Although we mailed our documentation and our fingerprints to our adoption agency last week,
it seems that our adoption agency only received our documentation.
No fingerprints.
This is a real problem, for many reasons.
1: We paid nearly $100 for the fingerprints, plus taking advantage of friends for child care and burning about 3 hours of vacation time.
2: Dave returns to Shanghai on Sunday, leaving us only a very few days to get them ready to mail within the month.
3: Our agency will not acknowledge their loss of our fingerprints, meaning that any extra cost will be ours.
It seems that this may end up putting off our application to USCIS by as much as 4 weeks.
Needless to say, Dave and I are a bit grumpy this morning.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
The Reunion
When people ask where we're from, we generally say St. Louis. Although neither of us feels a real affinity toward what was our home city for 7 years, it was our most recent address and so it feels like the right thing to say.
We arrived in St. Louis last night, after spending a week in Chicago. And I'll admit that it felt good to be "home." Our house sits on the market, and so we're sleeping down the street. But walking the same streets, visiting our favorite restaurants and shopping at the same stores feels lusciously comfortable. We visited a grocery store yesterday, and it felt like a reunion with old friends. We used to hang out with Wheat Thins. Remember when we ate Pizza Rolls? Ah, we loved that barbeque sauce!
St. Louis feels comfortable, and in a way that Shanghai may never feel comfortable. But comfort is the end of our feelings toward St. Louis. Beyond our family and friends (and the horrible housing market), precious few things act as a magnet trying to pull us back to St. Louis. The exception to the rule is New City Fellowship, our church.
New City is a transient church, pulling many members from the denomination's seminary in town. Its the type of church with very few people in attendance in Christmas, and so we knew very few other attendees in the pew this morning. But even though our friends were missing, I still felt at home. The pastors were the same, and the music was the same. The style of the worship had not strayed, and the type of community had lasted through a cycle of people. Young families with loads of kids filled the pews, and little noisemakers buzzed throughout the first portion of the service. A crew of instrumentalists lined up behind the worship team, and voiced their instruments whenever they seemed appropriate. Refugee families filled the pews, gathered by nationality. In many ways it felt like our church in Shanghai, with different colored faces and different styles of clothes. But in this crowd, many of the faces were refugee families and others were people intent on serving God's people. In our crowd in Shanghai, we're all expatriates on corporate packages and although we mix with other nationalities, we don't meet economic diversity in our daily lives (although we pass it on the street, and employ it in our homes).
The girls went to Sunday School, and sang along with the worship songs. Dave and I enjoyed the company and the sermon. It felt good to be home, and sad to miss such a wonderful community.
We arrived in St. Louis last night, after spending a week in Chicago. And I'll admit that it felt good to be "home." Our house sits on the market, and so we're sleeping down the street. But walking the same streets, visiting our favorite restaurants and shopping at the same stores feels lusciously comfortable. We visited a grocery store yesterday, and it felt like a reunion with old friends. We used to hang out with Wheat Thins. Remember when we ate Pizza Rolls? Ah, we loved that barbeque sauce!
St. Louis feels comfortable, and in a way that Shanghai may never feel comfortable. But comfort is the end of our feelings toward St. Louis. Beyond our family and friends (and the horrible housing market), precious few things act as a magnet trying to pull us back to St. Louis. The exception to the rule is New City Fellowship, our church.
New City is a transient church, pulling many members from the denomination's seminary in town. Its the type of church with very few people in attendance in Christmas, and so we knew very few other attendees in the pew this morning. But even though our friends were missing, I still felt at home. The pastors were the same, and the music was the same. The style of the worship had not strayed, and the type of community had lasted through a cycle of people. Young families with loads of kids filled the pews, and little noisemakers buzzed throughout the first portion of the service. A crew of instrumentalists lined up behind the worship team, and voiced their instruments whenever they seemed appropriate. Refugee families filled the pews, gathered by nationality. In many ways it felt like our church in Shanghai, with different colored faces and different styles of clothes. But in this crowd, many of the faces were refugee families and others were people intent on serving God's people. In our crowd in Shanghai, we're all expatriates on corporate packages and although we mix with other nationalities, we don't meet economic diversity in our daily lives (although we pass it on the street, and employ it in our homes).
The girls went to Sunday School, and sang along with the worship songs. Dave and I enjoyed the company and the sermon. It felt good to be home, and sad to miss such a wonderful community.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Bi-Homal
I have not reached bi-lingual status during my year on China, but I do believe that I have reached Bi-Homal status. Shanghai is certainly my home - my friends are there, my bed and my children's toys, my grocery store and my routines are in Shanghai. It is certainly my home. But since arriving on Friday in Chicago, I feel completely at home in an entirely different way. I fall into comfortable old habits, talk to people I've known for years, and everything I do feels easy and natural. I realize I am fully a friendly American as I hold conversations with the Hispanic woman at the post office and the Indian woman at Dunkin Donuts. I don't think twice about driving, but rather get behind the wheel and go as if I've been driving all year. America is my home, and maybe always will be. The interesting question is how true that will be for my children - already, S-- has spent over half of her life abroad. By September, L-- will reach the same milestone. Where will their home be?
Adoption Update
I overnighted a serious package yesterday.
Sent from the states, overnighting by USPS was a simple option compared to mailing quickly from China. We sent a serious package into our adoption agency:
And now, we wait.
We wait for the USCIS (United States Citizenship and Immigration Services) to approve our application. We've been told that we'll have a 60 day wait from them, although friends told us they've been waiting for closer to 90 days.
Once we receive approval from USCIS, we submit our dossier to CCAA (China Center of Adoption Affairs). We're being told to expect 12 to 18 months for word from CCAA, although friends tell us they've been waiting for closer to 2 years with the wait time climbing every month. Word is that the wait time should stabilize soon, but may have climbed to an average of 18 to 24 months for expatriate families living in China.
