Every summer of my childhood, my mom would pack up our household and book two cabins for our family of five (plus one nanny) on the slow boat from sleepy Negros island to the colorful capital of Manila. Our summer vacation was packed with sightseeing, trips to the zoo and museums, and the occasional workshop (art for my brother and cooking and speed reading for the girls). Looking back, I marvel at how she navigated all the logistics — transportation, food, lodging, and activities — without the Internet. But she did, year after year, and the lasting memories and bonds would form the basis of my strongly held belief in the importance of family travel.

Last December, my own family — three grown sons and my husband and I — met up in Bali. Four of us flew in from New York and one from Phnom Penh. It was our first time on the Island of the Gods. We stayed in a dreamy villa among the rice fields of Ubud. And because I am my mother’s child, I had everyone up in the early mornings for a plethora of activities. We visited markets and took a Balinese cooking class. We learned how to make batik. We participated in local temple rituals. We climbed Mount Batur.

We spent one morning with Threads of Life Bali at a private batik indigo dyeing workshop. While waiting for our creations to dry, we feasted on an exquisite vegetarian lunch. We discovered our creative sides, and even my husband, who hadn't been the most gung-ho going in, remarked on how much he enjoyed the experience.

Nusantara by Locavore Restaurant offers a full cooking class that includes a visit to the local market to shop for fresh ingredients, a visit to a Balinese compound to see a pig roast firsthand, and a walk through the fields to forage for herbs. In their kitchen, we prepared several dishes and learned how to make Bumbu Bali, a complex spice combination used in many local dishes. We ended the day eagerly consuming the fruits of our labor. Since then, I’ve bought a stone mortar and incorporated more spices and coconut milk into my own cooking.

Had I known beforehand how hard it would be for me to climb Mt. Batur, I probably wouldn’t have planned it at all. In the end, the arduous climb and difficult descent were absolutely worth it. High on the mountain, the clouds drifting by, we alternately sang Queen, drank hot coco, and sat in silent awe as the sun rose over Bali. It was a “yes” to every child’s question: Are we there yet?

Come Christmas Eve, I made everyone wear batik sarongs for a proper family holiday photo, and no one refused me. In lieu of Christmas Eve Mass, we went to Tirta Empul, a water temple, to participate in a purification ritual and make offerings and wishes.

In two short weeks, my whole family lived under the same roof again, ate all our meals together, and strengthened our love. For a mother, nothing matters more.

Let me know if you need help planning your next family vacation. Are you there yet?