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Shanghai, September 2002, Part Two

As part of my blog I am adding edited excerpts of emails I sent on past travels.

As I prepare for C’s and my move to Shanghai in January 2015, it seems particularly apt to take a look at when I last visited Shanghai. It’s funny, but I keep thinking that I was in Shanghai “fairly recently,” but 2002 is not recently at all! I visited Shanghai for one week during a break in my graduate classes in Singapore.

I find this excerpt interesting for a few reasons. One, these days in my Chinese reading class we have had several texts with criticisms of Mao Zedong, though his face remains on the Chinese bills. Second, my visit to the Shanghai Acrobatic Troupe – at the very least I would like to take C to see one of their performances. Finally, I really can hardly wait to go to the hair salon and have one of those fantastic head and shoulder massages. As a single, without child person, I took those WAY too much for granted.

I think the Mongolian women are working here and have essentially moved into the Pujiang hotel. I thought it a bit strange that they went out dancing every single night. Yesterday I thought what a boring holiday that would be, not seeing any of the sights, and surely Ulaan Bator has a few discos to keep them satisfied. But now I am quite sure they are working here, probably at a night club, so there is little hope of them leaving me in peace any time soon. I didn’t get much sleep the night before last because they were chatting away as usual, and then one girl came back at 3:30 am and clomped around the room awhile. The other girls came back at 5 am and thought it a good time to have a heart to heart conversation, in loud voices. I sat up and asked them if they wanted to talk could they do it outside, and again “sorry, sorry” and then they launched right back into their dialogue. Probably they are rather drunk and don’t realize they are talking so loudly?

By yesterday evening, around 7 pm, I was so very, very tired, and didn’t think I was going to make it through the acrobatic performance from 7:30-9, and I had a pounding headache. But I bought some medicine and went to the performance. It was incredible!!! Simply breathtaking. I was literally on the edge of my seat, with my mouth hanging open, and making audible gasps as they continued to do amazing stunts of strength, flexibility and grace. I would highly recommend seeing this performance. I couldn’t help but wonder though about the lives of these acrobatics. How is that they got into this line of work? I think in the movie “Farewell my Concubine” we see at the beginning the children sold to the acrobatic schools by parents who can’t afford to keep them or to pay for debts, and the excruciating training the children go through to be so flexible and strong. I don’t know if that is the case anymore, or if like in the recent book I read “A Son of the Circus” by John Irving, which is set in India, that the children are often street children and are “better off” in the circus than on the street. Hmmmm……. I don’t think there are very strict labor laws like in Japan. Although in Japan there are many pop groups made up of children, they cannot perform live after 8 pm in the evening until they are over 16. In this performance I saw there was a little girl, maybe 7 or 9 years old who performed the last stunt after 9, and what a stunt it was! She balanced on one hand on top of a pedestal for approximately ten minutes, sometimes changing hands with a little hop, and stretching her legs in all sorts of contortions. It was so beautiful. She appeared happy as she made her bow, and as I was in the fourth row, so I could see all the performers clearly. But is she really happy? You could already see the muscles in her little arms and legs. She is so powerful, but so tiny and fragile at the same time. A truly amazing performance though.

I wonder about the still lingering admiration of Mao Zedong in this country. Is this man really adored? Is he venerated still after all the harm he did to the country? It seems so because his face now adorns the money here. When I was here in 1994, and even in 1996 and 1998, there was no Mao face staring at me from the currency, though it seems beginning in 1999 his face is on all the bank notes, replacing the faces of Chinese minorities. Maybe they no longer feel they have to placate the minorities for poor treatment by putting them on the money? I went to the Shanghai museum yesterday and there was even an exhibit for China’s minorities, and really well done. But to put Mao’s face on the money? Why not Deng’s face instead? I don’t see the little red Mao mirror pictures which I used to see hanging in taxis in Beijing when I was here in 1994. That doesn’t mean that they don’t hang somewhere now, but why have them when everyone carries Mao’s face with them in their wallets? Is this part of capitalism with Chinese characteristics? Every time you use money you are reminded of the revolution, of Mao? Interesting.

Yesterday I saw another spectacle on the street. As I was about to cross a street, a commotion arose to the right of me. I didn’t see what initially happened, but saw a policeman grabbing at a man, trying to hold him in a vice. The man was resisting and asking him what was the matter. Of course, this immediately caught the attention of every Chinese person in the vicinity and a circle was quickly formed around the pair. I was waiting for the light to change and cannot deny my own curiosity as to what was happening. I was more intrigued about this crowd though, and almost thought to take a picture, but could imagine the policeman then turning on me, so I refrained. The policeman kept trying to grab the guy by the hands, by the neck and so on, and the guy kept trying to get out of these attacks, but he didn’t seem to be prepared to run, just wanted the policeman to let go of him. He accidentally pushed the policeman who then fell to the ground. I let out a gasp at this, because I expected the guy was really going to be in trouble now for having pushed the policeman. But the guy then starts preaching to the crowd, pointing at the policeman and stating his case. I assume he was telling the crowd how he was wrongly attacked by the policeman. This was getting interesting, and the crowd was getting larger. I gave up trying to understand and crossed the street.

Yesterday I also had my hair done. I just went in to have my hair washed because I wanted the head massage, but decided to go ahead and have a little cut. The massage was exquisite. Wow, wow, wow!!! There was a head, neck, shoulder, and upper back massage included in this. I had my hair washed, dried, and cut. All of this for the amazing price of 29 kuai, or less than US$4!!! But what was more interesting perhaps was my hairdresser told me my hair was beautiful, I was beautiful, and would I like to go out dancing that night?! He gave me his name card and told me to call him after 9 pm!! I didn’t call him though. Too tired. But it really made me wonder. I have been in Shanghai three days and I had several people stop to talk to me, and tell me I am beautiful. One guy with his two female friends told me they just had to stop and talk to me because I looked exotic. I have been in Singapore two months and haven’t had anything remotely similar happen. But all this adoration could go to my head! Overall Shanghai seems like an interesting place to live. Sure it doesn’t have quite the cultural component of Beijing, but it is appealing in its own right.

