How To Raise A Little Traveler

Start us young

I can clearly remember my first vacation abroad: I was five, and my parents and I were exploring the Irish countryside, driving through Co. Tipperary to see where my father’s family came from. We ate in pubs, hiked to castles, and saw a spectacularly large pig on a farm that made me question reality (seriously, this was the pig to end all pigs). Sure, I only ate chicken fingers and fries in said pubs, but I credit that trip with prompting little me to ask, constantly: Where am I going next? Curiosity was born. —Bridget Hallinan

Give us the guide books before the trip

In addition to Harry Potter and A Series of Unfortunate Events, my bookshelves were lined with Rick Steves’ guides and Fodor’s. My mom would encourage me to leaf through guidebooks to plan our trip itineraries: We’re talking restaurants, activities, even hotels (though I probably didn’t have nearlyas much control over that as I thought). It got me engaged with the destination right away, and made the anticipation leading up to the trip that much better. Plus, some of the picks ended up being lifelong favorites—when we visited London for the first time in 2010, I dragged my parents to Indian Zing, a popular West London spot I’d read about when I was 15. We still talk about that curry. —B.H.

Let us pack our own suitcase

Since we were teeny (like, six years old), my mother would always give my sister, brother, and me our own packing lists. They weren’t overly instructive, but prescriptive enough that we didn’t end up with 25 T-shirts and no shorts. She’d list each item with its respective quantity (two pair of jeans, five sweaters, etc). It meant we packed what we wanted to wear and gave us some semblance of responsibility, which was monumentally important to a kindergartener. —Erin Florio

Indulge us a little

The day we would board our plane home to the U.S. to visit family (we lived in Seoul at the time), my parents would give each of us 1000 won—about a dollar—and let us go to the local store to spend it on the candy of our choice for the plane ride ahead. This was the early ’90s, before planes had individual screens, so the promise of that candy mid-flight was as exciting then as realizing now that your JetBlue flight has the complete box set of Sopranos. —E.F.

Sign us up for language classes (and make sure we stick with it)

My parents enrolled me in after-school Spanish classes when I was pretty young, around 5 or 6. For two hours each week, I’d go over to the teacher’s house with a few other students and play computer games, have conversations, use flash cards—slowly but surely building a strong vocabulary. That is, until I decided to quit after six months. That’s still one of my biggest regrets to date: I barely remember any words (even after taking it again for two years in middle school), and to know it now, especially as a travel writer, would have been extremely beneficial. —B.H.

Let us fetch breakfast…

When I was about seven, my parents made the bold decision to let me go out into the streets of Brittany, France—alone—to pick up breakfast for everyone. This was huge. I was only a year older than my twin siblings, but on those walks I felt I’d grown two feet taller. My parents must have known I would only ever be on the two streets that led to the bakery, but I felt like I’d been given a whole universe to explore. I watched how locals ordered their coffees, how they spoke to each other; it made me feel like I had their trust (which ultimately led to fewer fights). Although thinking about it now, I realize it might just have been an excuse for them to sleep in.—Louis Cheslaw

…and order at the restaurants

Just because you’re excited to be a new restaurant in a cool place doesn’t mean your kids feel the same. When your parents decide what you’re eating (and it’s almost always off the kids menu) it can feel as if you’re in the kitchen at home. So my parents began to brief me on the correct way to pronounce all the food we were ordering, so that I could order for everyone—yes, everyone—when the waiter came. Not only did it create a bond with the wait staff for the whole meal (as long as they were patient), it also gave me the early confidence in talking to strangers—and respect that just because they understand English doesn’t give you the right not to make an effort. —L.C.

Don’t tell us we’re ‘almost there’

On long car rides I was a member of the clichéd “Are we nearly there yet?” kids club. And though there was always a hit of instant gratification when I was told—for the 12th time—we were “close,” I now think I would have rather been told about the places we were driving through. I’m not saying parents need to know the ins and outs of every town, but it’s no wonder children feel the journey is taking forever when they don’t understand where they are or why there’s such distance left to go. I wish those clues had been turned into a game for me to spot.—L.C.

Introduce us to Carmen Sandiego

Even when we weren’t traveling, my family was determined to show me the world. I had monthly subscriptions to Zoobooks and NatGeo Kids, and I’d make a beeline for our ancient basement desktop when I got home from school to play Carmen Sandiego. (It’s coming back as a TV show!) I thought I was just having fun, but I was also being exposed to different places and cultures. Well played, Mom and Dad.—B.H.

Off-the-grid adventures make us brave

For much of our childhood my sisters and I couldn’t believe we were forced to go camping while our friends were splashing around at beautiful Hawaiian resorts. I mean really, tents? We were outraged. Of course, now I realize I travel as much and as far as I do because of those early experiences. A crash course in travel, in all its glory—the comfortable and uncomfortable—was the best lesson my parents gave me. —Megan Spurrell

Lead by example

Language can be intimidating when you’re traveling, but we had an unfair advantage, given that my mother is fluent in four languages. We’d all go mute the second we landed and leave the getting around to her. She encouraged us to pick up some phrases and speak in the language of the country we were visiting, but I could be pretty shy about trying. Still, she led the charge. Once, on a flight to Italy (Italian being a language she didn’t speak), I watched her enthusiastically alternate between a phrasebook and the Italian gentleman sitting next to her. She was practicing, and he was gamely helping her. By the time we landed, she could steer us around Florence. Seeing how people responded to her taught me to get over my shyness and just start trying, not worrying about the mistakes I (inevitably) made.—Corina Quinn

Make us try new things

When we traveled, my mother always had one rule when it came to dining out: You had to try something new and unfamiliar (it possibly started when I tried to order a chicken sandwich at our first meal in Italy together). You didn’t have to finish it; you just had to try it. It turned into a challenge that led to some adventurous meals: frog legs and fried alligator, sweetbreads and reindeer. I found out there was very little I didn’t like, and I think it’s made me a fairly adaptable traveler, since my only expectations for meals are discovery.—C.Q.

Give us a break

Growing up, my mom would always book the earliest flight—like, pre-dawn—and then wouldn’t let us relax or rest once we got to our hotel. She’d have an entire itinerary planned for the day, and we had to follow it to a tee. It was more stressful than anything and really influenced the way I go on vacations now—I’m very go-with-the-flow and hate having a really structured schedule.—Alexandra Sanidad

Let kids be the tour guides

My son just turned 13, and for our recent trip to Rome I encouraged him to read up on a neighborhood or attraction we were going to and then conduct a tour for us with anecdotes and facts that he’s learned. I’d also put him in charge of plotting out our route on Google Maps or leading the way to the Metro stations. This got him really psyched and involved with the trip.—A.S.