Eight years of travel with a child

Now you are eight. But as I come to write my yearly lookback at our family travels together, it’s not simply you that’s changed – it’s the world.

Like most of us, I’m sick of hearing the words ‘unprecedented’ and people talking about the ‘new normal’ but this time last year – even as this year started – none of us could have had any idea what 2020 would bring. I was still wondering how Brexit would affect travel. Little did we know.

As I write this now, UK holidays have only been a possibility for weeks. Quarantine has been put in place, removed for 75 countries… and then already reintroduced for Spain. Portugal hasn’t even yet made the safe list. All my grand ideas for this year of finally getting to Vietnam, or taking you to see the pyramids have been entirely abandoned.

I can at least look back and think we made the most of our time – the last half of 2019 included some amazing trips, learning to snorkel with in Aruba, where you often seemed so much more grown-up, pushing yourself to try some new things (and reminding me forcefully that you were still only seven at other times).

In October, exploring the Maldives too, with more snorkelling – this time with a turtle – in one of your most memorable holidays. You keep asking if we can go back. I wish!

But it’s not just the long-haul trips: heading back to lovely Devon last summer, where we explored smuggler’s tunnels and took ancient ferries, walked in prehistoric caverns and spotted penguins by the sea, and went hunting for a dragon in the countryside.

In Denmark, you braved your first rollercoasters at Legoland, in a holiday packed with Lego, Vikings and history as we explored Jutland and very nearly beat me at crazy golf.

I have so many happy memories of that trip: you brandishing a Viking sword with miniature beserker fury, panning for gold at Legoland with fierce concentration, dressing up (and insisting I join you by wearing a ruff in the August heat) in regal style at Koldinghus Castle.

As the New Year dawned, we kept taking advantage of every opportunity: an unexpected inset day at school meant a long weekend in Ghent and Bruges, giggling together at the audioguide in Gravensteen castle and the toilet which dropped straight into the moat, eating at least one waffle a day.

Suddenly a Eurostar journey seemed so easy as long as you have books and snacks, each year so much more became possible.

And our last trip to Rome, where I dithered over whether to go in February and risk the bad weather or wait to Easter, deciding spontaneously to book for half-term and discover the amazing city you’d learned about as you studied the Romans at school.

I still haven’t even written up everything we did then: as we flew back, parts of northern Italy were going into lockdown – alarming news, but it still seemed so far away. Rome, after all, was miles from the affected areas.

And then the world changed.

How do I sum up the past few months, when it feels like I’m still wrapping my own head around it all? Your realisation that there were no answers about what would happen next, about how long the situation might last, because none of us had ever lived through an event like this before.

Your innocent excitement at thinking one day this will be history to tell your grandchildren.

Your maturity, handling months without seeing friends – without seeing anyone your own age – except via a computer screen.

Throwing yourself enthusiastically into the homeschooling which interested you – making our Roman-themed Game of Life was a definite highlight, persuading you to learn grammar and spelling when you just wanted to write stories was not.

You’re as creative as ever, coming up with stories about ‘Coronapirates’ as part of one lesson, writing a poem about your classroom in lockdown which ends ‘Rulers measure the lonely time’. I’m half bursting with pride at your writing and half heartbroken at what you’ve missed this year.

Practising your Spanish diligently every day for over 100 days. I only hope we can visit somewhere where you can use it before too long.

You miss travel too: if I were in any doubt about whether I’ve passed on my wanderlust, my love of seeing the world, the past few months where we’ve barely ventured beyond our front door, travelled no further than 150 miles from home, has made it clear you can’t wait to be off exploring again.

I’m reminded it’s not the distance that matters though. Lying on the grass together in the shade at Cliveden making cloud pictures in the sky, a game you said you’d never played before and now want to do at every opportunity.

Reminding ourselves how much there still is to explore in our own country with our first trip away in months, to Shropshire.

And if I’d hoped for sunny summer memories as we headed off for some July glamping, the memories of lying curled up with the fire crackling as the rain pattered down relentlessly on our tent and owls hooted in the countryside is equally unforgettable.

I wish I could tell you what the next 12 months hold. I wish I knew! Should I be seizing the opportunity for us to travel again this summer or will we find ourselves facing cancellations, quarantine or lockdown overseas? 

Perhaps it will all be easier by October half-term… or perhaps I’ll be kicking myself for not booking in August.

This year, we are travelling without a map… metaphorically, at least. Whether we find ourselves literally travelling much is anybody’s guess! Although if the possibility of travel is all we need to worry about, I shall count us lucky.

And one day, this will all be history.

Images copyright MummyTravels

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