Travel Tip #8: Take a friend!

I used to travel solo.

Now I rarely travel on my own.

This might be the biggest change to my travel habits since acquiring my disability.

Back at Mile 21, when I was just learning to walk again, longtime friends Jen and Polly convinced me -- and all my new equipment -- to take a road trip to Maine. 

We stuffed the trunk with a zillion supplies:

shower chair,
prosthetic pieces,
crutches,
medications,

shrinkers,
first-aid creams,
alcohol spray,
and a portable DVD player I watched at night when I couldn't sleep.

On that trip, I felt exposed and vulnerable in ways I had never imagined.

Like passing TRUCKS on the highway...

...adapting to a hotel room, walking with an ice cream cone, and sweating out of my prosthesis, exhausted, on the way back from dinner.

But I also felt -- for the first time -- a freedom that I thought was lost from my life forever.

I was traveling.

And my C-Leg was at sea!
(Or Casco Bay, anyway.)

Since that milestone trip, I've learned the value of not going it alone.  

Friends are great in case of emergency and, of course, for helping with bags.  But they also boost our confidence and help us laugh at mishaps.  (Which, for me, still happen many times a day!)

Most of all, taking a friend along reminds us that we ALL have strengths and challenges.

That we're all adaptive travelers in our own way.

Walk on,
Rebecca 

P.S. Read the postcard from Mile 21 here: The Way Life Should Be.

Travel Tip #7: Consider cultures close to home!

You don't have to go far.

On my "Alive Day" each year, I like to focus on being present and grateful for... well, being alive.

I always want to do something special and out of the ordinary, but that's a bittersweet time of year for me, and often my energy is in short supply.

So what do you do when you're feeling ambivalent and drained? 

Or where do you go if you only have a few hours?

How about Japan??

Japanese culture has a rich history in Philly, so I hopped in the car with friends Mark and Jasmine for a very short road trip.

Within a half-hour, we'd arrived at the Shofuso Japanese House and Garden -- a place I'd never visited before!

You can read more about it at Mile 13,140.

On our way back to the city, we stopped in Chinatown to slurp steaming bowls of ramen at Megumi, a new-to-me Japanese restaurant, literally blocks from home.

We knew we'd only dipped our toes (or chopsticks) in, but it felt like we'd traveled halfway around the world!

I know what you're thinking.  

It's easy in big cities because they're so culturally diverse.  But small towns -- and even rural areas -- have roots to explore too.  

No passport required!

So what's in your hometown?

Walk on,
Rebecca

Travel Tip #6: Choose "right-size" adventures!

Travel isn't one-size-fits-all.

I don't know about you, but travel pushes my body into overload.

I walk more than usual, eat different foods, get less rest, carry more than my share of emergency supplies (see Tip 2), and -- like even the most able-bodied traveler -- face weather and time changes.

The rewards are worth the struggle, for sure.

But keeping pace, while keeping my body on an even keel, can be challenging!

Luckily, travel comes in many sizes.

Figuring out how to use the teapot in your temporary home, taking a walk or roll around your new block, or browsing a local supermarket --

It all counts!

Back at Mile 8,000 in Copenhagen, when the days were chilled and darkness rolled in at 3:45 PM, travel-buddy Nat and I made an "evening" trip to the Lidl supermarket, just steps from where we were staying.

We gathered up local delights -- Danish rye, smoked salmon, thick yogurt, tea, and chocolate bars -- and feasted on them at "home" in our PJs and slippers!

It was true Denmark hygge -- Goldilocks' style -- not too big, not too small...

Just right!

(To this day, I can't pass a Lidl supermarket without remembering the fun we had there.)

Walk on,
Rebecca

Travel Tip #5: Use trekking poles... sometimes!

Ability and disability can vary day-to-day and moment-to-moment.  

So using an assistive device isn't an "all or nothing" decision.

In May 2021, just after lock-down and freshly vaccinated, my friend Jasmine and I ventured to nearby Awbury Arboretum for a much needed dose of spring green.

On the soft grass and chipped trails, the extra effort of maintaining my balance made each step tentative and undertain.

I had trekking poles in my trunk, which I'd used for hiking in the past, but I never thought of using them for "just" plain grass.  

It was worth the trip back to the car to get them.

Immediately, I felt smoother, steadier, and much, much safer!!

