Not as difficult as it sounds. This could well be the perfect age for a travel companion. No large wardrobe, no fixed ideas about what has to be done, interested in everything and small enough to carry when she gets tired.
I didn’t see as much as I would have by myself, but I saw it better. My daughter would get caught up in the details of monasteries, finding intricate carvings and making me appreciate them. If there was a cave or something to climb or an underground chapel, we had to go there. She got interested in the rituals of Armenian churches and wanted to light candles. She asked me, an atheist, to teach her how to pray. (Think of the people you love and ask for nice things to happen. She seemed satisfied with this.)
[1]
On a Saturday evening, she insisted on ice cream in the Viennese-looking main square of Yerevan. There was a magnificent music, light and water show at which all of Yerevan society seemed to congregate. We met the most amazing people. My daughter found new companions and learned new words. As we were leaving, her falling asleep on my shoulder, she put her head up and said, “That is how people should live.”
[2]
When we settled into the minibus to take us back to Tbilisi, I thought she would be relieved to see an end to this nomadic lifestyle. I told her that we would be back home in Istanbul in the evening.
“I don’t want to go home,” she said.
I was surprised. “Where do you want to go?”
“Somewhere else where we don’t live.”
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