February 28, 2018 by trs

Malawi: Settling In…At Last

Home Sweet Home

We have been in Malawi for six months! Long before coming here, I knew this first six months would be crucial and it would not be easy. I knew reaching this milestone would be very important for both myself and my daughter — to finally put 2017, the year of two intercontinental moves, three countries on three continents, two jobs plus training, two schools, two nannies, one childcare center, and so much more behind us. So often colleagues told me (warned me?) that it would take at least six months to be comfortable in the new job and country. In my previous government assignments in Jakarta, Ciudad Juarez, and Shanghai, it did not take me so long to acclimate; I felt comfortable within three months. That did not happen here. Not even close.

99 boxes of stuff in the hall, 99 boxes of stuff… (actually only 91 boxes)

In the Foreign Service we seem to have an uncanny ability to forget how incredibly difficult it is to move each and every time, how difficult it is to arrive at a new place and wait weeks, if not months, before making the new house a home. It is a defense mechanism. If we remembered, perhaps we could not keep doing it. We arrived in mid-August. Amazingly, just 12 days later our Unaccompanied Baggage (UAB) arrived. Even more incredible is my Household Effects (HHE) arrived from Shanghai, via a storage facility in Europe, in mid-September. It was not until November that my supplemental HHE from the U.S. arrived after its epic journey from my apartment in Arlington, VA to the port at Baltimore, MD, then by boat to Beira, Mozambique, where it was loaded onto a truck and driven to Lilongwe. Every day that passed C and I became more comfortable with our lives in Malawi, with the school, with work, with the grocery stores, with the ways to get around town. The first time I drove to C’s school she guided me based on what she had seen out the school bus window. The first time I figured out the other way to the supermarket was like winning the lottery.

First room completed – C’s jungle bathroom

It was slow going. New job. New position. New country. New continent. New colleagues. New car. New house.

In the Foreign Service, at the vast majority of posts, where you will live is mostly out of your hands. We do fill out a housing survey to help direct the Housing Board in making their decision — but this is my fourth move with the government and every survey I have completed was fairly basic: your name, position, rank, family size, and maybe an area for few requests (near the school? shorter commute? pool or no?). The Housing Board will do its best to assign you but are limited by when you arrive and what houses are available at that time. At some posts, like Malawi, the pool of houses is tight, so there may only be one or two available when you roll into town and you are probably not the only person showing up then either. And the houses available in each place is only as good as the local construction allows — in many countries/cultures built in closets may be non-existent or hall closets a luxury. A bathtub might be really hard to get. Or medicine cabinets or outlets in the bathroom. Storage space may be plentiful or nowhere to be found.

C’s play room

Building codes or shoddy construction practices or local preference may present you with some fairly interesting housing designs. In Jakarta I had a room in the middle of my house. Yes, right in the middle. Four walls, no windows. In Juarez there was no insulation in my bedroom floor, which sat right above the garage. In the winter the floors were like walking on ice. I had a patio but the cemented part of the patio was reached via a rock garden where scorpions lay hidden. In Shanghai there were no hall closets to hang coats and all our bedroom closet doors were made of leather. Yes, leather doors. My cats liked those. I did not so much like paying the $200 for damages and the inventive plastic cover I had custom made to protect them.

My red and white (and horrid cabinet) kitchen

Our home in Malawi certainly has its quirks. There are no outlets in the bathrooms. So I plug my hair dryer in an outlet next to my bed where if I stretch out the cord I can check myself from a distance in the bathroom mirror. The kitchen cabinets appear not to have been updated since the house was built, probably in the 70s, the off-white paint with wooden trim makes me think of wood paneled station wagons of the time period. I hate them. And they either do not close or they close so well I have to use all my strength to yank them open. There is no hall closet anywhere near the front door though there is a nice built in wooden cabinet where I can store shoes and other random items — though when you look inside it seems about half of the back of the cabinet has been eaten away. Luckily, I expect no one will ever look inside but me. There is an odd bench-thing that divides my living room from the dining room. I puzzle over its purpose and how I feel about it. For C’s birthday party I used it to place some food and drinks but with kids it just seemed like I was asking for an accident. Usually C uses it as a play platform — it can be the savanna in the Lion Guard or the forest for princesses or a surface to launch off cars. We have a non-functioning fire place in the living room as well. And our corrugated roofs… during hard rain the sound is so deafening we cannot hear each other speak and when the large ubiquitous black and white pied crows scamper around on top they sound like pterodactyls.

C’s Moana inspired bedroom

Our bedrooms are small-ish and boxy. And there is little wall space to hang pictures or artwork. One side is all closet and a built in desk with mirror, one side is all window, and one side has to fit the bed with large frame to hang the mosquito net. It is the same configuration in all three bedrooms. I lose the fourth wall in the master bedroom to the dresser, the built in mirror, the door to the bathroom, and the door to the room. There is only one small space to hang anything. I know, why should I complain? I have a built in desk and mirror. I have LOADS of closet space. And I have three bedrooms for two people. I am honestly not complaining — just giving the facts, ma’am.

The dining room. Same old, same old furniture. Zambia wall hanging, chair covers (because the cats like the chair backs too much) and my knickknacks in the China cabinet make it mine

As is usual for Foreign Service homes we have bars on all our windows. We have bug netting attached to all our windows, which I assume is par the course for mosquito prone countries. And like most homes in the Foreign Service we have the same old tried and true, and much maligned Drexel Heritage furniture. Although I did not have this furniture in Shanghai (as we had furniture provided by the apartment complex), I have had this same furniture in Jakarta, Juarez, and now Malawi. In one way it is comforting to know exactly what the dressers, dining room tables, side tables, china cabinets, sideboards, desks, chairs, sofas and more will look like. Although I have little to no idea how my house might really look until I arrive, the furniture is not a mystery. I plan decor around the furniture.

Exhibit A

However, it can be really hard for friends and family to understand this lifestyle. I have never picked out my own home. Although some people paint, I have never done so and just use my wall art to change things up (you have to paint it back white before you leave). With the exception of a few accent pieces, I do not bring or choose my furniture. Sometimes we might be able to give some pieces back or exchange, but at some posts you cannot. See exhibit A: the “between room.” Another quirk of this house is this random room. It is located between the living room and the room I have designated as C’s play room. It has only two walls; it has no doors. It has two cute, but strangely located windows. It had the same boring but functional beige curtains found all over our house, in every single government provided housing I have had (again with that Shanghai exception). It has an odd cut out in one wall and a built in shelf in the stucco of one of the walls. It has plastic wiring covers snaking across the walls and a few oddly placed spot lights. It’s weird. I know. But it is the house I have to live in for a few years and I must make the most of it. But the picture I posted on my Facebook drew the ire of friends and family. It is ugly! Get rid of ALL that furniture! Get a rug! Throw away the curtains! The lamps and spotlights are dumb — get rid of those too! People did not understand that A. I had changed out that sofa. Initially it had been brown. The same exact not-so-fetching brown as the sofas in the living room. I thought this mustard an improvement. In fact, knowing what was available in the warehouse, I had requested it! and B. the photo represented my completed attempt at decoration and not a plea for help and design tips.

Our living room with its unusual divider

But, here we are at last. Six months, one quarter of the way, into my two year tour in Malawi. Just now we are beginning to feel settled — in no small part because we have finally made our quirky, randomly assigned house into our home. There is much to love about it. From the wonderful enclosed but open air porch or konde where in the morning I sit quietly meditating and hear the sweet chirps and tweets and caws of no less than ten types of bird song and where I have had many a satisfying afternoon nap in my hammock. To our high ceilings, pitched in the living room. My daughter loves her Moana-inspired bedroom and does not care about the curtains or the carpet or the lack of wall space. She and her friends love the play room (and let’s be honest the living room too — do not let that photo fool you, normally it is covered with toys). No one else has to love it, just C and I. And we know we are lucky to call this house and Malawi our home.

January 14, 2018 by trs

The Holidays in Lilongwe

I do not always carve watermelons for Halloween, but when I do, my carving is awesome

I grew up in the US and had the usual holidays. My mother used to sew our Halloween costumes. She asked my sisters and I what we wanted to be several months before and then made it. We trick or treating door to door in our neighborhood. When I was younger, my aunt, and grandparents would come to our home for Thanksgiving dinner. Once we realized we were not huge turkey fans we switched to our favorite: chicken schnitzel. My mother made her own advent calendar and we made cookies and made crafts leading up to Christmas.

But there is a strangeness to moving frequently that challenges holiday traditions. One never knows what will be available from one country to the next and what local customs may or may not exist. We have to get creative. Also, in the Foreign Service most of us head to a new post over the summer, and as we are struggling to settle in to new schools, new jobs, new homes, new routines, the holidays of autumn arrive. One after another.

Prior to arriving in Lilongwe, C and I had already decided on her costume for Halloween. She would either be Wonder Woman or a genie / belly dancer; one was packed in our UAB (unaccompanied baggage), arriving not long we we did, the other was ordered in August to arrive many weeks before the big day. About a week before the holiday, the Embassy hosted a family-friendly snacks and happy hour with BYOP (Bring Your Own Pumpkin) for carving. As the day approached I wracked my brain for where I might buy a pumpkin. I vaguely recalled having seen something pumpkin-like at a supermarket. But which one, I did not remember. And, thinking back, the pumpkins had been white or green, but definitely not orange. I asked around. People were not sure. An orange pumpkin seemed a tall order. On the other hand, watermelons were in season and sold at regular spots alongside the road… Our first Halloween in Malawi also turned out to be my first time ever watermelon carving. It turned out almost every had the same idea. It also turned out that carving a watermelon is a little easier than carving a pumpkin, and the insides are more immediately consumable.