A fellow amputee told me that when he goes to a busy place like New York City, he brings along a forearm crutch, not only for support and balance, but because it indicates to others that he might need a little space (and grace!) on the crowded sidewalks.

Another friend, who usually walks hands-free, told me she brings out her cane in bad weather.

Since that trip to Awbury, I've used my trekking poles many times -- even for something as simple as a picnic!  Our skills and needs can change depending on the setting.

I've worked hard to master walking "unassisted" on my prosthesis, but extra assistance goes a long way... sometimes!

Walk on -- in whatever way works for you,
Rebecca

Travel Tip #4: Ask About Discounts

"If you don't ask, the answer is definitely no."

So says my good friend Elaine.

Back in February 2023, at New York City's MoMA, we put it to the test.

On the public price list, admission was posted at roughly $25/person.

"Some places have discounts for people with disabilities," I whispered to Elaine as we stood in line. (I'd learned this -- unexpectedly -- on my first trip to Europe as an amputee, where staff took one look at my leg and offered me a lower price.)

When we reached the ticket desk, Elaine urged me to ask...

"Sure," the attendant answered quickly.  "Your admission is $16 and your companion is free."  He didn't ask for proof, but I tugged up the bottom of my jeans to reveal my prosthesis anyway.

Museums and tourist sites often offer discounts -- and sometimes special tours or hours -- for travelers with disabilities.  

This makes sense.  I don't last long in a museum (too much time on my feet), and in the hour or two I spend there, I experience a fraction of what an able-bodied person might do in one day.

There might not be a discount, and that's OK too.  But, as my friend Elaine says, it never hurts to ask.

Or, in my case, show a little leg!

P.S. MoMA has an awesome gift shop with a glass elevator too.

Great spot for an awkward selfie!

Walk more -- for a little less!

Rebecca

For more about "Steppin' Out in NYC" click here.

Travel Tip #3: What's Your Best Time of Day?

Identify your best time of day -- and savor it.

Good morning?  Or night?

With an amputation and chronic health issues, I get frustrated by the unpredictable nature of my body. 

It's taken me 14 years (and lots of good therapy!) to realize this...

I don't just move through the world differently than able-bodied people.  

I move through TIME differently too.

Tasks take longer.

Experiences are more tiring.

Discomfort and uncertainty are constant travel companions.  

My attention is often divided between the outside world and the inside of my body.

There are trends though.

I'm usually at my best in the morning, so I'll wake up earlier -- especially when I travel -- to get outside, sip coffee, write in my journal, and soak up the world (and this new place) while it still glimmers with possibility.

If I'm planning an intense activity, like a tour or museum or class, I'll try to schedule it just after breakfast.  Then, whatever happens the rest of the day, the pressure's off!

Maybe your best time is midday.  Or evening.

However your timeclock ticks, identifying that rhythm -- and savoring it -- can amplify your travels wherever you are!

Walk on,

Rebecca

Travel Tip #2: It's OK to Overpack!

"Wait, what?"

I know.  I know.  Most travel gurus advise traving light.  

After all, everyday essentials are available almost anywhere in the world. 

When I hear them say this, I cringe a bit.  I'm not an expert, but I believe there's a caveat for amputees and others who travel with disability.

Overpacking is OK.  Here's why:

First, everyday life with amputation requires specialized equipment that isn't readily available away from home (think silicone liners, socket valves, prescription skin creams, etc).

Second, if we run out of something, the stakes are high.  We could develop a skin tear or be unable to wear our prosthetic at all -- seriously limiting our mobility.  (And if that happens, we can't even go out to get what we need!)

Third, bringing extra stuff along -- while challenging to pack and lug -- can reduce anxiety and worry. 

Travel ALWAYS pushes me out of my comfort zone, and knowing I've packed "everything" makes it easier to take that leap!

Walk on,

Rebecca

Travel Tips from 13,500 Miles - Even the Smallest Steps Count

TRAVEL, BEFORE.

Just before the accident, I did a home exchange with a family from Bordeaux, France.  

And the year before that, I exchanged with a family from Provence.  

It was the perfect way to travel.  I could go solo, live in someone's house, hop on their bicycle, and explore the world like a local.  

I was convinced it was how I'd travel for the rest my life.

Fast forward 3 months.   

 After the accident, I thought I'd never travel again.

Then, during my time at Magee Rehab, I met a wonderful psychologist named Lenore.  Lenore, I discovered, was French Canadian.  We shared a love for all things francais.  

