In 2021, after four years, I was finally able to fly again—this time with my little son. We traveled to Alanya with Pegasus Airlines.
Unfortunately, our flight was canceled twice before our trip. Because of this, I had to shorten our planned two-week vacation to just one and a half weeks. As a result, on the last day, we had to fly to Istanbul, spend a night there, and head to the airport early the next morning to catch our flight to Budapest.
I told myself that we could handle this for the sake of our trip. I deserved this vacation—I had worked hard for it, and no matter what, we were going to have a great time.
I didn’t just have to take care of myself—I also had to make sure my little one had everything he needed. That’s why, two weeks before the trip, I set out a big suitcase and a small carry-on for my Tiny One, and I slowly started packing everything we would need.
The day of our trip finally arrived. We took a taxi to the airport, and everything went smoothly—until passport control. There was no one in front of me, so I smiled, greeted the officer with a cheerful “Good day!” and handed over our two passports.
But the officer wasn’t friendly at all. With a stern tone, he snapped, “So, whose child is this?” Sure, my son and I don’t have the same skin color, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t my own child. At that point, I still answered politely, saying he was mine, but the officer kept pressing me, asking if I could prove it.
That’s when I started to panic—what if I had left our ID cards at home to keep them safe? I quickly started rummaging through my wallet, where I usually keep them, and with shaking hands, I handed both IDs to the officer to show that I really was my little one’s mother.
Before the trip, it had never even crossed my mind that I might have to prove my own child was actually mine. When I finally got our documents back, I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. My stomach had been in knots the whole time, terrified that our journey might end right there. But it seemed that the ID card had solved the problem.
Since my little boy had only been potty-trained a month before our trip and was very attached to his little potty, I thought—why not just take it with us? As a flexible mom, I figured it wouldn’t hurt.
To make the most of the suitcase space, I packed little socks and boxers inside the deep part of the potty, ensuring everything fit efficiently and that the potty wouldn’t get crushed during the airport baggage handling.
I was a bit worried about how I would manage traveling alone with a big suitcase, a small suitcase, and a stroller—without any help.
After that, the next challenge was wondering how well my little one would handle the trip. The flight was delayed, and my son threw a full-blown tantrum right there at Ferihegy Airport. In desperation, I called a friend, hoping she could distract him. Thankfully, it worked!
After boarding the plane, I seated my little one by the window, hoping he would enjoy the view more. And it worked—he was completely mesmerized by his first flight.
We had to transfer at Sabiha Gökcen Airport to get to Alanya. I chose a 4.5-hour layover because I’d rather wait longer than stress about whether we’ll make it to our next flight.
The time finally came to board the plane to Alanya. My little one managed the 4.5-hour wait quite well—we played in front of the gate and watched the planes taking off and landing.
The plane waited on the runway for 35 minutes before taking off, which I never understood. I’ve used this airport at least 20 times, and somehow, there’s always an issue with timely departures. From the plane’s window, I could see that planes were arriving and taking off almost every minute.
While waiting to take off, I was worried that the delay meant we would arrive later at Alanya Airport, and my little one would already be asleep. How would I manage carrying my sleeping child along with the suitcases and stroller?
Finally, we took off, and we arrived in Alanya at 10:35 PM. Looking out the window as we landed, it felt like we were landing in the middle of a livestock farm, with nothing around. All I could see were barn-like buildings—there wasn’t a single proper building nearby. At the airport, our plane was the only one there.
When we disembarked, we had to go down the stairs, and I really wished I could have put my sleeping little one in the stroller, but it wasn’t at the bottom of the stairs. Even at the airport, people barely spoke English. A helpful Turkish lady asked where we would get the stroller, and they told her it would come out with the luggage.
While waiting for our bags, rocking my little one, I grew more and more frustrated. Our luggage was nowhere to be found. The empty conveyor belt was just spinning around, and it was already 11 PM.
I noticed that about 10 other passengers were waiting like me, which made me feel a bit relieved—at least it wasn’t just our luggage that had disappeared.
Then, an airport employee came over and, with his limited English and hand gestures, indicated that we should leave the area and go outside, then enter the airport through a different entrance. Since we were international passengers, he explained, our luggage would be inspected.
There I was, standing helplessly with a little one in my arms. Then, the kind lady who had helped me earlier brought over a trolley so I could load our suitcases onto it. I was the last to receive our luggage, and sure enough, our suitcases were thoroughly inspected.
I was drenched in sweat from lifting the bags and from the stress of wondering if the transfer bus would wait for us. Outside the airport, a young man was shouting my name and pointing to the transfer bus logo. At that moment, I swear, a huge weight lifted off my chest. There is a God in heaven! They had indeed waited for us, though the bus was already full, with 8 passengers on board.
The transfer bus cost 70 Turkish Lira, which was a very reasonable price for a one-hour ride for two people—about 3,100 HUF. As we left the airport, it felt like we were passing through small villages, and then I saw “Alanya” written in big letters on the right side of the road. After passing that, I was speechless by the sight of the residential complexes. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t help but admire the charming Mediterranean surroundings. This was the kind of place I would dream of living in.
