We were there for five days. We flew direct out of National. Denver is a lovely city. We stayed in a nice hotel. The tap water tasted great. We ate all our meals in restaurants of one sort or another.
It was the hardest trip of my life.
I say this without exaggeration. I say this as someone who has ridden on sketchy buses in the Andes, buses with drivers desperate to pass the next bus on a blind turn, buses with questionable brakes. I say this as someone who has ridden on the top of those buses, figuring that if the bus went over the side of the eroding road, straight down the mountain, I might be able to leap to my salvation.
I say this as someone who has spent a month trekking in Nepal, from where the road ends to the top of Kala Pattar, just before Base Camp, at 18,192 feet, and back. We slept in tea houses heated by yak dung, which, FYI, is a not-awesome heat source. It's hard to breathe at altitude such as that. We were so cold I didn't take off my clothes - any of them, including my hat - for an entire week.
And still, travel with my daughter, my love, my hurricane, was more exhausting, more challenging.
That said, this trip was also fantastic.
For one thing, Jordan has become a wonderful traveler. He was delightful. He was delighted.
We got to see Maude and Wendy and their families, and Jordan and Maude's son totally hit it off. That was such a joy. Really, the trip for him was magic.
Because, oh, because so many things.
The incredible Denver Children's Museum, which has a whole fire engine and so many amazing rooms of activities and why why oh why, why don't we have one of those here in DC?
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