Slowly, the idea of travel began to unfold again.  But it was like dusting off an outdated map, torn and creased through vital roadways.

Maybe someday I would travel again... 

But HOW?

April is Limb Loss and Limb Difference Awareness Month.

And I'm celebrating Mile Marker 13,500!

For each day of April, I'll share an "travel tip" I've picked up along this journey.

Maybe one'll hit a spot on your own map.

Maybe not.  

Our bodies, no matter how many limbs we have, move through the world in different ways.  

Travel is all about adaptation.  

Which of these tips resonates for you?

Tip 1: Even the smallest step can be a travel adventure.

At Mile 13,491 (on April 1st), I round the corner of 3rd and Chestnut, squinting into a slash of sunglare.  

There, tucked into the driveway of a parking garage, is a woman holding the leash of a... 

...GOAT?!

At 7:30 AM, less than 3 blocks from my city apartment, I meet Teddy and Anthony, two dapper bucks from a herd called the Philly Goat Project.  (Who knew??)

I don't travel far in the morning.  I have friends who run 6 miles before I can even put my leg on.  

But I walk a few blocks  -- and meet goats.  

On April Fool's Day too!

Travel isn't about how far you go.  It's about what you find along the way.

Next tip coming soon...

Happy travels!

Rebecca

Happy 14th Walking Day!

Stepping into Mile 13,354...

Today marks 14 years since I took my first steps on a prosthetic leg!

You might not remember your first steps, but when you take them a second time around, you remember everything.

I can still hear prosthetist Tim telling me, "Small with the left.  Big with the right."  (Above-knee amputees tend to take an exaggerated step with their prosthetic side.)

I can still hear him say, "Great.  That was great."   (Those words filled me with hope and joy!)

On the night of February 11, 2011, my family and I crowded around the kitchen table to watch that grainy video a thousand times on my laptop!

I knew back then I would never take walking for granted.

It's still true. 

I walk around the block every morning.  
I walk the hospital corridors at work. 
I walk around the kitchen while I'm making dinner.  
I walk in the grocery store.  
I walk on sidewalks, and across streets, and (carefully) over cobblestones.  

The gift of walking never wears off.

But 13,354 miles -- and 14 years -- is a long way from that starting line.  By the time I realize today is "Walking Day," it's mid-afternoon and snow is on the way.

Ugh.  I don't walk in snow, even after 14 years.

So I head to the gym and hop on my favorite treadmill, which offers virtual "walks" in several countries.

No problem.  I'll walk in Singapore!

It's a beautiful walking day there.  Sun reflects off the buildings.  The trees are tropical green.  The path is paved and clean.  

In my earbuds, I turn on an episode of Deviate with Rolf Potts.  He's interviewing Rick Steves about his newest book, On the Hippie Trail, a journal of his 1970's trip from Istanbul to Kathmandu as a 23-year-old.

I'm walking with my two favorite travel writers!  What better way to celebrate the day?

Walking through Singapore reminds me of my friend and fellow writer Sameer, who lives there with his family.  I met Sameer at Rolf Potts's Paris Writing Workshop in 2023.  

And thinking about that trip to Paris reminds me how far I've come.

(That's Sameer on my right!)

When I took my first steps back in 2011, I thought I'd never travel again -- at least not like I did before the accident.

In a sense, that was true. 

I travel differently now, adapting in ways I couldn't yet imagine.

The path in Singapore curves through a shady area.   I walk past signposts, trash cans, spotlights, and call boxes while Rick Steves talks about depending on fellow travelers for directions and information.

 

Wayfinding. 

I don't know why that particular word comes to mind, but it seems especially meaningful today.

I think about my doctors, nurses, and rehab therapists.  Prosthetist Tim and his amazing team.

The friends, old and new, who've helped me march on.  My family who's there for me -- always.

They are my Wayfinders.  I'd be lost without them.

It's not the best "leg day," but it's not the worst either.  I wait to feel the familiar slip of my prosthetic socket, its rub on my skin, or the tiny leak of air that tells me my steps have expired.

I keep walking, longer than I usually do.  

Farther than I think I can. 

(Not that far.  But far for me!)

Finally, my right foot starts aching.  I want to keep going, but I have to stop.  I've learned, in 14 years, to listen to my body and respect its needs.

The path opens up to a harbor filled with bobbing, gleaming yachts.  I focus on that watery horizon.  