We arrived at the accommodation just before 1 AM, and by that time, my little one was already asleep in my arms. I was dragging the suitcases with my other hand toward the reception. I noticed that the receptionist didn’t really seem to care about my struggle, even though there was no one else at the reception.
I thought we’d just show our passports and get the room, then sort out the paperwork in the morning. I wouldn’t have had the heart to hassle a mom with a child in her arms at that hour to pay for everything. What did the receptionist think, that I’d disappear in the morning? He must have been sure, because he grabbed 3 keys and took us up to the 2nd floor in the elevator, where he showed us three rooms.
After I chose a room with a view of the pool, he handed me the key and left. I quickly put my little one to bed, grabbed the essentials from the suitcases, took a quick shower, and then snuggled up next to my little one.
In the early morning, I couldn’t really see what the room looked like. The hotel room was indeed about 40 m², as it was advertised, but the cleanliness and quality were far from what the pictures had promised when we booked. I’ve never been so disappointed with a hotel booking, especially since we had to spend more than a week here.
It wasn’t until the morning that I noticed the bedroom door had been punched in with a fist, and the hole wasn’t even repaired. There were black marks on the edge of the sink and the washbasin, the shower wasn’t exactly pleasant, the couch had cigarette burns on it, and I even found a hole in the sheet. But at that point, I was just like, “I don’t care anymore.”
Our apartment was a 10-minute walk from the beach, which never really bothers me. Why pay double just because the hotel is on the beach? On one salary, you really have to think carefully about what you spend your money on, so this was perfect for me. It was a cheap hotel with a big bedroom and living room, close to the sea, and it even had a large balcony.
It turned out to be a great idea to bring the potty along, since my little one had only been using it for a month. I figured it was better to pack it in the suitcase and take it with us to Turkey. The little dear happily used his potty in the bathroom and didn’t have any accidents during the vacation.
I chose Alanya because it was mentioned online that it has a sandy beach and is very popular among families. I thought, great, maybe my little one will find some playmates on the beach, and the whole vacation will be a success.
I loved walking along the seaside promenade—it was wide and very clean. The only thing I didn’t like was that a lot of sneaky motorcyclists were using it to avoid the traffic on the main road. What I couldn’t understand was why they built such a busy road right next to the beach. Even though there were several zebra crossings, there were no traffic lights. So, when I tried to go down to the beach with the stroller, I often found myself stuck in the middle of the crossing. One direction might let me pass, but the other one wouldn’t.
The Turkish food is absolutely delicious, and we ate out at least once a day. The prices weren’t high either. I had never tried pomegranate syrup before, but in Alanya, several restaurants drizzled it over the salad. It tasted amazing, so I bought some to bring home too!
Honestly, I didn’t like Alanya. The beach was very pebbly, and not just pebbly – it seemed like huge, continuous rock cliffs had fallen along the shore. I checked many websites when choosing where to stay, but nowhere did they mention these massive rock formations. The beach itself was sandy, but there were large stones in the water. We only stayed at Oba Beach, but I heard from others that most of the beaches are similarly rocky, so I didn’t venture out to explore them.
We had wonderfully beautiful weather, with temperatures between 30-33°C in September, and it never dropped below 25°C in the evenings. This was the kind of weather I had been dreaming of, where I don’t burn in the sun, get a nice tan, and can enjoy pleasant evening walks by the sea.
There are numerous little Turkish stalls along the beach where you can buy freshly squeezed orange or pomegranate juice, which I drank during my evening walks. It cost 20 lira for 300 ml, and a scoop of ice cream was 5 lira. While I was sipping my juice, I treated my little one to ice cream, so we were both happy. It was here that I first tried orange ice cream, and I have to say, it’s been a long time since I had such delicious ice cream. I used to think there was nothing better than fine Italian gelato, but this orange ice cream definitely gave them a run for their money.
I had been looking forward to this holiday so much, especially after spending the entire previous year focused on my divorce, and after not traveling for two years due to the coronavirus. It was truly a mommy-and-baby vacation, and we both enjoyed it immensely.
Overall, this vacation reinforced my belief that I am capable of anything and can solve any problem. I learned a lot from the trip, and now I know what to do and what not to do for the next one when traveling with my little one. I’m certain that, as long as he still needs a stroller, we won’t go to a place where we have to transfer. I don’t want to go through that much stress again.
In the future, I’ll try to book flights with arrival times no later than 8:00 PM, since the little one isn’t asleep by then, and we can move around more easily. I think the most pleasant trip would be a direct flight, around 2-3 hours long. I believe that for families who can’t afford the more expensive vacations in Italy, Greece, or Spain, Turkey and Bulgaria are excellent options.
Based on my experiences, I highly recommend Marmaris, Fethiye, Bodrum, and Antalya in Turkey, as I’ve vacationed in this amazing country more than twenty times. As for Bulgaria, Sunny Beach could easily compete with the golden sandy beaches of Spain. Both countries offer more affordable food, shopping, and hotels, making them great budget-friendly options for a memorable vacation.
After our trip, one of my friends told me that I am a heroine. I know many people wouldn’t have dared to take this on, but I’ve always been brave and enjoyed challenges. This trip showed me that no matter how long I remain a single mother, if I can financially make it possible for us to go on vacation, I can definitely handle it physically.
