Traveling With a Baby to a Country on the US Travel Warning List
My husband and I have lived in Los Angeles for the last ten years and while we love our way of life it does sometimes feel like we are pretty isolated from the rest of the world. When we found out last year that we were having a baby we decided that travel, both internationally and within the United States, would be an important way to teach her about the world and it’s vastness outside California. I never for a second envisioned that I would stop working after she was born, but the cost of childcare along with the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to leave this tiny helpless little creature at three months were deciding factors in giving up my job. So, with some time on my hands and parents living abroad, at seven months old, she and I hopped on board an Airbus and embarked on a 24-hour door-to-door journey to Turkey.
Little Rambler’s passport photo taken at four months old
Our trip came at an interesting and tumultuous time in the Middle East; right after the American military had withdrawn families of US soldiers and diplomats from the Eastern region of the country and issued a warning to travelers planning to visit. As our departure date drew nearer, a few friends expressed concern for our safety, my mother in law called me brave and others, who would have liked to accompany us decided to wait until more stable times. Some may think it is irresponsible to take a baby to a country that had several times in the last few months been attacked by various militant groups, but in a half hearted effort to quell concern I found statistics from various internet sources (I’m not quoting peer reviewed data here so I can’t guarantee the accuracy, but it’s good enough when making your case to travel) stating that you are four times more likely to be struck by lightening than you are to be killed in a terrorist attack and in fact more likely to be killed in non terrorist related gun violence in the US than on foreign soil. I am firmly of the opinion that if you live your life dreading the “what ifs” then you may never fully experience life. Traveling can be done with a full awareness of your surroundings and a respect for the culture you are immersing yourself in, if you pay attention to those around you and if necessary avoid certain high-risk areas then there is no reason to stay at home. Of course that doesn’t mean that your safety is guaranteed, but as my ever-uplifting former boss used to say “you may step outside and be hit by a bus tomorrow.”
I love to travel, but am afraid of flying, to the extent that I often take anti-anxiety medication to quell the sheer panic that I feel in the air. However, this time I was responsible for the welfare of another living being and remained completely alcohol and medication free. Arriving on Turkish soil after a sober and exhausting 12-hour flight was a huge relief and despite my fatigue, the four-hour layover in the very sparse domestic terminal was a pleasurable change. My introduction to Turkish baby culture was almost immediate. As I wandered, baby strapped to me, through the gate areas looking for a place to sit, people stared and smiled and not because I was the only westerner to be seen, but because they were all trying to make contact with this sleepy, slightly bewildered child. Upon sitting down, she was instantly whisked out of my arms and into the laps of strangers – Turkish, Romanian and others whose nationalities I didn’t catch. Luckily she is an extremely good natured and charming baby and responded to their coos and Masallahs (blessings) with smiles and piercing stares, while I nervously waited for them to pass her back to me.
A 12 hour flight with a seven month old is no joke.
Luckily for me she slept almost the entire way, both there and on our return
My parents live in a village in Cappadocia, our final destination. The once booming tourist industry seems to have died down and many of the luxury cave hotels are struggling. I was told that the tourism industry has hit an all time low in this part of the country. The foreign balloon pilots who once had daily shifts have left in search of work and many of the carpet shops and tourist attractions in neighbouring towns are empty. There were tourists while I was there, a few Europeans, but for the most part Indian, Malaysian and Koreans seem to be the ones most undeterred by the threat of violence. Many of the villages have been allocated a number of Syrian refugees and these people have been met with suspicion from some of the locals who have expressed concern regarding their identity and intentions in their village. The refugee children wander aimlessly through the villages and countryside, they are unable to go to school and Turkey is in danger of raising an entire generation of angry, uneducated youth. These children who have seen unspeakable horrors have no direction or way in which to work through their experiences. We became friends with several people trying to set up a school for these children, but the process is slow and disheartening and they have encountered government roadblocks and opposition from village elders.
The village of Ortahisar in Cappadocia, Turkey
Living in the US means that you are constantly exposed to images and headlines of a nation at war and it took a few days of village life to shake the suspicious nature that comes with being an American. Going for walks into vast breathtaking valleys, listening to the sounds of the nightingale while picking wild asparagus, climbing up steep passes into ancient Byzantine churches, not passing a soul, all the while surrounded by giant Kangal dogs, at least one of whom would give her life to protect the baby. This was our life for the month. I was able to relax and enjoy the attention lavished on the baby. Old village women would stop by to drop off handmade clothes and boots after having clicked their tongues in disapproval when I passed by without having put socks on her. Restaurateurs would gladly whisk her out of my arms so that I could enjoy a peaceful meal – I’d often find her in the kitchen overseeing the preparation of food. And taxi drivers would offer to blast the heat and close the windows on a hot day to make sure that she wouldn’t catch cold. She learned to crawl in a Syrian refugee center after spying a pile of toys that she just had to have and had her first taste of sugar there (while I cringed, unable to communicate in Arabic my desire that my child not eat chocolate cookies or sticks filled with sugar) given to her by one of the lovely Syrian women at the center. Of course we did take precautions, probably more than we would have had I been traveling without a baby. We were careful to avoid busy markets, mosques, and we did not visit any of the big tourist attractions.
Making friends with the local village women
Riding high on the shoulders of Okba, a friend and refugee in the village who is working to open a school for Syrian children.
Exploring ancient churches with Grandpa
Trying out the traditional Cappadocia headscarf
You can’t go to Ortahisar without visiting Crazy Ali
Mid way through my trip security was visibly tightened and roads into surrounding villages were blocked by special police forces who pulled over, and searched cars – we would often see them questioning men of darker Arab or Turkish origin, most likely Kurdish or Syrian. This felt a little unfair, especially when we were generally waved through without a second glance. We did joke quietly, although with a little concern when we saw that they were so loath to get wet that they would allow anyone to pass in the rain. We were told that there had been a threat to certain tourist locations and shop owners, balloon companies and hoteliers were on heightened alert. A few weeks after returning home I learned that they had in fact pulled over and arrested a couple of people driving a car load of explosives. I’ve tried to put myself back onto those country roads and determine if I would have been more afraid had I learned of this while still in Turkey and have come to the conclusion that the presence of the police, while spooky was good, the fact that they thwarted something potentially tragic meant that they were doing their job and that would have made me feel safer. I’m currently in NYC, where a few days ago a young man sadly lost his foot to an unexploded homemade firework in Central Park. Will I now avoid letting my baby play in Central Park? Probably not.
These days I tend to go to bed early and writing anything is a slow process so as I’ve been plodding away trying to finish a thought, a heartbreaking attack occurred at Istanbul Ataturk Airport. On June 28th, six weeks after we had returned, 45 innocent people lost their lives when attackers stormed the entrance to the airport. I’ve since spent days thinking about this attack, these people and how it would have affected my decision to travel to Turkey with a baby. While the personal Facebook images and stories taken from the victims sites by news sources make me cry, I ultimately don’t believe that I would have canceled my trip. I’m bringing up my child in a violent and damaged world, so many countries are in turmoil and as demonstrated by recent events there is a very real threat living as Americans in our own country. To stop traveling would be to give in to the fear that these people are trying to spread and to contribute to the decline of an impressive country, not without it’s political faults, but a country of wonderful kind and gentle people. I’m proud to say that my daughter has traveled to one of the most beautiful places on earth and while she won’t remember it, this experience will have a huge impact in molding her kindness, tolerance and hopefully a little of her adventurous spirit.
Just the two of us
For more shots of our trip check out our instagram https://www.instagram.com/ltlrmblr/
All photos Copyright Polly Antonia Photography