Let’s face it, nobody’s going to the bank preaching the gospel of career breaks; they just haven’t swept our cultural consciousness (yet!)…

That said, I hope and believe that most folks find a way to get their yayas out now and again.

So I’m introducing a new series that salutes and comments on various forms of leisure. Even when some of those releases seem peculiar to the rest of us.

• Today, we take Harley Davidson for a ride.

That rough, tough, renegade brand of mega-motorcycles screams independence, ruggedness, and machismo louder than 100 Harleys on the open highway, right?

Well, maybe. Yet a handful of impressions and experiences make this bike-skeptic question that. Like, there was that time when I was about 10 and a (truly nasty) biker gang was passing through the lake region where my family was vacationing. I ended up walking by dozens of them, and some made sexual slurs at me. That’s intimidating and mean, sure. But, really? These scary, dangerous dudes had to resort to bullying a pre-pubescent boy? I was frightened, for sure. But not impressed.

These days, large Harley stores—you see them outside of many towns—look rather like bricky Wal-Marts. One rarely sees much activity there. I’ve read that Harley makes more money on clothes and stuff than on actual bikes now. That makes sense. Doesn’t it seem you see way more Harley regalia than actual motorcycles?

Harley Davidson has gone from symbolizing unconventional free-spiritedness to a sort of clipped-wing conformity. It’s hit-the-road, fantasy fashion statements for folks who are stuck in their recliner watching football and working on their beer guts (if we pass by the actual biker gangs).

The people I do know who own Harleys (and wear the attire) go for a ride, oh, maybe once a month, in the warm months. They do sometimes ride to that huge Sturgis rally though—in their pickups and motor homes and SUVs that tow their bikes behind until they get to a nearby truck stop and then—SHAZAMM!—they ditch their comfort and climb on their uber-bike. Is that hot, or what?

In other words, Harley seems anymore like a brand that doesn’t have a lot of “there” there. Still, my I tip my leather cap to them for creating such an American myth. I love that they’re made in Milwaukee, a cool town I once lived in. And I can even say that my dad used to ride one—until, legend has it, he wrecked it in a head-on collision.

In closing, I do hope Harley fans are having fun in Hog heaven. And yet I ask, have you ever seen a Harley-head smile?

A meager 6-day BreakAway was all the Gods were willing to offer in atonement for this heinous, interminable winter. And though I really shouldn’t complain, I will—as the retreat became Dickensian in a fractional way: 5/6 the best of times, 1/6 the worst:  after I brought home a case of severe E. coli (along with some charming souvenirs).

I’ve spent many moments trying to pinpoint what food (or water or ice) item made my body go much further south than Mazatlan. But I blame myself.

This winter-blues daddy-o has taken the M train at least 6-8 times now with nary a scary fart. So it’s no surprise that my one-time divine canons of foreign-country travel hygiene washed away years ago, while even Guidebook 101 common sense seemed superfluous.

All to say, I had a great time. Travel is MUCH more fun (and relaxing) when you don’t worry about the dangers that lurk around every corner, cocina, and ceviche. So in celebration of that free-spiritedness we all crave—that may work forever or fail you at any moment—here are some ways to throw caution to the ill wind and maybe, just maybe, make yourself sick in Mexico.

• Drink the water. Oh sure, you could always buy your own bottle. But doesn’t every hacienda worth its peso already purify their own?
• Underhydrate. I always—always!—carry water and sip. But I guess I took a vacation from that practice, too.
• Drink too much. Their wine lists are lousy. And I don’t love most Mexican beer. But smiling Mexicanos kept bringing me more anyway.
• Eat raw fish. Tuna? Mahi? Scallops? Shrimp? Sure. They’re abundant.  And so fresh they don’t need flame. Throw in a few more I can’t pronounce. Refrigerators are cool, but not always visible there.
• Eat whole fish. Nothing better. Just keep scraping that flesh right off the bone and eat everything but the eyeballs.
• Eat big salads. Finally! Some eateries are serving ample, fancy veggies. Some say skip the salad course when south of the border, but, naaaaahhh…
• Take leftovers home. Why not? They might be your lunch sitting poolside tomorrow!
• Buy pre-prepared meals at the OXXO (think 7-11). They look pretty good. They’re cheap. And God knows you don’t go to Mexico to cook!
• Eat ingredients that generally disagree with you. I hate onions and garlic. And they hate me. In Mexico, everything includes onions and garlic.
• Get tons of sun. Mexico has an endless source. And they share. We vacationers are just making up for lost shine.
• Skip washing your hands or using antiseptic. What if the water’s not pure? BYO Purell! (If you think of it.)
• Shake hands a lot. Donald Trump doesn’t do it, and calls it barbaric. For the rest of us, though, it’s typically just low-risk politeness.
• Eat and drink at several venues a day. After all, you can’t cross a street without stumbling into another bar—and many are truly alluring.
• Use toilets anywhere and everywhere. Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go.
• Sleep erratically. Those waves are LOUD! Anyway, who goes to the coast to spend those precious hours in bed?
• Repeat daily. (And nightly.)

