Sisters Lela and Lian !
Daddy and girls !
Hi Daddy !
Jamie lifting weights !
Family of four 4ever !
Look at that smile ! 
Daddy and girls !
Yum, we love food !
Big kisses from Daddy !
Sleeping Lian ! 
Computer time with Daddy !
Thursday, September 20, 2007
All About Lian
All about Lian
We interrupt this travelogue to introduce the star, the reason we’ve traveled to the other side of the planet. Who is this little person we’ve welcomed into our family? She has a definite personality. When we got her she had clearly been prepared, but after a long disorienting train ride from the SWI and abrupt transition, was in a state of shock. She can make her face a mask with just worried eyes peeping out. She was compliant, sitting, holding on, getting her picture taken, walking holding hands, but we could sense she was going through the motions. Jamie got the first giggle, playing horsey and tickle me, and he is clearly her favorite.
There is clearly a little brain in there, working, working. Even the first night when we brought out some little toys, she quickly mastered the different buttons on the toy radio. She sat on the floor and played with the little cars after Lela grudgingly allocated two. She appropriated a gallon zip lock to store her toys, and loves to dump them out and put them in again. She took to bedtime story right away. Her favorite book is Good Dog Carl which she will bring over and hold up. It doesn’t have any words just pictures of the misadventures of a friendly Rottweiler and the baby he is supposed to be looking after. She flips the pages back and points to the pictures to hear the words, baby, bread, grapes, swim etc. She also snuggles up to listen to Lela’s story, usually a princess or Clifford the Big Red Dog, and points to the pictures. She likes to help, so when I make one of my periodic but mostly futile efforts to tidy up the slum we call our room, she trots around, picking things off the floor and handing them to me.
The bath made her a little nervous at first, but now she jogs over to get in and loves to play with the cups and spoons we brought. The shower is another story. She has a cold and some chest congestion so Jamie decided to take her in the shower to steam. Even though we’d been told she was showered at the SWI, but like Lela, she hates to get her face wet, it was wailing and crying the entire time. Now we just steam the whole room while she’s in the bath.
The first two days her afternoon nap triggered grieving, once with me, once with Jamie, for over an hour. The third day she fell asleep while we were in the van, I carried her into a restaurant and she woke up abruptly when I laid her down on a chair. I could see panic for a second or two until she realized that we were there, and then she was OK.
I think the turning point was two nights ago when we went out at night to stroll and see if we could do some shopping. Only one pair of shoes we brought with us fit her, the sneakers, and they will be too hot in Guangzhou. We were directed to a shoe store and bought her hot pink mesh tops with light up heels. She dragged Jamie all over the selling floor testing them out. We also found Lela the most princessey sandals ever, also pink, with glitter straps, lace bow and big jewel, on sale for 25RMB about 3$, so everyone was happy. We got ice cream bars on the way back and Lian walked the whole way, ice cream dripping, shoes flashing red sparks in the dark. Shoes and sweets, the way to a girl’s heart.
However, all is not sweetness and light. Lela is having a tough time transitioning from only to older. We have several tantrums a day, usually over a refusal to carry her the entire time we tour some sight, having to share her stroller, a toy, not getting instant gratification, IE ice cream, being told no when she want to supplant Lian in one of our laps. Rationally we know this is very hard on her, but it’s pretty hard to stay rational when she’s screaming and kicking at our feet. We sincerely hope this too will pass, QUICKLY. We are trying not to make comparisons or tell her she’s being bad, but not easy. We are trying to make quality time for her, like taking her out with one of us while Lian has her afternoon nap. It doesn’t help that Lian has not taken to her, and when Lela does try to reach out, she often gets pushed away, or if she offers to share a toy, Lian adds it to her hoard. Lian has lived in a group of kids all her life; she’s got skills and strategies that Lela entirely lacks. Lela is learning the hard way that if she doesn’t pick up her toys, they are fair game – maybe we’ll have a cleaner house.
When we first got her I started to have concerns about her hearing, since her response to aural stimuli was slow or non existent. While she was sitting in my lap facing out, I let out a wolf whistle and she only turned when my breathe stirred her hair. Now I think that was mostly shock. She clearly can hear, though I think she probably needs ear tubes and her cold doesn’t help. For the first two days, we didn’t hear a peep out of her other than crying. Then the third night when we put her down to bed, she started chatting away in Chinese. So we know she can if she wants. Yesterday evening, I think she was actually making an attempt. Her palate repair is still new and healing, so it will take a while. She still drinks like she has a hole in the roof of her mouth, biting at the liquid rather than sipping.
But she manages to consume mass quantities, until we have to shut her off for fear she’ll get sick. The only thing she’s refused was some very spicy eggplant. She doesn’t like to give things up. She found a bag of trail mix in the back pack, wailed when it was removed and only ceased when bribed with a handful of cashews. We’ve had the same reaction when Lela snatched away one of her toys.
But we have made the transition from strangers. Last night at a restaurant, a woman tried to pick her up and she wailed and clutched at Jamie, so I think we are on our way to being a real family.
We interrupt this travelogue to introduce the star, the reason we’ve traveled to the other side of the planet. Who is this little person we’ve welcomed into our family? She has a definite personality. When we got her she had clearly been prepared, but after a long disorienting train ride from the SWI and abrupt transition, was in a state of shock. She can make her face a mask with just worried eyes peeping out. She was compliant, sitting, holding on, getting her picture taken, walking holding hands, but we could sense she was going through the motions. Jamie got the first giggle, playing horsey and tickle me, and he is clearly her favorite.
There is clearly a little brain in there, working, working. Even the first night when we brought out some little toys, she quickly mastered the different buttons on the toy radio. She sat on the floor and played with the little cars after Lela grudgingly allocated two. She appropriated a gallon zip lock to store her toys, and loves to dump them out and put them in again. She took to bedtime story right away. Her favorite book is Good Dog Carl which she will bring over and hold up. It doesn’t have any words just pictures of the misadventures of a friendly Rottweiler and the baby he is supposed to be looking after. She flips the pages back and points to the pictures to hear the words, baby, bread, grapes, swim etc. She also snuggles up to listen to Lela’s story, usually a princess or Clifford the Big Red Dog, and points to the pictures. She likes to help, so when I make one of my periodic but mostly futile efforts to tidy up the slum we call our room, she trots around, picking things off the floor and handing them to me.
The bath made her a little nervous at first, but now she jogs over to get in and loves to play with the cups and spoons we brought. The shower is another story. She has a cold and some chest congestion so Jamie decided to take her in the shower to steam. Even though we’d been told she was showered at the SWI, but like Lela, she hates to get her face wet, it was wailing and crying the entire time. Now we just steam the whole room while she’s in the bath.
The first two days her afternoon nap triggered grieving, once with me, once with Jamie, for over an hour. The third day she fell asleep while we were in the van, I carried her into a restaurant and she woke up abruptly when I laid her down on a chair. I could see panic for a second or two until she realized that we were there, and then she was OK.
I think the turning point was two nights ago when we went out at night to stroll and see if we could do some shopping. Only one pair of shoes we brought with us fit her, the sneakers, and they will be too hot in Guangzhou. We were directed to a shoe store and bought her hot pink mesh tops with light up heels. She dragged Jamie all over the selling floor testing them out. We also found Lela the most princessey sandals ever, also pink, with glitter straps, lace bow and big jewel, on sale for 25RMB about 3$, so everyone was happy. We got ice cream bars on the way back and Lian walked the whole way, ice cream dripping, shoes flashing red sparks in the dark. Shoes and sweets, the way to a girl’s heart.
However, all is not sweetness and light. Lela is having a tough time transitioning from only to older. We have several tantrums a day, usually over a refusal to carry her the entire time we tour some sight, having to share her stroller, a toy, not getting instant gratification, IE ice cream, being told no when she want to supplant Lian in one of our laps. Rationally we know this is very hard on her, but it’s pretty hard to stay rational when she’s screaming and kicking at our feet. We sincerely hope this too will pass, QUICKLY. We are trying not to make comparisons or tell her she’s being bad, but not easy. We are trying to make quality time for her, like taking her out with one of us while Lian has her afternoon nap. It doesn’t help that Lian has not taken to her, and when Lela does try to reach out, she often gets pushed away, or if she offers to share a toy, Lian adds it to her hoard. Lian has lived in a group of kids all her life; she’s got skills and strategies that Lela entirely lacks. Lela is learning the hard way that if she doesn’t pick up her toys, they are fair game – maybe we’ll have a cleaner house.
When we first got her I started to have concerns about her hearing, since her response to aural stimuli was slow or non existent. While she was sitting in my lap facing out, I let out a wolf whistle and she only turned when my breathe stirred her hair. Now I think that was mostly shock. She clearly can hear, though I think she probably needs ear tubes and her cold doesn’t help. For the first two days, we didn’t hear a peep out of her other than crying. Then the third night when we put her down to bed, she started chatting away in Chinese. So we know she can if she wants. Yesterday evening, I think she was actually making an attempt. Her palate repair is still new and healing, so it will take a while. She still drinks like she has a hole in the roof of her mouth, biting at the liquid rather than sipping.
But she manages to consume mass quantities, until we have to shut her off for fear she’ll get sick. The only thing she’s refused was some very spicy eggplant. She doesn’t like to give things up. She found a bag of trail mix in the back pack, wailed when it was removed and only ceased when bribed with a handful of cashews. We’ve had the same reaction when Lela snatched away one of her toys.
But we have made the transition from strangers. Last night at a restaurant, a woman tried to pick her up and she wailed and clutched at Jamie, so I think we are on our way to being a real family.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
The next day ...............
9/17/07 Bureaucracy is a French word for Hell.
After a refreshing three hours of sleep I awake at 1am. Hah, this time I know where the Ambien is hiding. While I wait for it to work, I read Lian’s medical dossier sitting in the closet since the blankety-blank bathroom is artily designed with a frosted glass wall and sliding door on the bedroom side, so the light can’t be turned on at night. As I garnered from my first quick scan, there is almost no information about her palate surgery. It does say that she will take a favorite toy and go off to play with it by herself so she doesn’t have to share. Hum, sounds like she and Lela are going to be the mountain and the immovable object. Start to feel woozy at 2, hit the sack again and wake at 7am. No one else is up and we have to be out of here in an hour.
We give them both a quick bath, which Lian is a little unsure about. I don’t push washing her hair even though it smells like a pit BBQ smoker. We manage to get down to breakfast by 8:45. It is not child friendly, but we do get a high chair for Lian. I remember to bring her bib, good thing, since she turns out to be a vigorous if messy trencher woman. I shuttle back and forth to the buffet, bringing yogurt, breads, juice and fruit. The line for eggs is too long and Lela throws the first of many fits when informed she will not be getting an omelet. We go back upstairs to collect our stuff – at 8:15. Back down in the lobby, we need to cash more traveler’s checks or we won’t have enough for today’s fees. The hotel can manage $200, but the cashier has not yet arrived with fresh supplies – it is 8:30 on a Monday and they aren’t a bank. Sherry decides we will have to make do with US $ when the cashier shows up. Success, we have enough.
