World Travel While Pregnant: Backpacking Through Central and South America

May 31, 2014 by Aimee

Soon after moving to Peru, Edgar and I decided it was a good time to have a child. Edgar was pushing 40, I was without a full-time job, and both of us were ready to give our time and energy to someone else. I have found in my life that as soon as I put an intention out, I quickly see action. We were pregnant within months of trying, which happened to fall right at the beginning of a 6 month backpacking trip through Central and South America. Now we joke that Tina has been traveling since conception.

San Blas islands of Panama

Motherly Instinct

I suspected we were pregnant in Bocas del Toro (Panama). Our neighbor was a single mom who had been traveling with her 10 year old son for several years. (Molly and Blake, if you ever end up reading this we think about you all the time. Let us know how you are!) She eased me through my initial doubts about being ready for motherhood. (Is anyone really prepared?)

When we passed through Puerto Viejo (Costa Rica) I met a young woman who was 8 months pregnant. She had been backpacking with her boyfriend for the previous year and they were holding out as long as possible before returning home to the US. She was so laissez-faire about the idea of giving birth you’d never guess she was due in a few weeks. I applauded her for being so brave about traveling until the end of her pregnancy. I still had no confirmation that I was pregnant – pregnancy tests were so expensive in all the beach towns that I hadn’t bothered to do one yet – but I was feeling this sense of increasing responsibility as time went on. I finally bought a pregnancy test in San Jose, Costa Rica and we got proof positive. Honestly, that day wasn’t really special – I had already known in my heart that Tina was coming.

Trouble in Paradise

I was fortunate to have an easy first trimester. Sometimes I had morning sickness when I woke up early to surf. But I met my match when we took a 6-day boat trip from Puerto Lindo (Panama) to Cartagena (Colombia). It was brutal. This was no cruise ship. It was a 42 foot sail boat with 10 people on it. My bed was the kitchen sofa. The trip was supposed to last 4 days but due to engine problems and faulty autopilot we were delayed 2 whole days. I puked the entire first night – to be fair, everyone on the boat did – and I laid prostrate for the next 5 days to avoid further vomit sessions. The only time I left the cabin was to snorkel in the San Blas Islands or to steer the boat when the captain needed some sleep. My tour of duty was from 4-6 am and Edgar from 6-8 am. We would sit together in the dead silence of the night and watch for shooting stars, making wishes that Tina would be born healthy. Every morning we felt blessed when the moon descended to our backs and the sun peaked its brilliant golden face above the horizon.

“Che Capitan” (captain of the boat) teaching Edgar how to read the compass.

On the third day, the captain announced that the motor needed a prolonged break. There was no wind for the sails so we ended up floating in the middle of nowhere for about half a day. It was a long time to sit in one place when we just wanted to get to our destination. I felt stupid for taking the trip in the first place. My mind was running with all the horrible things that could happen. “What if the engine can’t get going again? What if we run out of food and water? What if a huge storm comes? What if something happens to Tina? What if…?”

Fear is so insidious. Edgar was very quiet. I know he was thinking the same things. I decided to snap out of it and find something better to focus on. I imagined taking the remote control to my mind and changing the channel.

I looked out at the deep blue sea – hundreds of miles out into the ocean with no land in sight – and felt a profound sense of peace. It was the first time we had sat quietly and listened to the waves lap up softly against the boat. We watched wispy clouds pass over us and the sun slowly shift across the sky. I felt gratitude more than fear – I was grateful there were no rain clouds, thankful it was not hurricane season, appreciative of a floating boat even if it wasn’t moving forward, and glad to be healthy enough to sit on deck and enjoy the view.

Blue sea and soft sky

By the end of that trip I vowed to never get on a boat again – at least for so long – and yet I will never forget the experience. It is one of the most intense of my lifetime, so it is also a part of Tina’s early experiences. I often wonder if her problems with motion sickness come from that week of constant, undulating movement.

When we finally arrived at the port of Cartagena we were overwhelmed by the formidable fortress walls and ominous cargo ships. It was an unreal feeling to step onto solid land after so many days of disequilibrium. Our legs moved like rubber bands and it took 3 days to feel normal again.

