In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott describes the process of writing to that of watching a Polaroid develop. Once the photo has been taken the image remains unclear for what often feels  like a painstakingly long time.

As with writing it’s only the faint shadows of a story that first emerge. The image and words are monotone and lacking in details but with perseverance, and in my case often, frustrations, the arduous process slowly starts to reveal a complete picture with stunning details, vivid colors and a scene that you couldn’t have even imagined.

When you try and look at the Polaroid before it’s fully developed or finish a story without working it out and giving it the time it deserves then you miss out on much of the detail that gives the piece life.

I can’t help but think that this analogy also works with traveling too, probably because I’ve been doing a lot of it lately and while reading this part of the book I was sipping Rum Punch while the Caribbean sun wrapped me warmly. I give you permission to roll your eyes in my general direction.

With each recent trip I assigned the adventure an already formed Polaroid without my even realizing it. I had set aside expectations and pre-conceived notions of what I should expect and what I planned to glean from the trip before I had even packed my bags.

On many of my recent trips I spent the first few days frustrated that the reality didn’t resemble the image that my Polaroid so clearly displayed. I fussed over failed expectations and tried my best to control the outcome until I finally realized (and realized again, sometimes it takes me awhile to learn a lesson) that I need to allow this experience to tell me it’s story rather than force one on it.

Once I allowed myself to simply experience I was open to changing of plans, fully experiencing the beauty of that place and the differences of culture. I was able to clearly listen to the story of the trip and the blurry scenes of the Polaroid began to reveal themselves into an image that exceeded my previous shallow expectations.

While I realize that it is nearly impossible not to enter in without some expectations, my hope for future trips is that I can quickly forget my Polaroid in order to make way for the one that is yet to be revealed.

Less than 24 hours in Bruges, Belgium – what do you do?

Eat as much as you possibly can, of course!

My Bruges (don’t ask me how to pronounce it, I practiced for a week which evoked many laughs and odd hacking noises) to-do list was as follows:

1. Drink a Belgian beer

2. Eat fries

3. Eat waffles

4. Eat and buy chocolate

That is a chocolate induced smile right there.

I’m happy to report that even in my limited time in that beautiful country I completed the to-do list and then some.

Upon my return I’ve created a new to-do list:

1. Make waffles as good as the Belgian’s do – particularly the Liege waffle.

2. Make Flemish stew.

3. Find a great source for Belgian beer in Seattle then drink some.

4. Plan my return trip to Belgium.

Of course there is more to this stunning city than the food. Like wandering the brick-paved streets in the middle of the night in silence as you take in the stunning architecture, the way the moon reflects on the frozen canal, and the warming thought of drinking a dark beer in a pub established in 1515 – oh, that’s food too, I’m hopeless.

I’m home. I may not be for long but it feels good to be here.

So much to process from this trip, as is the case with any trip, but this one in particular felt different from any other.

My dad summed it up pretty accurately as he reflected on his last trip to the Netherlands, “Stepping into that country felt like I was coming home.”

As with many of my revelations it took food for me to feel just as my dad described. Each bite was familiar and deeply comforting. With the anticipation of experiencing an entirely new culture I was greeted to one I had already known. At first I felt disappointed by this as it’s typically it’s the differences, when traveling, that evoke change and awe in me. As the trip rolled on I realized that what to me had seemed like a typical childhood was one that was deeply Dutch. The country, people, food, and traditions were already a part of me. Through this understanding I learned much more about myself, my family, and a deeper knowledge of the culture in which my family originated.

I leave the Netherlands with a great sense of pride, a hunger to learn more, and a strong fervent to instill in my children much of the traditions that marked my childhood. I also leave with boxes and boxes of Hagelslag (chocolate sprinkles typically served on white bread with butter), inspirations for many meals to come, stronger family relationships and new friendships with family I had never known.