From solo backpacking to a 24 month old toddler in Melbourne and New Zealand

I remember coming to Melbourne years ago with nothing but a single backpack and a pair of worn-out sneakers. Back then, the only thing I had to worry about was whether I had enough battery in my camera. This March, things looked very different. Standing in the middle of the airport with four oversized suitcases, a foldable stroller, and a bag full of Ajin's favorite snacks, I felt like I had already run a marathon before the flight even took off. Ajin turned two this April, so this trip was essentially her big second birthday adventure. But the preparation was exhausting. Leaving Haneul at the pet boarding center felt like a betrayal; he looked at me with those big, anxious eyes as if to say, 'Are you really leaving me?' Pudding, on the other hand, just turned her back and started grooming herself, which is her typical way of showing she does not care—even though I know she will miss the warmth of the heater while we are gone.

The anxiety of a quiet gallery and a loud toddler

When I told my husband I wanted to visit the National Gallery of Victoria (NGV), he immediately went into his typical Pattern B mode. He spent three nights hunched over his laptop, searching for every possible exit, the exact location of the nursing rooms, and reviews from other parents who had survived the trip. 'Are you sure she will stay quiet?' he asked me a dozen times. 'What if she tries to touch the paintings?' He was searching more than I was, his anxiety radiating off him like a physical heat. To be honest, his nervousness started making me shake too. The NGV is so grand and silent, the kind of place where a single toddler's screech can echo through three floors of fine art. We entered through the famous water wall entrance, and I held my breath, waiting for Ajin to start splashing or screaming.

Surprisingly, she was mesmerized. The sheer scale of the building seemed to humble her for a moment. We navigated the halls with a tension that only parents of two-year-olds understand—that feeling of being one spilled juice box away from a total disaster. My husband kept his hand on the stroller handle like he was bracing for a getaway, but as we moved through the contemporary art sections, we realized the gallery was much more family-friendly than we had feared. There were other parents there, all wearing the same expression of tired vigilance.

Three hours of magic at Te Papa and the relief of the kids section

By the time we reached New Zealand and headed to the Te Papa Museum, we were a bit more confident. It was March 15th, around 2:00 PM, when we walked into the kids' interactive area. If NGV was about quiet observation, Te Papa was about pure, chaotic energy. I could not believe that a museum of this caliber offered so much for free. Ajin, who usually demands to be carried after ten minutes of walking, suddenly found a second wind. She spent three hours running from one exhibit to another, her eyes wide with wonder.

My husband, seeing her so engaged, finally relaxed. He stopped looking for the nearest exit and started taking out his camera. 'If we hadn't come here, we would have missed this,' he muttered, finally admitting that my stubbornness had paid off. There is a specific kind of joy in watching your child interact with the world in a way you didn't expect. She wasn't interested in the history of the Maori people just yet, but she loved the textures, the lights, and the buttons she was allowed to press. We spent a long time in the nature section, where she tried to mimic the sounds of the birds. It was the first time during the trip that I felt like I was actually on vacation rather than just 'parenting in a different country.'

Why I am glad we dragged our own stroller across the ocean

One of the biggest debates we had before leaving Korea was whether to bring our own stroller or just rent one at the museums. My husband thought renting would be easier, but I insisted on bringing our domestic one. It was a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. While the NGV and Te Papa both have excellent rental services, Ajin is at that stage where 'familiar' equals 'safe.' Because she was in her own seat, she felt comfortable enough to fall into a deep nap right in the middle of the 19th-century European art gallery.

That nap was a gift to me. For forty-five minutes, I walked through the exhibits alone, leaving my husband to sit on a nearby bench and scroll through his phone. I looked at the brushstrokes and the sculptures, feeling a fleeting shadow of my old solo-traveler self. The floors in these museums are incredibly smooth, making it easy to maneuver even a heavy stroller with one hand while holding a map in the other. Yes, the parking fees at the museums were a bit steep, and getting the stroller in and out of the rental car was a workout for my husband, but having a mobile 'safe zone' for Ajin made the entire cultural excursion possible. Without it, we would have lasted thirty minutes before a meltdown occurred.

The unfinished business of the fourth floor

We eventually had to leave Te Papa because Ajin’s energy finally hit zero. We were on the fourth floor, just about to enter the main history exhibit, when she started rubbing her eyes and whining for her 'blankie.' We had to make a choice: push through and risk a public tantrum, or leave while we were still ahead. We chose to leave. I still think about that fourth floor. I wonder what we missed and if I’ll ever get the chance to see it properly. It is the reality of traveling with a toddler—you learn to be okay with 'half-seen' things and 'almost-finished' meals.

Coming back home was its own kind of chaos. Haneul was clearly offended by our absence; he didn't come to greet me at the door for at least an hour, instead choosing to sit in the corner and sigh loudly. Pudding acted like she hadn't even noticed we were gone, though I found her sleeping on my unpacked suitcase ten minutes later, probably claiming the scent of Melbourne as her own. I am sitting here now, looking at the museum brochures and wondering if Ajin will remember any of it. Probably not. But I remember the way her face lit up at the blue lights in the museum tunnel, and I am already looking at maps for our next trip, even though my back still hurts from the flight. I wonder if there is a place where Haneul can come too, or if that is just asking for too much trouble. We are still figuring out how to balance my need to see the world with the reality of a timid dog and a toddler who refuses to wear shoes half the time. It is a work in progress, and I think I am okay with that for now.