Decisions Made

One decision made, and bang! bang! bang! the rest went down like dominoes.

We will not move to Puxi. For the remainder of our time in Shanghai, we will stay in our current home.

L-- will not attend The Wonder Center. The most difficult decision by far, but the choice was clear. We can not justify her spending up to 2 hours in the car daily – we can not make a 3-year-old sit still for that long, and we can not waste that much gas.
L-- will attend a preschool nearby - one of the two I initially rejected. I still feel strongly that neither school is the best place for her, but we must not let the perfect be the enemy of the good. We will begin to investigate these schools this week. Sigh.

We will move to Singapore, as soon as Uncle H-- says go. We will hope for a January 1 start date, but we will not structure our lives around it. With our move to Shanghai, we lost bargaining power because we committed to this position before seeing any details. We will not make that mistake again, and so the time frame could lengthen. Hopefully not by much: the school year in Singapore begins on January 3, and I hope L-- can start at the perfect preschool for her on that date.

We will continue to pursue the adoption of a Chinese baby, until we see God close that door for us. We may ask for your help soon.

China's Little Secret

Its no secret that the Chinese government controls the information read by its populace. I gave up reading the newspaper or watching the news months ago, because I found the information laughable. So it always surprises me that we are able to purchase The Economist on newstands here. Some weeks, we can't find the magazine at all. Often it arrives 2-4 weeks late. But I generally assume that this has more to do with the challenges of imports. The grocery store didn't have any cheese for a week, and is often empty of Cheerios.

But this week, The Economist crossed a line. China still allowed it on the newstands, but a few stories were mysteriously missing. The table of contents listed a full Asia section, but only one story printed. A story on Taiwan was ripped out, but I believe that its placement hurt it more than anything. Below is the story the Chinese government doesn't want its citizens to read (I hope I'm not breaking any copyright laws by re-printed it!)

Beijing Olympics - Limbering up for the games
Jun 19th 2008 BEIJING
From The Economist print edition
The security forces rehearse their exercise routine

PETS, prostitutes and prospective political protesters should consider themselves forewarned. The Chinese authorities, doggedly determined to ensure a safe environment for the Beijing Olympics in August, and to avoid surprises or embarrassments, have them in their sights.

No one dismisses the security concerns. With the ever-present threat of
terrorism and a number of foreign leaders, among them George Bush, expected to
attend the games' opening ceremony, China has no choice but to take security
seriously. But the clampdown now under way suggests the government is just as
concerned about preventing anything—from political demonstrations to unsightly
beggars—that reflects poorly on it, however slightly. The risk is that
heavy-handed precautions will take the fun out of what is supposed, after all,
to be a sporting event.

Some new restrictions seem reasonable. For three months, for example, fireworks will be banned. Lorries entering Beijing have been coming under closer inspection. So has the mail. Police raids have been stepped up at night-spots, beauty salons and karaoke parlours, which often serve as fronts for prostitution. The press has reported that officials are especially worried about an influx of foreign prostitutes hoping to cash in on the Olympic boom, and that they have launched a campaign to prevent it.

But other measures smack of overkill. Beggars and disabled people have
been ordered, and in some cases forced, off the streets. Those from outside
Beijing have been threatened with detention unless they go home until the games
are over. In your correspondent's own neighbourhood, residents have been told
they may walk their dogs only at certain, strictly limited, times of day—and the
dogs must carry their papers at all times.

Documents are posing problems for people, too. In one especially damaging consequence of the crackdown, China has tightened visa procedures for
foreign visitors of all sorts. Businessmen used to speedy visas are now
suffering delays and refusals. Chambers of commerce from Europe, North America,
Australia and India are complaining bitterly about trips aborted and business
lost.

Long-time foreign residents are faring no better. Visa renewals are no
longer routine. Applicants may be told to undertake costly travel and submit
their paperwork at Chinese embassies in their home countries. Others are simply
told not to bother and to plan instead on being elsewhere.

Authorities have also served notice that Olympic visitors will themselves be carefully watched. A helpful “legal guide” tells foreign athletes, officials, reporters and spectators how to behave. In addition to shunning narcotics, weapons and counterfeit currency, they should abjure “subversive activities” or the “display of religious, political or racial banners”. Of course China does not normally allow those things anyway and, having staked so much prestige on the games, is in no mood to loosen up now. Recent events have only hardened attitudes. After deadly riots in Tibet in March, China's global Olympic-torch relay attracted boisterous protests around the world against a wide range of Chinese human-rights practices. Authorities are keen to prevent any such outbursts on their home turf.

