In the last three-ish years since we’ve been traveling with Kaia, whenever we have a big trip, whether it’s been to India, Germany, Argentina, or Ecuador and Peru, one of the first questions I get asked from colleagues is, “Is your kid coming, too?” What my colleagues aren’t aware of is the fact that we don’t have grandparents on either side who live close by to just swoop in and take care of Kaia for a week or two. We can’t just drive an hour, drop her off, and then head to the airport. We also cannot easily have the grandparents fly from their homes in San Francisco or Australia to take care of her just because we want to fly off to some fun, exotic destination sans child. On Chris’s side, there’s the obvious issue of distance. On my side, it’s an issue of distance… plus the fact that I categorically do not trust my parents, mentally or physically, to care for my child.

Traveling with a baby, or now toddler, has its challenges. It makes even the slightest things, like going through airport security, more annoying and taxing. Packing is a lot more onerous because of all the other things we have to remember to bring for her (like her potty seat or overnight pull-ups, plus all emergency supplies). Our trip is also compromised because we cannot do everything we’d like to do. The biggest case in point is that we didn’t choose a Macchu Picchu outing on this trip because of her. We’re also not going to the Galapagos Islands… since how are we going to go snorkeling with a three-year-old? But I think all that is evened out by seeing her discover and explore new things, places, tastes, and also seeing her understanding of the world increase. Her love of trains, cars, airports, and planes is clear. She is usually open to trying new foods, thus increasing the diversity of her gut biome. And she always wants to know when she’s going on a train or plane next. She’s been able to see and interact with people from literally all over the world. When we arrived in Guayaquil yesterday, she yelled that we were going to Guayaquil, “not Ecuador!” and Chris had to explain to her that Guayaquil was in Ecuador, just as Quito was. Guayaquil is a part of Ecuador!

Last night, while putting her to bed, we finished reading and she looked up at me with a sleepy smile and said, “Can you calm down me?” I giggled a little when I heard this. While the grammar was definitely wrong, I just smiled so hard at the fact that she said this and knew what she was saying. I wondered if her teachers at school ever give her a back rub or something to “calm her down” before a nap (if she actually naps, that is). Chris and I never say to her that we’re going to calm her down before bed, so it must have been her school teachers who she picked this up from. As I rubbed her back and head while she closed her eyes, I wondered when the day would come when she’d get the grammar of this sentence correct. And I knew that when that day would, in fact, come, I’d likely be sad because once again, another teeny tiny part of her toddlerhood would slip away from her… and from me.

I learned about Oswaldo Guayasamin, the famous Ecuadorian artist of Quechua and Mestizo heritage, just a few months ago while researching interesting places to visit in Quito. He grew up poor but had a knack for painting and sculpture. He made his art debut quite young, just in his late 20s, which propelled him into an exciting life in the global art world. He used his fame and art to highlight painful truths of society, such as racism, social and cultural injustices (particularly to indigenous peoples given his own background), and inequality and oppression amongst people of lower social classes. His most famous paintings depict human suffering in multiple forms. It’s clear from looking at his work that he was heavily influenced by Pablo Picasso, as there are cubist elements to a lot of his stroke work that resemble Picasso’s art. In addition to recognition for his artwork, he was also given a prize for “an entire life of work for peace” by UNESCO. He’s also likened to the Michelangelo of Latin America by a number of art historians. In 2002, three years after his passing, La Capilla del Hombre (“the chapel of man”), housing his art, opened to the public, next to the house he spent the last twenty years of his life in. Both are located in the high hills overlooking Quito (which also meant it was a trek and a lot of sweat for us to get up there!). The chapel was made to document man’s cruelty to man and also the potential of greatness within humanity. La Capilla del Hombre and Guayasamin’s house were our last stops yesterday late afternoon before ending the day and packing up to head down to Guayaquil this morning.