Following this schedule, Mei Mei should arrive in our home by summer of 2012. Two and a half years from now seems a long time away - we'll have a 4 and 5 year old, and who knows where we'll be living. Oh, the changes life can bring!
Sent from the states, overnighting by USPS was a simple option compared to mailing quickly from China. We sent a serious package into our adoption agency:
- Fingerprints, with a very intimidating seal from the U.S. Consulate in Shanghai
- 4 copies of our Homestudy, each requiring certain signatures and stamps
- I-800A, our application to the U.S. government to allow Mei Mei to enter our family as an American
- A check for over $8,000 - that one really hurt
And now, we wait.
We wait for the USCIS (United States Citizenship and Immigration Services) to approve our application. We've been told that we'll have a 60 day wait from them, although friends told us they've been waiting for closer to 90 days.
Once we receive approval from USCIS, we submit our dossier to CCAA (China Center of Adoption Affairs). We're being told to expect 12 to 18 months for word from CCAA, although friends tell us they've been waiting for closer to 2 years with the wait time climbing every month. Word is that the wait time should stabilize soon, but may have climbed to an average of 18 to 24 months for expatriate families living in China.
Following this schedule, Mei Mei should arrive in our home by summer of 2012. Two and a half years from now seems a long time away - we'll have a 4 and 5 year old, and who knows where we'll be living. Oh, the changes life can bring!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Up and At 'Em!
Listing by Chicago time:
3:00pm Thursday - The family began to wake for the day
10:30pm Thursday - We headed off for the airport
3:30am Friday - The flight took off, right on time
8:30am - The girls fell asleep
1:00pm - Everyone's awake
4:20pm - The flight landed, an hour early
10:00pm - To bed, and to sleep quickly
3:00am Saturday - I can not stay in bed another minute
L--, Dave and I are up and putzing around Grammy and Grampa's house, while S-- continues to sleep upstairs. We hoped for crazy Christmas hours at Target so we could use our time usefully and then pick up donuts on the way home. Apparently, opening at 4am would be a bit too crazy for Target.
A good 4 hours of sleep on the plane, and another 6 hours overnight puts us at a pretty good place for facing the week ahead. The flight went well, 2 hours shorter than we had expected. The girls did great; eating, playing and sleeping quite well. I'm not dreading the next flight, although I'm happy its a good 6 weeks away.
3:00pm Thursday - The family began to wake for the day
10:30pm Thursday - We headed off for the airport
3:30am Friday - The flight took off, right on time
8:30am - The girls fell asleep
1:00pm - Everyone's awake
4:20pm - The flight landed, an hour early
10:00pm - To bed, and to sleep quickly
3:00am Saturday - I can not stay in bed another minute
L--, Dave and I are up and putzing around Grammy and Grampa's house, while S-- continues to sleep upstairs. We hoped for crazy Christmas hours at Target so we could use our time usefully and then pick up donuts on the way home. Apparently, opening at 4am would be a bit too crazy for Target.
A good 4 hours of sleep on the plane, and another 6 hours overnight puts us at a pretty good place for facing the week ahead. The flight went well, 2 hours shorter than we had expected. The girls did great; eating, playing and sleeping quite well. I'm not dreading the next flight, although I'm happy its a good 6 weeks away.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
And So It Begins
We fly to America at the end of the day today. Fourteen hours later, we land in Chicago in the middle of the day there. Today.
5:30am Friday, Shanghai - Dave and I are both awake
Start the no sleep clock at 3:30pm Thursday, Chicago time.
And so the day begins.
5:30am Friday, Shanghai - Dave and I are both awake
Start the no sleep clock at 3:30pm Thursday, Chicago time.
And so the day begins.
Confrontation
As in most cultures, the ugliest side of Chinese people comes out when they're behind a wheel. But while Americans will curse and shake their fists at people who cut them off, Chinese people will regularly step out of the car and run yelling toward the person offending them. This style of confrontation is quite likely in such a selfish driving culture as Shanghai displays. People don't think twice about driving into oncoming traffic or stopping in a manner which brings traffic to a halt.
This evening, the girls and I walked to the ATM. I walked, that is. The girls rode their new bikes. As these are new bikes, and a bit outsized for the little tikes, they rode quite slowly and with my assistance. But as we stuck to large sidewalks, it caused no problem.
No problem, that is, until we reached the sidewalk where a man behind the wheel of a large van wanted to drive. The sidewalk was large enough for a van, and possibly could have fit an individual walking next to the van. But with two youngsters on bikes, this van passing us was simply not an option. As he honked his horn behind us, I stayed firmly in the middle of the sidewalk, a few steps behind the girls to ensure their safety. The man revved his engine and attempted to pull around - coming dangerously close to S--. I quickly turned, slamming my fist onto his hood, and glared at him for a good 10 seconds. He seemed to shrink back, and so I returned to my shepherding.
As soon as I turned around, he lay on his horn and again jerked forward. I pulled the same move - quickly turning and slamming my fist on his hood. This time I added a point at his face and some harsh words in English.
After yet one more round of this, the man got out of his car and stormed toward me. My insides felt amazed - he really thought that the van on the sidwalk had the right-of-way over two young children? My outsides felt wildly angry, and looked around for support. The best way to win a public argument in China is to pull a crowd that sides with you. Quickly people began to gather, and confident that I was in the right, I stood my ground. More than stood my ground, in fact. As suits a person in a Chinese confrontation, I began yelling at the man in Mandarin.