We get to the registrar’s office around the corner at 9, late again. There are more papers to sign, fees for the registrar and notary, questions from both about our qualifications and willingness to adopt. Lian cries when we take off her shoe to press her footprint on the paperwork, the first sound we’ve heard. The other woman from HanZhong, not the house mama, is there to receive our “donation.” We have never been introduced so I have no idea if she is part of the Caring For China or the official SWI. I do get to ask her what degree Lian’s palate is classified under the Chinese system and she says Second Degree – whish is good, meaning medium severity. But when I ask her to confirm that the marks all over her backside are Mongolian Spots, she doesn’t know, so I wonder how much real contact she has had with Lian. I remember at the very last minute to present the gifts we have hauled along, little gift bags with candies, nail polish, and body lotion. We decided to donate the children's clothing we brought to the Xi'an CWI, since we know it will get to the Caring For China volunteers, as the other families will be taking it personally.
Sherry decrees that it is now too late to go to the police station to do the passport paperwork and we will have lunch first, which means dropping us off in an area that has restaurants. We collectively mutiny and insist that we must go grocery shopping NOW. We take one of her “not to far” cross country treks to a large grocery. We insist that the bus must come and meet us at the grocery, at the front door. No more hikes. No one is impressed with the guiding or driving in Xi’an so far.
We stock up on bottled water, peanut butter, bread, jam, soda pop, juice boxes, milk boxes, apples and grapes. I head upstairs to locate diapers, and get baby lotion and bubble bath too. We check out for 284RMI, less than $40. Sherry meets us outside and summons the bus, which pulls right up. Now we only have 40 minutes for lunch – but hey, we all have peanut butter and jelly, so life is good. Lian chows down on her PB&J sandwich and doesn’t go into anaphylactic shock, so no peanut allergies, more good news.
We all assemble smartly on time – but the director, whom we have “tipped” 200 RMB apiece to grease the wheels, is late. We arrive at the police station after a half hour ride. It is relatively small and low key. We quickly have a picture taken and are on our way. Sherry announces a change of plans – we will see the terra-cotta warriors tomorrow as there is some paperwork we have to do Wednesday morning.
Back at our room, I realize that Lian should have had a nap two hours ago. Jamie and Lela go off to the pool and I put her in her crib. She starts to sniffle and reaches up to me when I hold out my arms, then she starts to wail. I cuddle her on the bed while she cries. She is grieving the loss of everything familiar and loved in her life, which is good, it means she was loved and was attached to her caregivers – and is capable of new attachment. She cries herself to sleep and naps for about 20 minutes, but resumes crying when she wakes up, sees me, and realizes it was not just a bad dream. Unlike Lela, who fought us, she allows me to hold her, another good sign. She continues to cry until Jamie and Lela come back, which shocks her out of it, especially the sight of Lela bouncing off the walls. An hour and a half in the pool with Papa has failed to burn of her excess energy or calm her nerves.
After debating a solution to dinner we order room service. Like room service everywhere it is absurdly overpriced. For about $30 US, or 5 days average salary in China, we get a panini, bowl of noodles, and some fried rice. But it is there, and we don’t have to go out or try and interpret a Chinese menu. Lian eats as much as we put in front of her – I finally cut her off on her third helping, worried she will make herself sick. She also seems to have taken much more to Jamie than me, which is fine for now, since he has more attention to give her. I’m trying to be tour guide, photographer and keep Lela from losing it. He gets some giggles out of her playing tickle me and she happily climbs in his lap. Still no talking though. We give the girls a bubble bath and I remember the stacking cups, which are a big hit. I manage to wash her hair with no fussing. A story and we are all in bed by 9:30. Good night.
After a refreshing three hours of sleep I awake at 1am. Hah, this time I know where the Ambien is hiding. While I wait for it to work, I read Lian’s medical dossier sitting in the closet since the blankety-blank bathroom is artily designed with a frosted glass wall and sliding door on the bedroom side, so the light can’t be turned on at night. As I garnered from my first quick scan, there is almost no information about her palate surgery. It does say that she will take a favorite toy and go off to play with it by herself so she doesn’t have to share. Hum, sounds like she and Lela are going to be the mountain and the immovable object. Start to feel woozy at 2, hit the sack again and wake at 7am. No one else is up and we have to be out of here in an hour.
We give them both a quick bath, which Lian is a little unsure about. I don’t push washing her hair even though it smells like a pit BBQ smoker. We manage to get down to breakfast by 8:45. It is not child friendly, but we do get a high chair for Lian. I remember to bring her bib, good thing, since she turns out to be a vigorous if messy trencher woman. I shuttle back and forth to the buffet, bringing yogurt, breads, juice and fruit. The line for eggs is too long and Lela throws the first of many fits when informed she will not be getting an omelet. We go back upstairs to collect our stuff – at 8:15. Back down in the lobby, we need to cash more traveler’s checks or we won’t have enough for today’s fees. The hotel can manage $200, but the cashier has not yet arrived with fresh supplies – it is 8:30 on a Monday and they aren’t a bank. Sherry decides we will have to make do with US $ when the cashier shows up. Success, we have enough.
We get to the registrar’s office around the corner at 9, late again. There are more papers to sign, fees for the registrar and notary, questions from both about our qualifications and willingness to adopt. Lian cries when we take off her shoe to press her footprint on the paperwork, the first sound we’ve heard. The other woman from HanZhong, not the house mama, is there to receive our “donation.” We have never been introduced so I have no idea if she is part of the Caring For China or the official SWI. I do get to ask her what degree Lian’s palate is classified under the Chinese system and she says Second Degree – whish is good, meaning medium severity. But when I ask her to confirm that the marks all over her backside are Mongolian Spots, she doesn’t know, so I wonder how much real contact she has had with Lian. I remember at the very last minute to present the gifts we have hauled along, little gift bags with candies, nail polish, and body lotion. We decided to donate the children's clothing we brought to the Xi'an CWI, since we know it will get to the Caring For China volunteers, as the other families will be taking it personally.
Sherry decrees that it is now too late to go to the police station to do the passport paperwork and we will have lunch first, which means dropping us off in an area that has restaurants. We collectively mutiny and insist that we must go grocery shopping NOW. We take one of her “not to far” cross country treks to a large grocery. We insist that the bus must come and meet us at the grocery, at the front door. No more hikes. No one is impressed with the guiding or driving in Xi’an so far.
We stock up on bottled water, peanut butter, bread, jam, soda pop, juice boxes, milk boxes, apples and grapes. I head upstairs to locate diapers, and get baby lotion and bubble bath too. We check out for 284RMI, less than $40. Sherry meets us outside and summons the bus, which pulls right up. Now we only have 40 minutes for lunch – but hey, we all have peanut butter and jelly, so life is good. Lian chows down on her PB&J sandwich and doesn’t go into anaphylactic shock, so no peanut allergies, more good news.
We all assemble smartly on time – but the director, whom we have “tipped” 200 RMB apiece to grease the wheels, is late. We arrive at the police station after a half hour ride. It is relatively small and low key. We quickly have a picture taken and are on our way. Sherry announces a change of plans – we will see the terra-cotta warriors tomorrow as there is some paperwork we have to do Wednesday morning.
Back at our room, I realize that Lian should have had a nap two hours ago. Jamie and Lela go off to the pool and I put her in her crib. She starts to sniffle and reaches up to me when I hold out my arms, then she starts to wail. I cuddle her on the bed while she cries. She is grieving the loss of everything familiar and loved in her life, which is good, it means she was loved and was attached to her caregivers – and is capable of new attachment. She cries herself to sleep and naps for about 20 minutes, but resumes crying when she wakes up, sees me, and realizes it was not just a bad dream. Unlike Lela, who fought us, she allows me to hold her, another good sign. She continues to cry until Jamie and Lela come back, which shocks her out of it, especially the sight of Lela bouncing off the walls. An hour and a half in the pool with Papa has failed to burn of her excess energy or calm her nerves.
After debating a solution to dinner we order room service. Like room service everywhere it is absurdly overpriced. For about $30 US, or 5 days average salary in China, we get a panini, bowl of noodles, and some fried rice. But it is there, and we don’t have to go out or try and interpret a Chinese menu. Lian eats as much as we put in front of her – I finally cut her off on her third helping, worried she will make herself sick. She also seems to have taken much more to Jamie than me, which is fine for now, since he has more attention to give her. I’m trying to be tour guide, photographer and keep Lela from losing it. He gets some giggles out of her playing tickle me and she happily climbs in his lap. Still no talking though. We give the girls a bubble bath and I remember the stacking cups, which are a big hit. I manage to wash her hair with no fussing. A story and we are all in bed by 9:30. Good night.
Family night !
Lian and nanny !
Lian makes 4 !
Lian makes 4 !
9/16/07 Family Night
Housekeeping note – Mr. Perfect proofreader would like me to let you know that while Lela’s favorite dessert is ice cream, her favorite desert is the Gobi.
So how did our Family Day go? Well, “near fiasco” springs to mind – but let’s start at the very beginning.
Sleep was the concept, not the reality. As we rolled along in the dark, I lay there jammed between the metal bed guardrail and Lela the human thrashing machine, wondering where I had stashed my Ambien. Lela slept soundly until about 5. We pulled back the curtains and watched the sun rise over the countryside, a mix of steep mountains scraped with white chalk, plunging gorges, farms of corn, sunflowers, peach trees, and unidentifiable vegetables terraced into every conceivable slope. Part of the land is carved down into sandstone, with pillars and levels of soft golden stone catching the early sun. The houses we pass are made of yellow brick, presumably from the sandstone. We see early risers, one man doing toe touches atop a giant pile of coal, farmers hoeing the fields, two women and a man clearing a slope I would call a cliff. We pass cities hazed with smog, huge coal and nuclear power plants on one side and the steep green mountains on the other. The train begins to wake up as we near Xi’an for our 8:20 arrival. We get a cup of over brewed green tea from the stewardess (no bargain at 10RMB.) Jamie and Lela head off in search of the dining car. It is a snack car for passengers, with drinks, cookies, and other packaged food – but the staff are getting hot noodles and congee. They do find Lela’s favorite Chinese rice cookies.
We dress and perform our ablutions in the toilet or washroom. Someone stole both rolls of toilet paper about 10 minutes into the trip, but luckily we have lots of wipes. The water tap has that international “don’t drink” symbol, the X’ed glass, so we are glad we brought 4 bottles.
Lela, having a new audience in Elizabeth is regaling her with one of her games, where she makes up the rules, half the words and they can change at will. Given that Elizabeth’s high school English is as rusty as our French, God knows what she actually understands, but she is a good sport and finds it amusing. Actually the whole train finds Lela amusing and her pig tails and cheeks get little tweaks as she trots along the corridor sticking her nose in. The compartment next to us has two Chinese moms with three children. Lela spends some time playing with the 18 month old and scores a Chinese version of a moon pie.