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Shanghai September 2002, Part One

As part of my blog I am adding edited excerpts of emails I sent on past travels.

As I prepare for C’s and my move to Shanghai in January 2015, it seems particularly apt to take a look at when I last visited Shanghai. It’s funny, but I keep thinking that I was in Shanghai “fairly recently,” but 2002 is not recently at all! I visited Shanghai for one week during a break in my graduate classes in Singapore.

After the overnight flight on which I got only 2 or 3 hours of sleep, I was barely conscious of my arrival in Shanghai. As a friend told me, Hong Qiao airport is more like a bus terminal than an airport, quite unlike the beautiful new Pudong Airport on the other side of the city. At 6:30 in the morning there just wasn’t much happening at the Hong. I caught a cab to the city, because of course the cab drivers all claimed that there wasn’t a bus to the city, even when a bus drove by right in front of me!! At least I talked them down from the ridiculous price of 380 kuai to the city, because the guide book said it was 50 kuai. But I couldn’t get less than 100. And it wasn’t even a real taxi, it was a nice van. They, the nice van guys, told me the taxis were just for short distances. Hmmm, I think I will be going back to the airport another way. Though, to tell the truth, $12 is not a horrible price to pay from an airport to the city in any country.

The day before my departure I had checked online for information a hotel which was to have dorms. Their website indicated all the types of rooms were available for Saturday. I figured since I was checking less than 24 hours before my arrival, I could safely expect them to remain available after I arrived. Still when I checked in and asked for the dorm I was told they were full. I mentioned I had checked the computer the day before, and miraculously one bed became available!! I just love that, milk the foreigners for all they are worth.

At 7:30 in the morning my room was devoid of people. I thought it odd that in a 6 bed dorm everyone was up and about so early. But maybe they are like me when I travel: early to bed and early to rise? I stayed up to get some water at the little mini store which opened at 8, and then I took a nap until 11. That felt good. Once I got up it was still cloudy but I thought I should at least go for a walk. The hotel I stay at is quite close to the Bund, the riverfront symbol of Shanghai. I somehow thought the Bund would be a bit nicer than it was, so much hype about it I suppose, but it is a rather cool place to go for a walk, because so many people are about. On one side of the Bund, the same side of the river is a main road, and many colonial buildings from the early 20th century. Grand, imposing structures that have a proud, weary, worn feel to them. On the other side, next to the busy brown waterway, is the modern New Pudong area, with a huge pink needle like skyscraper, a building with two glass globes flanking it, and several more shiny new tall buildings. So the Bund seems to flank both the “old” and the new in Shanghai, kind of a walkway between them? Really cool. Today I took a picture of a set of quadruplets dressed identically and wearing funny masks. They were maybe 3 years old and so cute. I am a bit surprised by people’s reaction to me, they still stare. I thought since this is Shanghai and many foreigners live here, that there wouldn’t be much staring, but I am a celebrity again!! I even noticed a few people taking pictures of me when I walked by. But I thought it was kind of funny when I stopped to check in my bag and then was on my way again, and a group of young women became frantic because they hadn’t gotten their camera out in time. Just the day before, an old man and a little Chinese girl had stopped in front of a huge Soviet-style statue and it was such a perfect picture, I was fumbling about for MY camera, but wasn’t quick enough!! I was stopped by several people today to chat and for them to introduce themselves and practice English. One guy asks if he could accompany me all day and show me around. I politely told him that I prefer to sightsee on my own. And thankfully he accepted that. I have had others in Tunisia, Italy, and Paris who would not believe me when I said that, and I was followed for hours….. But not here, not yet.

When I stopped to talk to the first guy who introduced himself to me, and then three children hung around to try and listen in and demand I speak Chinese (which I tried!), of course a few people would stop and watch the spectacle. And when I stopped to take a picture of the four identically dressed boys (all in pink!) with the funny Groucho Marx glasses on, we became a circus act in ourselves. The parents beaming that a foreigner wanted to take pictures of their children, the children unable to all have their glasses and stand still at one time, and myself trying to take the picture. A regular three ring circus it was. I managed to extricate myself from the circus and still the crowd was forming, because it seems in China when a small group of people begins to form, others cannot help but go and see what is happening too, so even after there is little to see, the crowd continues to grow.

Yesterday, I took a walk down Nanjing Lu, the main shopping drag of Shanghai. I stopped in and got a bad manicure and pedicure, but the most incredible foot massage ever! I think the pedicure was so bad, because normally they only give it to men. So my toe nails were at a rather longish length and I just wanted them cut nicely and some polish on them. They are sooooo short now, men’s length! And the polish, ugh! It was somewhat amusing to watch the man trying to put polish on my toe nails (especially as they were so short!). A woman working there saw how it was putting the polish on and told him to move and let her do it because he was doing a bad job. But she didn’t do all that great either. But the experience was worth it. The nails will grow back.

The hotel I am staying at is the Pujiang Hotel, one of the oldest hotels in Shanghai, and what used to be one of the most posh It used to be called the Astor Hotel and then Richard’s Hotel, and the likes of U.S. President Ulysses S. Grant, Einstein, and other celebrities stayed here. Now it is the location of some of the cheapest accommodation in the city. It still has the high ceilings and imposing rooms, but all are a bit worn for wear. It has a neglected feel and seems dark and tired, but it is also kind of cool. I wonder if Einstein stayed in my room? Though I have a feeling that it was the billiards room, because the light on the ceiling has that look about it. It has what used to be a fireplace, as well as a small alcove that can be closed off, which to me speaks of a small smoking room or gambling room off the billiards area. But I could be wrong, but it doesn’t matter, I’ll just think of it has the former billiards room anyway.