He yelled something back at me and then stepped back into his car, quickly backing down from the growing crowd. We walked at our toddler pace to the bank, only a few steps away. He inched close behind us, and lay on the horn the entire way. But I felt like I fit right into my surroundings for having stood my ground.
This evening, the girls and I walked to the ATM. I walked, that is. The girls rode their new bikes. As these are new bikes, and a bit outsized for the little tikes, they rode quite slowly and with my assistance. But as we stuck to large sidewalks, it caused no problem.
No problem, that is, until we reached the sidewalk where a man behind the wheel of a large van wanted to drive. The sidewalk was large enough for a van, and possibly could have fit an individual walking next to the van. But with two youngsters on bikes, this van passing us was simply not an option. As he honked his horn behind us, I stayed firmly in the middle of the sidewalk, a few steps behind the girls to ensure their safety. The man revved his engine and attempted to pull around - coming dangerously close to S--. I quickly turned, slamming my fist onto his hood, and glared at him for a good 10 seconds. He seemed to shrink back, and so I returned to my shepherding.
As soon as I turned around, he lay on his horn and again jerked forward. I pulled the same move - quickly turning and slamming my fist on his hood. This time I added a point at his face and some harsh words in English.
After yet one more round of this, the man got out of his car and stormed toward me. My insides felt amazed - he really thought that the van on the sidwalk had the right-of-way over two young children? My outsides felt wildly angry, and looked around for support. The best way to win a public argument in China is to pull a crowd that sides with you. Quickly people began to gather, and confident that I was in the right, I stood my ground. More than stood my ground, in fact. As suits a person in a Chinese confrontation, I began yelling at the man in Mandarin.
He yelled something back at me and then stepped back into his car, quickly backing down from the growing crowd. We walked at our toddler pace to the bank, only a few steps away. He inched close behind us, and lay on the horn the entire way. But I felt like I fit right into my surroundings for having stood my ground.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Wendy's Cooking
In China, the middle class and above have a staff working in their home. The least paid people in Dave's office have someone who comes to clean their house and do their shopping at least a few days a week. The expatriates have wisely followed suit, and we employ a wonderful woman 40 hours per week as our ayi.
Wendy began working for us in September. She had worked for Americans in the past, but had spent the last two years at home, first as an expecting mother and then caring for her daughter. After a few months, her in-laws moved into their home and Wendy went back to work. I asked her why she was choosing to return to work. And she asked if I've ever spent the entire day, every day with a 14 month old. She and I understand each other.
Wendy is a smart woman, who taught herself amazing English over the last few years. She comes from Nanjing, but her husband in from Shanghai and this is now her home. Her husband drives a bus and her in-laws care for her baby while she's working. She was not looking to be a nanny, and so she focuses her time on housekeeping. But she enjoys S-- and she thinks L-- is quite clever. She keeps a keen eye on both of my kids, rarely spoiling them, and S-- is entirely comfortable with her.
We asked all of the appropriate questions when I hired her, but I didn't think to ask about her cooking. After a few weeks of her working for our family, I asked her to make lunch for S-- and I a few days a week. For 3 weeks she made simple vegetables and rice, but somehow every meal tasted different and each meal tasted wonderful. As I increased the amount of money she could spend at the store, the meals became increasingly better. More meat, bigger variety of vegetables. Wendy clearly enjoys cooking, and her knowledge is tremendous. As we are leaving on Friday, I've asked her only to cook with what's in the house this week. I showed her the pantry - please use up the meat in the freezer, go through as many eggs as you can, and use up the carrots and cucumbers in the fridge. Based on that criteria, today's lunch was amazing. I'm looking forward to tomorrow.
I've asked her to teach me to cook Chinese food, and today I had my first lesson. She taught me to make ma na dofou. When I searched for it online, I was referred to mapo doufu. This sounds like exactly the same dish, and I have to assume that she has taught me the Shanghainese pronunciation. Its quite simple and relatively healthy - tofu, minced pork, Sichuanese chilis, and all of the standard Chinese seasonings, all served over rice. Although I just watched her cook today, I took copious notes (a point she thought was quite amusing) and I'm confident in my ability to recreate the dish.
I may return from my time in China with a shamefully small amount of language skills to my name, but I will be one of the best Chinese chefs around after Wendy is finished with me.
Wendy began working for us in September. She had worked for Americans in the past, but had spent the last two years at home, first as an expecting mother and then caring for her daughter. After a few months, her in-laws moved into their home and Wendy went back to work. I asked her why she was choosing to return to work. And she asked if I've ever spent the entire day, every day with a 14 month old. She and I understand each other.
Wendy is a smart woman, who taught herself amazing English over the last few years. She comes from Nanjing, but her husband in from Shanghai and this is now her home. Her husband drives a bus and her in-laws care for her baby while she's working. She was not looking to be a nanny, and so she focuses her time on housekeeping. But she enjoys S-- and she thinks L-- is quite clever. She keeps a keen eye on both of my kids, rarely spoiling them, and S-- is entirely comfortable with her.
We asked all of the appropriate questions when I hired her, but I didn't think to ask about her cooking. After a few weeks of her working for our family, I asked her to make lunch for S-- and I a few days a week. For 3 weeks she made simple vegetables and rice, but somehow every meal tasted different and each meal tasted wonderful. As I increased the amount of money she could spend at the store, the meals became increasingly better. More meat, bigger variety of vegetables. Wendy clearly enjoys cooking, and her knowledge is tremendous. As we are leaving on Friday, I've asked her only to cook with what's in the house this week. I showed her the pantry - please use up the meat in the freezer, go through as many eggs as you can, and use up the carrots and cucumbers in the fridge. Based on that criteria, today's lunch was amazing. I'm looking forward to tomorrow.