They will probably fail, if only because of the huge number of visitors
and the determination of some to make a statement. But ponderous attempts to
keep control may dampen the Olympic mood. An ungracious host may give visitors
one more reason to protest.

Your Asia Holiday

For those of you whose hearts lie set on a holiday in China, take this as your impetus to begin planning. It looks as if our family will move to Singapore in January.

Nothing is set in stone, and we learned from the move to China that its best to complete all negotiations before setting our hearts and wallets on changing homes. Still, it seems as if the right people are in support of this. And now that we know how to negotiate an overseas assignment, we should be able to take better control this time around.

So, if you've always wanted to visit China, this may be your last chance - at least with free lodging on offer.

If you've wanted to visit Asia but found China too intimidating, this will be your chance. Singapore is a very Western city, by Asian standards. Most people speak English, the city is clean and well cared for, and the variety of food is wonderful. Chinese food is popular, but so is Indian, southeast Asian and Western. For you China wimps, once we're in Singapore you'll have no excuse not to visit.

Except, maybe, the flight. Shanghai to Chicago was a measley 14 hours. Singapore to Chicago may surpass 24!

How'd We Ever Do Without?

It has been pointed out to me that I have not sung the praises of our ayi.

Irene has worked for us 6 weeks now. And already, I don't know how I got by without her. She arrives at our home around 9:00 every morning, and heads straight to the kitchen where we've left all of dinner's dishes from the night before. She does our laundry - washing, drying, hanging and folding. She washes our dishes. She cleans the bathrooms, sweeps the floors, and keeps the balconies free of dust and grime. And she goes home again by 1:00 in the afternoon.

Irene is from the Philippines (where they speak English), and she has been in China from just over 2 months. She arrived in the country with a work visa, valid for 2 months. At the beginning of this month, she went to her consulate to request an extension. She has been granted 1 more month, and must be out of the country by July 11th.

The girls and I are heartbroken. She is their favorite babysitter - never a tear, or even a blink when I leave. She keeps the house spotless - she notes my desires and my quirks, and puts things away as I want them. She know my priorities, always getting the most important work done first and leaving what's unnecessary for the end. I think she is amazing, and I wish she weren't going to leave.

My friends and I wonder how people manage to raise young children without an ayi - this, even though all of us have done it in the recent past. How did we find the time to clean our bathrooms? How did we manage to fold an entire household's worth of laundry? How did we keep the kids occupied while we prepared dinner? The answer is that we didn't. Sure, in the states my washing machine could hold loads 4 times the size of my current washer. And sure, my dryer left my clothes neatly pressed. But lets be honest - those clothes often sat in the basket until they were thrown onto our backs. My dirty little secret? I only cleaned the bathrooms before company came over. My not so dirty little secret? My kids spent a lot of dinner prep time screaming. And they will again, beginning July 12th.

I will be in the market for a new ayi, but I hold only slim hope that we will find someone as wonderful as Irene. With the goal of moving to Puxi on August 15th, we may have to do without an ayi until we are in our new home. So, I will soon remember what its like brush my teeth over a dirty sink and to hear my children cry for me as I clean the vegetables for dinner. But over the next few weeks, I'm basking in the joy of having a wonderful domestic helper.

Thank God for Good Hairdressers

Its the little things that keep us sane.

After 6 weeks of bearing with a bad haircut, I had an appointment with Ana Donato at Eric this morning. She spoke with a thick French accent and kept her curly hair tucked neatly away in a bun. I often wonder how people such as Ana end up in Shanghai. Although its possible she is a trailing spouse, it seems more likely that she came to Shanghai of her own accord. Possibly to set up this hair salon, which she manages. However she arrived, I'm lucky she's here.

She sat me down in the chair, and asked what I wanted of her. I told her that I had been the unfortunate recipient of a bad haircut about 4 weeks ago, and that I have high hopes that she can fix it. Whatever she needs to do is fine - I will put my full faith in her.