My “very confused holiday” trunk or treating decoration representing Halloween, Easter, Christmas, Birthdays, and Valentine’s.

The Embassy also arranged a little “trunk or treating” and party for the community. I have now learned that other posts do this, but it was my first experience with it. In Juarez there was trick or treating at the Consulate and in Shanghai residents of our apartment complex signed up with apartment management to give out candy. In Malawi, we all live in free standing houses and although none of us live more than 15 minutes drive from another, we are somewhat spread out. With trunk or treating, approximately 20 community members volunteered (me included!) to decorate the trunks of their vehicles. The cost of admission for each trick or treater was a bag of candy. Then bags of candy were distributed to each trunk decorator so there was plenty to go around. Trunk decorators parked at the party location and kids trick or treated from trunk to trunk. There was PLENTY of candy to go around, especially as kids could visit every vehicle in twenty minutes or less and then circle back around and do it all over again. I had a few visitors come by about ten times!

Halloween in Malawi this year had an extra wrinkle. Starting in September, rumors of supernatural “bloodsuckers” began in the southern part of the country. Over the course of approximately two months, the rumors spread, accompanied by vigilante justice to capture, and even kill, those suspected of either being bloodsuckers or their associates. While this may seem rather unbelievable–the rumors and the violent response–it was all too real and had a sobering effect on our work and celebrations. The international school cancelled the costume dress up day; the Embassy cancelled an evening party; and I kept my scarier decorations in a box at home and came up with something else.

Not my usual Thanksgiving tableau

For Thanksgiving C and I stayed in town. There is just the two of us and I am not really much of a cook. Certainly not Thanksgiving dinner kind of cooking. You know, a meal that involves more than two dishes. The Embassy Community Liaison Officer organized a event at a nearby lodge with a restaurant set by a pool and among gardens. There, in 80 degree weather, approximately 20 of us met up for swimming and lounging poolside and a custom-made dinner. The hotel staff did a pretty good job re-creating a traditional meal complete with turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, and corn on the cob. The corn unfortunately was too tough / too raw to eat, but everything else was quite good.

Then of course the Christmas season followed. Unlike other places I have lived overseas, Malawi went full on Christmas-mode. In late October I headed to the Shoprite supermarket at Gateway Mall for some grocery shopping. There the entrance was decorated in all its holiday splendor – a Christmas tree, gigantic tinsel arches, large dangling ornaments, and even a huge silver bow. Inside there were two aisles of plastic trees, tinsel, lights, tree topping stars, Santa and elf costumes, and loads of wrapping paper. Wrapping gifts would be no problem. Getting them is a little bit more work. In late October the Embassy mail room notified the Embassy community that in order to ensure delivery for Christmas orders would need to be received at the mail facility in Virginia by November 10! Impromptu gift shopping can be tricky for many of us overseas. Not even a chance to use Black Friday deals for Christmas gifts.

Gingerbread house in the subtropics

C and I headed back to the US in early December; I had training. The stores there too were chock full of Christmas. As usual the back corner of Target was as if Santa’s workshop had exploded. C wanted ALL the Christmas decorations. In particular, she wanted a three foot tall light-up lawn unicorn. I tried to explain that it would not fit in the suitcase. And that the plug and voltage would not work in Malawi. And finally, that in America people decorate their lawns for other people to see, but we had a high wall all the way around our house. C said that without that unicorn it would be the WORST Christmas EVER! But she also desperately wanted a gingerbread house, so I bought one. I put it in the suitcase, snug so that it would not get crushed, and transported it the two flights and 17 hours back to Lilongwe. Not a piece broken. C said it would be the BEST Christmas EVER!

We missed the Embassy Christmas parties, but returned in time for our own Christmas celebrations. We made the gingerbread house. We put up our tree and decorated it–C had insisted I trade in the small tree I bought in Shanghai for a larger one, so I had purchased a five foot fake in the US and brought in my household goods shipment. I hung up our stockings, with two new stocking holders just bought at Target — great for those who have no idea if they will have a fireplace or anything resembling one as they regularly shift around the world. And I began the my tradition of the weeks of gifts for C. We also prepared gift baskets for the staff. I know, I still feel weird saying–and writing–that I have staff. But it is a reality for many in the Foreign Service and there is no reason to pretend otherwise. I had initially not been sure what to include thinking I might get something special while back in the States. But I learned that what most people want are the staples – rice, sugar, salt, cooking oil, biscuits for tea – because Christmas in Malawi is about food and family. I really enjoyed buying the baskets and the contents and assembling them, though giving was most definitely the best part. Because I spend so much time overseas and even when back in the US my family has opted for the past several Christmases to do a gift exchange, it had been a long time since I had given gifts to so many people.

The Christmas baskets

Then we headed to Majete for Christmas. New Year’s was a quiet affair for us. We headed out again to Gateway Mall – the closest thing to come to a US-style mall in Lilongwe. C rode a motorized animal and we goofed off in the equivalent of the dollar store. At home we had ice cream and watched The Goonies. C, snuggled up against me on the couch, dozed off long before midnight — probably a good thing because when 2018 rolled around it sounded as if the neighborhood was under attack. I hugged her tight. Our holidays here, and our first five months, were different, but pretty okay.

January 28, 2017 by trs

I Hope They Have Cheese

I have to be quite honest here, grocery shopping in Shanghai is pretty great. I want for few things. It is China after all, where they manufacture and grow just about everything under the sun. That is not to say you may not miss some things. For example if you are a die hard fan of Trader Joe’s or Amy’s Enchiladas or the shrimp and avocado sushi rolls they make at the deli at Whole Foods, then you are gonna have to do without. But with a few adjustments you can find most of the things you need and want. Sure, sometimes you might pay through the nose for your must-have items (see my earlier post) and other times you might have to set aside some of your food safety and security concerns.

I generally shop at four supermarkets, all within a half mile radius of my apartment. The one I patronize the most is the City Shop supermarket located in the basement of my apartment complex. Located in one of the swankest addresses in town (voted several years running as one of the top serviced apartment complexes in the city), the prices are not going to be the most competitive, but I am all about paying a little extra for convenience. And being able to stop in on my walk home, or during lunch, or a quick visit before the nanny heads home (i.e. without my daughter) is worth the extra money to me. I will also go with my daughter. They have child-sized shopping carts so the kids can help out, which C generally loves to do. They also sell, right next to the front cash register, medium-sized jars filled with water, plants, and tiny fish that serve as mini aquariums or a bunch of cheap plastic kids toys with candy — either of these items will keep my daughter entertained while I shop. And when all else fails (i.e. C opts to roam free at the supermarket — though not in the fish tank aisle, which she is afraid of because sometimes the shrimp jump out of the tanks), I know my daughter is safe there as all the staff know her.

The Olé fruit section is a thing of beauty

Once or twice a month we head across the street to the Olé supermarket. This place is so swank that they have an accent over the “e” in Ole. Reportedly some 70% of their items are imported and their places reflect that. If I buy a single can of Diet Coke at City Shop it costs me 2.5 RMB (US$ 0.36) but I can get what appears to be an identical can at Olé for 9 RMB (US$1.30) because it is imported from South Korea. Still their fruit section is dazzling. I may not want to spend 80-100 RMB (US$12 to $14.50) for a few pints of raspberries or some white cherries, but sometimes I like to look at them stacked up beautifully in the section and wonder about the people who do. There are times though that City Shop’s fruit section is sometimes wanting and a trip across the street will mean acquiring the strawberries or pomegranates I know are in season. Olé also has this super-delish Italian-imported vanilla gelato made with Madagascan vanilla bean that makes my heart leap. I do not often eat ice cream, but when I do, I forever want it to be this kind of creamy goodness. Olé also has better seasonal – i.e. Halloween and Christmas – selections when those times of year roll around. C sees heading to Olé as a real treat – she often asks at odd times, like 9 PM at night, to go to the “across the street supermarket” because they have carts in the shape of cars and sell miniature hot dogs baked in bread. Dreamy.

Then on the rare occasion I also shop at Pines, a mom-and-pop kind of enterprise that tends to have imported goodies you can find no where else. I have found Country Kitchen pancake syrup, Betty Crocker cake mix, and some Chef Boyardee. OK. I realize that some people might have just balked at calling these “goodies” but it is all a matter of perspective and upbringing. For me, these preservatives in a bottle/box/can remind me of my childhood and America. I do not buy them often, but sometimes I feel better knowing they are available if and when I want them. There is also a supermarket in the basement of the Westgate shopping center (梅龙镇广场 or Plum Dragon Town Square if you were to translate it directly), where the U.S. Consulate visa section is located. It is part of the Isetan Department Store and so has lots of Japanese imports. Fruits are often astronomically expensive but so perfectly beautiful that at some price points I cannot help but buy.

A Trader Joes/Whole Foods-kind of experience at Hunter Gatherer

There are also tons of little family run stores, often for fruits and vegetables. Urumuqi North Street is one not too far away that has dozens of these along its length, including the famous “Avocado Lady.” If I happen to be walking back from the main Consulate building, located on the same street, I will pop in for some bargain priced locally-produced fruit. Some people make an effort to head out to wet markets to buy their produce. If you scroll up to paragraph two you will note that I shop very close to home. Some might say I am lazy but really I am just a time-strapped working single mom who chooses time-saving proximity to less time conscious bargain-hunting (!). Wet markets also tend to be places where one can buy “fresh” meat, sometimes so fresh it is still alive, and live seafood. C does not just avoid the seafood aisle of our City Shop due to spontaneously jumping shrimp, but because she also has a history of sudden, um, illness when she sees crabs, lobsters, and such. Not really my idea of fun.

