Dancing Through Life: Travelling with Children
As single mother to a little boy, I must confess that I have an addiction and I hope that it is one I will never be cured of. The awe and anticipation that travelling the world brings, plus all the lessons along the way, is a passion that I cannot escape and one that I am determined to pass onto my son. It began when I was 12 years old, standing in the middle of the Zocalo in Mexico City, surrounded by sights, sounds and smells so far removed from my previous life, that it opened my eyes to the brutal glory of the world. Since that moment I have explored every continent, and last summer was the time to discover if I could take my son on the journey as well.
This adventure started with a promise that a girlfriend and I would take a trip together, to show our two young boys the beauty and devastation of humanity, to teach them how incredibly privileged they are, to show them the endless possibilities that the world can offer, and show them how rich life is, that you must embrace it, arms wide open and running into it. I wanted to teach my son to be intrepid, to find adventure and to provide a taste of humility, to meet fascinating people and to listen to their stories, which would in turn enrich your own.
Tickets were booked, and it became real; we were going to Kosovo to volunteer at a charity that provides an education to ethnic minority children from the region and handles all the logistics that their mission encompasses. We would travel there via Croatia and Macedonia with our two 6-year-old boys; three countries, four flights, two overland border crossings, four Airbnb’s, countless miles in a minibus...I tried not to panic.
We spent the first night in Zagreb, Croatia, with remnants of the eastern bloc still evident in the austere buildings and bars on windows. The boys were thrilled at the possibility that the holes in the walls were made by real bullets. Dark doorways and gated courtyards evoked images of espionage and secret lives in a country that only gained its freedom in 1991. The cobbled streets of the old town are full of cafes and tourists now, the tiled roofs of the old churches sparkle in the sunlight. It is beautiful. My son loved it. I loved it. We walked and ate and watched the locals go about their daily business.
On day two we flew into Macedonia, then drove through forested mountains flecked with tiny villages of red roofs and whitewashed walls. As we crossed the border into Kosovo, the boys were happy, the music on the radio was local and the views spectacular. The perfect road-trip. As we approached Pristina, Kosovo’s capital, the driver didn't know where the address of our apartment was situated, his boss on the phone didn't know, and we certainly didn't know, but some-how we made it through the mayhem to our apartment situated in a grand old townhouse that oozed faded splendour. Two hours later and we were at a book launch inside a converted power station. Another hour after that, and we were eating the best Mexican I've had outside of Mexico, listening to my son play a guitar whilst dressed in a poncho and sombrero in the middle of a restaurant. I had set foot on three countries in 24 hours, I was tired, but I realised, while watching Tom play to his audience, that I could put him into any situation, and he will embrace it. What on earth would day three bring? A lie in hopefully.
I didn’t get one, the boys needed feeding and I needed caffeine, plus my friend was suffering. A cup of tea and a hug was the most comfort I could provide, as-well as ensure that two excited, energetic 6-year-old boys stay out of her way as much as possible, until our lift arrived to take us to our first placement in a nursery out of town. The centre of Pristina, full of newbuilds and sculptures, depicts a hope for equality and peace in what is the most newly formed country in the world. It is quite literally a country that is being built and it is impressive to see.
But as we drove out of the city centre, we were greeted with the reality faced by some of the poorest people in the region. Men pushed cartloads of rubbish that they had collected to sell, rundown houses with broken windows were scattered along the bumpy roads. Children ran barefoot and a sense of being forgotten pervaded the area that lies just a few kilometres away from the bustling city centre. We spent the morning reading stories and playing games with children in the kindergarten run by the charity that we were volunteering for. One little girl spent much of time sitting on my lap, her need for a mother figure heartbreakingly obvious. Her story was familiar, her parents had divorced, the father automatically received custody and the daughter was told that her mother was dead. Girls are often forced into arranged marriages when they are in their teens. Her fate seemed inevitable and her life story was already potentially and sadly mapped out for her. An education can be a ticket out of this fate. Spending time with a group of teenage girls the next day, ostensibly teaching them English, but in reality, doing ballet with them in the hallway, proved that the little girl does still have hope. They were sassy, strong and funny 14-year olds, laughing at my poor pronunciation of their names, and we bonded over a shared love of dance. They immediately noticed I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring despite having a son and I earned a little of their respect for bringing him on this journey without a husband and for being candid about my situation. That day, a small group of girls saw an alternative way of life and their frank questioning about why I wasn’t married, and how I could bring up a child alone also reminded me that the joy of human connection, no matter where you are, means the world.
Written by Sophia Sanders
Sophia lives in Wells in Somerset with her seven-year-old son and two cats. She works in projects and compliance in Corporate Real Estate and Facilities Management at a housing association. She is 41 years old and writing and ballet are her two favourite hobbies, as well as trying to balance on the yoga mat. The charity she volunteered for last year is called The Ideas Partnership.