Funny thing is, at about the time that Mr. Belly started mumbling, we were sitting in Mazatlan’s best restaurant, Topolo, eating a divine invention that included about five pounds of chopped raw ahi, wasabi, ginger, avocado, capers, cuke—and NO onion or garlic! It went perfectly with Negra Modelo.

Some sad, aging woman was quizzing the waiter about their water and ice and all, “I was just sick for a week!” Moments later, an email arrived from an elder rellie who wondered if he should come to Maz for a golf gathering, “Or is there too much food-borne illness?”

I pooh-poohed such paranoia, slurped some more silky tuna, and ordered another cerveza. The rest is a blur, though I remember a delirious 103-degree fever followed by the worst travel day ever.

Back home on the still-snow-covered tundra, Mr. Belly is gradually moving beyond Gatorade and rice. Meanwhile, Mr. Heart can’t wait to get Back to Mexico.

It’s never too late!

Look! Hark! Flickr has (finally!) uploaded the Tuscany 2012 mix!

Click and find yourself in Barga, Lucca, Pisa, Viareggio and more!

Be reminded of the dolce far niente…

Ciao!

A recent article from McClatchy describes our lust for technology—smart phones, SM, TV, games—and the fact that we are not alone. That is, our life partners likely share this myopic desire. And that’s wreaking havoc on relationships.

Having trouble connecting with your S.O.? It’s probably because they’re instead connecting with other people virtually nonstop. Who hasn’t seen the couple on a date giving googly eyes not to each other, but to their phones? Who hasn’t heard about break-ups (and hook-ups) done entirely via text messages?

Consider the habits of 18 to 34 year-old women, the most heavy users of SM:

• 39% refer to themselves as “Facebook addicts”
• 34% get on Facebook first thing in the morning (before going to the bathroom or brushing their teeth)
• 21% check Facebook in the middle of the night.

The psycho community has taken note. Psychologist David Greenfield, who founded the Center for Internet and Technology Addiction, notes that checking digitalia hundreds of times a day generates dopamine, that feel-good chemical associated with addiction.

In some countries, boys are routinely sent away to rehab camps to try to break their gaming habit.

Then there’s multitasking. Though some researchers dispute whether the human brain can truly “do” more than one thing at a time, many folks sure do try. One practice that keeps growing in popularity is, of course, watching TV while surfing your computer. That habit grew by 34.5% in 2009.

So what’s a partner to do? Perhaps just “being together,” which is to say in the same room and in the flesh, is going to be about as good as it gets. Oh well, if the relationship feels distant and reticent, you can always text each other.

Domeni Hedderman and her husband uprooted their three kids and five super-routines to BreakAway for six months in Belize. On an island. You can read all about it here.

Or you can write your own story—if you and yours are just wily enough, savvy enough, and stubborn enough. My family sneaks away fairly often, but whenever winter drags on like a cold torture test, my mind (and soul?) drift back to exactly four years ago, when we flew to the West Indies for four months of island hopping.

Ms. Hedderman offers a few perfect quotes to reminisce the process, frustration, and euphoria that made that trip so—dare I say—epic.

I believe in travel with my kids…before they’re too cool to hang out with their parents.”

Yes, all parents fear the Too-Cool Chill; we put our parents through it, right? But any more, I beg to differ: Once you’ve sprung your offspring into a world that is cooler than Coolsville, they’ll say “Yes!” from then on. Just last summer, my two children (now 9 and 15) eagerly abandoned sweet summer in Minnesota to do Europe. Elsa now wistfully calls Italy, “My favorite place in the world…”

We wanted to create our own life.”

If this statement suggests that school, sports, lessons, friends, and all the rest conspire to usurp one’s freedom of choice, that’s sad. But true. Sometimes fleeing is the best path to self-determination—and to the fascinating opportunity to start from scratch. The world becomes a great co-creator.

Every moment has potential to be a prayer.”

The delightfully slow pace of Belize inspired Ms. Hedderman to write that. But that warm, spiritual high has also graced me amid a frenetic sailing race on Grenada, a busy train station in Copenhagen, or a languid lunch in Tuscany. At home, one often prays for strength and patience. When far away, one prays this moment won’t end.