Ah, but what craziness my room is! Yesterday when I arrived at 7:30 in the morning, no one is there. Then at 7:30 pm when I returned, the others are sleeping. I was annoyed because I wanted to take a shower, but a pair of pants was floating in the bathtub. But I think, well, they ARE early to sleep, early to rise people. I am just going to go and do a little email, and then I will go to sleep early. But after email, I watched the Fellowship of the Ring in the bar, and went back to the room at half past ten, which had then become a flurry of activity! All the rest of the room members are women from Mongolia, and hard partiers from the look of it! They were all getting ready to go out, putting on make-up, in all states of undress/dress, and yakking up a storm!! They were talking so loud. The television was blaring. One girl in her bed chattering away on the phone, and almost as soon as she would hang up, someone would call again. I realized I wasn’t going to get any sleep right away, so I started to write in my journal. After half an hour though, my eyes were getting too heavy. I put my stuff away, and lay down, but the yakking did not stop! They even turned to me and told me sorry, they would be off soon, and then returned to talking to each other at the top of their lungs. Mongolian to me sounds like a cross between Korean and Russian, which isn’t all that surprising, but of course I did not understand a thing. But I didn’t care; I just wanted them to talk quietly. Half an hour later they will still going strong and I was about to scream. I asked them if they were going out, and they said in two minutes, sorry, and off they went again using up oxygen as though it were in short supply. About 20 minutes later they finally left. Though one girl arrived back at 5:30 in the morning and stomped about in her high heels as loud as she could, back and forth, back and forth across the room.  I cannot help but hope these women check out tomorrow.

Today I took the psychedelic Bund tourist tunnel under the Huangpu River to the New Pudong area and checked out a mostly empty mall and the Shanghai aquarium. The aquarium was really, really good. In my opinion it is much better than the one in Singapore, which really surprised me. Especially as the Shanghai one mentions conservation, while the Singapore does not. Yeah, China!

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Three More Months

In my last post I waxed poetically about how nice it is to be here in Northern Virginia for training in the fall. Now, I feel like I want to whine just a wee bit.

Here I am starting to settle in. We have been here eight weeks now, basically two months. C is getting settled in her “school” (i.e. daycare). She names a few people as her “friends” (turns out several of them are her teachers, but hey, that’s cool). When both C and I and my sister and her kids are free, C gets to spend time with her cousins. Most afternoons during the week my parents pick C up from childcare, so C gets several hours a week with her grandparents. C is in swim lessons. She finished up the Beginner Mommy and Me class and today started her first Advanced Mommy and Me class.

We are settled into our apartment. Sure, it’s an extended stay hotel, but it is home. Well, for a little while longer. We have thirteen weeks left, basically three months. ONLY THREE MONTHS!

It seems like we were only just packing up in Mexico. Oh, right, we were. That happened only four months ago.

I looked back at the past ten years and I have moved TEN times.

If I go back ten more years, I have moved a total of 22 times in past 20 years. (This does not include my traveling such as the 11 months I spent backpacking in 2000-2001, my two months traveling through Spain and Portugal in 2002 or our nomadic Home Leave adventure this past summer)

How about that?
Whew!

(I know, I know. I chose each and every one of these opportunities.)

Even if I take out all of the pre-Foreign Service moving, I have physically moved six times in the past 3 years and 4 months!

I returned from Jakarta, Indonesia to start with the State Department and moved into an apartment at Oakwood Falls Church, Virginia in July 2012. In November 2012 I had to move out of that apartment into another one as Oakwood was renovating. Then in January 2012 I gave birth to C and moved out of that apartment to live with my aunt in Winchester, Virginia for two months (the reasons of which are complicated to go into – basically the government would not pay my per diem while on maternity leave). Then in March 2012 when C was eight weeks old, I moved back into Oakwood Falls Church. In July 2012 we headed to Ciudad Juarez, Mexico for my first tour, and then, of course, we departed there July 1 of this year, moving into our current accommodation at the very end of August. And in three short months we will be on the move again.

Don’t get me wrong. I do enjoy being here. I was not making things up in my last post. Also, a certain part of me must rather like this, the regular moving. However, every once in awhile I feel overwhelmed with the moving and I question my sanity. I wonder what it would be like to stay in one place longer term…

When looking at the Foreign Service for a career, the oft quoted time frame is that an officer will move “every few years” or “every two to three years.” However, the reality is that an officer will likely move more frequently. Most often the increased frequency depends on training in Washington, DC and certain posts with shorter terms.

When you join the Foreign Service you start in Washington, DC in training at the Foreign Service Institute in Arlington, VA. If this is not your home before joining the FS, then the State Department will move you there. You could be in training for six weeks or six months or one year. It depends on where you are assigned. Many who are assigned a Washington, DC post for their first tour move out of the State-department provided housing into their own housing. So even if you stay in DC for the first year (most of these DC tours are just one year), then in 14 months you have moved twice, and you are likely then preparing for a third move overseas for your second tour, again depending on how long you will be in training prior to that tour. Moves are just par the course.

I am excited to get to Shanghai and set up our new place. Being the crazed list-making fool I am, I do, of course, have a list of how I will decorate C’s room in Shanghai and a list of places to visit and things to do together. After all, we get to stay there for a WHOLE TWO YEARS.

Basically, though I am tired just thinking about this next move even as I start preparing for it (it’s time for the time-honored tradition of applying for our diplomatic visas!) I am keeping in mind that right at this moment many of my FS colleagues are preparing for or in the midst of their own moves. There are friends raiding Costco for must-have food items in bulk. Others are having their final farewell parties and dinners with friends at home, in DC, or at post. Or even saying final farewells to favorite haunts and foods that will be unavailable or difficult to procure in post X. Many weighing suitcases and boxes in bids to estimate if their carry-on, Unaccompanied Baggage (UAB), or Household Effects (HHE) will meet the maximums. No move is the same, but it is comforting knowing that I am not the only one doing this. Also, that I have survived moves in the past and most probably will survive the next.

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Of Two Minds

It is really nice being in the United States. I cannot say I love studying Chinese (there are good days and not so good days), but I do enjoy being in Northern Virginia. Autumn is such a lovely time here. I missed autumn in Mexico. Contrary to what many people thought, it did get cold in Juarez, but there is no changing of the leaves, then crispness in the air and cool, drizzly days. It was really, really hot and then it was not quite so hot. It rained maybe five times a year and I did not even carry an umbrella.

So although recently it has been rainy and cool, even this self-confessed tropical weather chaser has liked it. I have even bought C her first rain coat and it made me ridiculously happy to do so.

