The Littlest Ambassadors

The people of India are exceedingly warm and gracious and their love of children cannot be overstated. Our experiences at the Taj have not been isolated. Everywhere we go people smile and approach us. They ask the same questions: "Boy or girl?; or in many cases just "Girl?" - as boyish as I think my children look, Indians always guess that both boys are actually girls - and then of course they want to know their names. These questions are punctuated by a stroke of Eli's cheek and an attempt at patting Evan's head - which he hates. Everyone from doorman to bathroom attendant to hotel manager shares in this ritual.

Travelling with children as young as ours has been one of the most difficult and simultaneously rewarding experiences of my life. Much like child rearing itself. You make many sacrifices - in our case, a limited stay time sight seeing, many missed photo opportunities, and a few meltdowns in very public places. Despite these relatively minor set backs they have made our experience thus far richer in so many ways. Most especially in allowing us to connect with Indians in a deeper, more meaningful way.

Just yesterday, at the stunning Amer Fort in Jaipur I saw two women clad in magnificent red saris each balancing a large bowl of mixed concrete on their head, they were peeking through a doorway at Eli and me smiling broadly. I smiled and bowed a greeting before I approached. They spoke almost no English, they were lower class laborers bare foot but still adorned in bangles and nose rings and somehow immaculate in their appearance despite their work. They touched Eli's cheek and nodded when I said "boy". Through sign language and broken English I came to understand that they were mothers too. As we stood together their faces were radiating a warmth and happiness, the depth of which I lack words to describe. It was a very quiet, yet powerful experience for me. I would have loved to have taken their picture and wished I had the camera at that moment. But, in the end it was about more than the visual souvenir I could have had, it was a shared connection between mothers of very different places and means. It was beautiful. I will keep their image in my mind for years to come.

Evan enjoys the elephant carvings at a Hindu temple just outside the gates of the Amer Fort

Delhi Belly

Our first full day in India was magnificent, spectacular; it was… ahem… the Taj Mahal of days. It will be a day I will never forget. The amazing drive to Agra, the majesty of the Taj Mahal, and Evan falling asleep on his menu at dinner – all wonderfully exciting and new.

Our second full day in India was much, much less glamorous and will also likely be a day I will never forget. Pat woke first with some intestinal trouble. I woke feeling nauseous and dizzy, and poor Evan started his day by vomiting on his father. Although, after he was sick, he promptly asked for breakfast - which we took to be a good sign. Pat took Evan down for food and I crawled back into bed until it was time to leave. Little Eli was the only one of us unperturbed by the adventure thus far. His smiling face reassuring of us of happier times to come.

Pat and Eli standing out at the Mosque at Fatepur Sikri

Once we were in the car everyone seemed to have perked up a bit, although the very thought of eating made me queasy. Our first stop was Fatehpur Sikri a beautiful, abandoned, royal city, a bumpy one-hour ride from Agra. It was hot, but there was a nice breeze blowing through the monument so it was bearable. Unfortunately shortly in to our tour I was overcome once again with a wave of nausea. Evan too was getting restless so he and I went back to the air-conditioned car to lie down. Pat went on to have a wonderful experience touring the rest of the city and the beautiful mosque while Evan and I napped. Later when I was feeling better I was a bit jealous of what he experienced, but at the time I was grateful for the chance to lie down. By the time we left for the excruciatingly long and bumpy four-hour ride to Jaipur I was feeling worlds better.

Evan however, was sick again just an hour later. I hate to see him sick. I had been worried for months before this trip began about him getting ill, and here he was suffering from a mild case of Delhi Belly and I found myself calm about the whole thing. I knew we had done everything right. I had watched him like a hawk since we landed – making sure he didn’t touch anything dirty, that his hands were washed and sanitized, and carefully monitoring everything that went into his mouth. He wasn’t running a fever and he didn’t have the runs, so I knew it wasn’t that serious. My hunch was that it was just his immune system running in overdrive.

Sure enough, by evening he was swimming in the pool and downing an entire pizza (thank goodness our hotel offered western choices – the thought of anything spicy today made me uncomfortable). For our part, Pat and I soldiered on, our discomfort of minor consequence when your baby is sick.

Evan, feeling better, sleeping off a long hard day.