She studied my hair for a quick moment. She agreed. I have received a very bad haircut. The style on the top does not match the style on the bottoms. The amount of volume built in to the haircut does not fit with how much curl my hair has, or the humidity in the weather. To top it off, the sides are not even.

She told me quite bluntly that she would not be able to make my hair look any better. She could cut a bit off the bottom to shape it, but the problem area is on the top and she will not touch that until it has grown another 2-3 centimeters. She sent me home with no haircut.

I was thrilled to pieces. Not only do I have professional confirmation that I have a horrible haircut, but I also have a plan of action. Wait 4-6 weeks for my hair to add another 2-3 cm to the top, and then return to Ana. Ana, the hairdresser with such integrity to turn away a client rather than give a bad haircut.

Since I already had babysitting for the day, I spent the morning at Super Brand Mall. My understanding is that Super Brand Mall is one of the largest malls in Asia, and at 10 stories I have no trouble believing that. The thing I do have trouble believing is that in all of that space, there is precious little clothing for sale that fits my body.

Despite adolescent preoccupations with the imperfections of my body, I am happy to admit that I am not overweight. But shopping in Super Brand Mall, or anywhere else in China, it is easy to forget. Asian women seem to average around size 2 in US sizes, with no chest to speak of. Far off my mark on both counts. But on this good day, I found flattering and affordable clothes in two shops.

I was on a role. And sorely needed that boost after a weekend of Bad China Days. The weather had been bad, the food had been bad, the lack of personal space had driven me crazy. And the thought of moving to Puxi to figure out all of the intricacies of getting around my neighborhood left me feeling frazzled. A morning of minor successes, topped off by a wonderful ayi at home caring for my children has left me feeling much more at home in my city.

Gathering Momentum

Dave defines "intertia" as the concept that an object in motion will stay in motion; likewise, an object at rest will remain at rest.

The latter portion of the definition - the one about staying on the couch - was in full play this evening. The weather sat on the upper 80s today, with 80-95% humidity and heat indexes nearing 100. We spent the day in air conditioning - apartment to car to friend's home to car to store to car to our home. The sweat never broke through our shirts.

The weather forecast was consistent, is constantly incorrect. I checked at every hour. Always it said Fair and 85 degrees with high humidity. Always it forecast 90% chance of thunderstorms within a few minutes. The rain never came.

By 9:00pm, I knew that this storm must have built up its own momentum, and must be ready to blow up at any minute. I further felt that it had sucked all of the momentum out of my body. I had signed up for a midnight bike ride through the streets of Shanghai, but without my momentum I found it difficult to haul myself and my bike out the door.

Dave pushed me out, and once in the humid air I felt invigorated and ready to ride. I met my crew on a bar street in Puxi. Seven Americans with two Chinese guides. We started riding at 10:30 at night, and the scene around us was lively. We quickly moved onto quieter streets and watched the backside of Shanghai go through its evening. Biking shows a city at a different speed and on different routes. And Shanghai puts on a much better face in the dark. Dingy walls and crumbling concrete are less visible. Bright shop displays and well-lit food stalls stand out, the workers silhouetted in the steamy evening. Young couples walked the streets near their homes; children not much older than mine played together with no adults in sight; older couples in their thin pajamas walked slowly through the streets, keeping cool until tired enough to sleep through this sticky night.

We rode until 1:30am, when the rest of my crew headed back into Puxi. Our last stop had been at Yu Garden, the site of the famous crooked bridge headed to the classical teahouse. During the day, this site is crawling with people. Even in photos, I have never seen the bridge empty. But at 1:30 in the morning, we were the only waking souls in the market. Bright lights set certain sites ablaze, making the entire area picturesque and pleasant. We took pictures and explored, and then I headed back to the ferry. Were I to continue to the meeting point with my group, I would have an hour commute ahead of me. At the market, I was a 5 minute ride from the ferry. I chose to go it alone, and headed back.