After chugging through increasingly denser suburbs, we reach the Xi’an train station. It’s not nearly as imposing as the Beijing station, that looked like a set for a 1930’s film noir. We hump the luggage off (keeping track with a tune set to the 12 days of Xmas – 4 oversized suitcases, 3 bulging back packs, 2 assorted carry-ons, and an umbrella stroooler =10.) There is no one there on the platform to meet us. A porter takes our bags up to the exit. There are lots of people with signs, but none for Pines. We circle around, looking, looking. The porter is getting impatient. Just when we are about to give up and get a cab, a young woman with a sign saying “James Matthew” approached. It’s our new guide, Sherry. She says we have to walk to the car. This proves to be a hefty half mile NYC paced walkathon along the side of the Xi’an city wall. The batteries in my camera chose this minute to die. Finally we are in the van, on the way on the hotel. I can hardly wait for a bath. I feel like I have been covered with fly paper, sticky on one side, scratchy on the other.
The Sofitel is vast and we arrive at the wrong wing. After an underground hike, we finally arrive at the right check-in desk and find our room won’t be ready for 15 minutes – which means about an hour. We have to give them a $300 cash deposit, as our credit card is still not working. On the bright side, they cash our travelers check with no problems. After three days Lela’s bowels start to work again, necessitating many dashes across the lobby. The lobby, well let’s just say some designer really sold a concept. It is aggressively moderne, with lacquer red womb chairs and sofas, a screen of crystal ball beads dangling from the ceiling, artfully placed modern sculpture, and strange upright objects of red pleated silk, bringing to mind gift-wrapped pod people.
Finally in our room. We find out we are getting Lian at 5, and the other families are flying in that afternoon. We unpack, get a crib sent in, organize paperwork, tidy up. Lela and I take a bath in the huge tub and I take a shower too. Ah, clean again. If only I could do the same for our clothing which is getting limited. Lela falls asleep and Jamie goes out to see if he can find food. He returns with some very spicy tofu thing and noodles with diced veggies also very spicy. I correctly predict Miss blander the better will not eat it. Jamie and Lela go down to the swimming pool. I was going to join them or take a nap but never got the time to do either. My eyes feel like an ad for Visine and my brain is got that lovely cotton-wool sleep deprivation thing going on. They return, and with the hotel technical desk on the phone, Jamie finally gets the internet connection going. Then suddenly it’s 4:45 – time to go!
We meet the other families, the Littles and Schwartzes, in the lobby. I know Michelle and Anne from the internet chat groups and their blogs. Nice to finally connect. We pile into our van, which zooms out of the courtyard and stops at the next corner where the registrars office is located, a ride of about 2 minutes.
We all wait nervously. Shery tells us that Lian will be coming a half hour latter, since the train from HanZhong (pronounced more like HanChong to my ears) doesn’t get in until 5:10. Since I have a half hour and realize I have left my list of questions at the hotel, I run back, ok, jog wheezily, over acres of slippery pavement (it has now started to rain)and grab that and the passports Sherry forgot to tell us to bring. The two little boys from the Xi’an CWI arrive to meet their families. They play with them on the floor – I take lots of pictures for the Schwartzes. The Littles have their two sons, Jack and Will, with them and Jack does the honors with their camera. 5:40 comes and goes. Sherry is calling on her cell - “they are coming.” 6pm – they have arrived – but not here. 6:30 - rush hour traffic is holding them up – yeah, on a Sunday night. 6:45 - they don’t answer her call. Lela is more nervous than we are and goes into hyper drive, but luckily makes friends with the three children who are there with the registrar and Xi’an director, and they play outside in the parking area. She gets filthy. We all are becoming nervous wreaks. I mentally play every bad scenario I have ever thought of, including the one where we have inadvertently offended the powers that be and its all a cruel hoax.
7pm, an older lady carrying a little girl dressed in yellow with yellow pom-poms on her pigtails appears in the door. I am so relieved I start to cry. I have dragooned Sherry to translate my questions to Lian’s Ayi, who turns out to be her house mama. We are interrupted by the second woman from the SWI, who insists that all the information is in the books they give us, one a picture book, the other a medical and developmental report. There is still almost nothing about her cleft other than the scant sentences we have already gotten, but that is going to be it. They strap Lian into our stroller and leave. Wham, bam, here’s your kid. Sherry hustles us out the door, as all the officials want to go home and the photographer for our visa and adoption decree pictures has been waiting since 5. The bus driver has gone home, so we will walk – not too far she says. About half way through the forced death march across broken sidewalks, 12”curbs, speeding traffic and an underpass, Lela is whining to ride in the stroller, and I realize this is ridiculous – I haven’t held my daughter yet. We switch. Lian is wide-eyed but compliant, holding on to me. She has a runny nose and a little rattley cough. We stop so I can put Lian in the sling we brought and lose the group. They send back Jack. Juggling umbrellas, children, stroller and backpacks, we arrive at the photographer’s. The building common lights are off for the night, so we climb two flights of slippery wet marble stairs in the dark. We ask Jack to take a picture of the four of us while we wait for our turn, first family picture about an hour into our adoption. Back outside the families rebel and insist on taking cabs back to the hotel. Since we are the stragglers (a pattern that will continue) Sherry rides back with us, reiterating we must be ready to go by 8:15 the next morning. Back at the hotel, we’re not done yet. We still need to fill out paperwork for tomorrow and it’s all in Chinese. We commandeer a desk in the lobby, and go over the papers along with the Schwartzes. The Littles have wisely gone up to their room. We finally come up with one black ink pen between us (blue is not acceptable) discover we will need glue sticks to affix our passport pictures (luckily the concierge desk pulls that rabbit out of their hat) and get most of it filled out. Our attention being diverted, Lela is twirling around and zooming the stroller and slams full speed into a pillar, getting a real goose egg on her noggin. She wants me to comfort her, and I have Lian strapped to my chest. I manage to cuddle both of them, but Lela has her first premonition of the real future – and she doesn’t like it. She wants 100% of mama, 100% of the time.
We finally make it back to our room. It’s after 9. We have no dinner to offer but cheese crackers, goldfish, nasty leftover tofu, and some cookies, but that is going to have to do. I dig out a little musical toy we brought for Lian. Lela shows her how to work the buttons, which she quickly masters. We hear the first of hundreds of renditions of “I’m a little tea pot.” What was I thinking? They play with toy cars on the floor while we try and finish the paperwork, and Lela elicits a tiny smile when she lets out her whiskey and cigarette soaked belly laugh. I am wondering if Lian has a hearing loss from ear infections (very common with cleft kids) since her response to sound is very slow and she has not made a peep – or maybe she’s still in shock. We get both our girls into nighties, brush their teeth, forget to wash any other parts, read a bedtime story which must be total gibberish to Lian, and pop her into her crib. I’m not sure when she fell asleep because I passed out immediately. Thus endeth the first day.
Housekeeping note – Mr. Perfect proofreader would like me to let you know that while Lela’s favorite dessert is ice cream, her favorite desert is the Gobi.
So how did our Family Day go? Well, “near fiasco” springs to mind – but let’s start at the very beginning.
Sleep was the concept, not the reality. As we rolled along in the dark, I lay there jammed between the metal bed guardrail and Lela the human thrashing machine, wondering where I had stashed my Ambien. Lela slept soundly until about 5. We pulled back the curtains and watched the sun rise over the countryside, a mix of steep mountains scraped with white chalk, plunging gorges, farms of corn, sunflowers, peach trees, and unidentifiable vegetables terraced into every conceivable slope. Part of the land is carved down into sandstone, with pillars and levels of soft golden stone catching the early sun. The houses we pass are made of yellow brick, presumably from the sandstone. We see early risers, one man doing toe touches atop a giant pile of coal, farmers hoeing the fields, two women and a man clearing a slope I would call a cliff. We pass cities hazed with smog, huge coal and nuclear power plants on one side and the steep green mountains on the other. The train begins to wake up as we near Xi’an for our 8:20 arrival. We get a cup of over brewed green tea from the stewardess (no bargain at 10RMB.) Jamie and Lela head off in search of the dining car. It is a snack car for passengers, with drinks, cookies, and other packaged food – but the staff are getting hot noodles and congee. They do find Lela’s favorite Chinese rice cookies.
We dress and perform our ablutions in the toilet or washroom. Someone stole both rolls of toilet paper about 10 minutes into the trip, but luckily we have lots of wipes. The water tap has that international “don’t drink” symbol, the X’ed glass, so we are glad we brought 4 bottles.
Lela, having a new audience in Elizabeth is regaling her with one of her games, where she makes up the rules, half the words and they can change at will. Given that Elizabeth’s high school English is as rusty as our French, God knows what she actually understands, but she is a good sport and finds it amusing. Actually the whole train finds Lela amusing and her pig tails and cheeks get little tweaks as she trots along the corridor sticking her nose in. The compartment next to us has two Chinese moms with three children. Lela spends some time playing with the 18 month old and scores a Chinese version of a moon pie.
After chugging through increasingly denser suburbs, we reach the Xi’an train station. It’s not nearly as imposing as the Beijing station, that looked like a set for a 1930’s film noir. We hump the luggage off (keeping track with a tune set to the 12 days of Xmas – 4 oversized suitcases, 3 bulging back packs, 2 assorted carry-ons, and an umbrella stroooler =10.) There is no one there on the platform to meet us. A porter takes our bags up to the exit. There are lots of people with signs, but none for Pines. We circle around, looking, looking. The porter is getting impatient. Just when we are about to give up and get a cab, a young woman with a sign saying “James Matthew” approached. It’s our new guide, Sherry. She says we have to walk to the car. This proves to be a hefty half mile NYC paced walkathon along the side of the Xi’an city wall. The batteries in my camera chose this minute to die. Finally we are in the van, on the way on the hotel. I can hardly wait for a bath. I feel like I have been covered with fly paper, sticky on one side, scratchy on the other.
The Sofitel is vast and we arrive at the wrong wing. After an underground hike, we finally arrive at the right check-in desk and find our room won’t be ready for 15 minutes – which means about an hour. We have to give them a $300 cash deposit, as our credit card is still not working. On the bright side, they cash our travelers check with no problems. After three days Lela’s bowels start to work again, necessitating many dashes across the lobby. The lobby, well let’s just say some designer really sold a concept. It is aggressively moderne, with lacquer red womb chairs and sofas, a screen of crystal ball beads dangling from the ceiling, artfully placed modern sculpture, and strange upright objects of red pleated silk, bringing to mind gift-wrapped pod people.
Finally in our room. We find out we are getting Lian at 5, and the other families are flying in that afternoon. We unpack, get a crib sent in, organize paperwork, tidy up. Lela and I take a bath in the huge tub and I take a shower too. Ah, clean again. If only I could do the same for our clothing which is getting limited. Lela falls asleep and Jamie goes out to see if he can find food. He returns with some very spicy tofu thing and noodles with diced veggies also very spicy. I correctly predict Miss blander the better will not eat it. Jamie and Lela go down to the swimming pool. I was going to join them or take a nap but never got the time to do either. My eyes feel like an ad for Visine and my brain is got that lovely cotton-wool sleep deprivation thing going on. They return, and with the hotel technical desk on the phone, Jamie finally gets the internet connection going. Then suddenly it’s 4:45 – time to go!
We meet the other families, the Littles and Schwartzes, in the lobby. I know Michelle and Anne from the internet chat groups and their blogs. Nice to finally connect. We pile into our van, which zooms out of the courtyard and stops at the next corner where the registrars office is located, a ride of about 2 minutes.