There are also other grocery experiences for those who want something different. Hunter Gatherer is an organic, farm-to-table, restaurant/grocery or a “seed-to-table ecosystem that serves and celebrates real food” according to their website. In addition to store shopping you can also order online at one of numerous places like Kate & Kimi, Fields, and Epermarket. I used to do the online grocery shopping and delivery when I lived in Washington, DC as a childless hipster. (Okay, when I was childless because I do not think anyone would have ever called me a hipster) However, I was really slow to catch on in Shanghai. While I had colleagues who had ordered their first grocery delivery within a week of arrival it took me, oh, I don’t know, 18 months? I received an online invite to join in the grocery delivery revolution, and all I had to do was order my first order and I would receive a welcome basket of seasonal veggies for free. I ordered something like 250 RMB (US$36.20) of groceries to give it a go. Imagine my surprise when they were not only delivered on time but the box of free stuff was enormous!

The free welcome box! It contained a bag of potatoes, a bunch of eggplant, a box of tomatoes, a box of mushrooms, a box of carrots, 2 ears of corn, 2 avocados, 2 bell peppers, 1 zucchini, 1 head of broccoli, and 1 pumpkin!!

Shopping in Shanghai is not always bliss. Although I prefer to head to one supermarket each one has special things that the others do not. One will have Japanese soy bean rice crackers. Another will have frozen raspberries. A third will have Tartare, the French cream cheese with fine herbs. Yet another will have Tostitos. Or at least they will some of the time. There is always the chance that a store that has a favorite import today will not have it tomorrow or next week or maybe ever again.

About six months into our time in Shanghai, C and I are on one of our trips visiting Olé when C spies a box of chocolate Lucky Charms. She has never had them before but declares suddenly she must have them. I am reluctant to spend US$12 on a box of cereal she might only eat two bites of, but I find myself buying it anyway. She loves it. I buy a second box. She wants to eat it for breakfast every day. I go to buy another box, they do not have anymore. Not that week, or the next, or months after that. I buy a couple of boxes while on Medevac and again on R&R and bring them back in our suitcases. Friends bring a few boxes when they visit. But I do not find it at my supermarkets again.

Where did the rest of the cheese go? Evidence of the beginning of the Great Cheese Shortage of 2015

There was also the Great Cheese Shortage of 2015, followed by another Lesser Cheese Shortage of 2016. It was the first that prompted me to first consider writing a blog post about grocery shopping in Shanghai with this title. It was right around the National Day. In mid-September the once full shelves of cheese began to empty out. Little by little the good, imported cheese was gone leaving only “cheese” cheese — you know, the kind of cheese that has to be put into parentheses. I took the photo above of the limited cheese selection and another of a depleted imported processed meats section and a supermarket employee tried to stop me. Seriously? Yes, seriously. I was approached and told to stop taking pictures and she tried to swipe my phone. I guess the Great Cheese Shortage was supposed to be kept under wraps, not shared with the outside world. But now you know.

I cannot remember how long the cheese shortage lasted either year but they did not appear to be isolated incidents because the cheese selection diminished in all the shops I frequented. This past year I thought I might circumvent the shortage and order my cheese from Epermarket, only to find that they too reported that the items I wished for were currently out of stock. Yet eventually the stocks returned and appeared even more bountiful than before. Huge bags of Monterey Jack cut into cubes for the ridiculous price of US$20. I will leave you wondering if I bought them or not.

It has taken me far longer to get around to writing this particular post than I had anticipated. And here I am nearing my time in Shanghai. This puts things into perspective. I know how good we have had it here. I am ready to have some extended time back in the US during home leave and training to get my fill of all those food items I have missed and a good ole US of A prices, not high-import-taxes prices. But then we head to Malawi and I think about what might be in store (or not in store, get it?) for us there. I have heard about some food shortages that make my complaints here seem especially petty. I am really not sure what to expect, but I still hope they have cheese.

December 10, 2016 by trs

Visitors to Shanghai- At Last!

Shanghai shows off for my visitors

I will let you in on a secret: Most Foreign Service families relish having friends and family visit them. I know this is true because one thing that is always taken into consideration when bidding on the next assignment is if it is a place people will want to visit. I am not sure why it is a secret but I have found and heard from others it is difficult to get people to visit us. I get it. Foreign Service families are posted all over the world, in some far away and challenging places. It can take a lot of planning and money to get to where we are and not everyone has the means or the inkling to travel the way we do.

So when family members or friends make the trek out to see us – especially if we happen to live somewhere other than Western Europe – it is pretty exciting. We get to show you our life abroad. Our apartment. Maybe our office. Our local supermarket. And all the wonderful, horrible, crazy, fun, fabulous aspects of our new city/country.

Therefore imagine my level of excitement that friends were coming to visit me in Shanghai! After 20 months in country I would finally have my first guests. It is a little hard to believe that I had more visitors to Ciudad Juarez (my mother for three weeks, my aunt and uncle for a week, and my sister for one night over from El Paso so she could say she spent the night in one of the most dangerous cities in the world) than Shanghai. My mother had planned to come, my aunt too, and my other sister and her family considered it, but none had come. My friends D&D had booked a trip but my Medevac back to the US last October/November put the kibosh on that. Yet finally, after some 265 days in the preparation stage visitors were here!

My visitors: My friend CZ, whom I have known 24 years, nearly a quarter of a century (!), and who is also a single mother, her 2 year old son Little C, and CZ’s older friend PK, whom I met in May 2015 and who wanted to visit China to fulfill a childhood dream. My visitors would spend a week in Shanghai and a week in Beijing, with C and I joining for three days of the Beijing portion. I am generally into organizing and planning my holidays/vacations, but given our motley crew including yours truly I developed only ideas of activities, and just hoped all would go well.

On the first day, October 1, I took everyone the few blocks up the street to Jing’An temple. As it was the Chinese National Day, entrance to the temple was free and it seemed that at least half of Shanghai’s 24 million residents were stopping by. Crowded is an understatement. We headed to the park across the street from the temple where we found the other half of the 24 million were milling around. And that was all we managed that day.

Which is more impressive? Three of the world’s tallest buildings or a pollution-free day in Shanghai?

Our second day we were blessed with a glorious National Day weekend blue-sky, almost as blindingly wonderful as G-20 Blue. We decided on a hop on hop off sightseeing bus and parked ourselves at the stop in front of the hotel in my complex. And there we sat and sat and sat for about 30 minutes until I suggested we hail a taxi to stop #1. The bus is a great idea for people with kids – ride around the city, looking at the sights and listen to commentary. Except that since kids under 5 are free they do not provide kids with headphones (though who am I kidding? As if a 2 and 4 year old are gonna listen to the history of Shanghai, but it might have entertained them for 5 minutes. Okay 3.), and the bus just sat at stops waiting longer than it spent driving, and the commentary recording kept skipping or just played a Spanish sounding dance track, which seemed just a little strange. We got off the bus at the Bund, the second go around (in order to enjoy the commentary one full way around, though “enjoy” might be a strong word), so we could transfer to another line to head over the river to Pudong for our river boat tour. At the Bund we bought sandwiches and the kids threw a delightful fit over ice cream. Once on the bus we drove over to Pudong. That is literally all the bus did. No stops. No commentary. Just a high speed zip over to the land of Shanghai’s tallest skyscrapers. On the open top of the bus I saw my life flash before my eyes as the driver careened around the loop onto and off the bridge.

To get to our boat trip we had to disembark the large bus, wait around in front of the Shanghai landmark Disney store with sightseeing company staff (waiting in front of a Disney store with children and not being able to go is really fun!), then board a shuttle bus to drive us several blocks, then walk down stairs, and across planks, and then up and down a few more stairs to our boat. Years ago, in 2002 in fact, when I took a tour on the Huangpu River, it was on a large vessel, maybe the size of a paddle steamer? This time however imagine my surprise when we find a midsize cabin cruiser that comfortably seats about 20 with both upper and lower decks. That hour cruise was bliss. The kids were happy. The view was wonderful.

The Arts & Crafts museum, like a mini White House, in a renovated 1905 French Concession home, and some of the beautiful crafts on display

Every day something seemed to not work out right. PK really wanted to see the Shanghai Arts & Crafts museum and CZ and I agreed to visit with the kids as information online suggested it was child-friendly. It was a little hard to find but turned out to be a pleasant hour long distraction. However then PK wanted to visit the Blue Nankeen Exhibition Hall, which was several blocks away but not really for kids. We did it but emotions were starting to run high. Another day we took a half day tour to the water town of Zhujiajiao, the closest of the Venice-like towns to Shanghai. The tour bus arrived late. Water towns of narrow stone pathways and stone step bridges are not stroller-friendly. It started to rain. And once again it seemed a good portion of the Shanghai population had planned to visit the exact same place. The return bus trip took over an hour longer than expected due to traffic. I had such high hopes this would be a chance to see the most traditional of Chinese vistas while visiting Shanghai, but it felt like far too much work.

It looks beautiful. But pushing our way through the crowd was a struggle.

On our last day together in Shanghai I opted for a mommy and daughter day just with C. I had been prepared for another day with my guests but at the last minute I pulled out; I felt too strongly that we all needed a break from each other. C and I headed to Pudong for a trip up the mega-skyscraper Shanghai Tower, currently the world’s second tallest building (the first being Dubai’s Burj Khalifa, which C and I have also visited), but the world’s tallest building by usable floor–floor 127! Afterwards we had a nice mommy and daughter lunch and then a visit to one of C’s favorite shopping destinations — the Disney Store. It was just the kind of day we needed, all of us, and that night we were all able to share the stories of our respective adventures.