Knowing that Dave had waited up for me, I detoured onto Shanghai's food street. This pedestrian street in the old town is lined with little food stalls selling the entire range of Shanghainese street food. Dumplings and steamed buns, noodles and fried rice, rice cakes, various grilled meats, fish heads and more. During the day, the street is always packed, and it remained quite busy in the wee hours of the morning. I meant to order a quick takeaway of dumplings to reward Dave for his wait, but having relaxed on my Chinese language classes for too long, my communication skills were wretched. Although I was able to communicate what I wanted, it took 10 minutes for me to understand the price and the wait. I saw a man pile my raw dumplings into the steamer, and then stepped back to take in the scene. An older man beckoned me to his table. He sat at a flimsy formica folding table with two other men, all three perched on short plastic benches. They beckoned for a bench for me and I joined their table. One of them could count to 5 in English, and that was the full extent of their English language skills. They asked me question after question, and only few could I answer. I told them my age, and that I have two daughters waiting for me in Lujiazui. I effectively communicated that I needed to catch the 2:00am ferry to get home to them. The men effectively commuicated that I should have a beer with them instead. I shared their kebabs - and having eaten it, I still have no idea what type of meat it was. I considered sharing their prawns. These are currently being sold on every street corner in town, and I'll admit that they look pretty tasty. These men had a large bag of them on the table with bowls of soup for dipping. They repeatedly asked me to try, but I waited for them to show me how. These prawns were whole - how were they shelling them? When I saw the process - stick either the head of the tail in your mouth, take a bite, and spit out what you can't swallow - I politely declined their offer.

I did enjoy sharing a meal with these men in the late night of old Shanghai. Living in such a city is challenging in a very exciting way, but these challenges feel nearly insurmountable when facing them with two toddlers on my arms. Something propelled me off the couch this evening, and it was well worth the trouble.

No Less Complex

Thanks for your thoughts and prayers, everyone. With singular clarity, we decided to begin the adoption process immediately, despite the possibility of the door being closed on us within a few months. We will begin with the least expensive tasks, moving forward continually and becoming more expensive at each step. We will have faith that if we should pull out of the process, that timing will become clear.

So now, let me further complicate the issue for you.

As expatriates living in China, the process of adopting a Chinese baby will go much quicker for us than for people adopting from the states. So the estimate of 2 years is accurate - even though adoptive parents in America are facing 4-5 year waiting lists. Having lived in China for at least one year makes us eligible for expedited processing - seemingly ironic, but the Chinese government awards us as eligible for expedition; the US government creates the difficulties explained in the previous post.

Allow me to further complicate the issue.

Dave is in discussions with his office about a potential move to Singapore.

We could either move in December - a short 6 months away; or in June - a mere 12 months away.

In most ways, this is wonderful news for our family. The job is better. In fact, his current job has been leaving him unsatisfied for the past few months and this potential move has Dave rather excited. And although life in China is certainly interesting, we're no martyrs and will be more than happy to live somewhere simpler.

So, we must submit our paperwork to the Chinese government before moving away from China to qualify for expedited processing. This potential move gives is a very clear deadline - and a rather difficult one, if we choose to leave Shanghai in December.

To further complicate things, frequent readers will know that we are planning to move across the river - from Pudong to Puxi, within Shanghai - at the end of the summer. The school I chose for our daughter is an hour's drive from our current home, and so we will move.

So now we have plenty to lay stress on our poor minds and hearts.

Moving in August, as planned, will cost us $6,000 USD unless we can find someone to take over our lease. Thus far, we've no one interested. Even for a rich expat, this is a lot of money.

Moving to Singapore in December, we could decide not to move to Puxi. This would save us $6,000 and a lot of stress and heartache, from both moving and starting over once more. But it will also impose a difficult deadline for the adoption process; as well as forcing our daughter to miss attending the exciting school we've found for her in Shanghai.

Telling Singapore to wait until June seems the most sensible option, both for our 1st daughter and our potential third. But I've never been excited about this move to Puxi - in fact, I've been dreading it. And needing to pay $6,000 to move somewhere that will only be my home for another 9 months, coupled with the challenges of establishing a new support group and finding new friends for S--, makes it feel silly to even contemplate.

Clearly, there are more decisions to be made in the near future. None of them face us immediately, but new bits of information could cause a chain reaction of change on all fronts. If this post has left you thoroughly confused, the you have some idea of how I feel.

Details and Call for Prayer

I feel a bit overwhelmed. I just got off the phone with Karen Friedman, the woman who organizes the adoption of Chinese babies for expatriates living in China. We had been waiting to hear from her for over a month. We had hopes that the phone call from her would trigger the beginning of months of business in the process toward adoptiong a Chinese baby.