For more pictures of Fatehpur Sikri click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/43788174@N00/sets/72157601703908239/show/

The Taj Mahal

At breakfast this morning we were served Taj Mahal Tea. The tab on the tea bag had a tiny picture of the Taj that I showed to Evan. I explained that it was like a giant sand castle and it was very beautiful and that we were going there for a visit. He kept the little picture in his pocket and told all of the Indians we encountered that we were going to see the “Zhaj Labal”. But I digress…

Everyone says that if you’re coming to India you must see the Taj Mahal. My expectations were high and I had a nagging fear that I would be disappointed. Like everyone else in the western world I had already seen dozens of photographs and I was familiar with at least some of the history. Was it really going to be as spectacular as everyone says? But, when I walked through the North Gate and the whole building came in to view, it literally took my breath away. Even from the gate it was majestic. Photographs seem to do little justice to the splendor of this magnificent structure.

As we stood near the gate listening to our guide I became aware that someone was standing beside me. I turned to find a woman in a beautiful yellow sari just inches away posing for a picture beside me and Eli while her family stood by giggling. I did what any good Yankee would do – I pretended not to notice, despite her proximity I did not want to embarrass anyone.

Not a minute later a group of young men came along. They stopped several feet away staring and laughing before one of them came over to stand beside me for another photograph. Admittedly I was slightly annoyed, but I just pretended not to notice and we moved on.

As we progressed, however, it became apparent that people were very, very interested in us. Everyone we encountered – and there were thousands of people – stopped, smiled, pointed, and nudged those around them. Soon people were approaching us to touch the boys – this is not a taboo here, Indians love babies and they are not shy about showing it! Those that could speak English would ask “Boy or Girl” and “Name?” There were more pictures. More introductions. I found myself standing with whole families smiling for photographs. And the children… the Indian children were awe struck with Evan. It was like he was from the moon. The children crowded around him each just wanting to touch him. It was very surreal to see his little white face surrounded by a sea of Indian children. Evan handled it with grace, although towards the end I think he was as overwhelmed as I. So this is what it’s like to be a rock star? No wonder the guidebook recommended dark glasses.Here we were standing before one of the Seven Wonders of the World and for a brief period it was as though our children, not the Taj Mahal, enjoyed this title. I thought surely these people have seen Westerners before, until our guide reminded us that people come from all over India – rich and poor – to see the Taj, and some may not have ever seen “our kind”. Of those that have I’m sure they’ve never seen a redheaded baby in Bjorn carrier on a blond woman before.

On our way back to the car, the armed guards and souvenir hawkers all stopped to gawk and elbow their neighbors as we walked by. It suddenly became apparent that our children were going to give this journey a unique richness that can't be enjoyed by other tourists. They are going to open doors and make connections that Pat and I could not our own.

For more pictures of our trip to the Taj click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/43788174@N00/sets/72157601608978740/show/

Namaste from India

As the plane made it’s final approach in to Delhi, we were able to catch our first glimpse of India. It didn’t look like much… just a sporadic patchwork of orange lights twinkling through the haze interrupting the otherwise dark of night. There were none of the familiar lights of highways or buildings visible. The air quality in the plane suddenly became very poor, the smell of India reaching us before we even touched the ground. I was suddenly overcome with fear. Instead of butterflies I felt as though I had a swarm of hungry locusts with hard edges writhing in my stomach. Tears filled my eyes. What on earth are we doing? Why am I bringing all that I hold dear to such a foreign and exotic place? Will we get sick? What will I do when the children get sick? It’s too late to turn back, and quite honestly even if I could I would not.

Happily, as soon as we were on the ground my fears of this unknown place seemed to melt away. Despite the dreariness of the airport and the filth of the bathrooms, I was suddenly excited to be in India. India! …At last.

Once we left the airport and were on the road the sounds and activity of Delhi began to take shape around us. Despite the late hour the streets were teeming with activity - cars, trucks, buses, rickshaws, mopeds, cows, everyone was out. It was then that I realized that this is a journey of a lifetime, one that will change my life in ways that I cannot yet imagine. While Eli will never know where he has been I hope that Evan will take a few fuzzy memories home with him. I am already grateful that I did not let my fear of the unknown diminish this opportunity.

On your MARKET, get set, GO!

"On your market, get set, GO!" Evan screams for the 100th time in an hour. He has decided Amsterdam is a great city for racing. This despite, the narrow streets, the even narrower cobblestoned sidewalks, and the multitudes on foot and on bicycle. He took a couple of good spills - one of which resulted in a skinned nose, but even this could not deter him from his game. I don't mind this game too much since a) it wears him out quicker b) he moves faster when he is racing and c) he quickly learned the difference between sidewalk and road and always stops to hold hands when we cross the street. The problem with this game is the sheer volume of pedistrians and cyclists. He is more interested in going fast than staying out of the way. Which makes me very nervous.