I really like living in Herndon. We are very close to where I grew up. I regularly drive past the Pizza Hut I worked at the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college. Across the street is the shopping center where the parents of one of my best friends in high school had their Chinese restaurant. C’s swim school is located in the same store space as the Hallmark my mom used to take my sisters and I to spend our allowance. In the same shopping center is the McDonald’s where they gave me a free small fries when I showed up in my Halloween costume (I dressed up as a bag of McDonald’s small fries!) There is also the Giant Food Store my best high school friend worked at for years. The shoe store where I had my first job is now a dry cleaner; the first pizza place I worked is now a Pollo Peru, but the reminders are still there.

I lived my whole childhood in the same place, in this area. Even Falls Church, which I drive through each day to and from the Foreign Service Institute, is not only where I lived when I last did my Foreign Service training, but where I lived with my aunt and uncle one summer in college. I love the Lost Dog and Stray Cat cafes. There is a wonderful park in Falls Church across from the library. I used to walk down there when I lived with my aunt and uncle. I feel my cheeks burn when I think about the time I made out with a boyfriend there. (And they are burning now) When living there 2011-2012 I picked up pregnancy books at the library and just a little way up the street a policeman at the town hall helped me install C’s first car seat.

Washington, DC too is close. As a child, I spent many a day at museums on the National Mall. I still remember the summer my dad worked at the Air and Space Museum and he took me to work one day. We visited the Smithsonian castle and the National Museum of American History many times. Yet the National Museum of Natural History was the runaway favorite, most especially the Egyptian mummies, the dinosaurs, and the live insect section. Later, as an adult, I lived in DC for four years and the Spy Museum, Newseum, and National Portrait Gallery became new favorites.

There are memories really on just about every corner; I have a history here.

I have found myself daydreaming about what it would be like to really live here again, not just to be here on a temporary basis while training at FSI. I try to puzzle out where I would like to live. In the heart of DC in a chic neighborhood like Eastern Market or Georgetown? Falls Church with its small town feel right outside of DC? Reston, in the area right around the pedestrian-friendly shopping center? Or right here in compact, convenient, and historical Herndon?

What really hits me is that C will not grow up in just one place. She will not really have a home town. She may or may not ride her bike around the neighborhood. It will depend on where we are living at the time – if it is the kind of place kids ride bicycles or not. It is highly unlikely her elementary school classmates will also be in her middle and high schools. She may attend as many as three or four elementary schools.

It is not a bad thing. It is only a different thing.

Yet, I find myself feeling wistful.

Then I think ahead to Shanghai. I have heard such good things about living there. I have already compiled a lengthy list of things for C and I to see and do, one for almost one-third of our 104 weekends. I can hardly wait for us to take a stroll along the famous Bund, possibly wearing matching pajamas. I look forward to taking C to the Wild Animal Park and the fantastic Ocean Aquarium. I see us taking in a show of the famous Shanghai Acrobatic Troupe. And finally the cherry on the top of my I-am-taking-my-Disney-loving-toddler-to-Shanghai sundae: Shanghai Disneyland is slated to open in late 2015.

I think of all the opportunities that C will have. She has already been to more countries by the age of two than many Americans will visit in their lifetimes. She will visit many of the finest places in the world, be they amazing cultural or natural sites, famous or not. She will meet and make friends with people from all over the world. Heck, by this time next year she will probably be speaking Chinese!

Although a single town or area will not have landmarks of her childhood, she will have such landmarks all over the world. That is amazing to think about.

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10K is the New Half

Today I ran the Freedom’s Run 10K in Shepherdstown, West Virginia. Originally though, I had signed up for the half marathon. It was to be my West Virginia half and one I was pretty excited about. (I even checked with the 50 States Half Marathon people to make sure it qualified for West Virginia since the majority of the run is actually in Maryland.) Runner’s World magazine ranked it among their Top 25 Half Marathons as well and named it a Bucket List race. Who would not be tempted by that? Certainly half marathon enthusiasts would find it hard to turn down. I absolutely did.

However as race day came ever closer I realized I just would not be ready. This felt different than my concerns before the South Dakota half. This was not just nerves; this was hard reality.

Who would have thought it would be easier to train in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, former murder capital of the world and an always dusty, sandy high desert locale, and while traveling around on my crazy Home Leave? I did not. I envisioned fabulous long runs along tree-lined, beautifully maintained Northern Virginia running trails. I did not factor in juggling my Chinese training and study schedule and being a single mom of an active toddler.

I tried to train C to sit quietly in the gym with her iPad and Stuffie the Black Kitty but that turned out to be a laughable proposition. I sometimes managed two miles with several pauses in-between to tell C to sit down, put down the weights, not to touch something, get off the other treadmill, and so on… <sigh> THAT was not going to be a reliable way to get my run in.

Again I went to the Freedom’s Run website.

“The Half Marathon is very challenging”

“The first 3 miles are flat on the C & O then the difficult Antietam Battlefield section begins as you join the marathoners.”

“Once leaving the Canal the course is very hilly and rolling through Antietam Battlefield.”

“As one 2009 participant stated aptly ‘Freedom isn’t easy.’ These words will be your mantra through the scenic Battlefield.”

Um, yeah. Not only was my training crazily random and many would have a hard time calling it training at all…but the course would kick my a** even if I were training. It was time to email the organizers and drop down to the 10K. The elevation of the 10K chart indicated it would be plenty enough of a challenge.

And it sure was! Temperatures were perfect and the course lovely. At least half the course followed alongside the Potomac River on a tree-shaded road; the leaves in red and golden mid-Autumn splendor. The course though was HILLY, the organizers were NOT kidding. One particular hill, on the way back into town, seemed to go on and on and on…

As I had looked ahead to this half I had also made a decision to not participate in any more organized runs. I simply do not have the time to train. But…after three 10Ks in five weeks I must admit the distance has begun to grow on me. It is still a challenging distance, particularly with my current situation, but it is a distance I can train for and run without taking up quite as much time as a half marathon.

So, yes I have signed up for yet another 10K in four weeks. They had a long sleeve pullover and a distance I could not resist. I am on the lookout for more.