We all wait nervously. Shery tells us that Lian will be coming a half hour latter, since the train from HanZhong (pronounced more like HanChong to my ears) doesn’t get in until 5:10. Since I have a half hour and realize I have left my list of questions at the hotel, I run back, ok, jog wheezily, over acres of slippery pavement (it has now started to rain)and grab that and the passports Sherry forgot to tell us to bring. The two little boys from the Xi’an CWI arrive to meet their families. They play with them on the floor – I take lots of pictures for the Schwartzes. The Littles have their two sons, Jack and Will, with them and Jack does the honors with their camera. 5:40 comes and goes. Sherry is calling on her cell - “they are coming.” 6pm – they have arrived – but not here. 6:30 - rush hour traffic is holding them up – yeah, on a Sunday night. 6:45 - they don’t answer her call. Lela is more nervous than we are and goes into hyper drive, but luckily makes friends with the three children who are there with the registrar and Xi’an director, and they play outside in the parking area. She gets filthy. We all are becoming nervous wreaks. I mentally play every bad scenario I have ever thought of, including the one where we have inadvertently offended the powers that be and its all a cruel hoax.
7pm, an older lady carrying a little girl dressed in yellow with yellow pom-poms on her pigtails appears in the door. I am so relieved I start to cry. I have dragooned Sherry to translate my questions to Lian’s Ayi, who turns out to be her house mama. We are interrupted by the second woman from the SWI, who insists that all the information is in the books they give us, one a picture book, the other a medical and developmental report. There is still almost nothing about her cleft other than the scant sentences we have already gotten, but that is going to be it. They strap Lian into our stroller and leave. Wham, bam, here’s your kid. Sherry hustles us out the door, as all the officials want to go home and the photographer for our visa and adoption decree pictures has been waiting since 5. The bus driver has gone home, so we will walk – not too far she says. About half way through the forced death march across broken sidewalks, 12”curbs, speeding traffic and an underpass, Lela is whining to ride in the stroller, and I realize this is ridiculous – I haven’t held my daughter yet. We switch. Lian is wide-eyed but compliant, holding on to me. She has a runny nose and a little rattley cough. We stop so I can put Lian in the sling we brought and lose the group. They send back Jack. Juggling umbrellas, children, stroller and backpacks, we arrive at the photographer’s. The building common lights are off for the night, so we climb two flights of slippery wet marble stairs in the dark. We ask Jack to take a picture of the four of us while we wait for our turn, first family picture about an hour into our adoption. Back outside the families rebel and insist on taking cabs back to the hotel. Since we are the stragglers (a pattern that will continue) Sherry rides back with us, reiterating we must be ready to go by 8:15 the next morning. Back at the hotel, we’re not done yet. We still need to fill out paperwork for tomorrow and it’s all in Chinese. We commandeer a desk in the lobby, and go over the papers along with the Schwartzes. The Littles have wisely gone up to their room. We finally come up with one black ink pen between us (blue is not acceptable) discover we will need glue sticks to affix our passport pictures (luckily the concierge desk pulls that rabbit out of their hat) and get most of it filled out. Our attention being diverted, Lela is twirling around and zooming the stroller and slams full speed into a pillar, getting a real goose egg on her noggin. She wants me to comfort her, and I have Lian strapped to my chest. I manage to cuddle both of them, but Lela has her first premonition of the real future – and she doesn’t like it. She wants 100% of mama, 100% of the time.
We finally make it back to our room. It’s after 9. We have no dinner to offer but cheese crackers, goldfish, nasty leftover tofu, and some cookies, but that is going to have to do. I dig out a little musical toy we brought for Lian. Lela shows her how to work the buttons, which she quickly masters. We hear the first of hundreds of renditions of “I’m a little tea pot.” What was I thinking? They play with toy cars on the floor while we try and finish the paperwork, and Lela elicits a tiny smile when she lets out her whiskey and cigarette soaked belly laugh. I am wondering if Lian has a hearing loss from ear infections (very common with cleft kids) since her response to sound is very slow and she has not made a peep – or maybe she’s still in shock. We get both our girls into nighties, brush their teeth, forget to wash any other parts, read a bedtime story which must be total gibberish to Lian, and pop her into her crib. I’m not sure when she fell asleep because I passed out immediately. Thus endeth the first day.
Leaving on a sleeper train
/15/07 Leaving on a sleeper train.
(Technical problems, exhaustion and whiny children have prevented posting until now 9/19, but that’s all fixed now, at least the technical end.)
The Z19 overnight Express pulled out of Beijing North right on time, 9:21pm. We had another action packed day. Though Angela wasn’t picking us up until noon, we still had to pack, shop for our trip, get $ changed and check out. Gazing at the room strewn with luggage, new stuff, and laundry it didn’t seem possible. Jamie and Lela went out shopping for batteries since I had fried the recharger plus water and juice, and more Chinese currency. Then they went swimming again. (I never got to see the pool. Wah.) Most of the packing was done when they got back, and we were downstairs and checked out when Angela arrived, a minor miracle.
We checked the bags and walked around the corner for lunch to a Mongolian style restaurant. Lamb and beef are the mainstays but we managed to find suitable choices for all, lamb ribs for the meat eaters, a delicious mixed mushroom soup, fat noodles for the insatiable noodle head, Ms. Lela, and an eggplant and green bean stir fry. While we ate, there was live music and performance of Mongolian traditional songs and dancing (somewhat brought up to the 21st century with a mixer, amps and an applause track) on a small stage right next to us. It was a bit loud but fun. Lela finally got her wish to have Angela eat with us.
We walked back to the hotel and met our driver, loaded down the van with our bags and headed to the Temple of Heaven. The grounds around it are manicured with rows of trees each a unique character of twisted limbs and rippled bark. It is a popular place for retired people to gather and dance and sing.
The Temple is reached by a climb up yet another step flight of brick stairs. Lela was fading and insisted on staying in the stroller, so we carted her up, getting many amused stares. The Chinese don’t use strollers – either the child walks or they carry them – but we did see several children her age being dragged along in the process of meltdown.
The Temple is a spectacular circular building with three levels of roof in celestial blue tile. At every ancient site in China even the shape of the building has a symbolic meaning. (Modern ones too - the curved shape of our hotel mimics the shape of ancient gold and silver ingots, a cupped palm, to bring wealth.) The platform is square, representing the earth and the building is round like the heavens. The three roofs were the Lord of the Heaven, the Emperor, and then the common people. Everything has been restored, and the painting on all the ceilings, pillars and beams gleamed. Lela succumbed and slept through the tour of the Temple and other buildings, back to the van, (garnering many smiles and one lady telling us via Angela how beautiful she was - my opinion too) and almost all the way to the Acrobatic Show.
At the Acrobatic show, Lela got her promised ice cream (Mongolians not running too big on dessert menus). Jamie tried the corn flavor that was yellow and shaped like an ear of corn. It had a shell that did indeed taste a lot like creamed sweet corn over vanilla. Lela and I whimped out with strawberry.
We had balcony seats. All was fine until the show started and a paper dragon “flew” across the stage. Lela had her usual theater melt down, and wanted to leave, but I would not budge. Finally the lure of dancers in elaborate Chinese princess costumes was too much, she peeked and was hooked. The show may be touristy but the skill of the performers is amazing. Once she discover she liked it she became their main cheering section.
After the show we headed across town in the now familiar congested roads. Our station was not the one near our hotel, but Beijing West, a new station. We passed Tianamen Square, lit up with hundreds of people out for an evening stroll. Even though it was only 6:45, Angela was getting anxious about the time. We stopped for dinner at a dim sum place the driver recommended. Lela had enough noodles (according to me, not her) so we got a steamed shrimp and vegetable dish for her and three kinds of dumpling for the grown ups. She began giving demonstrations of her acrobatic skills by carrying a pop bottle balanced in her hand around the table. Angela rushed us out and off to the train station. It’s huge building with a modern base and traditional temple roof grafted on. Angela leapt out, nabbed a porter - they are red caps in China too, but baseball caps. He horsed all our luggage down to the train after a brief pause in the soft sleeper waiting room. We managed to cram it under the berths. We didn’t know if we would be sharing yet. Angela waited with us, while Lela gave her an extended good bye and asked her to come and visit (down to sleeping on the sofa) Another guide approached her and began a discussion. One of her charges was not able to manage the upper berth she had booked and could we share? So Elizabeth from Paris is now sleeping across from me. We had an interesting mangled English, French, Italian and Spanish conversation. Jamie read Ariel for the 100th time and Lela fell asleep on the upper bunk. Jamie lay down but didn’t fall asleep. He shifted over to the other upper bunk so I’m going up there now to sleep with Lela.
(Technical problems, exhaustion and whiny children have prevented posting until now 9/19, but that’s all fixed now, at least the technical end.)
The Z19 overnight Express pulled out of Beijing North right on time, 9:21pm. We had another action packed day. Though Angela wasn’t picking us up until noon, we still had to pack, shop for our trip, get $ changed and check out. Gazing at the room strewn with luggage, new stuff, and laundry it didn’t seem possible. Jamie and Lela went out shopping for batteries since I had fried the recharger plus water and juice, and more Chinese currency. Then they went swimming again. (I never got to see the pool. Wah.) Most of the packing was done when they got back, and we were downstairs and checked out when Angela arrived, a minor miracle.
We checked the bags and walked around the corner for lunch to a Mongolian style restaurant. Lamb and beef are the mainstays but we managed to find suitable choices for all, lamb ribs for the meat eaters, a delicious mixed mushroom soup, fat noodles for the insatiable noodle head, Ms. Lela, and an eggplant and green bean stir fry. While we ate, there was live music and performance of Mongolian traditional songs and dancing (somewhat brought up to the 21st century with a mixer, amps and an applause track) on a small stage right next to us. It was a bit loud but fun. Lela finally got her wish to have Angela eat with us.
We walked back to the hotel and met our driver, loaded down the van with our bags and headed to the Temple of Heaven. The grounds around it are manicured with rows of trees each a unique character of twisted limbs and rippled bark. It is a popular place for retired people to gather and dance and sing.
The Temple is reached by a climb up yet another step flight of brick stairs. Lela was fading and insisted on staying in the stroller, so we carted her up, getting many amused stares. The Chinese don’t use strollers – either the child walks or they carry them – but we did see several children her age being dragged along in the process of meltdown.
The Temple is a spectacular circular building with three levels of roof in celestial blue tile. At every ancient site in China even the shape of the building has a symbolic meaning. (Modern ones too - the curved shape of our hotel mimics the shape of ancient gold and silver ingots, a cupped palm, to bring wealth.) The platform is square, representing the earth and the building is round like the heavens. The three roofs were the Lord of the Heaven, the Emperor, and then the common people. Everything has been restored, and the painting on all the ceilings, pillars and beams gleamed. Lela succumbed and slept through the tour of the Temple and other buildings, back to the van, (garnering many smiles and one lady telling us via Angela how beautiful she was - my opinion too) and almost all the way to the Acrobatic Show.
At the Acrobatic show, Lela got her promised ice cream (Mongolians not running too big on dessert menus). Jamie tried the corn flavor that was yellow and shaped like an ear of corn. It had a shell that did indeed taste a lot like creamed sweet corn over vanilla. Lela and I whimped out with strawberry.