Although we may be about to embark on that journey, her conversation gave me a lot more to think about than I expected. If you are interested in the details, please read through to learn what we're thinking and praying through. If this is too much information, please jump to the prayer request at the bottom of this post.


Both the United States and China have accepted the Hague Adoption Convention. The Hague Convention is an international treaty where all countries signing on to the convention agree to have their international adoptions follow set international standards. The Hague Convention is new, and the United States only ratified it on April 1st. All international adoptions from the United States may be a bit confusing for the next few months, as all international adoption agencies struggle to apply the new regulations and figure out exactly how to move forward under the new state of affairs.

The Convention has no exemptions for expatriates. Most countries allow expatriates to adopt outside of the rules of the convention, but not America. In fact, the United States makes it so difficult to work outside of the rules that currently all adoptions by expatriates living in China are halted.

Please allow me to reiterate that - all adoptions by expatriates living in China are currently halted.

Karen Friedman, the woman referenced above, has been organizing expatriate adoptions in China for years. She has facilitated hundreds of them, with a 100% success rate. We have heard wonderful things about her and I was thrilled to finally talk to her. She made a wonderful impression on me. Apparently she has also made a strong impression on the US Embassy in China, the Chinese government and the US State Department - all of which are working with her to ensure that expats in China can resume adoption as soon as possible.

I will explain how this applies to us by sharing the best case and worst case scenarios.

Best Case Scenario:
Karen receives accredidation from the United State government in July. We home study in September, and then must still submit to a new US processing center before submitting to the Chinese government. This could take anywhere from 2 weeks to 6 months - that's how new the processing center is. Then we're looking at a 14 month wait, which puts Mei Mei in our home as early as February 2011 and as late as June. This is much later than what we had originally projected - December of 2010. Still, this is much quicker than any other adoption we are willing to consider.

Worst Case Scenario:
Karen does not receive accredidation from the US government, and we have no option to adopt while living as expatriates.


The Prayer Request
Knowing that we're looking at a 2 year process, we should begin the adoption process as soon as possible. But if we begin the adoption process immediately, we risk losing up to $1,000 by learning later that as expatriates, we are ineligible for international adoption.

We need to decide whether to a) move forward immediately, b) c) wait for accredidation, or decide not to add to our family over the next few years.

Please pray for wisdom in our decision. But primarily, please pray that we can hear God's voice clearly and that we make this decision based on God's plan for our family and a little Chinese baby rather than on our desires or fears.

Multi-Generational Splashing

The sky looked dark and foreboding as we left. The humidity felt thick and the clouds hung low, keeping the horizon grey above the dramatic spikes of the karst hills. But spending the day inside the hotel felt unimaginable, so despite the threatening rain, we went for a walk - my mother, my daughters and I.

The girls stopped every few steps to gather rocks alongside the smooth, concrete road curving away from the hotel. They looked up every time a truck pounded by, billowing black smoke into their faces, the engine chugging like a train and the load of bamboo rafts piled on top looking as rickety as it sounded. With the enjoyable draw of the gravel on the roadside, the girls were wont to leave this heavily trafficked area for the quiet of a dirt road leading to the river. But my mom and I cajoled them with fresh puddles of mud for splashing. We studied dragonflies, taught my daughter that she shares her name with one of the flowers on the roadside, and watched a woman weed her narrow plot of corn perched precariously between two square ponds growing thick green rice.

The girls walked slowly, and my mother and I followed suit. We studied their rocks with them – still in enjoyable abundance, even on this small dirt road. My mom, an avid observer of all things, pointed out unusual red flowers, families of ducks, old tombs on the hillside, and effortlessly kept the girls engaged and moving forward.

By the time we reached the river crossing, it had begun to rain. Our shirts were damp, but our shoes remained dry so we sat under a tree common along the Li River, resembling a grove of fluffy green feathers. Sitting on my rock, I could imagine that leaning back against the tree would be like leaning into a bright, feathery pillow. The fronds reaching over us kept us dry from the steady drizzle of rain, as we removed our shoes and the girls’ dry clothes to put on their brightly colored swimming suits.

The light rain fell softly on our hair and our shirts, sometimes stopping completely, and eventually picking up enough that my daughter thought the rocks moved beneath her feet with the quickly running current. We got wet. And we encouraged the girls to get wet. The youngest slipped, and rather than cry over the fall, we splashed her and laughed. She splashed, her sister splashed, and soon everything within reach of their little legs had been sprayed.

