The Vacation Souvenir You Can’t Fit In A Suitcase
I just returned from the most extraordinary family vacation: two full weeks traveling together through Japan.
A holiday family escape is a relatively new concept for us, not because we didn’t value it, but because for many years December simply wasn’t available. That month belonged to circus rehearsals in Florida, known in the industry as “Winter Quarters,” where the circus returned following the touring season. From Thanksgiving through New Year’s, I was in Florida with new show rehearsals, flying back and forth to New York to juggle school schedules and spend time with my husband around his own film and TV production calendar. Once school recessed and his production paused, our family would join me in Florida, where we essentially relocated for the remainder of the month.
This mirrored my own childhood. Our parents brought us to Winter Quarters, where the circus became both classroom and playground. Behind the curtain, I learned to sew with the wardrobe team, helped make props in the scenic shop, practiced clown makeup, stretched with acrobats, sold tickets in the box office, sat through act rehearsals, and absorbed the magic of how a spectacle comes to life. Winter Quarters was how we spent time with our dad while he was hard at work. It was our education, our family rhythm, and a deeply treasured part of my life. It was also the tradition I later passed on to my own children.
Their early childhood followed the same arc. Sitting quietly during rehearsals, watching crews and performers move in concert, sensing the intensity and collaboration behind live entertainment, they were learning by proximity long before they could name what they were absorbing. Different generation, same cadence.
When Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey closed in 2017, (now reopened and brilliantly reimagined see Ringling.com for tickets and tour info) that rehearsal cycle ended. Suddenly, for the first time in my life, December revealed itself as something entirely new, a rare pause when school breaks, work slows, and the world collectively exhales. Those two weeks became an unexpected gift.
Our kids are now at an age where they can truly take in the world. They pack for themselves. They stay up late and get up early. They make observations and unexpected connections. They walk long distances, regulate their emotions, practice patience, and lean into adventure and culture. Japan met them exactly where they are.
Over two weeks, we traveled by planes, trains, automobiles, and even rickshaws, moving through four cities. Our days were full in the best way: walking tours, shrines, shopping, craft-making, and more food tastings than I can count. There is so much to say about Japan itself, the dignity, the cleanliness, the deep respect woven into everyday life, but what stays with me most is not just what we saw, it’s how we experienced it together.
This trip leveled the playing field. Parents and kids were discovering things side by side. So often, parenting is about demonstration and modeling, showing our children how something works and what to expect. In Japan, we were all beginners.
We dressed as samurai. We participated in a Buddhist fire ceremony, cleansing ourselves and our belongings. We tried unfamiliar delicacies at the fish markets. Each of us had specific foods, landmarks, or viral video locations we wanted to visit, and we made it a priority to honor everyone’s list. When plans unraveled, we figured it out together, reading signs, consulting Google Maps, remembering details mentioned hours earlier. In that shared state of not knowing, something shifted. We weren’t passing down experience. We were creating it together.
As I reflect on this trip, it carried the same spirit as Winter Quarters, but with one essential difference. Back then, one generation imparted experience to the next. Now, we are discovering together. The learning is no longer inherited. It is shared.
For now, December isn’t governed by rehearsal schedules or production calendars. School is on break. Work pauses. There is true downtime for all of us at the same time. That’s what this trip represented. We weren’t showing our kids how something is done. We were encountering firsts together. Navigating unfamiliar places, interpreting signs, tasting foods we couldn’t name, and figuring things out collectively. Mentorship softened. Curiosity took its place.
I recognize fully that a trip like this is a privilege, of both time and resources. But the essence of it is more accessible than we think. One to two uninterrupted weeks of shared presence, wherever you are, can profoundly bind a family. Common experience compresses time. It creates a shared language. It reminds everyone that you are, at your core, a team.
What this trip gave us was not just memories of Japan, but a recalibration of how we relate to one another. For two weeks, we moved through the world together, curious, attentive, and open. And that, more than any itinerary or destination, feels like the real souvenir.
From Your Biggest Champion,
Nicole