We had balcony seats. All was fine until the show started and a paper dragon “flew” across the stage. Lela had her usual theater melt down, and wanted to leave, but I would not budge. Finally the lure of dancers in elaborate Chinese princess costumes was too much, she peeked and was hooked. The show may be touristy but the skill of the performers is amazing. Once she discover she liked it she became their main cheering section.
After the show we headed across town in the now familiar congested roads. Our station was not the one near our hotel, but Beijing West, a new station. We passed Tianamen Square, lit up with hundreds of people out for an evening stroll. Even though it was only 6:45, Angela was getting anxious about the time. We stopped for dinner at a dim sum place the driver recommended. Lela had enough noodles (according to me, not her) so we got a steamed shrimp and vegetable dish for her and three kinds of dumpling for the grown ups. She began giving demonstrations of her acrobatic skills by carrying a pop bottle balanced in her hand around the table. Angela rushed us out and off to the train station. It’s huge building with a modern base and traditional temple roof grafted on. Angela leapt out, nabbed a porter - they are red caps in China too, but baseball caps. He horsed all our luggage down to the train after a brief pause in the soft sleeper waiting room. We managed to cram it under the berths. We didn’t know if we would be sharing yet. Angela waited with us, while Lela gave her an extended good bye and asked her to come and visit (down to sleeping on the sofa) Another guide approached her and began a discussion. One of her charges was not able to manage the upper berth she had booked and could we share? So Elizabeth from Paris is now sleeping across from me. We had an interesting mangled English, French, Italian and Spanish conversation. Jamie read Ariel for the 100th time and Lela fell asleep on the upper bunk. Jamie lay down but didn’t fall asleep. He shifted over to the other upper bunk so I’m going up there now to sleep with Lela.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
9/15/07
9/15/07 Adios Beijing
Last day in Beijing. Of course, after two days of touring in rain and fog, today the sun is coming out. Our guide will not meet us until noon. We have to pack, shop for things like more batteries, and change some $. We will have lunch, then tour the Temple of Heaven, see an acrobatics show, or as Lela puts it a “bats” show, dinner and then board our overnight train for Xi’an. Tomorrow we get Lian! It seems unreal after all this time that we are only a day away. We probably won't be posting until after Family Day, and I promise pictures are coming soon.
Last day in Beijing. Of course, after two days of touring in rain and fog, today the sun is coming out. Our guide will not meet us until noon. We have to pack, shop for things like more batteries, and change some $. We will have lunch, then tour the Temple of Heaven, see an acrobatics show, or as Lela puts it a “bats” show, dinner and then board our overnight train for Xi’an. Tomorrow we get Lian! It seems unreal after all this time that we are only a day away. We probably won't be posting until after Family Day, and I promise pictures are coming soon.
9/14/07
9/14/07 On a Clear Day
The forecast for today is scattered showers – that doesn’t sound too bad. We’re going to the Great Wall and Ming Tombs. Angela picks us up at 8 and we are almost ready. It’s raining pretty steadily – perhaps it will clear up this afternoon. After a circuitous exit from central Beijing, jammed with rush hour traffic, which makes us feel right at home, we are on a highway heading north. But first we are first diverted to a Cloisonnй factory, which our guide book (DK Eyewitness travel – great book, lots of pictures and maps, drawback – it weighs 2 pounds) specifically warns against. From the many tour busses pulled up, clearly part of the fleecing the tourist routine. The hand manufacturing process is interesting to watch. Then we are herded into the mammoth showroom. A tiny Lela sized bangle is 45Yuan ($5.75 US), about two dollars more than I would expect to pay for it in Chinatown. I do buy her a small bell with a panda on it. I tell Angela that since we are from NYC, there isn’t much here that we couldn’t get for about the same at home. She seems unhappy to get that news. Another tourist want to take Lela’s picture with Angela, thinking they are mother daughter. We visit the bathrooms, Lela is disappointed it isn’t a “squatty potty” of which she has become enamored since our first experience at the Forbidden City. Jamie vanishes, but since I have lost track of him in many foreign lands, I know he couldn’t take the shopping and went outside. And there he is.
Now we are finally off to the Great Wall. As we start to climb into the mountains the weather is even worse, with fog joining the rain. Suddenly drifting out of the mist is a dragon spine of crenellated wall and towers along the mountain ridge, far above. It’s misting rather than raining, and visibility is poor. We start the climb. We pass the famous chain of locks, where relatively recent legend has it that it will bind true love together. Also a carved quote from the Chairman to the effect that “To climb the Great Wall does not make you a hero.”
The steps are irregular, going from 3 to 15 inches high. Many, especially the outer ones by the hand rail, have been worn into a slippery trench. The wall varies from only a few feet wide, enough for two way foot traffic to a broad platform. It is very steep. I am very out of shape. Panting and wheezing I get to the first guard tower where Jamie, Lela and Angela are waiting, look fresh and smiling, if a bit soggy. Lela should look fresh, Jamie carried her most of the way while she chanted, “I think I can, I think I can.” They decide to go on to the next tower which can only be seen intermittently like a Chinese Brigadoon. I decline on the grounds that dying of a heart attack is not my idea of how to have fun on vacation, and besides there are no photo ops in a wall of fog. Not to mention that my fear of heights inspired vertigo is kicking in and I still have to go back down the first climb. Even though it’s not what I had imagined, it still has an eerie beauty, with glimpses of the towers fading in and out of the cool white breathe of the mountain like phantoms from another time.
Back at the base, Lela has had too much time to hang around the souvenir shops. She is demanding a stuffed panda. Her reasoning is sound. Even though she has a panda, she doesn’t have one here. And her panda at home needs a friend. I give in and also get her a Great Wall T-shirt. The child who only wears pink or purple chooses flaming orange.
On to lunch which is “amazing” located in a jade factory. Seeing the carving process is interesting, but the prices are clearly gouged, make that gauged to the pocket books of “rich” westerners. We don’t buy anything. The lunch is pretty good. Angela has gotten the picture. There is an appetizer of melon in mayonnaise, better tasting than it sounds, an egg and tomato dish that Lela loves, tofu in a mild sauce, steamed broccoli and baby bok choy, and a noodle soup that arrives too late. Desert is watermelon and fresh Chinese dates, that taste like a lady apple. Lela’s desert is an ice cream bar, the freezer having been spotted when we arrived.
We reboard our van for the Ming Tombs. We start to see some real countryside – and it’s full of corn fields and apple orchards. The apples are individually bagged and many orchards are netted. No wonder the produce we see is beautiful.
The tombs are the resting place for 13 of the 16 Ming Emperors. The grounds are quiet and elegant, though clearly prepared for a mob scene during the height of tourist season. We walk along side the funerary walk where the Emperor took his last journey. We pass by the Gate of Heaven. Angela explains that it is custom that you should not walk under it or you may be going to heaven sooner than you wish. Lela sees someone walk through. This sets off a Q & A that lasts the rest of the visit. Angela is earning her money, and we get a break.
We get to the entrance of one of the fully excavated tombs. This is a day of extremes. First to the top of the mountain with the Great Wall. Now we go down, down, down 270 feet below ground level. Nope - no elevators. Knees like jello by the bottom. The tombs are high vaulted rooms. Reproductions of an emperor and empresses' coffins and funerary goods are on display. People have thrown money at many of the displays for good luck. The exit, thankfully, is a at lower elevation. We buy some pink and pale green apples from vendors by the parking lot. They are crisp and juicy. Lela falls asleep on my lap as we struggle thorough Friday night rush hour in a rain storm. Jamie snoozes in the van too.
Back at the hotel I fall asleep and Jamie and Lela go to check out the swimming pool. Lela walks through the foot bath in her jeans. They have to buy bathing caps. Lela swims the pool about 6 times with a rubber float. This is the first time she’s been in a deep pool without a life vest.
Back in the room we decide we are not hungry and prepare to watch the day’s slide show that I have downloaded to our computer. It is too long for Lela who wants the computer to play her Princess CD. Jamie nods off. I get Lela to sleep and plug in my battery recharger, forgetting about power conversion. It begins to melt. Kiss that baby goodbye. Finally we are all asleep.
The forecast for today is scattered showers – that doesn’t sound too bad. We’re going to the Great Wall and Ming Tombs. Angela picks us up at 8 and we are almost ready. It’s raining pretty steadily – perhaps it will clear up this afternoon. After a circuitous exit from central Beijing, jammed with rush hour traffic, which makes us feel right at home, we are on a highway heading north. But first we are first diverted to a Cloisonnй factory, which our guide book (DK Eyewitness travel – great book, lots of pictures and maps, drawback – it weighs 2 pounds) specifically warns against. From the many tour busses pulled up, clearly part of the fleecing the tourist routine. The hand manufacturing process is interesting to watch. Then we are herded into the mammoth showroom. A tiny Lela sized bangle is 45Yuan ($5.75 US), about two dollars more than I would expect to pay for it in Chinatown. I do buy her a small bell with a panda on it. I tell Angela that since we are from NYC, there isn’t much here that we couldn’t get for about the same at home. She seems unhappy to get that news. Another tourist want to take Lela’s picture with Angela, thinking they are mother daughter. We visit the bathrooms, Lela is disappointed it isn’t a “squatty potty” of which she has become enamored since our first experience at the Forbidden City. Jamie vanishes, but since I have lost track of him in many foreign lands, I know he couldn’t take the shopping and went outside. And there he is.
Now we are finally off to the Great Wall. As we start to climb into the mountains the weather is even worse, with fog joining the rain. Suddenly drifting out of the mist is a dragon spine of crenellated wall and towers along the mountain ridge, far above. It’s misting rather than raining, and visibility is poor. We start the climb. We pass the famous chain of locks, where relatively recent legend has it that it will bind true love together. Also a carved quote from the Chairman to the effect that “To climb the Great Wall does not make you a hero.”
The steps are irregular, going from 3 to 15 inches high. Many, especially the outer ones by the hand rail, have been worn into a slippery trench. The wall varies from only a few feet wide, enough for two way foot traffic to a broad platform. It is very steep. I am very out of shape. Panting and wheezing I get to the first guard tower where Jamie, Lela and Angela are waiting, look fresh and smiling, if a bit soggy. Lela should look fresh, Jamie carried her most of the way while she chanted, “I think I can, I think I can.” They decide to go on to the next tower which can only be seen intermittently like a Chinese Brigadoon. I decline on the grounds that dying of a heart attack is not my idea of how to have fun on vacation, and besides there are no photo ops in a wall of fog. Not to mention that my fear of heights inspired vertigo is kicking in and I still have to go back down the first climb. Even though it’s not what I had imagined, it still has an eerie beauty, with glimpses of the towers fading in and out of the cool white breathe of the mountain like phantoms from another time.
Back at the base, Lela has had too much time to hang around the souvenir shops. She is demanding a stuffed panda. Her reasoning is sound. Even though she has a panda, she doesn’t have one here. And her panda at home needs a friend. I give in and also get her a Great Wall T-shirt. The child who only wears pink or purple chooses flaming orange.
