Five years ago, I sat in a Tbilisi guest house toilet, resplendent in the retro pale blues and pinks of a Wes Anderson film set, staring at the tiny window of a pregnancy test.
I was having what I thought would be my last big holiday before I became a mother. I stared at the test for a full 45 minutes before I finally accepted that there was only one line, not two, and took myself and my broken heart outside to explore the city.
In three days’ time, I will be back in the republic of Georgia, a country that has sea, mountains and cities with surprisingly excellent techno scenes, wedged between Turkey, Armenia, Azerbaijan. But, this time, I won’t be alone; I’ll be with my husband and the tiny tornado that is my two-year-old toddler.
Many would baulk at such a trip with a toddler, and it will be a challenge. It’s a long journey, beginning with an early start from Glasgow to Poland, where we’ll spend a few days recovering before our 2am start for our flight to Georgia.
I’m sure that when we arrive in Tbilisi on the train from Kutaisi, we’ll be cranky, tired and smelling of post-marathon trainers, ready for a hot meal and a glass of Georgia’s famously good wine. I cannot wait for it, even the challenging parts.
I was told by the “never again” crew that I’d have to give up a lot of things when I became a mother: writing, sex, nights out, my independence, button waistbands. Some things they were absolutely right about: I do not get on trampolines anymore, my sleep and my dress size have both been forever altered, and I’m a convert to elasticated waistbands.
But the thing that people most often told me – a woman who’d spent her life travelling the world several times over, living in a boat on the Thames, a shack in Paraguay, an artist’s art deco apartment in Buenos Aires – was that adventure was now a thing of my past.
They told me – a woman who literally carried around her whole life’s possessions in a small suitcase for three years – that I would not travel anymore, at least not in the way I once did. “Better get used to Center Parcs and kids clubs.” I laughed and cradled my stomach and the baby I’d longed for for two long years and told them I didn’t mind what I had to give up to gain my child.
But, as a person, I’ve spent my life defying what other people thought I should or would do. There’s always a part of me that says: “Watch me.”
We’ve done the logistical legwork
I’m lucky my husband shares my wanderlust. I’m also lucky that my wee son already loves to travel, opening up like a flower when exposed to new situations, foods, people and languages. I want him to always be this curious and excited for the unknown.
I’ve been very sick for a full year now, and the expectation is that I should make my life smaller. But, instead, I intend to show my son how big the world is.
The trip will take five weeks but, by choosing an inexpensive country and doing the logistical legwork ourselves, it will cost about the same as a week-long, cheap, all-inclusive package holiday.
I will admit, it’s taken an enormous amount of planning, research and some hard-won lessons from previous trips. I used to be a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants traveller, but with a child you do not have that luxury. We plan meticulously, finding supermarkets, child-friendly restaurants, 24-hour pharmacies, soft play areas for rainy days.
We now always book apartments, though I miss room service and I don’t love still having to wash up on holiday. But it’s so much more convenient with a kid who’ll need naps, baths, snacks and playtime.
Before flights, we start stockpiling small, cheap gifts for our little boy, and he’s handed them one by one as the trip goes on. Because of this, he looks forward to the journey too.
Your children might surprise you
Travel does change with a kid, and compromises are made. I have always favoured the most local way of travel but, with a toddler, we take more taxis. We have early mornings and early nights. I’ve swapped my beloved, much-weathered rucksack for a very middle-aged but very practical suitcase on wheels.
Most of all, everything we plan, every decision we make, we orientate around the happiness of our son, because we know that if he isn’t having a good time, we aren’t either. But, when he is at his happiest, we are too; that’s where the magic is, that’s where we’ll make our memories.
If you prefer a week with cocktails, sun loungers and kids clubs then, please know, I understand the appeal – and please have a piña colada for me. But, likewise, if those “never again” naysayers put you off travelling with a toddler or even older kids like you used to – doesn’t matter if it’s Borneo or Bournemouth – why not give it a go? Your children might surprise you. The world might surprise them, and you, too.
All those years ago in Tbilisi, I walked through city streets that smelled of wood-fired bread and roasting meat, and found myself at a restaurant where they had a live accordion player. A couple in their later years danced joyfully around the restaurant with each other.
I promised myself that, when I had a baby, I would take them to Tbilisi and show them how big, diverse and interesting the world is. And here we go…
Kerry Hudson is an Aberdeen-born, award-winning writer of novels, memoirs and screenplays
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