Here, it’s okay to just be a kid.”

Oh my, kids grow up fast. But do they really want to? I think not—and taking them to exotic lands without a pile of digital crutches has inspired them to do amazing, kid-like things. Like have a water-balloon fight in a mountain village for days on end. Like making sand castles by the dozen. Playing dominoes. And…

The world…has the potential to teach us more than a textbook ever could.”

The people you meet when wandering the globe make for excellent teachers. And there’s no better school than the open classroom offered by foreign lands and new experiences.

Oh sure, textbooks are important. That’s why I diligently tried home schooling when island-hopping. And while it wasn’t much” fun” at the time, as is true with many worthwhile challenges, I’m glad we stuck it out.

But if math sometimes made us miserable, imagine the glee (not the TV kind) whenever we finished it and could go back outside to body surf, chase hermit crabs, or take the “dollar bus” to town to stock up on fresh passion fruit.

Thanks, Ms. Hedderman for sparking some great memories. They’ll last a lifetime when, frankly, that basketball tournament or history test just won’t. Those sabbatical trips are the best gift you can give your children. I’m certain, but don’t believe me.

Just try it. And then ask your kids.

It takes a lot to be a lifeguard in Viareggio, Italy, as these two gentlemen proved when I was lucky enough to spend a few sunny days there last June. It takes guts, as you can see. It takes fishing nets, and the desire to repair them. It takes a comfortable beach chair, sunscreen (optional), and the ability to roll cigarettes.

That’s not all, though. Because the long, long, long beach of Viareggio is sliced into private little beach clubs (that one pays for and ergo gets many amenities, like a nice chair, umbrella, changing rooms, and F&B service). A lifeguard there is only responsible for the guests of that club, and only when they are in the water in front of that slice.

That means that the lifeguard who does his job swimmingly needs to do some yelling, like,

Go back to your beach slice; you are not a guest of this club;”

and

Go swim in your own water—you are not my responsibility;”

and

Get out of the water—the waves are too big,”

even when they are not.

Successful lifeguards, once they’ve scared everyone off their sand and out of their water, can then focus on things like mending fishing nets. Socializing with other lifeguards. Enjoying a hand-delivered panini and San Pellegrino. And, best of all, taking a nice nap in the lounge chair and getting back to work on that tan.

It’s a rough job—rather like the frightfully stormy seas in this picture—but someone’s got to do it. Fortunately for the few and proud, summer lasts only so long in Viareggio, and then these laborers can finally take it easy for several months.

Maybe hang out at the bar. Play some indoor bocce. And of course, go to Momma’s daily for three-hour lunches, before heading back to the bar. Salute’!

“NOT in MY house!” So goes an old saying. And in MY house, those NOTS include a short but do-able list of guidelines for Sundays:

• In my dreams!

Naturally, that vision of “keeping the Sabbath” has worked about as well as a dead battery. Sundays now may feature not one but two sports practices—even for my nine-year old! We all work if we need to. The kids study. And the dream has become to simply sit for Sunday Supper. But that often morphs into Subway Supper, while my kids still can’t competently chop a carrot.

• Enter anxiety and depression

In his new book, “24/6: A Prescription for a Happier, Healthier Life,” one Dr. Matthew Sleeth makes a compelling plea for people to slow down. One day a week. Like our forbears did for 2,000 years—until we got so dang busy during the last 30 years. We weren’t meant to work this hard—or to be so wired, literally and metaphorically.

In this CNN interview, he calls America “the most depressed country in the world,” while observing that “I don’t have enough time” has become the mantra of our era. It’s making us sick, he asserts. And he ought to know; he’s a physician with much emergency-room experience. Yet he notes that doctors rarely ask about your work, stress, or rest.

• “You get more done…”

Dr. Sleeth maintains that, for those who somehow swing it,

you actually get more things done on the six days that you are working,” and “keeping one day of rest a week has been the single best thing they’ve done for their marriage, their family and their spiritual relationship.”

Imagine that! Greater productivity, less stress, more zen.

The career-break movement lobbies for the right to take grand, faraway getaways. Yet in a world of workaholism, prescribing taking Sundays off or keeping your hand off your devices is akin to fighting to take bottles away from a party of addicted drunks.

Still, it’s worth a shot (so to speak). The accelerated lifestyle that we’ve bought into is careening out of control. And at the end of the day, or should we say week?, wouldn’t we all, deep down, love to lighten our load and unwind a little?