A groom and bride stood on the other side of the river, having their wedding photos taken with the picturesque background of a running river and the green karst hills in spring. Whenever the bride and groom rested, the photographer turned his camera toward us. Normally I complain when people photograph my children – a too common occurrence for my blonde toddlers in black-haired China. But I could hardly blame this young man. The adorable spectacle our children made, with their pink and blue swimming suits and their green and blue sandals as they kicked their feet and gingerly poured water over their heads must have been irresistible. Because my mom and I remained constantly aware of the quick current and the edge of the ledge so near where we played, and because we so enjoyed the splashing, our cameras never left our bags. This will be the only picture we have.

The rain picked up and drove the current faster at around the same time our stomachs began to growl. We headed slowly and begrudgingly out of the water, toward our dry shoes and bags. In an effort to return before their bellies began to scream, we carried the girls back and what had been a nearly 45 minute walk out was returned in under 10 minutes.

Yangshuo, southern China

My parents' last weekend in China, we traveled together to Yangshuo. Said to be a small town in southern China, the population is a mere 300,000 - practically a village, by Chinese standards. We stayed at the Yangshuo Mountain Retreat, billing itself as an escape into the incredible landscapes surrounding the Li River and its tributaries.

The scenery was breathtaking and mysterious. Karst hills are a rare geologic phenomenon, and no doubt their rarity add to the mysterious appeal. The immediate rise and falls of these green hills amidst lush fields of rice, winding rivers and trees like bright green feather dusters made every step one of beauty.

But Yangshuo is a tourist town. We rarely got a glimpse of the river without its being full of bamboo boats with 2 tourists in bright orange life vests upon each one. We saw nary a cormorant, and everyone spoke enough English to try to sell us a carved wooden duck or a water gun. We ate good food - some delicious, almost all Chinese. We took fun walks - most of the hikes were rather short and quite child-friendly. We explored the town - billed as a realistic Chinese city; we found it more of a market town where everything is for a negotiated price - including Columbia shorts and Coach bags. The town felt authentically Chinese more in the rampant commercialism and the overcrowding than in the immersion of local culture.

Certainly we enjoyed our time away. Just spending a weekend at a country resort as a family was wonderful time together. Getting out of Shanghai is always good, and the more greenery the better. But the next time we choose to escape the urbanity of Shanghai, we'll need to go a lot farther than Yangshuo.

What We've Been Reading

The Joy Luck Club, by Amy Tan

I was in high school when the movie came out. Never particularly interested in history, I flagged this one as boring and never thought twice. Fifteen years later, the book crossed my table and only because I am living in China did I pick it up. But am I glad I did. Amy Tan is a beautiful story teller and I read the book in a few lightning days of reading every chance I got.

Doing a quick bit of internet search for this post, I learned that Cliff Notes has made a guide to the book, as have many others - including the author herself. It comes as no surprise to me that Amy Tan is one of modern literature's heavy weights. But although I'm a sucker for a talented writer, I read purely for the story and the characters. Tan builds a few strong characters throughout the book, but in a unique style. Telling each individuals' story, and interweaving them chapter and chapter, she builds strong characters throughout the entire book while presenting a series of short stories. And having only this year learned of China's appalling recent history, these stories of normal Chinese-American women overcoming horrible circumstances are immensely interesting. An added bonus is reading an intimate story in China written from an American's perspective - no doubt, this combination made the book that much quicker of a read. I highly recommend this book, whether for its presentation of Chinese recent history, or just for a fantastic read.

National Geographic, May 2008

May's issue of National Geographic focused on China, and highlighted some of the best authors I've read recently. Peter Hessler began and finished the the magazine, with a piece by Amy Tan and plenty of recognizable local photographers.

Too often, current international magazine articles only tell surface information. Too often, I could have written the stories myself. And way too often, I could have corrected the stories as well. But National Geographic delved into architecture, the environment and small town China in both deeply and well. It reads easily and, if you can still find it, is worth a purchase to bring yourself up to date on China in 2008.

A Rainy Day

Thank God for rainy days.

My parents left China today, to return to their home in America. The rain poured all day long. It fit my mood.

