There’s a good chance you’ve never heard of Niue, one of the world’s smallest independent nations. Located 2400 kilometres northeast of New Zealand, this remarkable country is the largest raised coral atoll in the world. Between the rugged coastline, powerful waves, stunning lagoons and coral-filled forests, Niue is a dream for the adventurous traveller, even with a baby in tow.
I had a moment tonight where I realized where I was.
It sounds funny, but it’s easy to take things for granted in our modern era of travel. Had I arrived on a ship I would have been sailing for weeks, even months, to get here. The remoteness surely would have settled in alongside a good dose of cabin fever. Instead I flew with a rambunctious child using my lap as a trampoline. The fact that I was flying over the open ocean didn’t strike me until we were about to land on “The Rock.”
I should perhaps find it odd when my husband comes home at seven o’clock in the morning and casually announces that he “hiked up Mt. Tongariro last night.” But, I don’t. At least not anymore. Not only is it something he does fairly frequently, but it’s the only way he’s been able to get out photographing these days.
I don’t think I have ever felt so scattered trying to prepare for a trip. I say “trying” because it feels like a bit of an uphill battle. Babies are sneaky little creatures. No matter which tactics you use to distract them, they somehow manage to undo any progress on the packing front. Items laid out neatly on the bed end up on the floor, under the dresser, in the hallway. I wouldn’t be surprised if Maya managed to make some items disappear altogether by snapping her sticky little fingers.
