How Egyptian Explorer Ayten Tamer Built a Travel Movement for Mothers

For most mothers, travel is a luxury, something to be penciled into the calendar once the laundry is folded and the school pick-ups are done. But for Ayten Tamer, travel is not a break from motherhood—it is an extension of it, a way to model curiosity, resilience, and a sense of wonder to her children. Her work, embodied in a quietly audacious venture known as Mama Retreats and Me, is a testament to this philosophy, a belief that motherhood need not be the end of adventure, but its deepening.

Ayten’s story begins in the folds of a family already steeped in the travel business. Growing up, she was the child who rarely stayed still, trailing her family through souks in Marrakesh, desert camps in Oman, and quiet fishing villages in Southeast Asia when the conventional family trip was simply Paris or the USA. “Those were weeks-long immersions where the line between home and abroad blurred,” Ayten Tamer, founder of Mama Retreats and Me, tells Scenetraveller. Travel, for her, was never about escapism. It was about immersion, about standing barefoot in a rice paddy and understanding the world from the ground up.

That ethos, rooted in experience over consumption, became the backbone of ‘Gazef,’ an Egyptian adventure travel company founded by Tamer in 2013. As Tamer’s first venture in the world of exotic backpacking travel, the company specialized in immersive group trips across Egypt and beyond. Finally, she was realizing her vision of travel.

But after stepping away from the company she built, moving to Australia, and becoming a mother, it seemed like her passport might get tucked away for good. Tamer, however, had other plans. Despite finding herself faced with the kind of exhaustion that turns even the simplest outing into a logistical headache, she decided to strap her six-month-old son onto her back and boarded a plane. The destination was less important than the act itself—proof that a baby carrier wasn’t a leash, but a ticket. She often jokes that her firstborn had more stamps in his passport before turning one than most adults do in a lifetime.

But the heart of her story isn’t just the miles logged or the borders crossed. It’s in the shifting logic of what a “family trip” could mean. Where others saw obstacles—nap schedules, picky eaters, overstimulated toddlers—Ayten saw possibilities. “The tantrum is part of the journey,” she says, with a smile that suggests she’s learned this lesson many times over. To her, travel is a mirror. It shows you how your child reacts to novelty, to discomfort, to joy—and it reflects back your own capacity for patience, for adaptation, for openness.

When the pandemic brought the world to a halt, Ayten, like so many others, found herself grounded. But stillness is not in Ayten’s nature. She turned inward, literally. With borders closed, she began exploring Fayoum, a pastoral oasis southwest of Cairo. There, amidst the fields and date palms, she and her son harvested crops, learned about soil, and rediscovered the rhythms of local life. Soon, others began to tag along. What started as a personal experiment became, almost organically, a new form of retreat: one with more toddler diapers stuffed into backpacks, more sunscreen smeared on little faces, and way more snack breaks along the way.

It wasn’t about ticking off destinations but about slowing down, noticing the light on a field at dusk, or the way children’s faces light up when they taste a fruit plucked straight from the tree. It was about recalibrating the relationship between mother and child—not in the frenetic context of modern parenting, but in a space where time stretched and expectations softened.

And so, Mama Retreats and Me was born. From the volcanic landscapes of Bali to the rugged coastline of South Africa, these retreats now promise not just intimate time away, but transformation. “The retreats are framed around themes—surfing, cooking, cultural immersion, environmental stewardship—but beneath the itinerary is a deeper promise: a chance to cross 20 things off your bucket list, yes, but also a chance to see your child in a new light.”

Yet, the true beauty of these retreats lies in their diversity. There are single mothers traveling solo with their kids. There are mothers of autistic children, seeking a space where meltdowns aren’t judged but embraced. There are teenagers learning to surf alongside toddlers building sandcastles. The eclectic mix, Tamer says, is intentional. “It’s when you’re surrounded by people who parent differently, who have different lives, that you learn the most,” Tamer says. And the kids, exposed to peers of all ages and temperaments, learn too—about empathy, about sharing, about navigating differences.

That spirit of flexibility carries through behind the scenes too—with a team made up entirely of mothers, or a “super mama crew,” as Tamer calls them. There are no rigid hours, no office walls. The team knows what it means to pause a Zoom call because a child is crying, or to reply to emails after bedtime. This is a business built not in spite of motherhood but because of it.

Of course, none of this is easy. Tamer will admit, with a dry laugh, that she sometimes feels like a juggler on a tightrope, balancing logistics, childcare, and the unpredictable chaos of travel. But she also believes in the power of showing up—of modeling, for her children and for the mothers who join her, what it looks like to pursue a dream while holding space for others.

In the end, Tamer’s work is about reimagining what it means to be a mother in a world that often tells women to shrink their desires. It’s about rejecting the false choice between self and family, adventure and responsibility. For Tamer, the two aren’t in conflict—they’re intertwined. Her life is proof that you can hold your baby in one arm and a surfboard in the other—and that both matter equally.