It might have been a cloudy day but the view from the top was still amazing

Then we took our show on the road.

I cannot explain some of the following decisions. One, waking up at the crack of dawn to take a 7 am flight to Beijing. Two, my friends and I booked different airlines in order to get miles on our respective chosen airline partners. Yet at some point it must have seemed like a really good idea. The problem is we landed at two different terminals. In most airports that would not be an issue, but in Beijing Terminal 2 and Terminal 3 are located FIVE miles apart. It took nearly 30 minutes to get from one to the other, while C and I were on one shuttle bus, PK, CZ and Little C were on a shuttle bus in the opposite direction.

Luckily we all made a decision at some point to stop looking for each other at the airport and just head to the hotel. Just a few kilometers we hit Beijing’s notorious traffic and we sat at a standstill for 30 minutes. Eventually we reunited at the hotel. To think the original plan had been to arrive early, leave our things at the hotel and pack 2 kids under 5 off for a several hour tour of the Forbidden City. Yeah, I am still trying to wrap my head around what I might possibly have been thinking. It was raining, the kids were tired, we were all tired and hungry. We took a deep breath, had lunch and rested. In the afternoon, after the rain stopped we took a stroll down to Tian’an Men, where we took photos of all the Chinese taking photos of our kids in front of the gate where Mao’s portrait hangs.

The kids enjoy Jingshan Park and C makes climbing the Great Wall look like child’s play (Follow the arrow to find C)

Our last two days things started to turn around. The sun came out and the air quality index stayed low. Sure our plan to visit Jingshan Park (the once imperial garden behind the Forbidden City) AND the Temple of Heaven meant we only visited the first and then called it a day. On our last day we were again graced with blue skies. We had a tour guide, Glenn, whom a colleague of mine had recommended, pick us up at the hotel and drive us to the Great Wall at Mutianyu. I thought back to the Wall of 1994, that was not a place I would take a small child. But now it is possible. We took the cable car up to Watchtower 14 (a cable car!) and then walked to Watchtower 6. The kids did great with the help of snacks, drinks, plenty of breaks, and the great help of Glenn the Guide. At Watchtower 6 CZ and I rode double toboggans down with our kids. Back in 1994 I remember my much younger and fitter self slogging down stairs on wobbly legs — the toboggan is the best way to descend for sure. At the base we all enjoyed a well deserved pizza, yet another thing that was not available back in the day (the few pizzas available my first time in China certainly left much to be desired).

As C and I said goodbye to our friends to head back to Shanghai, I had much to reflect on. The visit certainly had not gone anywhere according to plan, and it was so much harder and exhausting than I had anticipated, yet I am so glad for the chance to have welcomed friends to my current hometown at last.

September 28, 2016 by trs

Sydney Getaway

Kites of all kinds, Bondi Beach. Look at that blue sky! No need for an air quality monitor here.

After months (it felt like years) since my previous vacation, through the hard slog of a busy Shanghai visa summer, then into a strange low visa-demand month that was challenging nonetheless with the whole “half the staff is gone for 1-3 weeks in Hangzhou to support the G-20” thing, I was so ready for a vacation. I would especially need it as my trip was sandwiched between the summer/G-20 season and my first foray into mid-level bidding, which is State Department speak for “virtual cage fighting for your next job.”

So off to Oz we went with stops in Sydney and the Blue Mountains.

We flew Shanghai to Singapore and then overnight to Sydney. (I love that my four year old asks before we travel how many planes we will take.) My friend K and her family picked us up at the airport — K used to work at the US Consulate in Shanghai as a locally-employed staff (a local hire) but she relocated to Sydney with her husband’s job and now she works for the US Consulate in Sydney — and then whisked us off to Bondi Beach for the annual kite flying festival. It did not have nearly the number of kites we expected and K’s husband could not find a parking space so he just drove around and around the area until we had our fill of beach and kites, but to be honest I didn’t care because it was just great to catch up with K, and her son KZ and C, who are the exact same age, really bonded. After Bondi we headed for a quick lunch on our way to the wonderful Featherdale Wildlife Park in the northwest suburbs of Sydney. The wildlife center is all about native Australian birds and animals, so it is a great place to see cockatoos, kookaburas, emus, cassowaries, koalas, kangaroos, wallabies, dingoes, quokkas, echidnas, Tasmanian devils and the like. KZ and C pet a koala — one of the few places where you can do so complimentary with your entrance ticket — and some wallabies. We finished up with ice cream. Then we headed back to K’s house and while her husband prepared dinner K and I took a stroll in a nearby park while KZ and C zoomed around on a scooter and a bicycle. And while this might sound like your average day out with friends — meet up, have lunch, drive to a kid friendly place, dinner at home, and a walk in the park — I have not had a single day like that in Shanghai.

Only 45 minutes on the train and I get this look

The following morning, a Monday, K headed out early to work and her husband drove C and I to the nearby Blacktown train station to catch the 7:57 am train to Katoomba. Initially my plan had been more complicated and involved renting a car. But the logistics and cost and dragging C’s car-to-booster-conversion seat for a short drive to and from Katoomba was outweighed by the simplicity of taking the train. Me–I was incredibly impressed with myself for packing one large backpack I could put on my back, a smaller backpack I could wear on my chest, thereby leaving my hands free to push C in the stroller. I felt I was almost, sort of, kinda, not really, really, but as close as I have been in awhile, close to my old backpacker self. C was less impressed. For some reason she found the idea of a relaxing 1 hour 22 minute ride on the train seemed incredibly boring. In true 4 year old style she asked at every station if that was our station. I only had to endure her asking 16 times before on it finally coming true. But she is 4 and she would have asked every five minutes if we were there yet had I been driving.

Great location, historic charm: the Carrington

We arrived at 9:22 am and headed straight for our hotel, the historic Carrington located just half a block from the Katoomba train station. The restored historic hotel is the oldest hotel in town having opened in 1883. I opted for us to stay in the “traditional rooms,” which are billed as “budget” accommodation that channels the original rooms of the hotel, i.e. they share bathrooms down the hall as the hotel would have had prior to 1927. Again, to me it was a tip to my backpacking/hosteling days and I was curious as to how C would take to it. Her assessment at the end of our stay: “I liked the room, I liked the bed, I liked the TV, but I did not like the bathrooms outside.”

It was a gorgeous day. It was warm (in the upper 70s), the sky was a brilliant blue. There was no time to dawdle. We were at the hotel WAY too early to check in. I left our bags with the front desk and whisked C in the stroller off to see the sights. I decided to walk from the hotel to Echo Point, the location to see the Three Sisters, the three iconic pillar rock formations that are the most recognizable symbol of the Blue Mountains. I had hoped the walk to Echo Point would be interesting, but it was not. We simply walked down a sidewalk that started in the commercial center of Katoomba and passed through a nondescript residential neighborhood. There were no views until the end when suddenly you find yourself at Echo Point 30 minutes later. And here the Jamison Valley opens before you. It is the Grand Canyon of Australia and it is awesome. C agreed that it was worth the trip only because I gave her some ice cream. Whatever. (I want to be upfront about travel with a four year old; C is a very good traveler but she is four. Ice cream ranks higher than amazing natural wonders right now).

The Three Sisters and Jamison Valley view

We were beat though. We had flown through the night to arrive in Australia. Been whisked around on a wonderful whirlwind first day right from the airport. Then we woke up very early for the train to the Blue Mountains. Despite the stunning views and great weather we needed lunch and a rest. We lunched at Echo Point watching a kookabura sitting in an old gum tree (get it?) and then road the hop on hop off bus back to the first stop, across from the hotel. We bought fruit and sandwich fixings from the local grocery store and were in for the night. (I want to be upfront about travel with a tired thirty, ok forty-something, mom with a young child. Sometimes a nap ranks higher than natural wonders.)

Are you sure there is a contraption of any kind on those cables? The Skyway disappears into the fog…

The following day I was kicking myself. It was cooler. The fog was thick. Sigh. This is the day we would go to Scenic World, a privately run wonderland of activities in the Blue Mountains. The activities include riding the steepest incline railway in the world, riding the steepest aerial cable car in the Southern Hemisphere, ride the skyway tram that crosses a chasm 270 meters above the valley floor, and enjoying various walks on elevated boardwalks through the forest. I was not sure how great it would be in thick fog. It is called scenic world, but it might be a bit hard to see… At AUS$70 for the two of us it seemed to be a bit pricey to look at the inside of a cloud. The upside is the fog had no affect whatsoever on the thrilling ride on the scenic railway. You whizz down what seems a near vertical track, you pass through a tunnel, and then some trees. C and I screamed. Then C laughed while I continued to scream. At the bottom of the railway we enjoyed a 30 minute walk through the forest with stops to ride the bronze statue of a pony in front of an old mine, swung on a tree limb outside an old minters cabin, and just enjoyed the fresh air. With the fog we had almost no wait for the cable car back up. And while the Skyway is supposed to afford riders incredible views, the fog gave the ride an otherworldly feel.

We had spent several hours at Scenic World and then an hour in the town of Leura before once again calling it a day. With most sightseeing buses stopping at 5 and the sun beginning to set around 5:30 PM, this is not as crazy as it sounds.

I could have put a normal beautiful day at Scenic World photo but while there I accidentally discovered my camera has this awesome setting.