I will miss the half marathons. I may not run another until next summer, after my Chinese training, after my Chinese test, after we have moved to Shanghai, after I have had a chance to settle in and find out if and how I might train for one. I certainly would like to give the Freedom’s Run half another go. Until then, the 10Ks will have to tide me over.

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Learning Chinese and a Poopie Diaper

I have been struggling with how to portray how I feel about my return to the Foreign Language Institute for training to top up my very stale Mandarin Chinese. Perhaps my most difficult issue was how to explain how hard this has been for me without sounding like a majorly sad grump. Because I will tell you, I have had some majorly sad and grumpy days.

For example, I had my first tear-stained breakdown. Yep, it happened. Thankfully it did not occur in front of any of my colleagues but rather in front of a member of the Chinese Department staff as I tried to explain my very real fears that I will not pass the Chinese test in January. She was very kind and told me not to worry, which only made me suspect she has no idea how badly I speak Chinese.

I also threw a pen in class. I am not proud of it. I could not help but think later that it while it was probably too mild a throw to make it in to some kind of “Diplomats Behaving Badly” montage, it most certainly was not one of my finer moments. I certainly did not make a conscious decision to throw the pen but after feeling browbeaten to create one too many a Chinese sentence in a grammatical structure I simply did not understand with a limited vocabulary of half-remembered words and phrases learned as recently as 2002…and then having the teacher cut me off two words into my response, I had had it. And the pen launch sequence commenced.

One of my biggest struggles has been finding a time to study. I tried studying in the evenings as C watched a DVD and then after she went to bed. Firstly, you parents out there must be laughing your socks off imagining me trying to study with a toddler in the room. Yeah, it went about as well as you imagine. “Mommy, change DVD, change DVD, change DVD.” “Mommy, snack, snack, snack!” “Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy…” Secondly, my attempts at raising a jet setting night owl toddler have been too successful and I was too tired to do anything after she went to bed because it was also my bedtime.

Then I decided to wake up early in the morning, around 5 am, study until C woke up around 7:30, take her to child care and then drive on to the training institute for a little more study until class began at 10:40. Except on day one of this brilliant plan I woke up at 5:30 and I heard the sweet little call of “mommy?” at six.

@$&#

Plan #3 has been to wake up at 5:30, get C to daycare by 6:45, drive to the training institute, arriving around 7:35, then studying in the cafeteria until class at 10:40. I study again for at least an hour in between my morning class and afternoon class. I also listen to Chinese in the car either to or from the training institute. I downloaded some popular Chinese songs and language learning podcasts, burned the textbook and other dialogues to disc, and purchased the soundtrack to Frozen in Mandarin. We are expected at the very least to study for 8 hours a day including our 5 hours of classroom time. This schedule means I can generally manage to get those three extra hours in. This has been mildly successful, at least in relative terms.

Yet every single day I eat a huge helping of humble pie in class and continue to harbor serious doubts about my readiness to test in January.

This morning I set about to take C to swimming class (I have at least followed through with this ONE thing from my “back in the U.S. to-do list”). I got myself dressed and her dressed. I took us out to the car and buckled C into the car seat.

Then I realized I had forgotten my towel.

[Note: I did not bring towels the first day of swim class because I expected, for some reason, they would be provided, and had to run into the nearby supermarket to buy a set of hand towels. I felt like schmuck.]

So I unbuckled C from the car seat and walked back to the apartment to get the towel and then returned to the car and buckled her back in. Only to realize I had forgotten a spare diaper.

So I unbuckled C from the car seat and walked back to the apartment to get the extra diaper and then returned to the car and began to buckle her back in. Then I smelled something unfortunate. C needed a diaper change.

<sigh> I wanted to just pack it in. I wanted to just get C out of the car and give up on the swim class at least for today and maybe forever. There was even a millisecond there I considered I might never leave the apartment again. I took a deep breath and convinced myself to keep going.

So I unbuckled C from the car seat and returned to the apartment, changed her diaper, and then returned to the car and buckled her back in.

We were late for swim class.
But we still got there and were able to participate.

This week my Chinese study has been derailed several times.

Last weekend C had a fever of 102 all day Saturday and 103 most of Sunday. Instead of being a docile and very sleepy sick person she became an extremely demanding one. Not one minute of studying that weekend. <sigh>

I arranged for my parents to watch her on Monday instead of taking her to daycare, so I actually departed home at 9:20 that day, after some haphazard studying in the apartment that morning. <sigh>

Early Wednesday morning, C woke up and demanded food. I mean she literally sat bolt upright in bed at the witching hour of 3:40 am and said “FOOD!” and would not go back to sleep until she had had some “Dora snacks” and a juice. So I let her sleep in a little and departed for daycare at 8 am. Then on the way to the daycare center that morning the low air light came on for my tires. I stopped to have them checked and every single one of them was low. <sigh>

On Thursday C woke up in the middle of the night upset, the fever was back. I gave her medicine but could not get back to sleep as I had developed a terrible stomach ache. So I called in sick and took C to the doctor. I imagined I might get a little studying done but again C would not nap, was extremely demanding, and, as an extra fun bonus, shoved an edamame bean up her nose in the afternoon. <sigh>

Right now I am feeling the best I have about Chinese in the four weeks I have been studying. I have no idea why.

On the drive back from swimming class today I thought the whole episode summed up how I feel I prepare for Chinese every day – shit happens but I AM trying.

That’s all I can do. 

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Travel Mom vs. the Toddler

I love traveling, particularly international travel. In my early 20s the travel bug bit me hard and I have been finding ways and means to get myself to locales around the world ever since. After living three years in Japan teaching English, I made the decision to take a year off before graduate school and backpack solo through central, Eastern, and Southern Europe, a little of north Africa, and then parts of Asia. I had the time of my life and easily reached fifty countries visited before the age of 30. At present I could qualify for membership in the Traveler’s Century Club.

When I became pregnant more than a few people implied I would need to cut back on the travel. One friend even said she guessed I would not be making any trips for the next five years. Why, I thought, would I want to stop traveling?