Unsettled

Cartagena is a beautiful city with a mix of old world architecture and Miami style beaches. We enjoyed ourselves for a few days but were definitely feeling concern about Tina. I appeared to be strong but was she okay? Actually, we didn’t even know if Tina was a *she* yet. So we found a pediatrician in a private hospital and did our first ultrasound. We were very thankful to hear Tina’s heartbeat, strong and normal, and lay eyes on “The Nugget” – aptly named because at 10 weeks she looked just like a nugget of gold, or a Chicken McNugget, on the scan. That’s what we called her until the gender was revealed several months later.

We continued traveling along the Caribbean coast to Santa Marta and Tayrona. I really wanted to cross the border into Venezuela – we were only a few hundred miles from where I was born – but we changed our minds when we learned of military activity between FARC and the Venezuelan army in the region. After the boat trip we were definitely trying to avoid risky travel experiences for Tina’s sake. So we went south to Bogota on one of the worst night buses ever. (I will write about that in a future post, with all the other crazy bus stories!) We arrived around noon and hailed a taxi outside the station. The driver took us to Candelaria, one of the more economical parts of town. Upon discovering that every hotel within our price range had prostitutes sitting in the lobby, we told the driver to take us right to the airport. Yes, we spent about 2 hours in Bogota and decided to move on. That’s the benefit of traveling without reservations – we can change our mind whenever we want. It’s an attitude that can be both scary and liberating.

We were lucky to find same-day plane tickets from Bogota to Guayaquil, Ecuador, with a 24-hour stopover in Quito. We saw an immense amount of Quito in just one day – old town, churches, museums, main plaza, typical lunch – but we nearly missed our continuing flight because the hostel was locked and unattended when we returned to recover our backpacks from the storage room. The airline was kind enough to move us onto the following flight to Guayaquil at no cost. Those were the kind of experiences that taught me to stop worrying so much. Even when things felt out of control, they always worked out fine.

Guayaquil was a nice town to explore and take advantage of solid internet for my new job training. Then we headed to Montanita on the coast, very eager to find some waves. It was a big pain to carry two surf boards across thousands of miles with no opportunity to use them for more than a month. Unfortunately, we were sorely disappointed with Montanita. The waves were small and the party scene was not fitting for a pregnant woman and her partner. So we moved on…

Lugging backpack and surfboard

Back to Peru

Edgar was very excited to visit Mancora because he had heard so much about it. Most surfers in Lima spend part of the year in the north of Peru, having summer homes in Mancora or Los Organos. I’ve come to learn that it’s dangerous to have big expectations about travel destinations. They can be such a letdown if the expectation is not met. Such was the case with Mancora. To me, the town is really nothing more than a glorified truck stop with hotels and restaurants built right off the highway next to a surf break. We arrived when the waves were as flat as a swimming pool and felt no desire to stick around for a swell. Everyone promised that Lobitos, a famous surfbreak about an hour to the south, would have waves. So we moved on…

Only to find that Lobitos as one of the most forbidding towns we have ever seen. Many years ago it was a thriving oil town with casinos and Colonial homes. When we hopped off the bus it was like stepping foot into an old Western movie. Nothing but dilapidated buildings and tumbleweed blowing across the long, sandy beach. We made our way to the one building that appeared inhabited and found four surfers smoking weed. I asked to use a toilet and they showed me to a hole in the ground that was straight out of a bathroom nightmare. When I came back out I found Edgar watching the wave. It was incredible. A perfect barrel with only two surfers on it. Unheard of in most parts of the world. I thought he was going to rip out his board and run to the water. Instead he said: “We have to go. This isn’t the kind of place for you and the baby.” So we moved on…

Feeling Pregnant

We stopped in Piura for a few nights and pondered our next move. I was now about 3 months pregnant and my body was changing. It was getting harder to carry my backpack and the surfboard, I was getting tired more quickly, and our mentality had shifted. We were no longer up for the challenge. We were starting to let doubt enter our minds. Is it really safe to travel while pregnant? I certainly didn’t feel like that girl in Costa Rica who traveled until she was 8 months pregnant; but I did feel that if we could find a place to settle for a bit we’d be fine. We take risks any time we leave the house. I didn’t want to submit to the idea that I had to sit at home in bed just because I was carrying a baby. But I listened to my body as well. I was getting tired of all the moving so we opted against a difficult trip to Kuelap (ancient ruins). We skipped towns like Chiclayo and Pacasmayo and headed down to Trujillo and Huanchaco. We finally found a place to rest.