I've asked her to teach me to cook Chinese food, and today I had my first lesson. She taught me to make ma na dofou. When I searched for it online, I was referred to mapo doufu. This sounds like exactly the same dish, and I have to assume that she has taught me the Shanghainese pronunciation. Its quite simple and relatively healthy - tofu, minced pork, Sichuanese chilis, and all of the standard Chinese seasonings, all served over rice. Although I just watched her cook today, I took copious notes (a point she thought was quite amusing) and I'm confident in my ability to recreate the dish.
I may return from my time in China with a shamefully small amount of language skills to my name, but I will be one of the best Chinese chefs around after Wendy is finished with me.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Common Themes
One of the fun things about living in an expatriate community is how many of my friends have entirely different backgrounds from myself. Friends grew up in different countries, in rural areas, with different educational backgrounds and different career backgrounds. Friends have different reasons for living abroad and different goals for their children. And still, they're my friends.
Another interesting thing is how much we have in common. In many ways, the expatriate community in Shanghai resembles America circa 1950. Many women have sacrificed themselves for their husband's career. We've given up our careers and moved far away from our family and friends. We've sacrificed roots and a sense of place - but our husbands have as well. Many women work, but it seems that most of us do not. We run our households, managing to keep our family traditions intact and our food recognizable. Many of us have learned how to cook and how to bake - because you're not going to get Grandma's sugar cookies unless you make them yourself! We don't drive. We don't have any income. Our lives revolve around keeping our children well and happy, and managing our husband's schedules. The children in the schools talk about where their families live, and where they'll travel for Christmas. They share holiday traditions, and no one stands out when Daddy travels for a week at a time.
Incredibly, I'm learning that I like the 1950s housewife lifestyle. I'm enjoying cooking everything from scratch. I like spending most of my time with my kids, and making family time a priority. I love helping out at L--'s school. And although I do miss working, I have adjusted to life as a full-time mom and am not planning to change that anytime soon. Most of my friends say the same.
Sadly, another commonality amongst expatriate families is marital hardship. The men travel a lot. They're expected to work long hours, and often late into the night. Many Chinese people seek a way out of their country, and a rich expatriate man is the easiest ticket for a young woman who speaks English. Too many women - including friends of mine - have found themselves in this horrendous situation. Having given up their lives entirely, their husband leaves them for another woman. One friend has been abroad for quite some time - such that she has no home to return to. She has no credit history, and no property. She has no income, and since her husband still works for the company, no one will ship her and her belongings back to her homeland. Her children now face living without their father, as he will stay in China. What is frightening in the United States becomes terrifying in a foreign land.
Divorce rates are high in the U.S., and have been for some time. My understanding is that the rates are much higher for families living abroad. I heard at one point that an international move is one of the most difficult adjustments for a person to make. No doubt it is one of the most difficult adjustments for a couple to make as well.
Another interesting thing is how much we have in common. In many ways, the expatriate community in Shanghai resembles America circa 1950. Many women have sacrificed themselves for their husband's career. We've given up our careers and moved far away from our family and friends. We've sacrificed roots and a sense of place - but our husbands have as well. Many women work, but it seems that most of us do not. We run our households, managing to keep our family traditions intact and our food recognizable. Many of us have learned how to cook and how to bake - because you're not going to get Grandma's sugar cookies unless you make them yourself! We don't drive. We don't have any income. Our lives revolve around keeping our children well and happy, and managing our husband's schedules. The children in the schools talk about where their families live, and where they'll travel for Christmas. They share holiday traditions, and no one stands out when Daddy travels for a week at a time.
Incredibly, I'm learning that I like the 1950s housewife lifestyle. I'm enjoying cooking everything from scratch. I like spending most of my time with my kids, and making family time a priority. I love helping out at L--'s school. And although I do miss working, I have adjusted to life as a full-time mom and am not planning to change that anytime soon. Most of my friends say the same.
Sadly, another commonality amongst expatriate families is marital hardship. The men travel a lot. They're expected to work long hours, and often late into the night. Many Chinese people seek a way out of their country, and a rich expatriate man is the easiest ticket for a young woman who speaks English. Too many women - including friends of mine - have found themselves in this horrendous situation. Having given up their lives entirely, their husband leaves them for another woman. One friend has been abroad for quite some time - such that she has no home to return to. She has no credit history, and no property. She has no income, and since her husband still works for the company, no one will ship her and her belongings back to her homeland. Her children now face living without their father, as he will stay in China. What is frightening in the United States becomes terrifying in a foreign land.
Divorce rates are high in the U.S., and have been for some time. My understanding is that the rates are much higher for families living abroad. I heard at one point that an international move is one of the most difficult adjustments for a person to make. No doubt it is one of the most difficult adjustments for a couple to make as well.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
The American Foreign Service
By and large, our acquaintances in Shanghai are in the corporate sector. Their company has invested in China through joint venture or acquisition, and they have been sent as an expert on the company business to help things run smoothly. This was certainly the case when Dave arrived in Shanghai. Uncle H-- acquired an office here a few years ago, and business grew so quickly that the small local shops were having much trouble keeping up. Dave worked for Uncle H-- on big projects in the states for years, and although he was not a high-ranking manager, he was familiar with managing large clients with seemingly unreasonable expectations on tight time frames. The idea, as we knew it, was to have Dave help the Shanghai team to run on that same level. Over the year that we've lived in Shanghai, his job description has changed at least twice. This is par for the course with expatriates working in corporate Shanghai.
We know a family working for the U.S. armed services, and we know a few families who came to serve the Lord (although they were brought by corporations, work full-time jobs, and live the same corporate lifestyle as the rest of us.) The people we do not know are those working for foreign governments. I wonder whether this is by happenstance, or if those working for consulates and embassies tend to keep to themselves.