And press STOP.

Outside the gym, the first snowflakes swirl beneath the streetlights.  In my earbuds, Rick Steves reaches Kathmandu.  On the screen, Singapore disappears.

I stand there on the treadmill, catching my breath.  Grateful for all these steps.

I could go anywhere, I think.  Anywhere at all.

Happy Walking Day,

Rebecca

 

P.S.  You can read about past "Walking Days" at Mile 335, Mile 930, Mile 2,525  Mile 3,660 and here too!

Why Adaptive Travel?

Hello from Mile Marker 13,345...

Picture this:  Two adaptive travelers are planning a trip together. 

Wait, you don't have to.  Here's a photo.

It was January 2023, and my friend Mona and I had just booked airline tickets for a nine-day trip to Paris! 

We were excited!
(Who cares that the trip was still 7 months away?)

By our sky-high smiles, you might not detect the deliberations we poured into those plans: 

The length of the trip, 

time of the flights, 

disability services at the airport, 

the seats we'd need on the plane. 

We considered packing, pressure changes, legroom, "leg time," and what it would be like for our bodies to be crunched in a seat for 8 hours straight.  (Not to mention the recovery time we'd need at either end!)

Travel is different, and often difficult, with a disability.  But it's also a priviledge, brimming with possibility.

We saw both sides -- and couldn't wait to take that leap!

 

Recently, I was invited to speak with Wilmington Christiana Care's Amputee Education Group.  

It was my FIRST EVER presentation about Adaptive Travel!

I spent a month creating the content and much longer thinking about it.   

You could say I'd been working on it since my very first trip as an amputee.

That was Mile 21, a road trip to Maine
where I got by with A LOT of help from my friends!

 

I started the workshop with some ways to think about travel and what we bring with us -- our individual strengths and struggles, and how they might play out when we're away from home.  

When we travel, we can adapt ourselves, but we can also adapt our environment.  

Who are YOU as a traveler?  

What do you want -- and need -- along the way? 

It's only afterward, that I decide to do this exercise for myself.

(Go ahead.  It's fun to try!)

As a traveler, I'm ______. 

curious.  
resourceful.  
open-minded.  
optimistic.  

I like to laugh, talk to locals, and observe "everyday life" wherever I am.

I love to learn, especially about other cultures
like at this Danish pastry class!

Before my injuries, I traveled solo.

Now I take friends.

I want to do everything, but I need to be selective.  I have to prioritize mobility, comfort, rest, and digestion.  

(It's a delicate balance, one I often neglect!)

I've found some success...

But it's rarely stressless or pain-free.  

My needs outweigh my wants wherever I am.  

Take prosthetic fit, for example -- and the neverending struggle to manage it!

I can walk, but not too far.  

I can stand, but not too long.

I can sit, but not in every seat.

I make mistakes, often the same ones, over and over again...

Adaptability isn't the same as accessibility.  

Being adaptive can't remove all barriers.  Some needs are nonnegotiable.  

We might require elevators, ramps, wider doorways, shower seats, assistive devices, screen readers, closed captions, caregivers, or other accommodations.

But travel goes beyond the physical. 

 

It's a mindset too.

One we can adopt wherever we are!

Here's a secret:  For a budding travel writer, I don't actually travel much.

But seeing myself as a traveler changes the way I experience home too.  

On a morning walk, I pick up patterns on buildings, catch crumbs of conversation, and marvel at the myriad of winter coats worn by dogs.  

I take advantage of opportunities:  sign up for classes, taste new foods, read books, watch movies, and reach out to faraway friends.

Being an adaptive traveler isn't just about where you go, it's about how.  It empowers us to explore, even in our own neighborhood!

My travel-buddy Mona is not just adaptive.  She's wise too. 

Before we embarked on that trip together, she said something that's always stuck with me.  I'll paraphrase it here:

There's no scenerio where I'll be able to travel without my disability.  So if I want to go, I'll have to travel with it.

Merci Mona! 
Tu es très sage!

We shape our experiences.  And our experiences shape us.

That's the why of Adaptive Travel.

Walk on,

Rebecca

P.S.  If you or your group wants to talk more about Adaptive Travel, please reach out.  I'd love to be part of the conversation!  

Travel through Books: Read Around the World 2024!