While in La Capilla, I wandered around and looked at his depictions of human suffering and misery. The “Mural of Misery” painted in 1969 with shades of grey and white, was particularly sobering; you could almost feel the pain of the people he was painting given their facial expressions and contortions. I also noticed that he had a number of original paintings (acrylic) and sketches that were for sale. Just for fun, I took a peek at how much they cost, and I was completely shocked: the sketches went for $25-30 USD, while the original unframed paintings cost only around $2,500-2,700 USD. It made me realize that given Guayasamin is Ecuadorian, he is ultimately seen as Latin American, or brown, in an art world that mostly values White men and their work. An original Picasso, so a similar style of painting, would likely go for hundreds of thousands, if not hundreds of millions of dollars, today. Picasso original sketches themselves sell for $15-30K+. This whole thing just seemed ridiculous to me. Guayasamin doesn’t have the same name recognition as Picasso (obviously), but I’d say that a lot of their painting style is pretty much the same and is of similar quality. But at the end of the day, that’s the difference between how the white gaze values white men’s work versus brown men’s work.

When I visit art museums during our travels, I oftentimes think back to my sophomore year of high school when I studied Advanced Placement Art History. I always remember how overwhelmed I was by the size of the art history book. Despite the fact that over half the book covered Asian, Latin American, and African art, we had to skip over those sections because as my teacher told us, “those regions won’t be covered on the A.P. exam. But you can feel free to study them on your own time.” Early on, we were taught that people of color, their histories, their stories, their art, do not matter. And it was the beginning of my “what the fuck kind of world do we live in” perspective.

Despite all that and the state of our White-valuing world, I loved visiting Guayasamin’s house and museum, and I loved learning about his life and art and how he tried to depict people who were frankly being erased from society. I’m happy that I’ve been able to discover artists like him during our travels around the world. It reminded me of when we visited Bogota, Colombia, in May 2019, and how during that trip, we stumbled upon Fernando Botero’s museum, Museo Botero. I hadn’t known about him prior to our Colombia trip, but I was so happy we found out about him and perused his museum. His style, known as Boterismo, depicts people and figures in large, exaggerated form. Some pieces are kitschy or humorous. Others are political and instigating. But I think work like Botero’s could appeal to people who don’t even think they like or care about art.

While I enjoyed seeing Guayasamin’s home and art, Kaia was a bit less interested. Chris had to do some toddler finagling while I was walking through the house, attempting to listen to our guide, and also take a closer look at his artwork. Eventually, she had to “go to jail” in her stroller, which she was not the least bit happy about. All she wanted to do was run around try to touch everything (which… would not have been good for anyone). But I suppose art museums and historical homes were not necessarily made for toddlers to roam around in. Kaia’s a bit young to understand art, history, or art history, but I hope that when she’s older that she’ll be able to develop an appreciation for all the above.

We woke up at an ungodly hour very early this morning to take a flight from Cusco to Quito, Ecuador, via Lima. I felt a little sad to be leaving Cusco, as I knew there were over a dozen other beautiful and historic places we just didn’t have time to visit. And while I knew we’d still be at high altitude in Quito, I knew I’d also miss having my daily dose of coca tea provided by our historic hotel in Cusco. Coca tea is supposed to help with adjusting to altitude, as locals have known for centuries. For me, it tasted like an interesting mix of almost savory mint and herbs. While Quito is still quite above sea level at about 9,350 feet (or 2,850 meters), Cusco is significantly higher at 11,152 feet (or 3,399 meters) above sea level. Quito would be our last destination we’d hit on this trip before eventually returning to sea level in Guayaquil about an hour’s flight southwest of Quito. So it was time for us to say “adios” to Peru and “buenos dias” to Ecuador, otherwise known as La Mitad del Mundo, or the “middle of the world,” given that the equator runs right through the country; Ecuador’s name actually comes directly from the Spanish word for the equator, “ecuador,” because of this.