I will admit it; I was a little concerned about traveling with a baby. I thought perhaps those people who had said I could not travel with baby C may have been right. Yet, I did not want to just throw in the towel without giving it a try. So when C was five months old I booked a trip over the Memorial Day weekend from Washington, DC to New Orleans. It was a direct flight, there on a regional jet, back on a larger jet. I brought three bottles, plenty of formula, and all the diapers I we would need for the trip. I brought only the baby carrier – no stroller. I cannot tell you the sense of relief and accomplishment I felt when we returned – I had done it! There was no stopping me now!

Our second trip by plane came five months later after arriving in Ciudad Juarez. This time the trip was to Northern Ireland. This required three flights (El Paso to Houston; Houston to Newark; Newark to Belfast) there and back. This time I added the stroller. Not only did I survive the flights, but I even took C on an all day tour bus from Belfast along the coast to the Giant’s Causeway and another day we took a public bus to Derry. I was doing it, really doing it! Baby C and I were officially travel buddies!

My daughter C is now 2 years and 8 months old. She holds two passports, tourist and diplomatic, and has had them since she was four months old. She has visited six countries other than the United States (Mexico, Trinidad and Tobago, the United Arab Emirates, Panama, Ireland and the United Kingdom. In the UK she has been to Northern Ireland, Manchester, Liverpool, and the Isle of Man) and at least 19 U.S. states. For her second birthday I enrolled her in the United Airlines Mileage Plus program and within five months she had earned silver status. C has got travel creds.

I do not write this to show off. It is more for me. It is a reminder that I could once do all that.

Of course I was never quite sure how things were going to go. Every time I got on a plane for the next trip, it was like traveling with a different child and/or we needed different gear. She went from needing only formula to needing snacks. She went from being content with just a few books and a single stuffie to requiring more books and stuffies and toys. I bought an iPod Touch. I admit it. I bought a one year old an iPod Touch so I could fill it with baby apps to keep her busy and me sane on our long trip to Dubai. Let me tell you C was a champ on every. single. flight.

However, you know, all good things come to an end, right? I thought it might come when she turned 2 and she could no longer travel as a lap child. Suddenly C has own seat and her own luggage allowance, but for some reason she does not as suddenly start carrying her own suitcase and walking through the airport on her own. Yet, the first several trips went pretty well, even when I had to lug the child seat to check in so we could use it while renting a car in Ireland.

But my wake-up call was coming.

So in May of this year we flew from El Paso, Texas to Manchester, England. We then caught a train to Liverpool, spent a few days there, and then took a ferry over to the Isle of Man. Are you with me so far? It is okay to think I am crazy, but stay with me because it is soon afterwards that I too realize that perhaps I am a tad too travel bold for my current status. We stayed in Douglas, the port town and capital of the Isle of Man. I take C on a bus from Douglas to Peel, on the other side of the island. We walk up the isthmus at the end of the beach to tour the incredible Peel castle (I have the stroller) and then stop for a bite to eat at a small, family-run diner. C gobbles up her fried egg and a few veggies. Then she looks at me oddly and throws it up all over me, the chair, the floor. That was unfortunate. Luckily the woman who runs the place hardly blinks and eye and shows me the ladies room where I can clean C and myself up.

C falls asleep in the stroller as I head down to the House of Manannan, a museum focusing on the maritime history and culture of the Isle. I figure the time to visit is while C is fast asleep in the stroller. I have already put the lunch incident behind me. Kids get sick, no worries. The first 30 minutes are fine as C sleeps soundly. Then she wakes up and wants out of the stroller to walk. She promptly throws up again. And again. Luckily a helpful museum employee wanders by and helps find me some paper towels to clean things up. Good thing I have some extra towels for when C throws up yet again 10 minutes later. Time to make our exit.

On the way to the bus station we have another incident. Then at the bus station. Then on the bus. Then once off the bus in Douglas. I cannot fathom how my daughter has anything left in her little stomach. I am trying to stay off my own rising panic. I feel incredibly ill-equipped to handle this. I can navigate bus and train and boat schedules in foreign countries, but throw in my own sick child and I feel exposed as a fraud, and even worse, a terrible, no-good, very bad mother.

I get C back to the hotel so she can throw up a few more times in the comfort of our room (are you kidding me?!). I think of the following day when we will wake up early to take a taxi to the ferry terminal, a ferry to Liverpool, a bus to the train station, a train to Manchester, and then some form of transport to our hotel. I appreciate that I may not have thought this through all that well.

But the travel gods smile upon me and C recovers. I am given a reprieve. We take the taxi, ferry, bus, train, and taxi the next day, check into our hotel and then head to the National Football Museum. For the next, and last, two days of our trip though we stay at the hotel. It is cold and wet; I have come down with my own stomach bug. I feel an itty bitty bit glum that we will not be able to visit the Manchester United museum, but I also sense that this rest time is not only needed but has been imposed by the travel gods. It is my comeuppance.

These days I find it tiring just to go to the supermarket with my daughter. If we have to stop at more than one store then I probably need a nap afterwards. I look ahead to our flight to Shanghai, China in January and wonder how I will survive it. I shake my head. A rueful chuckle escapes my lips.

I have not yet conceded. I am calling this merely a travel hiatus. This is a slowdown, a drawback, but not an end. It helps that I am in language training now where taking leave is generally prohibited. I can circle my wagons, consider my options, and make some adjustments. It will be some time before I attempt another “Isle of Man” but we will travel again. I promise myself.

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Nation’s Tri: The Third Wheel

I belong to a global running group, a community of Foreign Service people who try to take their running on the road, wherever they happen to be. They may be trying to fit in runs in baking hot UAE summers (where you run after sunset when it’s a “cool” 105 degrees) or try to make friends with the treadmill when in places where running outside is verboten or make unexpected stops in locales where herds of animals may cross their path. We are a dedicated bunch of crazy runners. Not necessarily fast runners – though we do have a few who place in their respective races – but committed.

Waaaaaaay back in February or March of this year I responded to a post on our group page asking for a person to run the 10k portion in a triathlon team to take place September 7 in Washington, DC. Yeah THAT September 7, you know, the first Sunday back in the DC area after a whirlwind 60 days of home leave and my first week of Chinese training.

