On Vacation

I've been slow to realize that my being on maternity leave means I am free to go anywhere, i.e. I don't need to spend it at home. My husband suggested we go to the yazlık, the Turkish equivalent to a beach house or cottage; not only will my toddler get to spend time with his Nene and cousins, uncles, aunts, etc., but I'll be surrounded by helping hands and might actually get some sleep. (Remember my plan to nap at least a few times a week? It's not happening.)

My knee-jerk reaction was a panicked, "No!" I can't leave my house! What will happen to my toddler's routine, which is already precarious these days? There are no cribs there! There's no high chair! If we fly, what about the kids' car seats?

But I've talked myself through each excuse and am pushing myself to get out of the house and my comfort zone. I'm sure I won't regret it.

Anyway, all this is to say that I'll be gone for a few weeks and you may or may not hear from me. Happy Labour Day and Happy Bayram, everyone!

Vacation!

Image via WikipediaWe're off to Stockholm for a week, enjoying one of the perks of expat life in Istanbul -- the proximity to Europe's major cities!

Alas my list of places to go is long, and life is busy ... I do not have the energy (with Baby in tow!) to pop over to Rome for a weekend or Cairo for spring break. But Sweden promises to be baby-friendly. I hope to buy some nice children's toys and just generally feast my eyes on Order and bask in Efficiency.

Secret (Flawed) Weapon or Flying with Baby

A few months ago I wrote about the security guards at my school melting as they cooed and even kissed my son; policemen have changed their minds about giving me a ticket, anxious about me getting Baby home. This weekend I unexpectedly but gratefully accepted the assistance of airport employees, from security guards to grounds crew, as I traveled alone with Baby for the first time.

Image via WikipediaOne passes through a security check just to enter a Turkish airport, meaning I had to take Baby out of his stroller and fold it up to put it through the x-ray machine several times. On each occasion, security personnel enthusiastically offered to hold Baby while I dealt with his paraphernalia. Ditto for the people who take the stroller at the entrance to the plane and deliver it again when you land. No one was interested in helping with the pram; they just wanted to hold Baby!

Until it came to the flight crew. In my darkest moment of need, when I actually had to ask for help, I was warned that they weren't allowed to take care of the baby. A steward reluctantly sat with my son while I ducked into the plane's tiny washroom to change my sopping wet clothes after baby's razor-sharp tooth burst through the water bottle he'd been gumming and somehow managed to empty within one second all over me; I was as suddenly and thoroughly soaked as I would have been in a dunk tank.

I think I know what Baby's Secret Weapon is!

Luggage Limits

Image by j.cliss via Flickr

I'm going to make a comparison I never thought I'd make: the millions of Turkish people who travel between Germany and Turkey each year and myself, preparing to travel to Toronto this summer. And the particular focus of my comparison centers on luggage.

For the trip to Toronto, I not only need to bring clothes for all types of weather, but I'm packing all the paraphernalia that comes with babies -- diapers, changes of clothes, toys to occupy during the flight, food mill for making fruit and vegetable purees, bottles ... In my defense, there is a lot I'm not bringing; I've made arrangements to borrow a stroller, car seat, crib, high chair, and toys in Toronto. But still, I was dismayed to learn that Air France's baggage allowance is pretty meagre: 1 bag per person; and that my son's allowed baggage weight is half of mine.

You see, there are also all the Turkish delights I want to bring to Toronto. Several litres of pomegranate syrup, for one thing; and of course freshly ground Turkish coffee and baklava; plus a few trinkets to give as gifts -- some copper ware, a small woven rug.

And returning to Turkey, I'm going to want to bring back all kinds of things, mostly foodstuffs. Cilantro, yellow tomato and sweet potato seeds (I'm determined to grow some veggies this year), celery salt and all-spice, quinoa, spelt, kamut and teff, and maple syrup. Oh, and hard honey. And so much more; I just know that as soon as I start roaming the isles at Loblaws, that I'll buy a suitcase's worth!

I suppose the bane of expat life is that you're forever straddling two worlds, always painfully aware of the one or two things that you can't have in one place or the other, unable to take the best of each culture and create your own utopia.

Turks travelling to Germany bring a season's worth of homemade salça and cheese, or else a favourite cookie; those travelling in the opposite direction bring uniquely German candies or herbal remedies, or else a brilliantly engineered piece of household equipment that one just can't find in Turkey.

Which brings me back to luggage. A few years ago, I was outraged at the audacity of three separate women in two different airports who asked me to check in some of their luggage under my name. I was travelling between Adana and Dusseldorf, Berlin and Adana, and I had painstakingly reduced my luggage to just one small carry-on bag. I was an instant target. Caught off guard, and unable to just say no, my stomach twisted into knots and my weak knees threatened to buckle under me as I waited in line at the check-in desk. Each woman had given me perfectly sound explanations for her need to travel with excess baggage; one was pregnant and had brought with her everything she'd need after the birth. But I hate breaking rules, and I knew airline luggage policies were strict for good reason. What if one of the bags contained a bomb?!! Or, more realistically, citrus or meat or some other banned food item?

In each case I told the woman at the check-in counter that the people behind me were welcome to piggyback on my unused luggage allowance; grabbed my boarding pass and ran through customs. I didn't see any of those people again.

Now I look back at those incidents with an ironic smile; how much I've changed, how much I've grown to be quite similar to those travelers who offended me so much a few years ago. Of course I will never, not in even the most desperate of circumstances, ask anyone to check in my luggage for them. But I wouldn't take offense to their request.

Too bad I'm no longer a target, though.

Published!!!

I was recently invited to submit an article for Pink Pangea, a women's travel blog. Needless to say, I was thrilled! I agonized (ok, I exaggerate slightly ... but I did think about it for a few weeks) about how to fit what they wanted -- travel advice for women -- with my own writing, which focuses more on daily life in a foreign location. I finally settled on a topic and am pleased with the resulting piece. You can read my submission here.