The weather for Wednesday, our last day in the Blue Mountains, was supposed to be pretty bad — rainy all day. Imagine my surprise when we woke up to blue skies! I made the decision to head back to Scenic World. Imagine my surprise and sense of wonder when at the ticket counter the cashier let us in for free! He had asked, “Have you ever been to Scenic World before?” and I had answered “Yes! We were here yesterday but we could see very little with the fog so I thought we would come back. My daughter loved the railway and cannot stop talking about riding it again. Here is a picture I took of the fog around the Skyway. Isn’t it great?” He told me he would give me a discount, but when I handed him my credit card he declined it and told us to have a great time. Customer service is not dead.

This trail is rated perfect for 4 year olds by gift store employees

We rode the railway twice more (once down and once up) at C’s request. Then I decided we would ride the Skyway one-way with the stroller and walk along the Prince Henry Cliff Walk to Echo Point. It was only 30 minutes and a woman in the Scenic World gift shop assured me it was stroller friendly. She must have never, ever, ever been anywhere near that cliff walk because it was not stroller friendly in any possible interpretation unless you mean carrying your stroller the entire time as you fumble along several hundred dirt steps while praying your adventurous preschooler does not walk off the edge of the trail. My favorite part was the 9 or 10 rung metal step ladder affixed to a rock in the middle of the trail. Super kid friendly (not). But we survived the walk and luckily arrived at Echo Point before the skies darkened and poured.

The following day we took the train from Katoomba back to Sydney. As C found the 1 hour and 22 minute ride up boring she was even less impressed with the 2 hour trip to Sydney Central. And even more disgruntled to learn that we would transfer trains to ride to Circular Quay where we would find our hotel. But once again I was massively astonished at my travel-with-small-child prowess. We checked into our hotel located in a historic building in “the Rocks,” the location of the oldest European settlement of Sydney and headed off to Darling Harbour. There we got more animal time in at both the Sea Life Sydney Aquarium and the Wild Life Sydney Zoo. At the latter C pet a snake, got up close and personal with a sugar glider, and rubbed the belly of a spotted quoll. All fine and well except she noted I had yet to produce a platypus.

C feeds a giraffe. This is NOT the AUS$29.95 professional photo. That one, which makes me look like the Hulk in blue and is taken from an angle that looks directly up my nose, will never be seen online. Ever.

What I did produce were partial views of the Sydney Opera House from our hotel room. This is what we were here in Sydney to see. The Opera House (which of course is featured in the Disney movie Finding Nemo), kangaroos, koalas, and the duck-billed platypus. I was beginning to fulfill my promises. Our second day in Sydney we rode the ferry across to the Taronga Zoo where I could at long last produce a platypus and make good on the promise to have C feed a carrot to a giraffe. It only cost me AUS$29.95 for the privilege though we got to take home one of the worst “professional” photos I have ever paid money for proving C and I were near a giraffe with vegetables. C loves it though and that is what matters. The highlight of the zoo though was the hour we spent on the kids playground adjacent the lemur enclosure where C made fast friends with Sarah, an equally adventurous and outgoing Australian-Korean girl.

We also made a trip to the Sydney Tower Eye for views of the city just before sunset. It sounded nice and I already had tickets given I bought a 4-sites-in-one ticket that included the tower, but the views, while nice, are not as great as one might suppose. The two most iconic structures — the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge — are obscured by large and unimpressive buildings. I also had to contend with C’s deep displeasure at visiting the tower. If I have not mentioned it before, she is not yet into taking in the views. Not even “look mommy has already taken you to four animal venues and now it is time for something mommy wants to see” swayed her. Luckily she fell asleep in the stroller and I enjoyed the views in peace. And the next day I took her to Manly Beach to our fifth and final animal adventure, the Manly Sea Life Sanctuary. There she had her face painted and balance was restored to her world.

Yes, I arranged our trip to Sydney at this time of year so I could run across the bridge (on a night stroll across the street from our hotel)

Then of course on Sunday morning, if you have been following my adventures with any sort of regularity you may have guessed it — I participated in a run. Originally I had signed up for the Sydney Running Festival half marathon, but a last training run a week before departure made it very clear a half was probably a bad idea. Luckily there was still time to contact organizers and downgrade to the 9K Bridge Run. I just wanted to be able to run across the Sydney Harbour Bridge with a few thousand strangers. The “flat and fast” course was neither flat nor fast and seemed to me to be much longer than 9K, but I finished. And before the rain. Despite rain predicted for most days of our vacation, only the one day was blustery and rainy with both the wind and rain holding off til the end of the running events. We celebrated with lunch and a walk at Darling Harbour with K and her family.

The day after the run was another beautiful, glorious day. Unfortunately it was our last (half) day in Australia. We strolled along Circular Quay to the Opera House and through the beautiful Royal Botanical Gardens (it is a wonder that such prime Sydney real estate is set aside for a large, public park). I did not want to leave. Although I usually find 9 days away is very restorative, this time I still felt it was just too short. But it was time to return to Shanghai and get ready for bidding on my next assignment.

September 18, 2016 by trs

Shanghai: Preschool Days and Activities

For 2 months a Shanghai mall hosted this amazing My Little Pony wonderland (amazing for the kids at least; I grew tired of the MLP theme song in Chinese blaring over speakers fairly quickly).

I struggled to come up with just the right title for this blog post. Shanghai: The Kids Mecca or Parents Empty Your Wallets are both apt descriptions, but were not quite right. Shanghai is chock full of activities for your progeny. This is however not about all the kids activities on offer in this city–I am not that kind of blogger. I expect you probably could find just about anything your kids’ heart desires, but this is, as usual, just about me and C.

I am now the mom of a school-age child. Well, preschool-aged child, but it is school nonetheless. Approximately a year before arriving coming to Shanghai, I learned that the State Department does not cover the costs of preschool. It makes sense–preschool is not free in the United States and therefore it is not free for us overseas–yet it still came as a bit of a surprise. No worries, I thought, I did not attend preschool and look at me, I became a US diplomat. Not too shabby, right? Therefore I figured C would do just fine without.

Just one half of the fabulous Shanghai Centre Kids’ Club. The toys! The colors! Even I feel happy whenever I bring C here.

But things are different nowadays. Even in the US, Kindergarten classes are more and more often full day and involve homework. Preschool is the new Kindergarten. And I am in Northeast Asia where there can be even more pressure for preschool to provide not only structured children’s recreation but also to prepare kids to excel not just in primary school but even to possibly decide their future university and their entire lives. Yikes.

As soon as I arrived in Shanghai, I enrolled my daughter in the incredible Kids’ Club in our housing complex. Besides being a wonderful play space open 7 days a week from 9 am to 6 pm where parents and the ayis (nannies) can bring the kids from 6 months to 6 years to play, they also offer regular story time (in Chinese, English, and Japanese), DVD time, music class, and exercise class but also special activities from Easter parties to Japanese flower arranging and soccer games to cooking classes. And if you are a member you can rent the space for birthday parties (no need to supply games!) It is not inexpensive at US$50 a month, but it is well worth it.

This is a stack of 180 one hundred RMB notes. For real. Yes, I took a picture of the money. I actually did a whole photo shoot…

Once part of the Kids’ Club there was pressure to enroll C in the preschool. I was stopped in the supermarket, in the elevator, in parties at the Kids’ Club, with helpful suggestions that C might possibly be ready for school. She is bright. She will make friends. She will learn a lot. It is not that I disagreed per se, . but preschool, even full day preschool, does not actually last a full day (a full day is only 9 am to 3 pm; oh, how I wish that were my work day). As a single working mom who had already lucked out in finding a really great ayi (in other words not someone I wanted to lose), I just was not sure it was right for us. But after a year I came around to the idea C would benefit from some schooling. So I bit the bullet and signed her up for half day.

Every week the teachers send photos to all the parents via WeChat as no parents are allowed in the classroom.

I did have a bit of sticker shock. It would cost me 17,000 RMB for half day (9 am to noon), half a year. Plus a 1,000 RMB one-time registration fee. That total 18,000 RMB (approx US$2750) would need to be paid in cash on a Monday or Tuesday between 9 and 9:30 am. That’s right, a full 30 minutes mid-morning. Hmmmm… As a working mom I have been part of enough conversations to know I am not the only person to face this kind of situation – where schools still assume a parent (usually the mom) is readily available during the day. This, I am sure, was just my first such experience. I do not expect it to be the last. Luckily my daughter’s preschool committee turned out to be quite flexible — the treasurer (a very pregnant woman about to return to her home country to give birth), armed with an electric bill counter, met me at the Kids’ Club at 8 pm at night to accept my payment. It felt a bit cloak and dagger, but the payment was made.

C gets her jump on at the brand new NBA Play Zone, another awesome indoor kids play area that will drain your wallet. (only $36 for one adult with child on the weekend) But you love it. Draining your wallet, that is.

As preschool tuition costs go, C’s school is an absolute bargain. According to several online sites, private/international preschool programs in Shanghai cost between 5,000 and 20,000 RMB (US$758 and US$3,030) a month. One prominent international school costs 204,000 RMB a year with a 2000 RMB registration fee and a 20,000 RMB non-refundable security deposit for a total of 226,000 RMB (US$34,242). Just take a moment to digest that. Not quite as much as the current annual tuition at any of the Ivy League universities, but it will set you back a pretty penny and a vacation or two.

My daughter is absolutely loving school. What’s not to love? I mean once you get over handing over all that cash (yes, I do think a credit card payment would have felt less painful). This is a Montessori-based education. A total of 11 students with 2 teachers and 1 classroom helper. The student-teacher ratio is fantastic. Of the three hours, 30 minutes is spent in Chinese class. One of my previous excuses regarding the preschool was my daughter learns a lot from her ayi every day. Yet in three weeks of class C’s Chinese level has skyrocketed to include multiple Chinese children’s songs. Hearing her speak so much Chinese kinda makes me want to stay in China much longer. Kinda. Not really. Well, maybe. Um, no.