We piled into the car in the pouring rain, hiding under the roof as we packed their luggage and then watching through the streaking windows as we rode the hour-long drive to the airport. My mom and I chatted in the backseat, where S-- slept. L-- and her Poppa hung out in the middle, until she fell asleep 5 minutes from the airport. She awoke as we neared home, looked to her right, and confusedly asked Where's Poppa?

He's gone home, I replied. We just said good-bye.

The rain fit my glum mood, truly. But it also served as a lovely blessing. Because of the rain, we spent the morning holed up in our apartment. Nana played with the girls all morning, and my dad and I finished a project we had started. We all shared a meal together at home.

And after we returned from the airport, our friends came over. Tuesday afternoons we have a playgroup at our home, and rainy days make for particularly cozy playgroups. Within a few minutes, our melancholy moods had disappeared. It is always sad to say good-bye to people we love, especially for such a long time. But here we are at home, and surrounded by good friends. In such a circumstance, I couldn't ask for more.

Reality Check

It is my unresearched opinion that Peter Hessler is currently the best writer on modern China. I reviewed his book Water Town in an earlier What We're Reading post, will save you the drudgery of repetition.

With my parents as our guests in China, we enjoyed some touring through our adopted nation. We spent a few days in Beijing, and our now spending our last night outside of Yangshuo, a market city on the Li River. Compared to Shanghai, we are in the countryside. Yangshuo is a quick 15 minute drive from the hotel, in taxis more like a cross between a minibus and the bed of a tractor. Our guidebooks pegs Yangshuo's population at 300,000 - the size of Peoria, Illinois or Omaha, Nebraska. Smaller cities in America, but the countryside in China. Sitting on the front porch of the hotel, we listen to the river tumble past and we see stars in the night sky. The girls walk in the wet grass and wade through the paths to cross the river. We walk past water buffalo moving slowly through the rice paddies, families of ducks or chickens living near the concrete doorways of villager's homes. Dogs with dull coats but sweet dispotions walk with us from one village to the next as we explore the area, until they reach the end of their territory and are firmly sent home by the next dog.

Yangshuo and the resort where we stay are rural China, but they are also heavily invested in the tourist trade. Most people we have approached speak enough English that I rarely have to display my limited Chinese vocabulary. Roads tend to be one-lane and covered with machinery that only barely resembles modern hauling trucks, but they are in good repair. The road leaving the airport in Guilin was so covered in potholes and fallen branches, we joked that the 2 hour drive to the hotel probably only covered a few miles. But after that first mile, the road cleared and became increasingly better as we neared much touristed Yangshuo.

Much like our time in Beijing, China is putting their best face forward for us. As tourists, we are seeing the shiny surface rather than the crude underbelly of life in rural in China. The woman running reception at our hotel suffers from brittle bone syndrome, but is clearly gainfully employed and well cared for. The children in the local school all seemed happy and well fed.

But this evening, Peter Hessler jolted me back to the reality of where I live. A story he published in The New Yorker in 2005 tells about a family he befriend in a rural village north of Beijing. The little boy in the family became quite ill, and he retells a harrowing account of this peasant family's journey through the medical system to save their boy. It becomes quite clear that without the help of Hessler and his connections both in Beijing and in America, the little boy would have died from an illness which would only have kept medicated and home sick for a span of time in America. The disregard for people's lives, especially peasants' lives, I am often reminded of. But I allow myself - possibly will myself to forget the appalling state of healthcare in this country, especially for this unable to pay.

As foreigners with rather exceptional health insurance, we visit the VIP Wards in only the best local hospitals. For any major problem, we are immediately air-lifted to Hong Kong or to Singapore. And still I see doctors who don't wash their hands before examining my sick child. I regularly send questions about local practices to our pediatrician in the states, who regularly replies with shock that we face such poor standards.

Beyond this, our relatively exceptional health insurance does not cover basics like scheduled innoculations, or prescribed breathing treatments. The average family in Shanghai earns 1,500 RMB per month - just over $200. Even though they only raise one child, it still seems unlikely that the masses are receiving the healthcare they need.

China is a striking country. The diversity and uniqueness of its geography amazes me, and the history and power behind its culture can be astounding. I have enjoyed these few weeks seeing China through a tourists' lens. But I thank Peter Hessler for reminding me that the neatly scrubbed China of Beijing's hutongs and Yangshuo's markets is not the reality for most of this country.