I have to say that on the two flights we’ve done on LATAM Airlines (first from Lima to Cusco, and this second one from Cusco to Quito) that I truly love their service. The flight attendants are always so cheerful, friendly, and eager to please. They always introduce themselves by name (after asking which language you’d prefer, Spanish or English). They always say they will do anything they can to best serve you — and it never seems like they are bullshitting you; the words are spoken with sincerity. And it never feels like you are bothering them when you ask them for something or have a question. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for any U.S. airline counterpart. The last flight, I told them I’d prefer English. This flight, to humor myself (and to get myself to listen to Spanish better), I told the flight attendant I’d prefer Spanish. And so she continued to speak to me in Spanish and listen to my choppy, nonexistent Spanish words. She never once made me feel embarrassed or like I was an idiot.

And here’s another really kind, out-of-the-way act of service that a flight attendant did: during our flight, she could see that Kaia was being a bit fussy with us. So she randomly whipped out a little sheet of stickers along with a LATAM postcard and asked if Kaia wanted to decorate the postcard. Of course, it was stickers, so Kaia eagerly took them and started sticking away. Chris noted that while it was a LATAM postcard the flight attendant gave Kaia, the stickers were not LATAM branded. We later learned that the flight attendant just bought the stickers on her own and would take them out to appease young children having their fussy flight moments. We thanked her for her kindness and generosity and eventually got off the plane. Kaia gave back the sticker sheet but happily got to keep the LATAM postcard with all the stickers she stuck on it. It ended up being her little prized possession the rest of the trip.

We arrived in the afternoon in Quito. As we went through immigration, we were greeted with an entire wall of fresh Ecuadorian roses. Each immigration kiosk had an individual fresh rose in water. And when we walked into our hotel to check in, we were greeted with three massive vases of at least five dozen roses, all over 2.5 feet in height! I was completely floored. I do not think I’ve ever been this close to this quantity of roses, or this height of roses, in my entire life. I love fresh flowers. I adore fresh roses. But roses this tall with blooms this fat and big — I was just not accustomed to seeing. I always knew that Colombia and Ecuador were renowned for fresh flowers (I actually learned this years ago when Chris first set me a flower bouquet from The Bouqs, which tracks flowers from when they are cut at their place of origin and then go straight to your home), but today, I realized that Ecuador was likely considered the best in the world. I later learned that Ecuador is the second largest global exporter of roses in the world (after The Netherlands). The U.S. is the number one importer of Ecuadorian roses. Given Ecuador’s location with the equator line running through it, locals say that it’s the best place in the world to grow the highest quality, longest lasting roses. Someone at the hotel told us that while the average roses from elsewhere may be lucky to last six to seven days in a vase with changed water, Ecuadorian roses are so high in quality that when properly cared for, they can last over two weeks!

I don’t know what it is about “long stemmed” roses that get me. But these were most definitely extra, extra long-stemmed, and this made them even more breath taking and regal. It’s amazing what the world has to offer when you keep your eyes open for them.

After a lot of bumpy and frustrating roads yesterday, we decided to stay local in Cusco and not do another day trip. We got around by foot (or stroller) and even explored more local areas outside of the main cobbly tourist side of Cusco.

Traveling with a toddler always gives you experiences you would not otherwise have, and it also exposes you to service that you may not otherwise get. This morning while at a local coffee shop called Paqarin Specialty Coffee, Kaia accidentally pushed the unstable table where my hot coffee had just been placed, so a bit of the coffee spilled into the saucer. A cafe employee immediately noticed this, and instead of giving us a sympathetic grin, she actually took the cup and saucer away, cleaned it up, and topped off my coffee with more coffee and hot foamy milk! This level of empathy and service never would have happened in the U.S.

We also visited the more local side of downtown Cusco, where we stumbled upon a small kids amusement park. You pay one sol each for entry, and then an additional 1-2 soles per ride. Kaia got to go on the trampoline, the carousel, and a free “plane” ride, in addition to using the play structures in the park. This was definitely excellent value for us, and Kaia was happy because she got all the rides she wanted and was surrounded by littles.