Look at my 4 year old climb this wall! (I know from personal experience I could not do it)

All kidding aside I love my daughter fiercely and I am happy that we have been posted to Shanghai where there are so many activities for her to participate in. The Chinese culture loves children and the worldly and affluent Shanghaiese make sure the city gives them and their kids options. My daughter is also enrolled in both private swimming and group ballet classes. We are lucky that both of these activities are located in our housing complex! I know. Be still my tired single mommy heart — a five minute walk to both swimming and dance is ideal. The swimming is hefty 250 RMB (US$38) per half an hour but I do think back to the mommy and me swimming we took in the US, which were $30 for half an hour with up to five kids and parents, and realize that our private classes are worth it. Especially as C is really benefiting from the classes. The dance classes too are extraordinary. I had some doubts that the teacher — despite her incredible patience with the children — would be able to get 8 four and five year olds to learn a routine and execute it on stage, but she did. The end of year recital was so sweet to watch. Lots of proud parents and kids. The 2,450 RMB (US$374) tuition is for 14 classes, the recital, and the show costume. I took dance as a child (ballet, tap, and hula/Tahitian) from the ages of 4 to 12, and I thought back to how much I enjoyed it.

As the bidding for my next assignment will begin tomorrow (as soon as I return from vacation), I think again how incredibly fortunate we have been to be posted to Shanghai. It is a place where kids are treasured and catered to. There are so many organized activities and places for creative play. Yes, it will cost you (it has certainly cost me), but it has been worth every penny to provide these kinds of opportunities for my daughter.

C and her Chinese swim instructor cover the basics as Rapunzel (lower right hand corner) looks on

August 28, 2016 by trs

A Stroll down the Street of Eternal Happiness

The Street of Eternal Happiness in the former French Concession of Shanghai

One of my most constant activities in Shanghai, outside of spending a lot of time in the gym poorly training myself for middling performances in random half marathons, is my book club. This is no ordinary book club. Besides getting me to read at least one book a month – an astounding feat for this tired Foreign Service single mom – it is also a dinner club. As we meet at 6 PM on the third or last Thursday a month, dinner is part of the equation. So not only do they get me to read, but they also get me to cook. For those who know me, the latter is the much more impressive achievement.

Our book for this September is Street of Eternal Happiness: Big City Dreams Along a Shanghai Road by Rob Schmitz, an award winning journalist based in Shanghai. The book is about the lives of several people and families along Changle Lu, the beautifully named Street of Eternal Happiness, where the author lives in Shanghai. This post is not about the book, but rather my own walk down the street just yesterday.

A few weeks ago my four year old daughter and I had to travel to the Consulate Office Building (COB), the main compound of the US Consulate in Shanghai, so we could have our vaccinations updated. Although I work for the Consulate, I do not work in the COB; the visa section is located on the eighth floor of the Westgate Mall. My daughter and I took a shuttle from our residence, where many Consulate families live, to the COB to have our appointments with the Consulate clinic. Along the way, the shuttle bus turned on to Changle Lu, and I realized how very close the road is in relation to where I live and I resolved one day soon for C and I to take a walk along the 2 mile slice of Shanghai life–to bring the book club book literally to life.

We started off at No. 274 Urumuqi Road, just a block and a half south of where Changle Lu intersects. This is the location of the Avocado Lady, a Shanghai institution. What appears to be a small double-wide mom and pop grocery operation is the shopping destination for expats in search of fresh produce with a smile along with some rather hard to find exports from home. The Avocado Lady has been recognized for promoting Mexican avocados and used to sport a plaque from the Mexican Consulate in front of the store. Two weeks ago when C and I passed by the plaque was there, but yesterday the owners informed me that it had fallen. This did not deter the customers; on a Saturday afternoon the shop was hopping.

“Build core values with one heart, and realize the great Chinese dream with one mind.” One of the many posters along the wall on Urumuqi Road.

A half a block and across the street up from the Avocado Lady one can find the wall that surrounds the demolished lot that was once Maggie Lane. I have passed by this wall many times as I walked back from the COB to my residence. I liked the posters. There used to be one with a cat on it, I think also one with a carp. I never thought of the significance of the posters until I read the book. These posters sporting optimistic slogans about achieving civilization, progress and happiness while realizing the dreams of a nation, cover an ugly wall around an empty lot where once stood Shikumen homes built in the 1930s. Although the at times vicious demolition began in late 2004, the area has still yet to be developed. Progress. At a standstill.

We headed on to Changle Lu and it did not take long until we fund another of the addresses: CK’s boutique restaurant 2nd Floor Your Sandwich, now called 2nd Floor Natural Flavor Cafe Bistro & Exhibition. Not knowing what was on the menu at at 2nd Floor or the energy level of C, I opted to lunch at home before we headed out. I wish we had waited to lunch at 2nd Floor. The wrought iron spiral staircase is tricky for a 4 year old and the stroller was just a no go (I left it parked behind the blackboard sign in the nook in front of the stairs). Yet upstairs the cafe is a comfy, crowded well-lit room with lots of windows. The ceiling of half the cafe is windows, like a greenhouse. The walls are covered in artwork and different sized shelves with knick-knacks, old cameras, books, and plants. It is chic and eclectic, and the menu, with pancakes and burgers, pumpkin soup and buffalo mozzarella with arugula salad, looked inviting. They were doing a brisk business for Saturday lunch. I would have loved to sit down for tea and dessert but C was having none of it. She was complaining loudly about having to climb the stairs and wanting to continue the walk, so I gave up and we left. I will go back some day.

Further down the road, on one side of the street large, imposing grey walls or brick and iron fences with thick brush blocked the views of former French Concession mansions, on the other side small mom and pop shops with apartments on the upper level, there between the homes an alleyway opens up with a sign indicating just inside, just follow the signs, one will find the Chinese Printed Blue Nankeen Exhibition Hall. As I was here to check out Changle Lu and all it had to offer, this invitation was too much to pass up. I pushed the stroller down a broad alley with narrow passages on either side leading to both front and back doors of small apartments. Up above clothing hung out to dry from make-shift clothing lines. At the end of the alley, signs instructed us to go over a gate, heading first to the right and then to the left down a very narrow passageway about as wide as two strollers. Again to the left, it opened to a courtyard and there you find the museum and shop of hand painted blue and white cotton cloth. The shop beautifully displayed the cloth in clothing, framed pictures, fabric toys, table cloths and more, on dark wood shelves and walls. I bought a small Nankeen blue cloth elephant to go with my cloth elephant collection (one from Thailand, Laos, and Indonesia). Just outside the shop C caught sight of what appeared to be a mongoose running through the courtyard. I imagine it is more likely a pet ferret that got away. Nonetheless it added to our adventure down Changle Lu.

We came to a small toy store. This is what C had been waiting for — she had seen the shop from the windows of our shuttle bus on the way to the COB weeks before. Her eagle eyes had spotted the My Little Ponies in the window as our bus sped by at 25 miles per hour. And finally here we were in front of the little place. Inside there was no place to move – both the proprietors, a husband and wife, sat in chairs watching a television placed on top of a pile of stock. There was no place for the stroller inside, there was barely room for C and I to stand. C did not care, as I am sure most children would not, because she was within touching distance of all the merchandise. Most of the toys were no longer even in their boxes, but that too only seemed to add to the appeal. To pick out her new toy for the day, C had to stand outside and make her choice through the front window display. As we stood outside with our new purchase, C drew a small crowd as she chattered away happily in a mix of Chinese and English about all the other toys that she also wished we were buying.

Old bicycles in a Changle Lu alley

A glimpse behind the gates at a swank home

It seemed strange that we would draw any attention as I had noticed quite a few foreigners on the road throughout our walk. Even as we loitered in the cramped toy store, a very pregnant young foreign woman popped in to buy a 300 RMB China mobile phone card. (Of course the toy shop would also be in the business of selling phone cards.) I had begun to feel the foreigner to Chinese ratio was higher here on Changle Lu than it was on my own block, the very swank Nanjing Xi Lu. Perhaps that is not surprising because the luxury brand name stores around my home are more likely to draw wealthy Chinese than hip but frugal foreigners. I felt more at home on Changle Lu, more at ease than I do on Nanjing Xi Lu, where I walk to work each day passing stores like Christian Louboutin, Ferragamo, Bvlgari, and Louis Vuitton. The walk though was eye-opening in other ways. I thought about how small our world, the one C and I occupy, is in Shanghai. Most days I walk only the 3 1/2 blocks to work and return and C stays in an even smaller radius, to the playground, pool, Kids’ Club, preschool, and supermarket, all within our complex. We go out frequently enough to museums and other sights around town, but it is rare we walk off the beaten path, just to walk. We did so more when we first arrived, but I became caught up in work and my bucket list, and C with her swimming, dance, birthday parties and school (again all within the complex) and we wander less and less. The Shanghai we know is quite different from that others know – and were we to come back ten years from now, even if the city miraculously remained the same as it is now, it would be a different place to us.

