz and glamour, free meals and swag and cushy hotel rooms. In reality, travel writing is far from a free ride. Many writers refuse any comps, paying out of pocket or hoping to land assignments from publications that pay expenses (but those are far from the majority, and the pay for a typical travel article isn’t often enough to even cover accommodations much less make it a profitable venture). In order to defray costs, many travel writers go on press trips (sometimes referred to as familiarization tours or “fam tours”). Sure, those trips tend to be free to the writer, but it’s not quite the same as getting a “free vacation”. It’s not even as easy as the free vacation you get for agreeing to listen to a timeshare salesperson’s spiel. In that case, the timeshare pitch only guarantees you an hour or two of discomfort while you either a) feign interest in timeshare property b) actually develop interest and briefly consider purchasing the timeshare until you realize there’s no way you can actually afford a timeshare and then have to awkwardly weasel your way out of the deal, or c) don’t even bother to feign interest (I’m not including a “D”—actually can afford timeshare, want to buy timeshare and have been waiting for just such an opportunity—because I’ve honestly never heard report this to be the case) But at some point, the timeshare salesperson sends you on your way with your tickets or coupons or hotel confirmation code; free to finish your vacation in peace. I’ve never been on one of these press trips, but my understanding is that on many of these trips, you’re basically herded from place to place by a PR person, sitting on a bus or van with a bunch of other writers and photographers. Not only is there no downtime, but there’s barely enough time to take in each destination. 

It doesn’t sound like my cup of tea—I’m more of a “meander until you find something that interests you, then stay as long as you’d like” kind of person, so I’ve generally avoided those kinds of trips. Plus, since I usually do a travel-oriented story about once every six months or so, I end up away from home way too often to leave my kids behind (not to mention I’ve had a nursling for many of the last few years). Since I doubt the other writers involved would appreciate me hauling four children along, that option is pretty much out for me. And for the most part, I’m happy to piece together my own little trips, bringing the family along. After all, my family is the center of my life–what better way to write from an authentic mother’s perspective than to haul the kids along everywhere I go and let them be the ultimate guinea pigs?

But sometimes I do think about those organized press trips and wonder if, even with the highly-regimented schedule and all those other people around, it might not be easier than a family vacation. Like a writer on a fam tour, I’m loaded into a van with five other people, but instead of a perky PR rep giving me a cheery hard sell of the region’s many delights, I’ve got my husband, muttering crankily over my (sadly lacking) navigation skills. I don’t have to cram into a vehicle with a bunch of strangers, which is probably good since it sometimes takes me a while to warm up in new groups…however, I’m guessing other writers on press trips don’t a) throw things at your head from the backseat, b) emit ear-piercing, shrill screams at random moments or c) demand McDonald’s every time we pass a billboard sporting the golden arches. They probably also don’t demand that the driver play the same Jack Johnson CD over and over and over again until the tunes are permanently etched on the rest of the passenger’s brains, playing in their heads until their thoughts resemble a Curious George soundtrack.  And while you can’t plan something out too rigidly when there are kids involved, you can’t exactly meander, either, or you’d never leave the hotel room. And kids seem to thrive on having some idea of what’s coming next when traveling has thrown their entire routine completely out of whack. Waking up in a different bed every morning has freaked my three-year-old son, William, out so badly that he spends the first half-hour of the morning repeating the same questions to me over and over: “Where are we going today?” “Will we be staying in a hotel tonight?” “What hotel?” “How far away is it?” What time will we eat breakfast?” “What time will we eat dinner?” “How many hours away is that?” “How many minutes?” 

Never mind that the child seems to have no concept of a minute or an hour and can’t actually tell time.  I’d love to write more about our specific travels tonight, but I’ve got to get a bunch of wired, over-tired, and out-of-whack kids to bed. And myself? Between all the sightseeing, walking, and around-the-pool chasing, I’m exhausted. So I’ll try to check in again tomorrow, but if I don’t, please excuse me…I’m probably buried under a stack of media kits, diapers, and dirty socks…somewhere in northern Minnesota.