We look back on our achievement with pride and a sense of fulfillment. Few
would dare to take an entire family on such an epic voyage. Our oldest daughter
made the thoughtful distinction between dreaming a dream and living a dream. The
dream gives us the liberty to let the fantasy wonder; it allows us to imagine
the unthinkable—can one create a family bonded together by the same values: a
spirit of freedom, a sense of taking responsibility for one’s own life, a
dedication to community? We discovered that, indeed, one can.
 Many women in the Maldives wear
libaas and head coverings. (Click image to enlarge)
Living the dream gave us a perspective of truth. It let us
reach out for the opportunity and, at the same time, we recognized our limits.
We saw poverty, ignorance and destruction; we were guests in worlds strange and
foreign. Everywhere we were received with open arms. Often we separated with
tears.
 On Vanuatu’s Pentecoast Island, bungee jumping
from a wooden tower is a ceremonial test of manhood. (Click image to enlarge)
We saw the most remote animal kingdoms—the Galápagos, Komodo,
Cosmoledo and the Aldabra Group—places where humans are not yet the worst
predator. We saw the volcanoes, atolls, pearl farms and coral paradises of the
outer Polynesian Islands. We experienced the rites of initiation and land diving
of Melanesia. The children lived with families in Tonga and the Maldives and
organized a relief campaign for the cyclone-devastated island of Tikopia. We
spent a lot of time in the Golden Land of Myanmar on the Bay of Bengal. Asia
captivated us with its spirituality, its deep cultures and many contradictions;
we visited temples, pagodas and mosques; we explored areas where, since World
War II, no foreigners had set foot. We looked at oil exploration in the Cheduba
Group, gem mining in Sri Lanka, tuna fishing in the Maldives. We saw young girls
forced to build roads with their bare hands, young women forced to work as
carriers and sex slaves for the army, men heavily guarded in work camps and
young boys deaf from working in quarries. We witnessed the peacefulness of the
monasteries and the brutality of a military dictatorship. We felt the
hospitality of the island communities and their distance from our world.A family with children is a good ambassador. We respected the
local customs, always asked for permissions and were received with warmth,
although often the communication was limited to hand gestures and smiles. We
were showered with presents. Whatever an island had to offer was given to us. In
return, Alithia’s hold was full
with fishing and schooling gear, so that we could always appropriately
reciprocate. The visits always ended in feasts, music, dance and ceremonies.
 Fishing is the main economic
activity. (Click image to enlarge)
The world we visited is disappearing. The younger generation is
in increasing conflict with tradition. They are all striving for what seems to
them a better life; a life with privacy, possessions, freedom and
entertainment—things that their isolated island communities cannot offer.Our children acquired the ability to understand and act in different cultural
contexts—living, eating, behaving and dressing was so different from one place
to the next. They saw a wealth of attitudes toward life and death, to happiness
and spirituality, to individuality and community. Most importantly, they—and
we—learned to see our own world from a new perspective.
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