The inviting kids corner. (Yes, I do see the no photo sign though I swear I did not see it when I took the picture)

We passed the corner of the Street of Eternal Happiness and Rich Man’s Road, where the restaurant Chicken & Egg was doing a roaring business of mostly foreigners in their outdoor seating. On we went, passing slick office buildings, upscale and downscale clothing and shoe stores, Chinese fried food stalls alongside trendy foreign food establishments from Thai to Mexican to Italian. We came to a bookstore, and I had to go in. Imagine my surprise to find a wonderful traditional English language book seller with a small cafe. There were sections around the store; you could determine the travel book section, the foreign language learning section, the Children’s book section despite the lack of signage, but there were also just stacks of books on tables, on shelves of different heights, and in piles making a pathway just wide enough to carefully maneuver a stroller, but just. It is the kind of place where those who love books could get lost for hours and leave carrying a heavy bag of unexpected finds. I felt I had not been in such a store for ages and ages, and it is probably true. If it were not for my book club getting me to read, I would be hard pressed to get through a book a month. This from someone who devoured 100 books in more than one summer. Also, these days most of my books are purchased on Amazon and within minutes transferred to my Kindle. It is just not the same. We parked the stroller and C immersed herself amongst the shelves. She delighted in the kids’ section though did have to run downstairs to complain to management, in Chinese, that the area with the toys trapped under a glass floor was “difficult” for children. She actually pulled an amused manager upstairs to point this folly out.

We continued on. Another block brought an unexpected sight. The stores on the one side of the street seemed on the seedy side, with sex shops and risque lingerie stores, whose window displays reminiscent of Amsterdam’s red light district, on an upper level and small cafes and restaurants and other shops on lower levels, just a few steps down. That one small section reminded me of a street in Amsterdam, U street in Washington DC and a part of Orchard Road, Singapore all at the same time. we passed a small Mexican deli closed for the nuptials of the owner. I not only loved the sign the owner posted but also that the small shop, like so many small business owners, would close for such a celebration because they do not rely on an army of employees. No doubt it is a tough job running your own small business, but there was just something so joyous and infectious in the simple sign.

C hides in the stroller outside the flower shop

We ended our walk at the small flower shop at the corner of Changle Lu and Chengdu Nan Lu, featured in the book. I was encouraged to see two women sitting out front in deck chairs fanning themselves in the heat and gossiping, though neither it turned out was Ms. Zhao the owner. The shop, like so many others, was also too small for the stroller so C waited outside while Ms. Zhao’s eldest son made me a bouquet of roses that C had picked out. While C fended of pinches and coos from curious older Chinese, the elder son told me his mother was back in her hometown, but would return the following day. Shandong? I asked, because I had read the book and knew the location of her hometown. He did not seem surprised in the slightest that I asked about his mother or knew her travel was likely to Shandong. I suddenly felt shy and intrusive – almost as if I were talking to a celebrity. I had after all read about him and his mother’s shop in a book. I thanked him for the nice arrangement of the flowers, paid, and then we turned around and headed back home, about a dozen blocks away. Well worth the stroll on a summer Saturday afternoon in Shanghai.

August 21, 2016 by trs

Two Weekends on the Outskirts of Shanghai

August is hot in Shanghai. And like most places I have been there seem to be no holidays the whole long, hot month.

Shanghai municipality map This August is expected to be busier than last because of the G-20 Summit being held in Hangzhou, just an hour outside of Shanghai and within the Shanghai Consulate region. Though the G-20 leaders meeting will be held in early September, advance teams and preparation begins weeks beforehand and a large number of staff from the Shanghai Consulate have key roles. As a single mom of a young child I opted not to put my name forward to TDY (be sent temporary duty) to Hangzhou for potentially weeks, and instead volunteered to take on additional roles in Shanghai. Before the madness would begin I wanted to spend two long weekends away with my daughter. As I did not want to travel far I opted for two staycations, of sorts. We would stay at hotels within Shanghai municipality (though outside the city proper) for some quality mom and daughter time, where I could also tick a few things off my Shanghai bucket list. Thanks to a G-20 clean up campaign, we experienced days with some of the lowest AQI (air quality index) since we arrived, with the most startling blue skies I have ever seen in Shanghai.

Weekend One: Sheshan

The Sofitel Sheshan swimming pool – C liked the hotel so much she asked if we could move there for 5 years

After lunch on Friday, August 12 we departed for Sheshan via metro. C was not all that happy as she has a generally low opinion of traveling on the Shanghai subway. Her preference is for taxis. But with an hour ride ahead of us from Jing’An Station to Sheshan Station (with one change of lines), the 5 RMB metro fare (C rides free as all children under 1.4 meters tall do) was more attractive than the 150+ RMB taxi fare. I thought it might take awhile too to find a taxi driver willing to make the one hour journey. So it was worth it to me to drag C, the stroller, my bag, and our suitcase (full of enough toys and books for at least a week) the three blocks to the nearest subway station and through the transfer. Thankfully an hour later I still had not regretted it.

View of Sheshan with the basilica and observatory clear against the startling blue sky

We booked at the Sofitel Hotel Sheshan Oriental. The plan was to arrive around 2 pm, check-in, and then head out to one of the nearby sights. I should know by now that traveling with C never means we “just” check-in and we head out “immediately.” It is almost laughable how much I persist in this fantasy. C is a true traveler and hotel connoisseur; she likes to check-in and then check out the hotel. We were wooed by our large corner suite room, the make-your-own-ice-cream-bar bar in the lobby (50 RMB but the front desk clerk gave me coupons for two free ones just because I asked about the ice cream stand), and the two swimming pools – one for kids and one for families. In the evening after dinner, we went for a walk around the extensive grounds, stopping also at the two kids rooms — one an arcade of sorts and the other with ball pit and slides.

For day two I was determined to get some bucket list sightseeing done, so we were off to Sheshan – or She Hill (pronounced like “shuh”), which is the highest point in Shanghai. How high seems to be the subject of much debate as I found 97, 99, and 100 meters online, but since most of Shanghai is quite flat, this hill stands out regardless how high it may be.

C gets cheeky before we begin our climb

The hill is located in the Sheshan National Forest Park. I find Shanghai to be a fairly leafy city; even in the heart of the concrete jungle of downtown, there are trees on every street and given my view from my 19th floor apartment, many high rises with rooftop gardens. Still I was unprepared for the amount of greenery I found at Sheshan. Entrance to the park is free, one only has to bring some energy to climb. Ninety-seven to 100 meters may not sound like much, but if you are braving it with a 4 year old and a stroller (that you have to carry half the time and push up inclines the other half) in 95 degree weather with 80% humidity, then it does feel like the mountain the Shanghaiese sometimes jokingly call it.

I chose the wooden walkway vice the “difficult path” on the map located near the pagoda at the top of a steep flight of stairs from the parking area. The boardwalk-like pathway was very nice. Thick bamboo forest could be seen on one side of the hill. I had a hard time believing we were still in Shanghai. After some time – I lost track – we arrived at another rest area from where we could choose to visit the observatory or the basilica. I could tell you we made it to the top without complaints, but I would be lying. It was hot and C may have said a few times that she did not want to walk, did not want to see “Snake Hill” (“she” can mean snake, but it is not the character used for Sheshan), and that the whole thing was “boring.” A second Chinese popsicle might have helped us to get up the extra bit.

The view from Sheshan including the hill with pagoda and the conservatory at Chenshan Botanical Garden

At the top we visited the small but interesting Shanghai Astronomical Museum and the pretty Sheshan basilica. The original observatory was built in 1900 by French missionaries and was one of the first modern observatories in China. The basilica is purportedly “the largest cathedral in the Far East,” and a church has been on the site since 1863. C seemed to rally for both the sites but I did reward her for her cooperation with a delicious lunch and more pool time once back at the hotel.

On the last morning I again had a plan – to arrive at the Chenshan Botanical Garden at 9 am, right when it opened. We made it by 10. The gardens, at 207 hectares or 511 acres or 2 million square meters (whichever measurement makes the most sense to you), is one of the largest botanical gardens in the world and Shanghai’s largest green space. Thank goodness I had a stroller and I sprang for the 10 RMB sightseeing bus. We stopped first at the Children’s Garden, which of course is more a giant playground than a garden. But it being the first weekend in August, at 10-something in the morning, it was already well over 80 degrees and climbing. The playground had almost zero cover. C played for about 10 minutes as I slowly melted into a puddle. I found a double chair swing in the shade but I was antsy to get moving. I spotted what appeared to be swans and used them to distract C, and we were off.

The floating bridge in the old quarry

Bridge to treehouse island

Inside the greenhouse

We visited the tree house island, where the water fowl were hanging out, and then headed over to the rose garden via the topiary garden and a long way around the western edge of West Lake. The roses were naturally pretty and the perfume from the flowers extremely fragrant, but with no cover, the flowers and me were wilting. C seemed happy enough though so we pressed on. But as we walked (and C rode) I could feel my enthusiasm for the gardens diminishing. It was too hot. I planned on one last stop – the quarry garden (listed on the brochure as a “recommended attraction” during the summer months) – and then a ride on the shuttle bus back to the visitor’s center. But once inside the abandoned quarry, now a large artificial lake with a floating walkway, complete with dual waterfalls cascading down from the top of Chenshan hill, I found my second wind. The floating bridge led to a tunnel through the rock leading us from the Quarry Garden to the Rock Garden. We walked on, until we found ourselves at the conservatory, a 12000 square meter greenhouse, the largest in Asia.

After about 45 minutes in the greenhouses we were on the shuttle back to the Visitor’s Center. We had survived three hours in the gardens, but now I was feeling concerned about getting back to the hotel and home. The hotel had arranged an Uber driver for us to the garden, but at drop off it was clear this was not a location where taxis frequented. It seemed we might have to wait for the bus that would take us to the Sheshan metro station from where we could catch a taxi back to the hotel to collect our belongings and then head home. But as we crossed the vast parking and entrance area I spotted a taxi across the road, idling. I began to sprint, pushing the stroller with an energy I was sure I had sweated away hours before. We secured the taxi, one of the nice new caravan taxis with fully functioning A/C and no stench of stale cigarette smoke, back to the hotel. Along the way, C fell asleep, hard. I asked the driver if he was up to driving us all the way back to our home downtown with just a quick stop at the hotel to grab out bags. He agreed much to my relief.