Doug, a close friend of ours in Shanghai, plans to apply to the American Foreign Service, and I find the process extremely interesting. Allow me to explain what he is facing.
Step 1: FSOT
The Foreign Service Officer Test (FSOT) is offered to Americans a few times a year, and is the first step in the application process. The American Consulate in Shanghai will offer the test in February, and so Doug is submitting his application this week and will bone up on his American history and international politics over the next 8 weeks.
Step 2: Pass the FSOT
Doug faces a low pass rate on the test, and so he will face a few weeks of uncertainty before finding out his score. Having taken the exam in February, Doug would expect to learn his status in March.
Step 3: Write an essay
With notification that he passes the exam, Doug will be asked to quickly turn around three writing samples. These will be in the form of essays on personal motivation, interests, experiences and so forth.
Step 4: Oral Examination
After several months, enough people will read those essays and decide whether or not our friend is a satisfactory writer with acceptable personal motivation. If he passes the written portion, he will face an oral examination. Doug's info is a little fuzzy at this point - it seems that he will be looking at a day of interviews, and although an interview is essentially a list of questions, he still can not explain whether these questions are more in interview form or examination form. Suffice it to say that at the end of this day, Doug must have convinced the good people of the U.S. State Department that he can effectively communicate what a brilliant person he is. Facing a several month wait time, Doug estimates that he would take his Oral Examination in June.
Step 5: Acceptance
After another few months of discussions behind locked doors, Doug will presumably be notified that the U.S. government would love him to be their envoy in a foreign nation. This is where Doug's information becomes quite fuzzy. His impression is that once they inform him of his acceptance, things will move quickly. Because Doug currently lives in Shanghai, the process could potentially work differently for him than for the average American Joe. But presumably, within a few weeks he would pack his things and move out of China. His estimate is that this notification could come in the fall - around September or October.
Step 6: Training
Doug will move to Washington, D.C. and begin training to be a Foreign Service Officer. At the end of his training, Doug and the State Department will decide where he will face his first posting. He then enters into the second faze of training, where he learns the language of his next home. This whole training process will take about a year - a year of living in Washington, D.C.
Assignment #1
After learning the language, Doug will be sent to his first posting. As a new officer, this posting will almost certainly be processing visas. The U.S. goverment will not pay Doug a whole lot of money to process these visas - he faces a dramatic drop in salary. But the State Department does promise to house all of their employees, and to provide for their children's education. Because they want him to maintain his ties with America, Doug will spend at least 30 days in the United States every year on vacation. Most assignments last 2-4 years.
Assignment #2
Having finished his first posting, Doug will face dejavu. He will return to Washington, D.C. to learn another language. Once he's well-trained, he will be sent to his second assignment where he will process more visa applications. If he is accepted into this career choice, Doug faces a simple and monotonous job for the next 4-6 years. But once he finishes this second assignment, he'll be dropped into the main employee pool in the foreign service and then things could get really interesting.
As I find the entire process quite interesting, I'll keep posting on Doug's process as long as we're in touch.
We know a family working for the U.S. armed services, and we know a few families who came to serve the Lord (although they were brought by corporations, work full-time jobs, and live the same corporate lifestyle as the rest of us.) The people we do not know are those working for foreign governments. I wonder whether this is by happenstance, or if those working for consulates and embassies tend to keep to themselves.
Doug, a close friend of ours in Shanghai, plans to apply to the American Foreign Service, and I find the process extremely interesting. Allow me to explain what he is facing.
Step 1: FSOT
The Foreign Service Officer Test (FSOT) is offered to Americans a few times a year, and is the first step in the application process. The American Consulate in Shanghai will offer the test in February, and so Doug is submitting his application this week and will bone up on his American history and international politics over the next 8 weeks.
Step 2: Pass the FSOT
Doug faces a low pass rate on the test, and so he will face a few weeks of uncertainty before finding out his score. Having taken the exam in February, Doug would expect to learn his status in March.
Step 3: Write an essay
With notification that he passes the exam, Doug will be asked to quickly turn around three writing samples. These will be in the form of essays on personal motivation, interests, experiences and so forth.
Step 4: Oral Examination
After several months, enough people will read those essays and decide whether or not our friend is a satisfactory writer with acceptable personal motivation. If he passes the written portion, he will face an oral examination. Doug's info is a little fuzzy at this point - it seems that he will be looking at a day of interviews, and although an interview is essentially a list of questions, he still can not explain whether these questions are more in interview form or examination form. Suffice it to say that at the end of this day, Doug must have convinced the good people of the U.S. State Department that he can effectively communicate what a brilliant person he is. Facing a several month wait time, Doug estimates that he would take his Oral Examination in June.
Step 5: Acceptance
After another few months of discussions behind locked doors, Doug will presumably be notified that the U.S. government would love him to be their envoy in a foreign nation. This is where Doug's information becomes quite fuzzy. His impression is that once they inform him of his acceptance, things will move quickly. Because Doug currently lives in Shanghai, the process could potentially work differently for him than for the average American Joe. But presumably, within a few weeks he would pack his things and move out of China. His estimate is that this notification could come in the fall - around September or October.
Step 6: Training
Doug will move to Washington, D.C. and begin training to be a Foreign Service Officer. At the end of his training, Doug and the State Department will decide where he will face his first posting. He then enters into the second faze of training, where he learns the language of his next home. This whole training process will take about a year - a year of living in Washington, D.C.
Assignment #1
After learning the language, Doug will be sent to his first posting. As a new officer, this posting will almost certainly be processing visas. The U.S. goverment will not pay Doug a whole lot of money to process these visas - he faces a dramatic drop in salary. But the State Department does promise to house all of their employees, and to provide for their children's education. Because they want him to maintain his ties with America, Doug will spend at least 30 days in the United States every year on vacation. Most assignments last 2-4 years.