When he is not racing, he is asking to be carried. "Mommy, Carry you?" - meaning, of course, carry me. We've walked all over this beautiful city, and we've encouraged Evan to walk as much as possible. But there are times for safety, or efficiency that it is easier to carry him. He has walked more than his share though, and after a while I know he gets tired. If he didn't weigh close to 40lbs this really wouldn't be such an issue. By the end of the day we're all tired not just from walking but also from carrying these two giant children.

Other than racing, Evan also enjoys looking for sharks in the canals, crossing bridges, and best of all watching the public train, which he calls Thomas. We've actually ridden the train a couple of times just for fun. As silly as that may sound, if you could see the excitement on Evan's face you would understand why it is worth the ride.

Overall Evan has been very good, albeit a bit wild at times. There have been a few meltdowns, but largely (and thankfully) this is in the privacy of our apartment. He rarely misbehaves in public, save one or two tantrums. Publicly he is usually just guilty of not controlling the volume of his voice, not watching where he is going, and occasionally walking painfully slow so he can touch each and everyone of the traffic barriers -which are short poles spaced two feet apart all over the city. On the grander scheme of things these are minor inconveniences, but they can be frustrating to his parents. We have done our best to encourage him to be quieter, or slow down, or speed up - and we switch children often, sharing the load (both in weight and discipline). Sight seeing with such small children is a totally unique experience. Once upon a time Pat and I would have set a break neck pace, taking in all of the museums, churches, markets, and ahem coffee shops we possibly could. These days we are content just to be able to be out side walking in the city. And we were both delighted with our fragmented hour at the Rijks Musuem. We each had the opportunity to spend 30 minutes admiring the art of the Dutch Masters, and 30 minutes of riding the glass elevator with Evan. Somehow it was enough, and Evan had his thrill. Someday the boys will be old enough to enjoy the history and beauty a city like Amsterdam has to offer, but for now I am content to enjoy the antics of a 3 year old racing the streets of Amsterdam.

Boat Ride

Since Amsterdam is a city of canals, and Evan is a lover of water, it seemed only fitting that we should take a boat tour of the city. This is probably not something I would have done without children, and probably not something I'd rush to recommend to others. But as usual Evan made it enjoyable. He absolutely loved riding the boat. He stood on the bench with his head out the window with all the wonder and innocence of a three year old.

For those who have never ventured to Amsterdam, she is a city of water and thus by default, of bridges. 1200 bridges to be exact. Evan loves bridges, this of course is old news. He has always loved to go over bridges but now he also loves to go under bridges. Of Amsterdam's 1200 bridges I think it is safe to say we sailed under about 50 of these canal bridges. As we approached each bridge Evan would stick his head back into the boat, hold Pat's face in his hands and with a big smile declare: "Daddy. Another bridge." Yes, for every bridge. All 50 of them. Somethings just don't loose their magic.

The journey begins...

After weeks of often stressful preparation for this journey we are finally on our way, and boy does it feel good. It occurred to me at dinner that I had nothing to do and no where to be except here in Amsterdam enjoying the city and my family. Finally! After weeks of cleaning, packing, stressing over passports and visas and various other details I can sit and relax.

Our neighborhood in Amsterdam

The plane ride to Amsterdam went amazingly well. All of my anxious worry was for naught - at least thus far. Evan could not have been more thrilled to go to the big, giant airport in Boston and ride a big, giant airplane.

Because of fog our takeoff was delayed by 30 minutes... a very minor inconvenience. As soon as we were allowed to board we got to take an escalator down to the sky walk. This was a tremendous thrill and seemed only to enhance the excitement to come. As soon as Evan was in his seat he started asking: "Now Mommy? Is it time to take off now?"

"Not yet. We have to wait until everyone sits down in their seats and puts on their seat belts."

"OK." .... pause .... "Now Mommy?"

I'm sure he asked us 20 times. When we finally did take off he was very excited - giggling and grinning from ear to ear. It was fun to watch him experience what he had looked forward to for so long. After enjoying his pretzels - one of his favorite treats - Evan settled in to watch a movie. Could life get any better for a three year old? We didn't hear a peep from him until we declared bedtime. He then laid down across the extra seat and slept for about three hours. Could life be any better for Mom and Dad? Eli for his part was also a perfect angel. He has become quite the little busy body. So he fidgeted and chewed and sucked on whatever he could get his hands on, until at last he fell asleep for most of the remainder of the flight - at least 4 hours. And there was no crying.

I was the only one who didn't get any rest, and I was not feeling too hot when we landed. I was consumed with exhaustion, but Evan was ready to take on the world - on just 3 hours of sleep. A good 2.5 hour nap perked us all up, and we hit the town the town running - and I do mean that literally.