On to lunch which is “amazing” located in a jade factory. Seeing the carving process is interesting, but the prices are clearly gouged, make that gauged to the pocket books of “rich” westerners. We don’t buy anything. The lunch is pretty good. Angela has gotten the picture. There is an appetizer of melon in mayonnaise, better tasting than it sounds, an egg and tomato dish that Lela loves, tofu in a mild sauce, steamed broccoli and baby bok choy, and a noodle soup that arrives too late. Desert is watermelon and fresh Chinese dates, that taste like a lady apple. Lela’s desert is an ice cream bar, the freezer having been spotted when we arrived.
We reboard our van for the Ming Tombs. We start to see some real countryside – and it’s full of corn fields and apple orchards. The apples are individually bagged and many orchards are netted. No wonder the produce we see is beautiful.
The tombs are the resting place for 13 of the 16 Ming Emperors. The grounds are quiet and elegant, though clearly prepared for a mob scene during the height of tourist season. We walk along side the funerary walk where the Emperor took his last journey. We pass by the Gate of Heaven. Angela explains that it is custom that you should not walk under it or you may be going to heaven sooner than you wish. Lela sees someone walk through. This sets off a Q & A that lasts the rest of the visit. Angela is earning her money, and we get a break.
We get to the entrance of one of the fully excavated tombs. This is a day of extremes. First to the top of the mountain with the Great Wall. Now we go down, down, down 270 feet below ground level. Nope - no elevators. Knees like jello by the bottom. The tombs are high vaulted rooms. Reproductions of an emperor and empresses' coffins and funerary goods are on display. People have thrown money at many of the displays for good luck. The exit, thankfully, is a at lower elevation. We buy some pink and pale green apples from vendors by the parking lot. They are crisp and juicy. Lela falls asleep on my lap as we struggle thorough Friday night rush hour in a rain storm. Jamie snoozes in the van too.
Back at the hotel I fall asleep and Jamie and Lela go to check out the swimming pool. Lela walks through the foot bath in her jeans. They have to buy bathing caps. Lela swims the pool about 6 times with a rubber float. This is the first time she’s been in a deep pool without a life vest.
Back in the room we decide we are not hungry and prepare to watch the day’s slide show that I have downloaded to our computer. It is too long for Lela who wants the computer to play her Princess CD. Jamie nods off. I get Lela to sleep and plug in my battery recharger, forgetting about power conversion. It begins to melt. Kiss that baby goodbye. Finally we are all asleep.
Continued 9/13/07
To be Continued.....9/13/07
Then on to the Hutong tour. This is the old districts of Beijing with low one-story buildings mostly built of gray brick, that were originally built for one family around a courtyard, but as the population expanded the courtyards were filled in with additional buildings which may now house 15 families, and leaving a maze of narrow alley ways. The tour is by rickshaw, which are now pedicabs. As it was raining the cabs were plastic draped to preserve the velvet “surrey with a fringe on top.” Only two to a cab, so Jamie rode with our guide, June, and Lela and I rode in a second cab. This was going to be a problem as we had barely enough cash left to tip for one guide and driver.
We careened through the twisted alleys, barely missing pedestrians and other cyclists – which seems to be the approach to all types of traffic. Cutting off is an art form in Beijing, but despite hair-raising close calls, we haven’t seen an accident. There seems to be massive amounts of demolition and building going on. Lela began to fade. We stopped to meet a home owner, Mr. Li, and he offered us tea and small snacks. June and Mr. Li told us about the Hutong. He has a three room house, the living room were we were, about 10x10 and a bedroom on each side. The kitchen is traditional charcoal brazier outside the door and there are neighborhood toilet/bathing facilities. The government took ownership of the houses after the revolution, and the residents are renters. The lease is lifelong and can be passed down, but the house can’t be sold. Much of the renovation we saw was in response to the upcoming Olympics, and large renovations are paid for by the government. Lela fell asleep in my lap, so I sat while Mr. Li and June took Jamie for a walk around the immediate neighborhood. On the way back Lela revived and we run into the Hutong version of a traffic jam. Two vans are having a face down in a narrow alley and no one could get around. Rickshaws begin to pile up and finally we turn back, try a couple of other alleys and finally make it back to the square where our van awaits. Jamie borrows 20 Yuan from Angela to pay the guide and drivers. We are now broke. Back to the hotel.
The driver brought us in the back way and we decide to walk in that direction, which looked interesting. We look at one restaurant, stroll up the adjacent avenue a couple of blocks. Beijing is lively after dark. Families are out on the sidewalk, kids play, restaurant barkers beckon, and construction projects run all night. Throw in the penchant for neon everywhere possible and it has a carnival effect. But even a carnival can’t keep Lela awake now, so we take her back to the hotel, change her limp little body into pj’s (another night without brushing teeth) and put her to bed. Jamie goes out again to get some food and a Beijing Olympics T-shirt for Lian. Lela, crafty beyond her years, gave that idea her seal of approval adding, “And if it’s too big, I can wear it while she grows up.” Jamie comes back with....some candy, which we need like a hole in the head. However, we have massive amounts of snacks (but no chocolate), so I have an energy bar for dinner. I try to post to our blog – I can get on but all the instruction language is in Chinese! I think I managed to post in English, but can’t figure out how to change the language back to English. We are all in bed at a reasonable hour.
Then on to the Hutong tour. This is the old districts of Beijing with low one-story buildings mostly built of gray brick, that were originally built for one family around a courtyard, but as the population expanded the courtyards were filled in with additional buildings which may now house 15 families, and leaving a maze of narrow alley ways. The tour is by rickshaw, which are now pedicabs. As it was raining the cabs were plastic draped to preserve the velvet “surrey with a fringe on top.” Only two to a cab, so Jamie rode with our guide, June, and Lela and I rode in a second cab. This was going to be a problem as we had barely enough cash left to tip for one guide and driver.
We careened through the twisted alleys, barely missing pedestrians and other cyclists – which seems to be the approach to all types of traffic. Cutting off is an art form in Beijing, but despite hair-raising close calls, we haven’t seen an accident. There seems to be massive amounts of demolition and building going on. Lela began to fade. We stopped to meet a home owner, Mr. Li, and he offered us tea and small snacks. June and Mr. Li told us about the Hutong. He has a three room house, the living room were we were, about 10x10 and a bedroom on each side. The kitchen is traditional charcoal brazier outside the door and there are neighborhood toilet/bathing facilities. The government took ownership of the houses after the revolution, and the residents are renters. The lease is lifelong and can be passed down, but the house can’t be sold. Much of the renovation we saw was in response to the upcoming Olympics, and large renovations are paid for by the government. Lela fell asleep in my lap, so I sat while Mr. Li and June took Jamie for a walk around the immediate neighborhood. On the way back Lela revived and we run into the Hutong version of a traffic jam. Two vans are having a face down in a narrow alley and no one could get around. Rickshaws begin to pile up and finally we turn back, try a couple of other alleys and finally make it back to the square where our van awaits. Jamie borrows 20 Yuan from Angela to pay the guide and drivers. We are now broke. Back to the hotel.
The driver brought us in the back way and we decide to walk in that direction, which looked interesting. We look at one restaurant, stroll up the adjacent avenue a couple of blocks. Beijing is lively after dark. Families are out on the sidewalk, kids play, restaurant barkers beckon, and construction projects run all night. Throw in the penchant for neon everywhere possible and it has a carnival effect. But even a carnival can’t keep Lela awake now, so we take her back to the hotel, change her limp little body into pj’s (another night without brushing teeth) and put her to bed. Jamie goes out again to get some food and a Beijing Olympics T-shirt for Lian. Lela, crafty beyond her years, gave that idea her seal of approval adding, “And if it’s too big, I can wear it while she grows up.” Jamie comes back with....some candy, which we need like a hole in the head. However, we have massive amounts of snacks (but no chocolate), so I have an energy bar for dinner. I try to post to our blog – I can get on but all the instruction language is in Chinese! I think I managed to post in English, but can’t figure out how to change the language back to English. We are all in bed at a reasonable hour.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Beijing !
Beijing 9/13/07
Our guide, Angela, is going to pick us up at 8am. We have a 7 am wake so that should work out. Lela is up and full of beans at 5am, so we are up too, but rather beanless. Room is a mess. The weather outside is in the mood for thunderstorms, Lela counts between lightening flashes. Jamie and Lela go down for breakfast while I shower and tidy up. The buffet breakfast is a nice international selection ranging from curries, baked beans, salad and cold cuts, beer (and a couple guys drinking it) to omelets, congee, fried noodles and fresh fruit, not to mention a groaning bread board. Lela is on her second omelet and fried noodles. I go with the more conservative waffle, bacon and yogurt. We spot our guide waiting in the lobby. We’re still not ready. She announces a change of plans, instead of the Great Wall, because of the weather, we will go to Tianenman Square and the Forbidden City. I grab about 350 Yuan ($45 US) for the day since our lunch and admissions are all paid for.
We drive down Changdua Avenue where our hotel is located, the Jianguo Garden. (We haven’t seen the garden yet – or the promised swimming pool for that matter.) The Avenue bisects the City from the Square. We park on a side street, pile Lela into her stroller and walk along the side of the square. We’re used to the scale of NYC, but the immensity of open space provokes a different kind of awe. Tour groups swarm about following their flag or umbrella bearing queen bees. Umbrellas as a signal may be problematic today – everyone has one. It has cooled off overnight, and though still almost 100% humidity, not uncomfortable – unless you are wearing a plastic raincoat that condenses on the inside. Angela points out various buildings and monuments. We arrive at the first gate of the Forbidden City, with a giant poster of Mao over the door. Door is a feeble word for the 20 foot high arched tunnels protected by massive knob studded red doors with 8” high thresholds to keep out the evil spirits.
In the outer square are souvenir booths, and a military detail barracks (complete with astro turf basketball court.) and many buildings swathed in scaffolding, under renovation for the Olympics – less than a year to go now. The stucco walls are painted a rusty ox blood red and the roofs are built up of yellow tiles.
Angela buys our tickets (60yuan, but Lela is free) and we head into another massive tunnel through another weighty structure into the second courtyard. We walk along the perimeter wall, which gives a misleading impression of narrowness. The walls contain pavilions or rostrums as Angela calls the. Several have displays of military costumes and gear. Lela is still in her stroller, which gets a lot of looks, or perhaps it’s the combination of us, her and the stroller – we haven’t seen another one yet. Jamie and I horse her up and down steep flights of marble stairs where no ramps exist. It has a fitting historic resonance – sedan bearers for our little empress Angela calls us. There are ramps of brick, carefully built so the upper edge of each brick protrudes above its upper cousin, creating a lip and providing traction – and making a wild clickety clack rumble when a stroller is whizzing over.
I am snapping away, and then sprinting to catch up. Luckily I have Jamie - I would never see Angela, but I can always find him in a crowd. I am intrigued by the textures and decorations. Many of the painted beams have been renewed in brilliant blues, golds, and reds – writhing dragons, chrysanthemum clouds and other mythical beasts. The pagoda eaves of each building have a string of creatures staring down over the courtyard and the roof beams are finished with a yellow dragon tile. This courtyard has it’s original stone blocks – and a group of a dozen hand weeders, swathed in pastel rain ponchos, crouched in a row working their way toward the center.