Walking the boardwalk in Huanchaco with good friend Llamita and his dog Elefante.

Huanchaco is one of my favorite beach towns in Peru. The people are warm, the climate is pleasant year round, the food is rich and cheap, and the surf is consistently good. Except the same lull in waves that kept us moving south in search of something better was no different in Huanchaco. I was getting antsy because my belly was beginning to show and I knew it was time to give up surfing – at least until after Tina was born. When the swell finally arrived it was bigger than usual. Edgar thought it was too much but I decided it was my last opportunity to surf. So I charged out into 3 meter waves (well over my head) and Edgar sat on the beach praying to God I wouldn’t get hurt. It was one of the best surf sessions of my life. Surfing is a mental sport, so if I had let my fear get the best of me I wouldn’t have even paddled out. Instead, I focused on the task at hand, connected with one wave at a time, and trusted my instinct. In other words, I shut off fear and lived in the moment. A mindset I was glad to practice before going into childbirth.

Lessons Learned

I enjoy international travel because it forces me into extreme situations. Lessons are learned hard and fast. I think backpacking while pregnant was one of the best things I could have done to prepare myself for motherhood. It taught me to:

Trust my instincts.
Replace fear with gratitude.
Let go of plans.
Stop worrying.
Accept that I can’t control everything.
Put family first. (Well, maybe after just one more surf session!)
Live in the moment.

Pregnancy is not an illness that needs to be nursed. It’s an opportunity to grow along with a child.

How I Met Your Father

May 1, 2014 by Aimee

I suppose it makes sense to begin the story of our travels with how I met El Dada (Edgar). We’ve told the story dozens of times because it’s not obvious how an American doctor and Peruvian surfer would make a connection. The short answer is that we met on the beach in Peru. If you want the long answer, read on…

First photo of El Dada and La Mama

When I turned 29 I decided it was time to return to Venezuela to see where I was born. However, at the height of Chavez-related political problems it didn’t feel like the best time for a single woman who couldn’t speak Spanish to travel to a remote part of the country. So I looked for other places in South America to take a vacation. Buenos Aires stood out so I signed up for 7 days of intensive language school and tango lessons. I also had a friend from graduate school living in Lima, Peru so I tacked on a trek up the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu and a few days for surfing in the capital.

My friend knew Edgar by acquaintance so when I asked for advice on where to rent a board she knew right where to take me. We took a taxi down to Makaha Beach and started looking for his face. It was November so there were very few locals on the beach. Back then, Edgar had one of the only surf schools that worked year round – now Makaha is teeming with tents and touts to make surf lessons.

I had no idea who we were looking for but my friend found Edgar right away. The first thing I saw was his bright smile and long hair. (He says the first thing he remembers about me was my long neck and bob haircut. Six years later we have switched hair styles!) My friend spoke perfect Spanish but I was barely capable of asking where to find the bathroom. Fortunately Edgar spoke great English due to his work with tourists. I actually had traveler’s sickness so I didn’t want to surf that day. We set up a time to come back the next day and agreed that my friend and her boyfriend would take lessons while I rented a board.

The next morning we returned to the beach ready to go. Edgar had pulled a tendon in his knee so he couldn’t surf with us, but my friends took a lesson with a guy he worked with. As we were picking out equipment Edgar offered me his own wetsuit. This is a pretty big deal for a surfer. It’s like giving away your underwear. I said, “Are you sure? I have a tendency to pee in my wetsuit.” (Joking, but I had done it during a 4 hour surf session in Maui!) He laughed and gave me the suit anyway. Thankfully we had the same sense of humor.

After surfing we were all getting dried off and talking. I don’t recall the conversation being overtly flirtatious but it wasn’t just business either. Being that we were a bit more mature than the typical tourist that comes through Lima, Edgar asked if we’d like to meet up for dinner later on. We weren’t sure of our plans so I took his phone number and said I’d call if we ended up being free.

