Walk 2: Slow Sunday Exploration

This past Sunday was unseasonably warm: the middle of January and Nikola went out in a short sleeved t-shirt to throw out the trash. Along with the trash went our plans to catch up on the housework and we decided to go for a hike instead.

Time away from our computers. Time together. As a family. It was something all three of us needed.

We looked up a few hiking routes and decided to try to find an екопътека that was listed as a pleasant loop near the center of the city. To get to the start we simply had to walk out past the planetarium and the zoo. (Gabrovo has a planetarium and a zoo? Cool!).

It turns out that the start of the loop is about 5km away from our house, all uphill. So, we didn't actually get to go on the loop before we had to head down. Even so, the walk was worthwhile.

Peatuk started in the hip carry, but as we didn't leave the house until 2pm, he didn't stand much of a chance of staying awake. Still, he lasted about 2km, looking around with that dopey, glazed look he gets when he is perfectly content to be held by his parent and let the world pass him by.

As we continued on, he got more and more sleepy until, eventually, Nikola had to switch him to a back carry and I had to button up his hood to support his jostling neck. Still, he kept his eyes open as long as he could, letting one lid grow heavy, and then the other, until he was sweetly asleep.

The walks are supposed to be for him; to introduce him to a world bigger than two rooms and a computer, but what is a mother to do when he refuses to stay awake? Let him be, and enjoy time with his father, instead.

Nikola and I walked casually, smiles, light conversations, holding hands. We had not assumed the trail would be as far away from the center as it ended up being, and we hadn't brought water. Beyond a little fountain running out of the mountain, there was none for us to drink, and several times we considered going back.

Each time, we figured that we must be nearing the top of the mountain, and each time we were wrong. We passed by the planetarium, which was closed but still looked interesting, and the zoo, which was open but looked awful.

We smelled the zoo before we saw it. I asked what the foul smell could be, and then we saw the sign for the zoo and my heart jumped the way it does when I think of unhappy animals kept in cages. As we passed, we saw the guard dog sitting under a jeep, with a half-eaten carcass rotting in the sun in front of it. At that moment, I was happy that Peatuk had fallen asleep.

At the top of the mountain, finally, there was a large field filled with others who had had a similar urge as us. At the end of the field, where the trail started, there was a large, traditional restaurant. We sat, ordered coffee, ayran, fries, and biscuit-cake, and let Peatuk out of his sling. He seemed amazed by where he was. He laughed at the traditional music playing in the background and tried, without success, to catch the attention of the ladies sitting next to us. He loves attention from strangers. He soaks up the way they smile and coo at him and call him sweet and well-behaved. Most days he can draw the attention of everyone around him, but competing with the sunshine, three other adorable babies, a great mountain view, and a traditional restaurant, he failed. He didn't seem to mind, as long as we gave him plenty of attention.

 On the way back home, he settled next to me in the sling and I lowered him to feed for awhile. Nothing can be more natural than the fresh mountain air, and hiking along a quiet road while he nurses.

Then it was back to zombie mode for half an hour as we hiked down, and finally switched to snuggle into daddy and fall asleep.

Eventually, he will point to things and chatter about them, I assume. Eventually, he will want to touch things and learn their names. For now, it doesn't seem to matter where he is, as long as both mommy and daddy are there to keep him snuggled warm.

Walk 1: Along the River

My son is nearly 11 months old. He is a curious little creature, filled with boundless energy. Boundless, until he finds its end. He is one of those toddlers who cries every time he starts to feel sleep demanding his attention. He can't be bothered to sleep. There is too much to see and do, to touch and feel, and above all, too much to taste.

I am slightly amazed at his energy, considering both his father and I are expert sleepers. If we has the means, we could happily spend an entire week entwined under the covers. Peatuk only has about five minutes of sweet cuddles in him before he must get up and start making his rounds of the house, making sure everything is in its place, which is to say, not where mommy wants it.

Even when he is asleep, he moves. He flips, crawls, and burrows. Once, he even stood up, holding onto the headboard, completely asleep.

The only time he is really calm is when he is in his carrier, smooshed up close to my breast, with nothing but his nose and chin poking out. Then, he lets his eyes get heavy without resistance and he falls into a contented trance as the world passes him by.

This morning, I strapped him to me and we took a walk through the center of town, along the river. Before we left, he was clawing at my chest, his sharp little claws catching on the acne that is finally returning as my post-pregnancy hormones stabilize, making me bleed. But as soon as we exited the building, he tucked himself into me and calmed himself.

Last night it snowed, and when we went outside, we met a muted world, blanketed in white. It isn't the first time he has seen snow, but it is the first time he has seen it thick and new- an unbroken white as opposed to lines of grey and slushy puddles. It was deep enough to thoroughly cover everything that didn't move and created sharp lines against the streets and buildings.

We walked down to the river and he was silent, but his eyes remained fully open and his brows were furrowed in that adorable expression that will someday grow into confusion.

When we came onto the main boulevard, hugging the river, the sun was shining brilliantly, creating a dazzling illusion of warmth. I turned him so he could look at the glittering water and he scrunched up his face and let out one of his soft grunts of pleasure that is the beginning of a laugh.

We crossed a bridge and I stood in the center, looking down at the river. It seemed to flow without purpose, the currents rushing in every direction to avoid the snow-covered rocks. I suffered the slightest twinge of vertigo as I leaned over the railing, and I gripped my son tightly to me, but he seemed oblivious to our height or the motion below him. He assessed the situation calmly, accepting everything he saw as inevitable truth.

These days, the world simply is to him. He has not recognized the forces of resistance and manipulation. He hasn't discovered these powers within himself, and so he is infinitely accepting. Wind and water simply are, and he doesn't try to capture them in individual moments. He lets them flow over him, and for that, he is beautiful, magical, and wiser than I am.