I noticed that a lot of places across Lima and Cusco sell flat chocolate circles for consumption. From what I have gathered, it seems like dark chocolate is more popular across Peru and Ecuador. When you get chocolate options here, it’s very common for the chocolate to be 60-80 percent chocolate, with the remaining percentage consisting of panela, or raw, unrefined cane sugar; milk is not a given. If you want milk chocolate, you have to explicitly ask for it. Days before, we visited a coffee shop in Lima that had an upstairs chocolate store, where they had an illustration showing all the different varieties of cacao plant/flower that exist in Peru. It should not have surprised me to learn that over 20 varieties of cacao plant are in existence, with about three main ones cultivated today for coffee consumption. In Peru and Ecuador, if you go to super local markets, you can even buy fresh cacao the fruit and eat it. We visited the Three Monkeys coffee shop in Cusco, where they had one specialty coffee drink that used cacao fruit juice (and well, I tried to ask for it, but they said that it was so late in the day that they’d already run out of the cacao juice…). Here, the baristas noticed we came in with our toddler, so he was so kind and thoughtful to heat and froth up a fresh mini hot chocolate just for Kaia. She only had a few sips, so I ended up finishing it to find tiny pieces of delicious dark chocolate that hadn’t melted on the bottom of the cup.

Coffee and chocolate culture in Peru is strong. While Peru produces only about 1.7 percent of the world’s cacao beans, the quality is most definitely very high here. I definitely felt like I got more complex fruity flavors out of the high percentage chocolate we tasted here. I feel like this was the beginning of my (very late) realization that chocolate, like coffee, tea, or wine, can also be very complex on its own, that it doesn’t really need much sugar or even any milk to be delicious all on its own. And well, there’s more chocolate eating and coffee drinking to come in Ecuador tomorrow!

Yesterday late afternoon, as our last stop before heading back to the hotel to pack for the second leg of our trip to Cusco, we spent 5 soles per adult (that’s less than $2 USD each) to go into Circuito Magico del Agua, a water fountain park in Lima. I wasn’t exactly sure what a “water fountain” park would be, but it became very clear once we entered that this was meant to be like a water park (without pools) for kids and a clean, fun, water-infused park that is publicly subsidized for locals. It’s basically a place where you pay a small fee to have access to clean and safe outdoor space… and where young couples feel they can safely get away from the watchful eyes of their parents and make out with no end.

Funnily enough for us, while Chris originally planned for Kaia to run amok here in the water fountains and sprays, she ended up passing out on our way to Circuito. So for the first part of our time here, it was mostly just us walking around and taking in the scenery, and running under water fountains and seeing how wet (or not wet) we got. When Kaia finally did wake up, we gave her some time in the kids play area, where you pay a small additional fee to enter and your child gets 20 timed minutes to go crazy. We let her go into an up and down maze of a ball pit area, which necessitated shoes off, plus the purchase of socks for both of us (kids under age 4 need to be accompanied by a paying adult). And alas, I finally realized with this experience exactly how dirty ball pits are — with very visible evidence. In just 20 minutes of jumping, running, crawling, and sliding through an endless rainbow pit, the bottoms of both our socks were almost completely black colored. It’s no wonder some parents keep their kids away from ball pits like they are the plague.

And this morning, Kaia woke up with some boogers and a stuffy nose, and Chris credits the nastiness of the ball pit for her tiny illness.

At the airport today in Lima, Chris and I discovered first hand what “free public babysitting” can look like. We were sitting near our gate, and a girl maybe a year or two older than Kaia is jumping around. Kaia sees her and they immediately “become friends” and start playing and jumping together. They start mimicking each others’ sounds, hand motions, and jumps. They giggle and run around (in our area) together. They need very little supervision other than when they try to get too far away from us (and the girl’s dad/younger baby sibling). My concept of time is poor, but it felt like a good 45 minutes of them playing together and us not needing to shoo her away from some store, from touching something she shouldn’t be touching, or us telling her to use her “indoor voice.” It really was like free babysitting even for that short time, and it felt a bit liberating!