Assignment #2
Having finished his first posting, Doug will face dejavu. He will return to Washington, D.C. to learn another language. Once he's well-trained, he will be sent to his second assignment where he will process more visa applications. If he is accepted into this career choice, Doug faces a simple and monotonous job for the next 4-6 years. But once he finishes this second assignment, he'll be dropped into the main employee pool in the foreign service and then things could get really interesting.
As I find the entire process quite interesting, I'll keep posting on Doug's process as long as we're in touch.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Reading Instructions
I may have earned a Motherhood Medal this evening. S--'s birthday is tomorrow, and so I spent the evening assembling and wrapping presents. The wrapping part was easy. The assembly began as this:
The thick shag rug did not make assembly any easier, as many tiny little pieces got lost in those long, brown hairs. But here's where the medal comes in. I totally would have followed the instructions, if they didn't read like this:
You may have made a joke at one point in your life about the instructions being written in Chinese. Believe me - it is a lot harder when they really are written in Chinese.
But after 4 hours, an entire season of Weeds, a bruised thumb and half a bag of tortilla chips, the finished product seems to be a sturdy trike that any little girl would be proud to ride. Well, except for the 1984 emblem on the front - T.I.C.
The thick shag rug did not make assembly any easier, as many tiny little pieces got lost in those long, brown hairs. But here's where the medal comes in. I totally would have followed the instructions, if they didn't read like this:
You may have made a joke at one point in your life about the instructions being written in Chinese. Believe me - it is a lot harder when they really are written in Chinese.But after 4 hours, an entire season of Weeds, a bruised thumb and half a bag of tortilla chips, the finished product seems to be a sturdy trike that any little girl would be proud to ride. Well, except for the 1984 emblem on the front - T.I.C.
T.I.C.
We, as expats in Shanghai, have a saying that explains any otherwise inexplicable happenings.
T.I.C.
Translation: This Is China
The mere reminder that This Is China tends to explain away any ridiculous problem, and although it doesn't make you feel any better about your situation, it does allow you to let it go with the knowledge that you can't do anything to change it.
For example, I called the doctor this afternoon. S-- needs a routine blood test, so I made an appointment. I asked to pick up our medical records at that time, as we'll be visiting our reliable pediatrician while we're in the states. After making the appointment, I requested our family's medical records. The woman on the phone clarified how many people I needed records for. Just the two girls - so that's two people. She informed me that I will be charged for each set of medical records, coming to a total of 300 RMB. That's about $50 in U.S. currency to receive a photocopy of two young children's medical records. I would otherwise call it unnecessary, pledging to commit their medical history to memory. Except that S-- has received immunizations while in Shanghai, and will need a positive record of those shots. It is absurd to pay nearly $50 simply to receive the immunization records of my own two children. How is this possible? How is this acceptable? Simple - T.I.C.
Later in the day, the girls and I took the Metro to visit Daddy for dinner. In his new role, Dave works on projects which cumulate in a few intense weeks. In the midst of these times, he struggles to make it home for dinner and bedtime. So tonight, we brought dinner to him and will do bedtime on our own. This means I brought two short little people onto the Shanghai Metro during rush hour. We only had to make it 4 stops, with no line changes - no problem. I stood my ground, using muscles I didn't know I had to resist being pushed into L-- as she stood in front of me. S-- sat in a backpack behind me, and sadly received the brunt of the pushing. With her face in most people's line of vision, she was mainly spared. As we exited the train, I set L-- directly in front of me and used my elbows to push my way out. We made it out without L-- noticing what a crowded place she had exited, but I felt wildly frustrated at a mass of people's inability to watch out for the needs of others. Especially others who are shorter than 3 feet tall. T.I.C.
We reached the restaurant. Situated inside a department store crowded with sale seeking shoppers, this is hardly fine dining. The seats are long benches in an uneven shade of brown which is almost certainly darkened by time and filthy bodies. Still, the staff balked at the girls walking down the benches and made them sit down and take off their shoes. T.I.C.
As I was losing my patience with my surroundings, L-- exclaimed that she had to pee. We sought out a bathroom, and found it with little trouble. Very sweet staff ladies led us straight to it - T.I.C. certainly also refers to the sweet people will go out of their way to help, and who make life in China more than bearable. But these sweet ladies were not the bathroom attendants. In China, bathroom stalls are not individually stocked with toilet paper. Fancy department stores hang their roll of toilet paper outside the bathroom door, where people are expected to think ahead and measure appropriately. Apparently, too many pee-ers overestimated and the roll was empty. But no problem, I thought. A bathroom worker is standing right here - he must not realize the problem. The conversation which ensued made no sense to me, as the man spoke no English.
Lynne (pointing to the empty paper roll): Mei you. There is none.
Worker (leaning on his mop): Something in Mandarin about how he agrees that there is no paper.
Lynne: Mei you. Bu hao. There is none. This is a problem.
Worker (smiling): Something in Mandarin about who knows what, which began to really piss me off, because can there be a good reason for a department store to offer no toilet paper to any of their toilet goers?
At this point, I began yelling at the poor man in English. Maybe not yelling - I don't think I raised my voice. But my tone was certainly not one of the four in Mandarin. He stood smiling, that ever-present Chinese smile which can mean one of many things, but here probably meant one of two things. A: This woman is making me really uncomfortable; or B: I can't wait to tell the guys about this crazy white lady going off about the lack of toilet paper! I mean, what does she expect? This Is China!
T.I.C.