So it seemed like a GREAT idea! I could use it to jump start my running when back in Northern Virginia. This couple, whom I had never met, also would have just moved to DC for training the weekend before. It was PERFECT, right? I mean, that’s the word springing to your mind too, I’m sure! I replied immediately. Pick me! Pick me PLEASE! And they did.

Fast forward six months or so… I have run a half marathon in South Dakota a few weeks before, yet it already feels much longer. I am stressed and tired about the start of language training. I book a hotel in DC for the Saturday night – yes, a hotel away from my hotel, because the logistics of getting up at the butt crack of dawn to drive to DC and try to find parking seemed too daunting. My mom stays with myself and C because I have yet to spend a night away from her and I am determined not to have the first night be for this triathlon. My ulcerative colitis continues to plague me and this 10k runs through urban DC (as opposed to a heavily forested canyon in SD), i.e. few if any trees to hide behind should my UC make a pit stop necessary. I have not met this couple I’m running with. Hmmm…this seems a little less perfect than I originally thought.

Thankfully meeting up with my Tri mates proves easy. Though completely unplanned, we find each other the first day at the Foreign Service Institute. We run into each other unplanned each day after that. Even at the packet pick up we find each other at the hotel entrance without arranging a thing. It was rather uncanny.

It is a very good thing we had that going for us because the organization of the packet pick up and staging areas left much to be desired. Racers arriving to pick up packets with their bicycles are turned away as bicycles are not allowed in the hotel (at a triathlon?!). Volunteers at the event appear unable to answer questions. Our cyclist rides his bike down to the transition area to set up only to be stranded down there as the returning shuttles to the hotel stop at 6 pm, although the website and expo announcements say they will run until 7 pm. Then the skies open up and rain pours down. We decide to eat dinner at our respective hotels and meet up the following morning for the next to last shuttle for the start line, departing at 6 am.

That night my mother – a dear woman who agreed to watch Chloe while I run – snores with the force of a fog horn.  (I am sorry mom, you have been outed on Facebook and now in my blog) She tried not to, I’ll give her that. She brought a nose strip, yet it did nothing to stem the tide; I could not sleep. Around midnight, desperate to get some zzzzzs I had an epiphany. I then dragged a pillow and a comforter into the bathroom and set up bed in the bathtub. Yes, the bathtub. Surprisingly, I slept pretty well (I am 5’5” if you are wondering).

I awoke to the news that the swim portion of the race had been cancelled due to a sewage spill into the Potomac River resulting from the previous evening’s heavy rain. After wrenching myself from my bathtub cocoon I head over to the race hotel across the street at a quarter to six. Unfortunately, disorganization continued. Despite being on the next to last shuttle, departing the hotel at six am with the race not starting until 7:15, the bus could not drop participants at the actual start location, just nearby. At the event emcees announced that the “swimmers” would still run into the transition area barefoot. Unfortunately for many relay participants, this was not announced on the website along with the cancellation of the swim portion and some had simply not shown up. Our swimmer was in a dress – albeit a sporty one – and so lined up barefoot with the other “swimmers” to run 500 yards to pass off the timing piece to our cyclist.

Cyclist and I receive conflicting information as to how to reach the hand-off area. One volunteer told us to head in one direction where we met another volunteer who told us to go back where we had come from. We finally just went around both of them, the long way, to find the place, where we waited. And waited. And waited. Though the event started at 7:15, our “swimmer” did not begin her swim-run until 8:23! She was in wave 23, yet between each numbered wave there was also a “named” wave. The first cyclists had returned before 8:15.

At least the weather was perfect for cycling and running. It was cool and overcast – completely different from the near 90 degree and sunny weather of the day before. Still, I had been waiting around to run since 6:15 and with the breeze I felt a little chilled; it was a relief to finally start running around 9:45. Then suddenly, it was all alright. The course was well marked and the volunteers prepared. I ran slowly, without music, my mind occupied with many memories of my previous life in DC. I have run many times in West Potomac Park along Haines Point. I looked across the Potomac to Fort McNair, where I worked as a Research Fellow at the Institute for National Strategic Studies. Across the Potomac in another direction stands Bolling Air Force Base, where I also worked as a defense analyst. The course also covered streets where I trained for and ran the Marine Corps Marathon, my one full marathon to date. I had missed DC.

All in all, I am glad I participated, though I have decided I will not run more races in DC this brief time we are here, and possibly no other races at all after my half in early October. The time is just too short and the logistics for race participation a little too complicated. As a single parent studying Mandarin Chinese in preparation to work in Shanghai starting early next year, I only have so many hours in the day, only so much free time in a week. I need to recognize my limitations.

Hey, and I did it! Right? In the end I think the best part of it was meeting this other Foreign Service couple, also with a young daughter, serving their country, living abroad, and with a passion for running (and swimming and biking) wherever they happen to be.

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Back to School

I am too old for this.

We are told in our language school orientation at the Foreign Service Institute NOT to think this way. We should have an open mind. We should be accepting of everyone’s learning style and pace, including our own. We are reminded this is our job right now. Not only are we being paid to learn a language but the government is investing a lot of money in us to do so. The State Department is counting on us to learn our respective languages to help the United States achieve its diplomatic goals.

But geez, I feel too old for this.

I know I am intelligent and I can do this. I have learned languages before: Spanish, Chinese, Indonesian, Japanese, Korean, and Tagalog. The former three I learned over time and sporadically in long formal classes; the latter three with informal classes and living in country. And yes, you did read Chinese. So not only am I proven to learn a language but I am proven to learn THIS language.

On the first day the highlight of orientation for me was when a woman from the testing unit announced, in a hilarious and inspired presentation, that the test would henceforth be changed. No longer would we be required to speak at length on topics such as nuclear nonproliferation, Congressional term limits, or global warming and yet be unable to buy groceries or conduct visa interviews when we touchdown in our respective countries. In Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, I long waited for the when after approving or denying a visa the applicant would then turn to me and say, well, now that is done, could you tell me your thoughts on labor unions? Needless to say, that day never arrived. A collective sigh and inward cheer was palpably felt throughout the orientation room. The word is that we will actually be tested on conversations related to ourselves, life in our destination country, and our actual jobs. This is thrilling news.