Edgar told me later he thought I would never call. Typical of a surfer, he thought of relationships like the tides. They come and go; you always have another chance to catch something if you miss an opportunity. He also thought of finding the right partner in terms of the waves. Most surfers don’t take the first wave in a set; it’s the second or third that’s much better so they prefer to wait. Edgar was waiting for the perfect wave and it wasn’t evident yet that I was the one.

As we were walking back up the hill (the beaches in Lima are at the bottom of cliffs with the city built up top) my friend was asking whether I wanted to have dinner with Edgar… alone. I said, “No way. I’ve had enough of Latin guys coming on to me.” (In Buenos Aires I had 3 guys ask if they could come back to the US with me. It was a bit much.) “Besides, he wanted to go out with all of us.” My friend thought different. “I think he wants to go out with you but we were standing there when he made the invitation.” Hmmm, I wasn’t sure.

Perhaps I was generalizing about Latin men. Edgar wasn’t overly aggressive on the beach so maybe he would make a nice dinner companion. It was my last night in Lima and maybe his local knowledge would make my time worthwhile. So I thought about it. Then when my friends agreed they could come along I had no more excuses. I called Edgar to see if he was still available to go out.

The story diverges at this point because my perspective is very different from Edgar’s. From my point of view, I called his cell phone and we agreed to meet up at the McDonald’s in Miraflores to go to dinner from there. It was the only landmark I was familiar with. From Edgar’s point of view, he thought I was a friend from Huaraz (8 hours away from Lima) who had come to town for the weekend so he was confused why the meetup should happen somewhere like McDonald’s.

At 5 minutes before 8 I stood outside of the McDonald’s leaning against a post. Edgar came next and said, “Where are your friends?!” You see, he didn’t want to go out alone either. In the previous year he had a tumultuous relationship with an American woman and he wasn’t keen on having another one. Just then, my friend and her boyfriend showed up. Thank goodness!

We all jumped in a taxi towards Barranco. Edgar took us to an Italian restaurant on the cliffs. Our table was set up for two couples, with chairs set very close on each side. My friends were a couple, but Edgar and I were not. The waiter saw it otherwise and handed us one menu to share. So we started reading together and Edgar said, “I wouldn’t mind a pizza. You want to share?” Sure. “I like Hawaiian, is that okay?” Sure. “Want to share a bottle of red wine?” Sure. Turns out we have the same taste in food.

My friends, on the other hand, were still figuring out what to order. We started harassing them for being the real couple but unable to communicate. I run a blank on how our conversation evolved, but somehow the fact that my friend’s boyfriend is a certified minister came up. (Like Joey Tribbiani from Friends, when he married Monica and Chandler.) Edgar thought it was an intriguing idea that a “normal” person could marry a couple. He proceeded to roll up a napkin, tie it in a knot, and test to see if it was the right size for my finger. His ring was ready for a wedding ceremony. I’m not one to lead guys on, so the fact that I didn’t stop him right there was telling. For whatever reason, I must have felt quite comfortable with Edgar so I let my friend go on with the marriage vows. None of this was official, as Edgar was actually still married to the aforementioned American girl, so it was all in good fun.

After saying the “I do’s” my friends urged Edgar to kiss the bride. Edgar closed his eyes and pursed his lips, waiting for me to respond. My friend asked for me to wait until she got her camera out. That gave me enough time to think “Well I better make this a good picture”, so when she was ready I planted a good one on him. Edgar was shocked – he expected a pretend kiss – so his lips were shaking like a little schoolboy. When we stopped I think we both looked at each other a bit differently. What the heck was that?!

Following dinner my friends had to leave for other obligations. Being a Saturday night I was not planning on going home to the hostel until a bit later. Edgar sensed my reluctance to leave and let me know he had some free time before a birthday party if I’d like to get a drink with him. I distinctly remember the smile on my friends’ faces as we said goodbye. I think they knew what was about to happen.