Through another wall/door/tunnel and we enter the living quarters. Here the spaces are much more intimate and it’s very maze like. Lela is fascinated by the description of the six Chinese cardinal directions; front, back, left, right, up, down, and how the resonance between the number six and word for deer, the symbol of the Empress, create the concept of a safe place. She somehow merges it with the thousands of dragon representations and starts a monologue on dragons, directions and safety that amuses a large touring group. I have managed to fill a 1 gig memory card already. Wanna see my slide show?
We exit the rear of the complex and our driver picks us up. we are taken to a restaurant for lunch. They have not gotten the idea of vegetarian yet. I get a pork with zucchini and peanut dish and a pepper beef with onions, both delicious, but I can only eat a bit of each. Jamie and Lela get noodle soup only with a discussion, and two plates of steamed vegetables. We will have to talk to Angela. After we get ice cream bars at a corner shop before climbing back in the van. we drive out to where the Olympic stadiums are being constructed. One is an amorphous flowing bulge, bound to shape by a cat’s cradle of steel ribbons. People are stopping their cars on the highway to be photographed in front of it. Then on to a tourist trappe, a tea ceremony demonstration. We do enjoy the demonstration of 5 different teas (except Lela) Then the pressure is on to buy. We do buy some flower ball tea. They are hand tied balls that “flower” into beautiful shapes when hot water is added. We almost wipe out our cash.
To be Continued.....
Our guide, Angela, is going to pick us up at 8am. We have a 7 am wake so that should work out. Lela is up and full of beans at 5am, so we are up too, but rather beanless. Room is a mess. The weather outside is in the mood for thunderstorms, Lela counts between lightening flashes. Jamie and Lela go down for breakfast while I shower and tidy up. The buffet breakfast is a nice international selection ranging from curries, baked beans, salad and cold cuts, beer (and a couple guys drinking it) to omelets, congee, fried noodles and fresh fruit, not to mention a groaning bread board. Lela is on her second omelet and fried noodles. I go with the more conservative waffle, bacon and yogurt. We spot our guide waiting in the lobby. We’re still not ready. She announces a change of plans, instead of the Great Wall, because of the weather, we will go to Tianenman Square and the Forbidden City. I grab about 350 Yuan ($45 US) for the day since our lunch and admissions are all paid for.
We drive down Changdua Avenue where our hotel is located, the Jianguo Garden. (We haven’t seen the garden yet – or the promised swimming pool for that matter.) The Avenue bisects the City from the Square. We park on a side street, pile Lela into her stroller and walk along the side of the square. We’re used to the scale of NYC, but the immensity of open space provokes a different kind of awe. Tour groups swarm about following their flag or umbrella bearing queen bees. Umbrellas as a signal may be problematic today – everyone has one. It has cooled off overnight, and though still almost 100% humidity, not uncomfortable – unless you are wearing a plastic raincoat that condenses on the inside. Angela points out various buildings and monuments. We arrive at the first gate of the Forbidden City, with a giant poster of Mao over the door. Door is a feeble word for the 20 foot high arched tunnels protected by massive knob studded red doors with 8” high thresholds to keep out the evil spirits.
In the outer square are souvenir booths, and a military detail barracks (complete with astro turf basketball court.) and many buildings swathed in scaffolding, under renovation for the Olympics – less than a year to go now. The stucco walls are painted a rusty ox blood red and the roofs are built up of yellow tiles.
Angela buys our tickets (60yuan, but Lela is free) and we head into another massive tunnel through another weighty structure into the second courtyard. We walk along the perimeter wall, which gives a misleading impression of narrowness. The walls contain pavilions or rostrums as Angela calls the. Several have displays of military costumes and gear. Lela is still in her stroller, which gets a lot of looks, or perhaps it’s the combination of us, her and the stroller – we haven’t seen another one yet. Jamie and I horse her up and down steep flights of marble stairs where no ramps exist. It has a fitting historic resonance – sedan bearers for our little empress Angela calls us. There are ramps of brick, carefully built so the upper edge of each brick protrudes above its upper cousin, creating a lip and providing traction – and making a wild clickety clack rumble when a stroller is whizzing over.
I am snapping away, and then sprinting to catch up. Luckily I have Jamie - I would never see Angela, but I can always find him in a crowd. I am intrigued by the textures and decorations. Many of the painted beams have been renewed in brilliant blues, golds, and reds – writhing dragons, chrysanthemum clouds and other mythical beasts. The pagoda eaves of each building have a string of creatures staring down over the courtyard and the roof beams are finished with a yellow dragon tile. This courtyard has it’s original stone blocks – and a group of a dozen hand weeders, swathed in pastel rain ponchos, crouched in a row working their way toward the center.
Through another wall/door/tunnel and we enter the living quarters. Here the spaces are much more intimate and it’s very maze like. Lela is fascinated by the description of the six Chinese cardinal directions; front, back, left, right, up, down, and how the resonance between the number six and word for deer, the symbol of the Empress, create the concept of a safe place. She somehow merges it with the thousands of dragon representations and starts a monologue on dragons, directions and safety that amuses a large touring group. I have managed to fill a 1 gig memory card already. Wanna see my slide show?
We exit the rear of the complex and our driver picks us up. we are taken to a restaurant for lunch. They have not gotten the idea of vegetarian yet. I get a pork with zucchini and peanut dish and a pepper beef with onions, both delicious, but I can only eat a bit of each. Jamie and Lela get noodle soup only with a discussion, and two plates of steamed vegetables. We will have to talk to Angela. After we get ice cream bars at a corner shop before climbing back in the van. we drive out to where the Olympic stadiums are being constructed. One is an amorphous flowing bulge, bound to shape by a cat’s cradle of steel ribbons. People are stopping their cars on the highway to be photographed in front of it. Then on to a tourist trappe, a tea ceremony demonstration. We do enjoy the demonstration of 5 different teas (except Lela) Then the pressure is on to buy. We do buy some flower ball tea. They are hand tied balls that “flower” into beautiful shapes when hot water is added. We almost wipe out our cash.
To be Continued.....
50 Ways to Get to China +
50 Ways to Get to China +
Clean house, well sorta.
Start packing. Pets see suitcases, start anxiety shedding. Giant balls of dog and cat fur roam the rooms.
Almost finish packing about midnight.
Set alarm for 5am. Wake up at 4:58.
Run around house randomly shoving last minute stuff into bags. Since you can’t find list, wonder what is missing.
Put enormous pile of luggage into and on top of car in pouring rain.
Wake up child, shovel into clothing. Forget to brush her teeth.
7:01 We’re on the road on time!
Pick up nutritious breakfast at Dunkin Donuts.
Hit the highway. Due to the resumption of school and the pouring rain, the LIE is living up to it’s nick-name, the Long Island Snail Way. Take 90 minutes to get to the BQE, a distance of about 15 miles. That’s 10mph for the math challenged.
Listen to child’s music choice, Disney Princess best friends song and story collection. Her Highness insists you sing along too.
Push back moon roof cover to check on luggage on roof. Discover the tiny chip in the glass has expanded to giant crack that almost splits off one corner. Stop worrying about luggage and start to worry about moon roof blowing out.
Woo Hoo! Made it to the BQE. We’re moving – up to 30 mph.
Check directions husband has printed out to reach park n’ ride and Newark Airport. What stinkin’ moron wrote this? You used to live in Joisey – ya don’t go to the Parkway, ya take 1&9 from the Holland over the Pulaski and past IKEA. That’s how to get to the airport.
Child finally falls asleep in car seat 10 minutes before reaching airport.
Get to airport only an hour late, but still with 2 hours for check in. Husband cuts hand unloading stroller. Look for bandages.
Dropping car at park n’ ride, check in and security go smoothly.
Go out to gate, get snack at food court.
Look for something in the red carry-on. WHERE IS THE RED CARRY-ON?
Send husband running back to security. Snarl at child for finger painting with orange juice on table top.
Husband returns with suitcase. Breathe sigh of relief. Husband went running back to security and TSA security guy was just standing there with the bag, smiling. Husband asked how long he’d been standing there. The security man answered, “We wait about 10 minutes for someone to come running and that’s how we know who it belongs too.”
Get checked in. Get on plane. Re-organize all carry-ons. Settle into seats.
Taxi out of gate on time.
Sit on tarmac in blinding thunderstorm for an hour with airport closed. While rain is still pouring, receive departure clearance. Extremely bouncy lift off and altitude climb. Tell child, “It’s just like a roller coaster ride.” She buys it.
Check out fellow passengers. Wonder what biker guy, complete with scruffy beard, sleeveless T, red bandana and pseudo Asian tattoos is going to do in China. The Beijing Bikers conference?
We are on our way. The first of many meals is served – peanuts and a beverage.
The first real meal is served. Discover that travel agent has mistakenly put child and husband down as vegans, not lacto-ovo, shrimp-eating vegetarians. Child rejects spicy tofu curry, eats grapes, strawberry, and a tomato slice, even rejecting vegan cookie. You taste and see why. Husband likes it all.
Personal monitors on seat backs start up. Your first choice of movie is having technical problems. Watch Scooby Doo with child as it is “too scary “ to watch by herself.
Cabin lights are doused, most people take a nap. Not your child, who is now bored. Read Cinderella and Ariel princess Disney stories many, many times. Think of next three weeks with no other reading material.
Take many trips to bathroom. Discover which one has a faulty lock, while you are crammed in with child and actually sitting yourself.
More movies. Child watches Scooby for second time, child friendly choices being very limited, like to one channel. Watch Pirates of Caribbean 3 slumped in seat since guy in front to of you has reclined. Then discover monitors can be angled.
Seats are now trash pits of wrappers, cups, crumbs, and napkins.
Child watches Scooby for third time. He is now, “My Scooby.” See new branded product nagging in future.
Begin to hate guy in front, who has been reclined whole trip. Think of him as “Big Head.” Consider trimming the top of his bad brush cut.
10 hours into flight at bio time of 11 pm and after a one hour wrestling match, get child to sleep.
Realize that short of ninja worthy acrobatics, you are now trapped in the window seat for the rest of the trip, about 3 hours.
Get cramp in knee.
Do advanced math with soggy brain to convert to 39,000 feet to miles. Hey, that’s about 8 miles high. Finally “get” the title to Byrds song 35 years too late. Duh.
Give up on sleeping yourself. Look out window to see if you can spot Ulan Ude.
Child wakes up as decent begins.
Heavy cloud cover prevents seeing Great Wall from air.
Land in Beijing. Woo Hoo! We made it. Last ones off the place laden with carry-ons. Customs are quick. Discover once again that tall husband comes in handy in Asia, being easy to spot in a crowd. Discover once again that while in the US you are a little chubby, in China you are pretty fat.
Get bags. Child reminds you of forth bag as you are about to leave without it, pointing to carousel and asking, “Hey, what about that one?”
Meet Guide. There are no seatbelts in van. Take trip to travel agency to pay them. Realize you have been walking around with about $6000 in unsigned travelers checks. Sign many checks.
Check in at hotel. Credit card for incidentals is rejected. Husband’s card is rejected. You only brought two cards with you, since there’s not a lot of places to use credit cards. You are now in China without a working credit card.
Go to room, take long hot shower in steam stall. Flood bathroom when stall fails to drain.