The classes thus far have been great. The Chinese department has developed a class specifically geared toward those of us who have had Chinese in the past. Currently there are 14 of us in this program. I appreciate this immensely as I was in a similar situation when I studied Spanish and the department initially accommodated four of us with our own class. Then after four weeks we were scattered to the wind, placed in other classes, and any advantage we may have had was lost.

The class times fly by. When the teacher tells us to take a 10 minute break or he/she will see us next time, I am surprised. I have had just a few times in class where I felt too much on the spot, but my classmates and the teachers are supportive. Preparation is key though, and I am going to have to step things up.

I have run the gamut of language learning emotions this week. I have felt inspired and insecure. I have felt confident and uncertain. I have felt committed and flustered. I have been energized and exhausted. It has only been four days.

Lots of people would be thrilled to switch places with me; I am being paid to study a foreign language. I completely understand; it’s an incredible benefit and opportunity. I recognize that intrinsically. But studying a language is HARD y’all! I know at some point in the next 20 weeks I will cry as a result of trying to cram Mandarin into my brain, and remove the Spanish that now resides there. I may cry more than once. I am hoping to avoid doing this in front of others as it is not considered a great diplomatic skill to burst into tears.

I try to give myself a pep talk. “Look, last time you were here studying you were pregnant, had the baby, and then had a newborn. And you did it! You rock!”

“That’s all true. I do rock. Wait; now I have a toddler…I cannot see how that is going to make studying any easier.” As expected, C is already proving a formidable obstacle to my language learning.

It is very important I realize this process is not easy for anyone and that everyone has things going on in their lives while trying to study a foreign language. I remember 2-3 years ago while studying Spanish pregnant and then as a single mom of a newborn; I was SO tired. Yet one day I saw a woman, pregnant AND on crutches, studying a foreign language. And about a week later I met a woman on the shuttle bus who was pregnant, had a small child, her husband still at their previous post, AND undergoing chemotherapy, studying a foreign language. Yeah, I try to remember those women and their fortitude when I am feeling sorry for myself. I also try to remember that for everyone that was visibly struggling with something there are those struggling and juggling things not readily apparent. Just like me.

One week down, eighteen to go.* Hopefully I am not too too old for this.

 

 

*turns out unlike during my Spanish training, the Christmas week off is not being counted as part of our training time this go around. Yay!

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Temporarily Permanent

In my last installment of my home leave epic my 2 ½ year old toddler C posed this question to me “Where is home?”

Good question sweetheart.

I am not sure what concept of “home” C may have though it felt different from her earlier requests to “go to hotel.” What sense of permanence does such a young person have considering their age and that in the previous 9 weeks we stayed in a total of 15 different hotels and five different homes of friends and/or family? Was she tired of moving? I cannot really say, but I know that as much as I enjoyed my Home Leave, towards the end I certainly craved something more permanent.

Now here we are in Herndon, Virginia, moving into an extended stay hotel. Right, a hotel, but it will be our home for the next 21 weeks (and just 21 weeks provided I pass my first Chinese test…Please let me pass it, please. End fervent prayer).

21 weeks.

Most people would not find this a particularly long time. It isn’t really. When I break it down and think about how much Mandarin Chinese I have to cram into my brain in such a period I panic at its incredible briefness. And yet, at the same time it feels luxuriously lengthy.

I can buy food. Lots of it. You know, like salt and pepper and sugar and soy sauce and butter and grapeseed oil for cooking. And peanut butter. And salad dressing. And eggs. And Claussen Kosher Dill Spears. And cheese. Lots of cheese. Because, you know, I have a fridge. And Q-tips and shampoo and conditioner and saran wrap and dishwashing soap because this is more than just a way station. I even bought multivitamins, so you know I mean business.

I spent nearly $275 my first trip to the store. That is just the beginning. I probably bought only half the things I wanted. This is one of the reasons per diem is so much higher at the beginning because starting from scratch is not cheap.

21 weeks.

I have so many plans!

I plan to run. I am thinking an average of 10 miles a week. On actual running trails. Surrounded by trees and stuff. I might even run with other people and I do not mean running near people in a big race but actually running with them. The novelty. Go big or go home, you know? Or, er, go big or go elsewhere when home is a frequently shifting concept. I am already signed up for a 10K the first weekend of September. That would be next weekend, yes. I also have a half marathon on the schedule in October.

I have so many plans for C. I want to take her to the National Zoo, the National Children’s Museum, and the Udva- Hazy Center of the National Air and Space Museum. I want to take her to carousels in the area at Glen Echo Park and Clemyjontri Parks. I want to take her to the Frying Pan Farm Park and the Reston Zoo as these are places I visited when I was a little girl. I want to take her to Cox Farms Fall Festival because I took my niece a few years ago and we stayed for HOURS. I want to sign her up for toddler and mommy swim classes. Also her cousins, one of which is just 4 months older, live just 4 miles away from our hotel home. My parents live 6 miles away. I want C to spend time with her family before we head to China.

I also want to catch up with friends in the area. Many are back in the area for training of their and some of my closest friends are assigned to Washington, DC right now. It is not often so many of them are in one geographic area so I want to take advantage.
Somewhere in all of that there is this HUGE thing I am supposed to be doing. I am being PAID to do: Studying Mandarin Chinese.

When I think about studying Chinese the 21 weeks feel so very, very short. The first week is only 4 days and the first day is orientation, so really only 3 days. So, it’s 20 ½ weeks. But Columbus Day, Veteran’s Day and Thanksgiving take away those 3 days. So it is just 20 weeks. My 21st week is supposed to be my week of packing out for Shanghai and taking care of last minute details and possibly meeting with relevant offices in DC. So it is just 19 weeks. But the teachers of FSI are actually on leave the two weeks of Christmas and New Year’s, so it is really just 17 weeks. Seventeen weeks of classroom instruction. A regular course of Chinese is 44 weeks. Panic sets in.  It is not enough time!

So I have 21 weeks to do it all in. That’s a lot. And a little. We are at least “home,” for the time being.