Translation: This Is China
The mere reminder that This Is China tends to explain away any ridiculous problem, and although it doesn't make you feel any better about your situation, it does allow you to let it go with the knowledge that you can't do anything to change it.
For example, I called the doctor this afternoon. S-- needs a routine blood test, so I made an appointment. I asked to pick up our medical records at that time, as we'll be visiting our reliable pediatrician while we're in the states. After making the appointment, I requested our family's medical records. The woman on the phone clarified how many people I needed records for. Just the two girls - so that's two people. She informed me that I will be charged for each set of medical records, coming to a total of 300 RMB. That's about $50 in U.S. currency to receive a photocopy of two young children's medical records. I would otherwise call it unnecessary, pledging to commit their medical history to memory. Except that S-- has received immunizations while in Shanghai, and will need a positive record of those shots. It is absurd to pay nearly $50 simply to receive the immunization records of my own two children. How is this possible? How is this acceptable? Simple - T.I.C.
Later in the day, the girls and I took the Metro to visit Daddy for dinner. In his new role, Dave works on projects which cumulate in a few intense weeks. In the midst of these times, he struggles to make it home for dinner and bedtime. So tonight, we brought dinner to him and will do bedtime on our own. This means I brought two short little people onto the Shanghai Metro during rush hour. We only had to make it 4 stops, with no line changes - no problem. I stood my ground, using muscles I didn't know I had to resist being pushed into L-- as she stood in front of me. S-- sat in a backpack behind me, and sadly received the brunt of the pushing. With her face in most people's line of vision, she was mainly spared. As we exited the train, I set L-- directly in front of me and used my elbows to push my way out. We made it out without L-- noticing what a crowded place she had exited, but I felt wildly frustrated at a mass of people's inability to watch out for the needs of others. Especially others who are shorter than 3 feet tall. T.I.C.
We reached the restaurant. Situated inside a department store crowded with sale seeking shoppers, this is hardly fine dining. The seats are long benches in an uneven shade of brown which is almost certainly darkened by time and filthy bodies. Still, the staff balked at the girls walking down the benches and made them sit down and take off their shoes. T.I.C.
As I was losing my patience with my surroundings, L-- exclaimed that she had to pee. We sought out a bathroom, and found it with little trouble. Very sweet staff ladies led us straight to it - T.I.C. certainly also refers to the sweet people will go out of their way to help, and who make life in China more than bearable. But these sweet ladies were not the bathroom attendants. In China, bathroom stalls are not individually stocked with toilet paper. Fancy department stores hang their roll of toilet paper outside the bathroom door, where people are expected to think ahead and measure appropriately. Apparently, too many pee-ers overestimated and the roll was empty. But no problem, I thought. A bathroom worker is standing right here - he must not realize the problem. The conversation which ensued made no sense to me, as the man spoke no English.
Lynne (pointing to the empty paper roll): Mei you. There is none.
Worker (leaning on his mop): Something in Mandarin about how he agrees that there is no paper.
Lynne: Mei you. Bu hao. There is none. This is a problem.
Worker (smiling): Something in Mandarin about who knows what, which began to really piss me off, because can there be a good reason for a department store to offer no toilet paper to any of their toilet goers?
At this point, I began yelling at the poor man in English. Maybe not yelling - I don't think I raised my voice. But my tone was certainly not one of the four in Mandarin. He stood smiling, that ever-present Chinese smile which can mean one of many things, but here probably meant one of two things. A: This woman is making me really uncomfortable; or B: I can't wait to tell the guys about this crazy white lady going off about the lack of toilet paper! I mean, what does she expect? This Is China!
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Discussing Mei Mei
I picked up L-- on my own this afternoon. I spent the morning running errands sans children, and although I usually bring S-- to L--'s school in the afternoon, today I was alone. L-- and I enjoyed the chance to chat in the backseat of the van on the 20 minute ride home.
We discussed children, and who has children, and how many they have. She explained that her teachers all have children. Even Miss Yuko, her Chinese teacher. Really? I asked. I didn't know Miss Yuko had children. How many children does she have?
Daughter: She has one, two, three, four, five, six, seven children.
Mommy: Wow! Seven children is a lot! You know, Miss Yuko is Chinese and so she can only have 1 child. Chinese families are only allowed to have one kid in the family.
Daughter: You and Daddy have 2 kids in the famiy.
Mommy (sensing the right moment): That's right. Would it be fun to have more than 2 kids in our family?
Daughter: Um, sure. Yeah.
Mommy: Maybe when you're 4 years old we'll get another kid in our family. Maybe we'll call her Mei Mei and she can be your little sister.
Daughter: S-- and me could be her big sisters!
Mommy: Yeah! Would you like that?
Daughter: Yeah! But I want her to speak English, and not Chinese, okay?
We went on to discuss that Mei Mei will come to our family as a baby, and that we can teach her what language to speak. We will teach her English, but L-- could help teach her Chinese, too. L-- broke into one of the Mandarin songs she sings at school, which our driver got a real kick out of. The poor man must be bored stiff, listening to us speak English all day long - we deprive him of the ability to eavesdrop on our conversations. So whenever he hears Mandarin, he's pleased. And particularly pleased when he hears children's songs from the backseat!
I'm struck by her aversion to Mandarin - although I believe she understands more than she lets on, L-- is still quite uncomfortable being around people speaking Chinese. Neither L-- nor S-- has picked up more than a few words of the language. So much for soaking it up like a sponge! But at least she's keen to have Mei Mei join our family!
We discussed children, and who has children, and how many they have. She explained that her teachers all have children. Even Miss Yuko, her Chinese teacher. Really? I asked. I didn't know Miss Yuko had children. How many children does she have?
Daughter: She has one, two, three, four, five, six, seven children.