Conspicuous Consumption

I grew up a Johnson County girl.

At the time I lived there, Johnson County was the richest county in Kansas. The richest county in the Kansas City area. I realize the lack of force those places hold - certainly more money lives in the richest county in Connecticut, or the richest county in the Los Angeles area. Still, in a community where the cost of living is naturally low, the Johnson County girls and their parents had plenty of available income and enjoyed their conspicuous consumption.

I remember my 6th grade year. I wanted a Guess t-shirt more than anything else, because I was the only girl in my class without one.

I remember my 8th grade year. A girl who shared my table in art class simply could not believe I had no clothes from Banana Republic. What, not even The Gap?

My family shopped at K-Mart, and my mother outright refused to pay good money to advertise for a company by purchasing clothing with their name splashed across the front.

I have bucked against the conspicuous consumption so rampant in my high school, as have both of my brothers. We have all bucked this trend in different ways, and mine may be the least admirable. As our income has risen, so has my willingness to invest in quality items. I still avoid the standard shops and refuse to wear clothes with logos - I am my mother's daughter. But rather than inheriting her thrift, my choice has sent me to the boutique shops and smaller labels. I enjoy owning things where the price is not immediate.

So China sometimes grates against me.

In China, the concept of face is impervious. It is important to give a strong first impression, which commonly manifests itself as an outer display of wealth. Conspicuous consumption at its worst. On our drive to Hangzhou yesterday, we passed rural homes made of concrete block and with no architectural significance. Simple and suitable square buildings. But some were adorned with turrets on top. Others had widows walks on their roofs - many miles away from any body of water. Some had both turrets and widows walks, and even coated their entire roof with shining brass for good measure. These concrete buildings standing in the midst of vegetable plots and rice fields with the sun glaring off of their shiny brass roofs looked nothing short of ridiculous to me.

With this lack of interest in face, I suppose I stand little chance of ever becoming truly Chinese.

Quiet Morning

When I woke up this morning, I strained my ears for little voices.

Shanghai weather is going through a mild patch, and we sleep quite comfortable with the windows and doors open. This provides us the added pleasure of waking to the sounds of Shanghai - jackhammers, fog horns, taxis honking and people blowing whistles. The noise level makes it hard for two little girls an entire room away to make themselves heard.

I strained my ears, and heard nothing.

I lay in bed, listening, and slowly allowing myself to wake up.

After a while, I walked to the bathroom. This is where I no longer deceive myself. Standing in the hallway, I can always hear the girls. Often I realize they had been awake all along. But not this morning - they were still quiet.

So I allowed myself an indulgence. To a mother of young children, a long shower in the morning is an indulgence. I took a long, hot shower. I expected to hear screams once I opened the door, so I left the fan on and brushed my teeth a little longer.

No screams.

I dressed relaxedly, lotioned my legs, and came out to face the family. We've had my parents as guests for over 2 weeks now. They are model houseguests, but there is inherently less space in our home with extra people around. I put on my public face and walked into the Living Room.

No one reading, no one sipping coffee.

I began to question if my clock was correct.

8:15 on a weekday morning, and I've got a quiet moment. Lately, this is quite rare!

My parents' visit has been a whirlwind of sightseeing, taking advantage of babysitters, and fitting in quick shopping trips. We gave the girls a quiet few days upon our return from Beijing, but when daytripped down to Hangzhou yesterday to view a temple, a pagoda and the famed West Lake. We found Hangzhou entirely kid and stroller friendly, and the lake was lovely. The girls napped for a good chunk of the ride home, making those 3 hours relatively pleasant as well.

This afternoon, we jump on the plane once more. This time Dave joins us, and we all head down to the south. Our flight lands in Guilin, but a driver will pick us up and escort us to Yangshuo Mountain Retreat. We are looking forward to spending some time in an entirely different part of China - a more rural community, and a much smaller city. Yanghsuo's population is around 300,000 and our hotel is out of town a bit. Apparently located right on the Li River, with donning your swimsuit and walking off the front lawn and into the river is one of the listed activities.

The forecase is rain for the entire weekend. And I don't care. Being out of the city, facing an ethereal view, and having plenty of leisure time with my whole family sounds like a lovely way to spend the next few days.