Discover that your toothpaste’s flip top has flipped and everything in your toiletry bag is covered with gel toothpaste. Wash everything including bag. Now it smells minty fresh.
Discover that your toothbrush that never leaves your toiletry bag is missing. Wonder if it’s your weird cat, who is back in the USA busily chewing it up or someone in baggage at Newark with a really strange fetish.
Discover Internet connection is 30 yuan per hour – about $4. Be annoyed about being shaken down in a land where the average citizen makes about $6 a day. Doesn’t matter anyway – you have no deposit for incidentals at the front desk.
It’s 6pm. Too early to sleep, to late to take a nap. Decide to take a walk. Find Authentic Beijing 2008 Olympics Souvenir Shop. Pick out cute T-shirt for child with all five Olympic animals. Child who screams if you try to dress her in black or white insists on black and white panda shirt instead. You and cluster of shop ladies fail to change her mind. Buy your first souvenir.
Bonus points. Find cheap noodle shop. Child passes out as you order. Child wakes up in time to insist on an ice cream.
Buy mystery flavor ice cream bars at Chinese version of deli. There is one with a picture of corn – but you chicken out. Eat as you walk back to hotel. (Child does not walk when she can be strollered or carried.) Large percent of her bar winds up on her chest.
Back at the hotel while you are in the bathroom half undressed, the floor man comes by. Husband tosses you a shirt then introduce floor guy to flooded bathroom and strange wires hanging out of ceiling.
Floor guy calls for technical support, who comes, looks at wires, slaps head and laughs – then stuffs them back in ceiling. Floor guy mops bathroom but forgets extra towels.
It’s 8pm. You and husband have not slept in 27 hours and are ready to pass out. Child is so tired she is wired to the ceiling. After an hour or two of bouncing, crying, whining, chatting, and running around the room, she finally falls asleep.
Find that you have the “Ariel and her friend Flounder” song from the Disney Princess CD stuck in your brain on instant recycle. Consider suggesting it to Homeland Security as new form of “Information Gathering Augmentation” aka psychological torture.
You wake up - it’s still dark – must be about 5 am. Grope around in dark for watch since hotel clock is not lit. It’s only 12:30am. Too late for drugs. Lie in bed for two hours, finally fall asleep again.
Wake up at 5 am, actually your cheery, well rested child wakes you out of a deep sleep.
Discover you have left all your CHOCOLATE BARS at home!!! Consider aborting trip.Welcome to China.
Clean house, well sorta.
Start packing. Pets see suitcases, start anxiety shedding. Giant balls of dog and cat fur roam the rooms.
Almost finish packing about midnight.
Set alarm for 5am. Wake up at 4:58.
Run around house randomly shoving last minute stuff into bags. Since you can’t find list, wonder what is missing.
Put enormous pile of luggage into and on top of car in pouring rain.
Wake up child, shovel into clothing. Forget to brush her teeth.
7:01 We’re on the road on time!
Pick up nutritious breakfast at Dunkin Donuts.
Hit the highway. Due to the resumption of school and the pouring rain, the LIE is living up to it’s nick-name, the Long Island Snail Way. Take 90 minutes to get to the BQE, a distance of about 15 miles. That’s 10mph for the math challenged.
Listen to child’s music choice, Disney Princess best friends song and story collection. Her Highness insists you sing along too.
Push back moon roof cover to check on luggage on roof. Discover the tiny chip in the glass has expanded to giant crack that almost splits off one corner. Stop worrying about luggage and start to worry about moon roof blowing out.
Woo Hoo! Made it to the BQE. We’re moving – up to 30 mph.
Check directions husband has printed out to reach park n’ ride and Newark Airport. What stinkin’ moron wrote this? You used to live in Joisey – ya don’t go to the Parkway, ya take 1&9 from the Holland over the Pulaski and past IKEA. That’s how to get to the airport.
Child finally falls asleep in car seat 10 minutes before reaching airport.
Get to airport only an hour late, but still with 2 hours for check in. Husband cuts hand unloading stroller. Look for bandages.
Dropping car at park n’ ride, check in and security go smoothly.
Go out to gate, get snack at food court.
Look for something in the red carry-on. WHERE IS THE RED CARRY-ON?
Send husband running back to security. Snarl at child for finger painting with orange juice on table top.
Husband returns with suitcase. Breathe sigh of relief. Husband went running back to security and TSA security guy was just standing there with the bag, smiling. Husband asked how long he’d been standing there. The security man answered, “We wait about 10 minutes for someone to come running and that’s how we know who it belongs too.”
Get checked in. Get on plane. Re-organize all carry-ons. Settle into seats.
Taxi out of gate on time.
Sit on tarmac in blinding thunderstorm for an hour with airport closed. While rain is still pouring, receive departure clearance. Extremely bouncy lift off and altitude climb. Tell child, “It’s just like a roller coaster ride.” She buys it.
Check out fellow passengers. Wonder what biker guy, complete with scruffy beard, sleeveless T, red bandana and pseudo Asian tattoos is going to do in China. The Beijing Bikers conference?
We are on our way. The first of many meals is served – peanuts and a beverage.
The first real meal is served. Discover that travel agent has mistakenly put child and husband down as vegans, not lacto-ovo, shrimp-eating vegetarians. Child rejects spicy tofu curry, eats grapes, strawberry, and a tomato slice, even rejecting vegan cookie. You taste and see why. Husband likes it all.
Personal monitors on seat backs start up. Your first choice of movie is having technical problems. Watch Scooby Doo with child as it is “too scary “ to watch by herself.
Cabin lights are doused, most people take a nap. Not your child, who is now bored. Read Cinderella and Ariel princess Disney stories many, many times. Think of next three weeks with no other reading material.
Take many trips to bathroom. Discover which one has a faulty lock, while you are crammed in with child and actually sitting yourself.
More movies. Child watches Scooby for second time, child friendly choices being very limited, like to one channel. Watch Pirates of Caribbean 3 slumped in seat since guy in front to of you has reclined. Then discover monitors can be angled.
Seats are now trash pits of wrappers, cups, crumbs, and napkins.
Child watches Scooby for third time. He is now, “My Scooby.” See new branded product nagging in future.
Begin to hate guy in front, who has been reclined whole trip. Think of him as “Big Head.” Consider trimming the top of his bad brush cut.
10 hours into flight at bio time of 11 pm and after a one hour wrestling match, get child to sleep.
Realize that short of ninja worthy acrobatics, you are now trapped in the window seat for the rest of the trip, about 3 hours.
Get cramp in knee.
Do advanced math with soggy brain to convert to 39,000 feet to miles. Hey, that’s about 8 miles high. Finally “get” the title to Byrds song 35 years too late. Duh.
Give up on sleeping yourself. Look out window to see if you can spot Ulan Ude.
Child wakes up as decent begins.
Heavy cloud cover prevents seeing Great Wall from air.
Land in Beijing. Woo Hoo! We made it. Last ones off the place laden with carry-ons. Customs are quick. Discover once again that tall husband comes in handy in Asia, being easy to spot in a crowd. Discover once again that while in the US you are a little chubby, in China you are pretty fat.
Get bags. Child reminds you of forth bag as you are about to leave without it, pointing to carousel and asking, “Hey, what about that one?”
Meet Guide. There are no seatbelts in van. Take trip to travel agency to pay them. Realize you have been walking around with about $6000 in unsigned travelers checks. Sign many checks.
Check in at hotel. Credit card for incidentals is rejected. Husband’s card is rejected. You only brought two cards with you, since there’s not a lot of places to use credit cards. You are now in China without a working credit card.
Go to room, take long hot shower in steam stall. Flood bathroom when stall fails to drain.
Discover that your toothpaste’s flip top has flipped and everything in your toiletry bag is covered with gel toothpaste. Wash everything including bag. Now it smells minty fresh.
Discover that your toothbrush that never leaves your toiletry bag is missing. Wonder if it’s your weird cat, who is back in the USA busily chewing it up or someone in baggage at Newark with a really strange fetish.
Discover Internet connection is 30 yuan per hour – about $4. Be annoyed about being shaken down in a land where the average citizen makes about $6 a day. Doesn’t matter anyway – you have no deposit for incidentals at the front desk.
It’s 6pm. Too early to sleep, to late to take a nap. Decide to take a walk. Find Authentic Beijing 2008 Olympics Souvenir Shop. Pick out cute T-shirt for child with all five Olympic animals. Child who screams if you try to dress her in black or white insists on black and white panda shirt instead. You and cluster of shop ladies fail to change her mind. Buy your first souvenir.
Bonus points. Find cheap noodle shop. Child passes out as you order. Child wakes up in time to insist on an ice cream.
Buy mystery flavor ice cream bars at Chinese version of deli. There is one with a picture of corn – but you chicken out. Eat as you walk back to hotel. (Child does not walk when she can be strollered or carried.) Large percent of her bar winds up on her chest.
Back at the hotel while you are in the bathroom half undressed, the floor man comes by. Husband tosses you a shirt then introduce floor guy to flooded bathroom and strange wires hanging out of ceiling.
Floor guy calls for technical support, who comes, looks at wires, slaps head and laughs – then stuffs them back in ceiling. Floor guy mops bathroom but forgets extra towels.
It’s 8pm. You and husband have not slept in 27 hours and are ready to pass out. Child is so tired she is wired to the ceiling. After an hour or two of bouncing, crying, whining, chatting, and running around the room, she finally falls asleep.
Find that you have the “Ariel and her friend Flounder” song from the Disney Princess CD stuck in your brain on instant recycle. Consider suggesting it to Homeland Security as new form of “Information Gathering Augmentation” aka psychological torture.
You wake up - it’s still dark – must be about 5 am. Grope around in dark for watch since hotel clock is not lit. It’s only 12:30am. Too late for drugs. Lie in bed for two hours, finally fall asleep again.
Wake up at 5 am, actually your cheery, well rested child wakes you out of a deep sleep.
Discover you have left all your CHOCOLATE BARS at home!!! Consider aborting trip.Welcome to China.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Fw: Down to the Wire
This is a test to see if I can e-mail to the blog if we are blocked in China. Nope, it's not a democracy, but technology can wiggle around that. Not to much progress since yesterday - laundry done, Lian's clothes thinned down a bit - the extended weather forecast for the cities we'll be in looks uniformly hot and sticky during the day so one pair of long pants and a jacket will do - and packed into big ziplock bags.Today we get serious. I just looked at the list of paperwork we have to take - oops, Jamie and I need two more passport photos, so off to the drugstore. Lela has been informed she'll have to wear the less favored "Hello Kitty" undies of she wants to take all the princess undies with her. I got a prescription from my doctor for sleeping and tried it out last night- slept in all the way to 5am. I feel like a new woman (yes that is sarcasm leaking out the edges.)
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Hello, I really must be going
So why am I typing rather than packing? We're down to three days. There are piles of laundry sitting on the bed. The house is awash in pet fur, a special going away gift. The suitcases are empty. Time for SUPER MOM. So when is she going to show up?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Lian on left in yellow
about 14 months, with her friend Hailey
Lian at 6 months
Who could resist that smile?
Lian at 4 months
Right after surgery for her lip
Sha'anxi Province Map
HanZhong in lower left
China Map
Sha'anxi Province in center