Mommy: Wow! Seven children is a lot! You know, Miss Yuko is Chinese and so she can only have 1 child. Chinese families are only allowed to have one kid in the family.
Daughter: You and Daddy have 2 kids in the famiy.
Mommy (sensing the right moment): That's right. Would it be fun to have more than 2 kids in our family?
Daughter: Um, sure. Yeah.
Mommy: Maybe when you're 4 years old we'll get another kid in our family. Maybe we'll call her Mei Mei and she can be your little sister.
Daughter: S-- and me could be her big sisters!
Mommy: Yeah! Would you like that?
Daughter: Yeah! But I want her to speak English, and not Chinese, okay?
We went on to discuss that Mei Mei will come to our family as a baby, and that we can teach her what language to speak. We will teach her English, but L-- could help teach her Chinese, too. L-- broke into one of the Mandarin songs she sings at school, which our driver got a real kick out of. The poor man must be bored stiff, listening to us speak English all day long - we deprive him of the ability to eavesdrop on our conversations. So whenever he hears Mandarin, he's pleased. And particularly pleased when he hears children's songs from the backseat!
I'm struck by her aversion to Mandarin - although I believe she understands more than she lets on, L-- is still quite uncomfortable being around people speaking Chinese. Neither L-- nor S-- has picked up more than a few words of the language. So much for soaking it up like a sponge! But at least she's keen to have Mei Mei join our family!
Cold Feet
With the onset of December, temperatures have dropped dramatically in Shanghai. Ice formed on the fountains in the complexes over the weekend, making it the coldest Saturday I can remember in Shanghai. With the fall of external temperatures comes a distinct loss of warmth in our apartment. I know I've blogged about this recently, but I can't keep my mind focused on anything beyond the warmth of my feet.
When outside, my jogging shoes allow cold breezes to shoot icily through my toes. When inside, two pairs of fuzzy socks are not enough to keep my feet from being chilled.
I attended a training for Music Together this weekend. I am not a certified teacher. For three days, I spent 10 hours in a classroom with heating no better than ours. In the morning, we'd stoke the flames and the room would be too hot within 2 hours. For the rest of the day, we left the heater off. No one else complained, but my feet were frozen within 30 minutes. I could not warm up all weekend, after spending my long days with such cold feet.
Last night, I took a hot bath. The bathroom has no heater, and so I left the heat lamp running for nearly twenty minutes before stepping into the steaming water. My toes burned with the abrupt change in temperature, such that I could hardly bear it. But I persevered, and after a long bath my feet felt the same temperature as the rest of my body.
But when I stepped out of the bathroom - warmed by heat lamps, remember - the ice immediately began seeping into my toes. As I walked across the room, I noted that my feet stayed warm while I stood on the carpet but chilled immensely when I stepped off. After wrapping myself in a warm robe and coating my feet with fuzzy socks, I leaned down to investigate. The floors in our apartment may be actively chilled. I believe water would set into cubes merely by being placed on our floor. That sucker is really cold.
After this discovery came the desire for slippers. They've been placed on my Christmas list, and I'm hopeful in Santa's abilities to provide. But until then, I've found a stock of slippers that the landlord had left for us in the bathroom. Apparently these cold floors are no surprise to anyone around here. Our ayi has slippers that she leaves at our home - she's no fool.
Now I just need to figure out how to keep my fingers warm.
When outside, my jogging shoes allow cold breezes to shoot icily through my toes. When inside, two pairs of fuzzy socks are not enough to keep my feet from being chilled.
I attended a training for Music Together this weekend. I am not a certified teacher. For three days, I spent 10 hours in a classroom with heating no better than ours. In the morning, we'd stoke the flames and the room would be too hot within 2 hours. For the rest of the day, we left the heater off. No one else complained, but my feet were frozen within 30 minutes. I could not warm up all weekend, after spending my long days with such cold feet.
Last night, I took a hot bath. The bathroom has no heater, and so I left the heat lamp running for nearly twenty minutes before stepping into the steaming water. My toes burned with the abrupt change in temperature, such that I could hardly bear it. But I persevered, and after a long bath my feet felt the same temperature as the rest of my body.
But when I stepped out of the bathroom - warmed by heat lamps, remember - the ice immediately began seeping into my toes. As I walked across the room, I noted that my feet stayed warm while I stood on the carpet but chilled immensely when I stepped off. After wrapping myself in a warm robe and coating my feet with fuzzy socks, I leaned down to investigate. The floors in our apartment may be actively chilled. I believe water would set into cubes merely by being placed on our floor. That sucker is really cold.
After this discovery came the desire for slippers. They've been placed on my Christmas list, and I'm hopeful in Santa's abilities to provide. But until then, I've found a stock of slippers that the landlord had left for us in the bathroom. Apparently these cold floors are no surprise to anyone around here. Our ayi has slippers that she leaves at our home - she's no fool.
Now I just need to figure out how to keep my fingers warm.
Monday, December 01, 2008
The Work Week Begins
I've just been offered the opportunity to be trained as a Music Together teacher, which I'm very excited about. This seems like a wonderful skill to carry with us through other expatriate positions with preschoolers. The catch is that the training goes from 9am until 7pm Wednesday through Friday this week. My previously enrolled photography class has a field trip scheduled from 9am until 6pm today, and so my poor children are spending the week parentless.
I'm feeling a bit stressed about the whole situation, but very excited about both opportunities. But with the business that this week entails - along with preparing for S--'s birthday party on Saturday morning - you may not hear much from us this week.
I'm feeling a bit stressed about the whole situation, but very excited about both opportunities. But with the business that this week entails - along with preparing for S--'s birthday party on Saturday morning - you may not hear much from us this week.
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