Travelling in South America with a Baby

 

Of course my family and others were united on the fact that I’m mad when I started talking about the long trip. The whole family will travel to Chile, Argentina and Uruguay and our paths will be sometimes different. My daugher and I will stay on one place for a little longer and our fellow traveller Igor will go to places that aren’t suitable for babies. “And because of that you have nothing to be afraid of,” I said confidently when the baby’s grandmother and neighbour were looking at me with horror in their eyes. “What is she going to eat?” asked the grandmother. “The same as me. And she will drink milk,” I told her in a brave tone but everything wasn’t clear to me at all. I just knew that we have to go. Something is forcing us to go and I don’t even know what.

 

My experienced purple backpack was laying at the door. But its content was new to it. A package of diapers, tiny shirts, pants with clowns, a teddy bear that we got in the maternity hospital, a wrapped present for the holidays that will come while we’ll be on the trip...

It was snowing outside. The second time in this winter. A restless night was waiting for us before the flight and a long day in the foggy London. This is where the first breakdown happened. “Why did we go?” I said in the youth hostel when the baby woke me up with a cry so loud that I’ve never heard before. She woke up just because someone didn’t think and slammed the door. I was desperate, sad and mad at the whole world. When I hit the bunk bed again, the little face smiled, but there were still tears in her eyes. “We’re going home tomorrow, I have a two-way ticket. It’s not a problem to change the date,” I said calmly but I was stopping myself to not angrily hit the bunk bed again. Beds look like we’re in prison and the hostel is expensive, I nagged. And I had to pay for breakfast for a baby who doesn’t even have teeth. What else is going to come? My fellow travellers were more calm. Yes, why did you even go... I heard from the back.

 

My hands were shaking then I changed the baby’s diaper before leaving the hostel. If the plane falls down, it’s the last time. I envied everyone who didn’t have to go. Two Chinese girls were playing pool, some youngsters smoked. “Home is the best place for the holidays, by the Christmas tree and cookies,” was the Advent wreath on the door telling me. But something was stronger. Maybe it was stubborness or an unknown force that was pulling me out of home? 

 

 

Then I calmly put on my backpack and helped to carry the stroller while changing trains on the metro, on stairs. I talked to my baby girl until we stood on the airport. I still see the pattern of the red carpet that was in front of us. “This is the last moment when I can turn around... I don’t want to be sorry that I’m stubborn for weeks.” The little one was intrigued by the golden poles by the carpet and wanted to hold it. Igor was calmly managing the plane tickets.

Travellers with babies had a priority. Baby strollers, blankets, a stuffed mouse, crying and laughter all around. A Brazilian sat by me with a six-month baby and a year old child was crying in the same row. Something blue slept a little further. This gave me courage. The more young children I saw, the more power I had. 

 

A 16-hour flight to Chile went by quickly. It was even easier than I expected. I had just the right amount of work with Tanita to not think about the hard seats where you can’t even sit properly, so sleeping is not an option. Well, the little one didn’t have problem with falling asleep, even though babies don’t have their own sit.  They get a little folding table in front of the seats. A pillowed box is both a bed and a playpen. And Tanita luckily loved it. But saying goodbye to it in Santiago de Chile wasn’t too hard either.

 

Crowds on the airport and going through customs went by quickly and we forgot about the long flight when we saw the sun. We took off our winter clothes and the loudest taxi driver was already calling the tourists. Usually I would overhear him, but we decided to get more comfort with the baby. Especially when two Israeli with big backpacks wanted to share the expenses. We had no idea what to do in the first few days and we let the taxi driver take us to the cheapest accommodation. Big doors reminded us on the warehouse but we were only a few steps outside the city centre. And the lady on the reception offered us the best room. A big double bed waited for us in the middle of a yellow room. We didn’t see any furniture or any windows. It will do for a night, we decided. We were tired and didn’t have the energy to find something better.

We took our own way on the island of Chiloe, in the middle of the country. Of course our eyes didn’t stay dry when we separated. Blue fog was rising above the Pacific. It was quiet and humid. 

 

Chiloe is a mystical island. Indians Mapuche gave unforgettable gifts to their descendants – cute legends that comfort, warn, explain. Volcano Osorno has many stories about its trees, there are stories in every rock and even in the sea.  Trauco is hiding in the grass, an ugly and greedy elf, there are sad stories of gods in the sky and there are girls, beautiful like the moon, dancing on the beach.  

 

 

The path started to descend. The young traveller smiled from time to time in her sleep. The voice, which was scolding the pigs announced that we have come to the village. We could even see the first roofs. The pigs were obedient and went out of the mud and the old lady spoke to us. After we sat down, she saw a baby. “Hola, bebe,” shouted with a singing voice. Such a small baby. Too small for such a long trip, she said and patted the baby. “It is so beautiful to travel, also with a baby,” I lied a little.

 

Was it nice to walk more than an hour with a baby in my lap? Was London nice? And in Santiago, in a hot room with no windows? Was that nice? The doubts started to appear. Luckily the nature scared them off. The elves breathing, the miraculous moist that smells of the sea, clatter of the shells and that shy girl who was waiting for her father on the beach. Everything wasn’t nice, I decided. But what was nice was good enough that I know that this trip was the right decision. The strength for continuing the trip came back. The old lady looked a little sad while we were leaving. “It’s beautiful here, but it’s lonely.”

 

The wooden fence in front of Casablanca was opened. There was enough room in the house for illegal renting of the rooms. They were officially lending horses to the rare tourists who visit this place for the natural park. The father took care of the animals, the son baked the bread and pastries and mom was a teacher in the village school. We were eating delicious clams that were cooked in a hole behind the house. When I thought that the meal is over, the father brought smoked salmon from somewhere. I ate in peace like never before, the mother was taking care of Tanita and sang Spanish counting rhymes.

 

 

The morning came through the small windows. Hand-made blankets became too heavy. The baby drank the milk, as I promised the grandmother and coffee was already brewing. We were walking in the natural park, watching the yellow flowers and sleeping under the tree. A local came by with a dog or a horse from time to time, smiled or didn’t even see us. In the evening we went to the beach.

 

Mussel growers are already coming, I told to my daughter when we sat on the shiny rocks on the beach. They did come – on the horses, on foot, with fishing nets full of hope. They walked to the Pacific and searched for the gifts of the sea barefoot between the waves. Days were going by quickly. I don’t know how many, but I was relieved when I saw a known shape by the river.

 

 

Our paths separated on our three-month trip in South America. But we were laughing to the awkward penguins, fighting against winds of Tierra del Fuego, sadly stood in front of the hostel when they didn’t want to host us together. We sat alone in the parks of Colonia, listened to the life story of a Norwegian who doesn’t like children but makes an exception every once in a while, made friends with children who were begging in front of the museum...

 

Travelling on the south hemisphere went by with no bigger problems. But it was nevertheless tiring. Travelling with a child requires more effort, patience and compromises. And of course gives you some worries, expenses and problems. But also beautiful moments and interesting meetings. Tanita won’t remember anything of it, except when she will look at the photos. There are so many happy faces on them that we weren’t able to catch in our camera in years. Who knows, maybe she enjoyed the trip more than we?