Yes, I know it's 2025, but it just occurred to me that maybe -- in these cold days of January -- the best way to travel is to park myself safely on the couch under a fleece blanket!

Maybe you feel the same way??

Seems like the perfect time to bring out a reading list I compiled for our Adaptive Travel Summit last September. 

Fiction.  Nonfiction.  Memoir.  Travel guides.  Photography.  

They're just a sprinkling of all the great books out there, but they represent some of my favorite "places to go" through the years!

So grab a blanket.  

Pour some tea.  

Prepare for take-off...

REBECCA'S RECS:  
READ AROUND THE WORLD 2024!

Travel and disability: Easy Beauty by Chloé Cooper Jones

Train travel: Around the World in 80 Trains by Monisha Rajesh  (Loved the audiobook!)

Travel meditations & wanderlust: The Vagabond’s Way by Rolf Potts

Outdoor adventure & photography: Stories Behind the Images by Corey Rich

Go local: A Guide to the Great Gardens of the Philadelphia Region by Adam Levine

France and food: Chocolat by Joanne Harris  (It’s also a movie!)

Denmark, winter, and happiness: The Little Book of Hygge by Meik Wiking

Spain (by an 80’s star turned travel writer!): Walking with Sam by Andrew McCarthy 

Nigeria and humor: My Sister, the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite

Japan and time travel: Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi  (It's the first in a series!)  

India, Australia, and search for family: A Long Way Home by Saroo Brierley  (It’s also a movie called Lion!) 

Where possible, I've linked to Bookshop.org which supports independent booksellers, but most of these are available everywhere, including the public library.  Several make fantastic audiobooks too!

My favorite reading mug from
Bear Pond Books in Montpelier, VT:
"Go Away. I'm Reading."

Do you travel through books?  

What are you reading -- or listening to -- these days?

Got recommendations?  Leave a comment!

I'm working on 2025's list -- and always looking for the next book to carry me away!

Read on,
Rebecca

Mile Marker 13,270

OPEN

It's 2025.

When I open my eyes in the morning, this is what I see.

It's just a photo, framed on my bedroom wall, but I've planned it this way.  It's purposefully placed, a kind of "photo-therapy."

This one image is everything I need to get out of bed:

Morning light.
Street sounds.

A gentle breeze.

Hope, piled high, for the day ahead.

It's the view from my Paris Airbnb, which I admit was a nice place to be first thing in the morning.  

I can still feel that duvet on the toes of my bare foot, smell the owner's leather jacket hanging in the closet, hear the bell ting on the city bus below.

But there's more.

This photo captures a moment I always savor -- even at home -- that delicate space between asleep and awake.  

In this moment, I haven't yet put my leg on,

or seen my crutches stacked up,
or tried to digest food, 
or juggled "too big" ideas,
or tackled the "to-do" list on which I'm already behind.

I'm not yet zapped of energy -- or frustrated by discomfort -- as I trek the distance others go without much effort at all.  

In this one moment, there is just me and that open window.  My body is not fractured, and the day is still whole, pointed with possibility like sun through a magnifying glass.

It's all the motivation I need.

On New Year's Eve in Scotland, at the stroke of midnight, people open the doors of their homes -- front and back -- to let the old year escape and the new year rush in.

My friend Jen will tell you we did it this year.

"Quick!  Go!" 

In my small apartment, she rushes to open the "front" hallway door while I yank open the "back" door to the balcony.

It's raining outside.  The air blows cold with moisture, car horns, and the boom of fireworks we hear but can't see.

(By time I remember this tradition, it's 12:15 AM, but we get it done!)

The new year is OPEN for business, and I open my whole self to it.

Open door.

Open window.
Open mind.

Open to ideas and experiences, no matter how small.

Open intestines (DIGEST!) and lungs (BREATHE!).
Open eyes -- and senses.

Open book(s) -- and inkflow.

Not every day will feel this way, I know.  Some days, I won't be able to leave the apartment because of leg issues or abdominal pain.

Other days, I'll carve a slow path around the block.  

On the best days, I'll explore locally.  Or, if I'm lucky, farther.

Wherever I go, I'll write.  

I've got other projects too.  Ideas are plentiful this time of year.  The journey may change shape along the way, but isn't that what adaptive travel is all about?

I'm "open" to it.   (Want to come?)

Get up.  Get dressed. 

Let's see what's beyond that window.

Happy and healthy new year!
Rebecca

Mile Marker 13,255