Take Me Out to the Ballgame!

I just love this picture from last spring! Why? Let me count the (11) reasons why…

1. Baseball remains the most interesting, strategic, nonviolent game around.
2. My son, somewhere in this pic, got to play (or at least sing) center field for the Minnesota Twins. How cool is that!
3. He also got to be on the Mega Jumbotron. That’s almost as cool!
4. In high school, “cool” rules, perhaps to a fault. Yet here we have a bunch of cool boy-cats singing their hearts out. Hey, singing IS cool!
5. And so is the tradition of reverently singing the National Anthem before sporting events. It’s not the best song ever written, but still: God Bless America!
6. But back to cool, it’s now cold January here. So we can begin to count the (1000s of) hours til Opening Day.
7. Moments make memories. And for many, many of us, life has served few memories sweeter than winning the World Series (especially for we lucky ones who were there!).
8. Get active! Get in shape! Go outside! To this day, countless millions of people play baseball and softball for exercise, fresh air, and camaraderie.
9. Whereas other sports may use buzzers, horns, whistles, and even guns to commence, baseball kicks off with a blue man yelling, “Play ball!”
10. This website advocates lengthy career breaks, sure. Yet teeny-tiny breaks like an evening at the ballyard prove the priceless value of all escapism.
11. Someone once said about America, “Baseball is who we were; football is who we are.” Call me old-fashioned. But…take me out to the ballgame! Please!

Over lunch recently, a work colleague who’s a longtime executive at a large ad agency described her Catch-22 predicament: She has about 40 days of unused vacation saved up. BUT, due to excessive vakay stockpiling, the company has set a 1-31-13 “use it or lose it” date. My friend is too busy to take that time. So she’ll lose enough paid time off to fulfill a dang decent PAID BreakAway of 8 weeks. Ouch!

Companies buying and selling free time

Another, perhaps more employer-friendly, option seems to be gaining popularity in corporate America. Some firms let people buy additional time off, or sell back unused time for extra pay, or both. A 2010 survey found that less that only 14% of employers do so, but doesn’t that seem like a win-win?

The kerfuffle continues…

Despite lofty intentions, many hard workers just can’t manage meaningful vacations. So they burn out and get grumpy, right? Families and resorts suffer, right? The company appears stinchy-Grinchy, right? Which all leads to a pile of questions that (we hope) both employers AND employees will ponder more routinely…

• Are employers working so hard out of fear—of losing their jobs?
• Is there an epidemic of sick corporate cultures that expect everyone to work long hours with few days off?
• Is someone getting rich off of all this abusive, curmudgeonly behavior?
• Why are employers such wimps when it comes to fighting for the right to life with liberty and the pursuit of happiness; is that not America’s #1 alleged promise?
• Why can’t companies realize that improved morale, well-being, and balance will lead to happier employees—and most likely, to a better bottom line?

We can do no better than to consider the advice of a very wise, successful man named Elmer Anderson (philanthropist, poet, governor of Minnesota, and founder of H.B. Fuller Company). Elmer got rich—and enriched many others—by asserting that: First, take good care of your customers. Second, take good care of your employees. And third—if you do both of those things well—the profits will take good care of themselves.

Moments make memories.

When traveling, taking pictures can be one of the best ways to force yourself to be in the moment. You look harder. You wander bravely. You see more.

Taking a BreakAway—whether for three hours or three months—is all about collecting memories in what can otherwise become a speedy, blurry life. A summer in Tuscany may be remarkable. But sipping the vino locale with new local amici while watching the sun drop behind the mountains: That’s an indelible memory.

Yes, moments make memories.

This pic, which I snapped right in the subject’s face (something I usually shun), brings back the joy, mystery, and magic that is New Orleans. If a picture paints 1,000 words, this one also begs at least 10 questions…

1. Why, exactly, is that guy smirking?
2. Is he going to play that violin or just use it as a prop?
3. Where the hell did he get that dapper hat?
4. Is that girl embracing him, or pushing him away?
5. When did the streets of NOLA become car-free and tourist-packed?
6. What’s that girl on the left sipping out of her Big Slurpee?
7. What’s everyone smoking?
8. Why are most of the people so young?
9. Wasn’t N’Awlins oh-so banjo long before banjo was cool?
10. Why don’t we all go there more often?

A standing O goes to The Big Easy for recovering from their disaster(s) so beautifully. In an age when natural catastrophes are becoming all-too-common, that’s an inspiration to us all.

Mother Nature can kick ass. But the human body and spirit is strong too. I suggest you go to NOLA someday, and get a taste of her many supernatural sensations.