Things went from casual to mutually interesting over the next several hours. While talking over a beer it became apparent we had a lot in common. We both had been raised in large, Catholic families; had parents still together; were middle children; had lived as successful members of society (i.e., went to grad school and worked at the executive level) but felt a desire to find deeper happiness out of the 9-5 system; had a penchant for travel; and a desire to give back to the world. Our conversation was far from superficial – “why are you single?” – “what do you want in your life?” – “where do you see yourself in 10 years?” While I had become accustomed to seeing red flags within 15 minutes of talking with most men, I saw nothing but green lights flashing when I got to know Edgar more. So when it was time for Edgar to go to the birthday party he wasn’t ready to say goodbye… and neither was I. He invited me to go along and I accepted.

The party was loads of fun because it was in a funky nightclub with loud music (meaning there was no expectation for me to have a conversation in Spanish with Edgar’s friends.) Edgar told me later that he introduced me to everyone as his wife, which explained why they all gave me such big hugs and more than two kisses (the custom in Peru). At one point Edgar pulled me aside to a quieter corner and said, “I’m having such a good time with you. It’s too bad you have to leave tomorrow. What do you think about changing your ticket? We could go down south to surf in a little fishing village and get to know each other more.” Tempting as it was, my logical brain answered first: “I can’t. I’ve already been gone from work for 2 weeks and I have to get back.” But the next morning my heart had something different to say: “You haven’t felt this content with a man in a long time. If it costs less than $200 to change your ticket take it as a sign.”

I called the airline and it cost $150 to move my ticket back one week. The decision was easy. I told my boss that I had traveler’s sickness – which I really did – although it wasn’t that bad. (Karma got me back on that white lie – I got the worst case of antibiotic resistant campylobacter infection about a week later.) That extra week with Edgar is better saved for a romance novel. Suffice it to say, we fell in love – mind you, we were both older and had been through several relationships so this wasn’t puppy love. Nonetheless, I knew I had to return home and think clearly about what I could do to bring my life together with Edgar.

I also had to see if Edgar was really serious. In the back of my mind I kept thinking “This guy is a surfer. What if he does this with a different girl every other week?” Well he turned out to be extremely serious. When we said goodbye at the airport he asked what time I would be home. I said 6 pm. He called me at 6 pm on the dot… and he did the same every day for the following months. We continued to court each other through text messages, online chat, and phone calls. A few months later I returned to Lima for one week, mostly to see if my feelings were still “real.” They were. So I continued to work on finishing up my fellowship and looking for work abroad. Edgar considered how he could get a visa to come to the US. But he had his own business in Lima and I was done with living in the US, so once I got a job through an online university it meant I could live anywhere. My friends and family were understandably nervous about me moving so far away, but I think they knew I was a big girl and could handle it if something went wrong. Six+ years later I’m still glad I made that leap to Peru. It launched me to more places than I ever expected.

Happy Birthday Tina!

February 16, 2014 by Aimee

Today represents the birth of this blog, but it is also marks Tina’s 5^th birthday. Being that she is the inspiration for this website, I consciously decided to start publishing the events of her life on the same day that it began.

The idea for Tina the Tiny Traveler came to me about 3 years ago on a night bus in Mexico. It was one of those torturous bus rides where the seat didn’t recline, the air-conditioner was too cold, and the route was so curvy my head bounced back and forth like a bobble-head doll. I couldn’t sleep a wink.

As dawn was approaching and I hit a state of delirium, I looked down at Tina. Her head was resting on my lap with her mouth gaping wide open. She was curled up in a little ball to fit within the confines of the seat, but she looked comfortable. Tina was sound asleep despite all the reasons she could be wide awake like me.

In that moment I thought to myself: “I need to write about this awesome kid.” So I started writing (in my head at that point) the manuscript for a children’s book called “Tina the Tiny Traveler.” That idea is still in the works.

In the meantime, I plan to use this website to document the amazing adventures Tina and I (and her father, who I’ll call “El Dada”) have experienced over the past 6 years.

Why 6 years when Tina is only 5? Well she arguably started traveling with us from the day she was conceived. El Dada and I embarked on a 6 month backpacking trip through Central and South America when she was just a zygote. More on that in a future post!

As of today, Tina has traveled over 100,000 miles through 5 continents and 30 countries. Needless to say, I have a lot of material to draw from… and who knows where we will end up next?

I hope you enjoy following along our (retrospective) log of world travels and my (prospective) reflections on family travel, worldschooling, and unique cultures!

Un abrazo (hug) ~ Aimee