Weekend Two: Chongming Island

The bridge linking Shanghai with Chongming island

Depending on whether or not you count Taiwan, Chongming is either the second or third largest island of China. It is 1,267 square kilometers (489 square miles) with a population around 700,000 people. Given that Shanghai total, the municipality including Chongming, has a population of 24 million, that means that the island makes up about a seventh of the total land area but has only 3% of the population. High rises are few – though there appears to be a building boom on the island – and for now nature is the primary thing to see.

I had read about the Hyatt Regency Chongming in a Shanghai family magazine aimed at expats. The island and the hotel sounded so nice I quickly added it to my bucket list and determined it would be my destination for my second weekend staycation.

The concierge at the Portman Ritz Carlton, part of our apartment complex, arranged an Uber for us to the hotel. Even with an Uber it cost us 220 RMB for the hour plus ride including tolls. Once we hit the tunnel to Changxing Island (in-between Shanghai proper and Chongming) it already felt like we were very far from the city.

A room fit for my princess

I knew better this time than to make some big plans after our arrival. There is less to do on the island than in Sheshan and this weekend was going to be more about relaxing. Once again I shelled out the extra dough for an upgraded room that would include breakfast, a better room, and club access including “happy hour,” where we could fill up on a full dinner meal. Still there was a bit of a mix-up with the room, but the helpful hotel staff arranged for us to have a further upgrade for one night to one of the kids’ character rooms. C chose a Frozen-inspired room (though she was also quite taken with the Captain America room too). The rest of the day was devoted to walking (ok, running) through the hotel’s sunlight wooden corridors and the extensive grounds, rocking in the comfy swing on our balcony listening to bird song, saying hello to dogs (it is a very dog friendly hotel, with specially designed rooms with enclosed patios for those who bring their furry companions), and swimming at the pool.

The next day my bubble was burst. My plan was to rent one of the “mommy and me” bicycles available at the hotel for a nice bike ride to the Dongtan Nature Reserve. When I explained my plan to the woman at the rental counter her draw dropped. “But,” she stammered, “it is really hot right now.” She had a point. It was hot as blazes outside, again forecast to climb into the mid-90s. But hey, I am fit and I wanted to ride the bicycle. “But,” she explains patiently, as if talking to a child, “the reserve is very far away.” The magazine I had read indicated the reserve was a “short trip from the hotel.” She told me that it was not, it was actually about 20 minutes away by car. She told me if I took a regular bicycle it would take me at least an hour, but with the mommy and me bicycle, it would take me about three because is is really sloooooooooow. Yeah, three hours one way on a weird bicycle in 90 degree heat did sound like a terrible idea. Scratch that.

C enjoys lounging

First time on a bicycle!

Meanwhile C had already decided she wanted nothing to do with a bicycle that had her just sitting the whole time. She had her eye on the children’s bikes with “stabilizers” (she watches a lot of Peppa Pig so does not even know the American term “training wheels”). I asked instead about Dongping National Forest Park, also claimed to be “close to the hotel” in my trusty magazine. The huge park is perfect for long walks and also apparently includes an area with horse rides, bumper carts, and other carnival type rides. The helpful concierge could barely keep from snorting her incredulity at the proximity I believed the park to be. She informed me it is AN HOUR taxi ride from the hotel. We might as well head back to Shanghai.

So C got to ride a bicycle for the very first time for nearly two hours in the sweltering heat. She was so happy I don’t think she noticed it was warm. (When we returned the bike though, a bellman gave me props for our long time outdoors because he told me he could barely stand 5 minutes outside. C and I are dedicated to “relaxing” at all costs.)

The Dongtan Nature Reserve Visitors Center

Part of the beautiful grounds

I was determined to see some of the natural sites on Chongming – or any site at all other than the hotel. After lunch and the heat of midday I again asked the concierge about a trip to Dongtan Nature Reserve, this time booking a taxi to pick us up. Because there is no dedicated taxi stand at the hotel (it isn’t near anything other than a new retirement apartment complex on the one side and a new Tuscan-style housing complex on the other), she had to call a taxi to come from Chenjia town about 10km away. And the meter starts from the taxi leaving the town, not picking us up. So our 20 minute ride to the Dongtan parking lot cost 80 RMB, about four times more than a similar ride would cost in Shanghai.

The nearly empty gravel parking lot at Dongtan and small ticket shack did not give me much confidence that this had been a good idea. At 2:30 in the afternoon it was still sweltering. Again, there was no cover to be seen and I had decided to not bring the stroller, probably a poor decision on my part. I shelled out an additional 10 RMB for the golf cart shuttle to take us from the parking lot to the furthest stop. At 60,000 acres, the wetland reserve, is no small feat to get around. Even had we brought the stroller there was simply no way for us to really get around to all the areas. Bicycles are for rent, but there are no “mommy and me” ones here. So I limited us to two areas – the far wetland marsh area where one can walk through the tall marsh grasses on a boardwalk and the area around the visitor’s center.

This cannot possibly be Shanghai anymore – boardwalk through the wetlands at Dongtan

Though the reserve is a migratory location for some 1 million birds representing nearly 300 species, we heard only a few and saw even less. Given it was 3 to 4 PM and around 1000 degrees outside, I think the birds had the right idea to lay low somewhere. Yet the sheer size of the reserve, its layout, its mission, and the incredible scenery under those G-20 blue skies, made sweating away a few pounds of water while occasionally carrying a disgruntled 4-year-old worth the effort.

The following day, having decided that Dongping Forest was not worth the two hour round trip for a 50 RMB 5 minute pony ride (which I was sure what we would end up doing), was just for lazing around the room, swinging on the balcony, and snuggling with C. I had planned to leave the hotel right after check out at noon, but I am glad I asked the concierge yet again about getting back to Shanghai. Turns out it is no simple matter if you do not have a car. Chongming taxis are local and only licensed for the island. Therefore in order to return to Shanghai, the concierge would have to call a Shanghai taxi to pick us up, for which we would incur a steep fee and at least a 90 minute wait. My other option was to hire a local taxi to come from Chenjia town to take us to the island bus station. We would have to wait 30 minutes for that taxi and pay at least 80 RMB. Then we would take a bus from the island to the Science and Technology Museum metro station in Pudong, then ride the metro seven stops to West Nanjing road, and then walk several blocks home. Weighing my two options I decided the latter offered the greatest amount of adventure.

As luck would have it, I struck up a conversation with a couple traveling with their 18 month old son whom I had helped direct to the swimming pool the night before. While I was in line for check-out, psyching myself up for our taxi-bus-subway-walk journey, the wife approached me and said they would be happy to drive us home. It turned out the couple, both fluent in English and German, having studied in Germany and worked for German companies in Shanghai, live only a 10 minute walk from our own apartment. They saved C and I from myself and my sense of “adventure” and we had a lovely trip home.

August 15, 2016 by trs

Palau – Islands on the Edge (2011) Part Two

On my second day I was signed up for a snorkeling tour in the Rock Islands including a visit to Jellyfish Lake. I was just a tad apprehensive about the jellyfish bit, but had no time to think on it. Best for me not to think too much. The first stop was at a Japanese Zero, submerged where it crashed in WWII, just 10 feet beneath the surface. At first we just stopped to look at it, but one of the guests asked if we could snorkel there and after just a few seconds of hesitation, and a quick scan at the sea, our guide said “Sure, why not?” The others quickly threw on their fins and masks and jumped in. I was a bit slower – I am always hesitant before jumping in the sea. But once I was in, it was, of course, really cool. And it was my first chance to test out the underwater camera a friend from work had loaned me.

Hamming it up with the mud ladies

We continued on to an area called Rainbow Reef for snorkeling – and it was stunning, like swimming in an aquarium. Then on to the “milky way” where the limestone mud just a few feet below the surface of the water is supposed to have therapeutic properties. We all slathered up and then washed it off with a dip in the crystal clear waters. Then it was on to Jellyfish lake.

Many, many thousands of moons ago, Jellyfish Lake was open to the ocean. Over time it became closed off and a species of jellyfish became enclosed and isolated inside the lake. With no predators, over time, they evolved to no longer have a sting. Our boat docks at Eil Malk island and we walk up a small staircase trail and then down again to a dock jutting out into the saltwater lake. “Ok,” our guide says, “go ahead and get in and swim out in that direction and we will swim with the jellyfish.” Right. I stare at the water. I am not the only one of the group just staring at the murky green water, where underneath the surface teem millions of rumored-to-be-sting-free jellyfish. Oh, and possibly a crocodile. Thanks Tour Guide for that wonderful story about the crocodile sightings here at the lake. I jump in and start swimming.

Surrounded!

Perhaps ten or fifteen feet in I see my first jellyfish and my instinct is to jerk back and dart in another direction. I swim around it. But then I see two. And then five. And then more and more and more. No turning back now. I reach out and touch one. Nothing. It feels like thick, flexible latex. It slides benignly along my hand and away. I am giddy. All of us are giddy. We swim among them. Through the swarm. It is amazing. I completely, well almost completely, forget there might be a crocodile lurking in the depths ready to take me down. After half an hour or more we swim back to the entrance point and return to our boat. Once settled and ready to move on to our lunch area, we spot a moon jellyfish floating in the water. I want now to reach out and touch it and it takes a moment to realize we are back in the real world where jellyfish are not our friends.

It was lunch time and we headed out once again in the boat. Our stop was a small, flat, palm covered islet. From the small beach, the drop off is steep and quick. Maybe 30 to 50 feet deep within 10 feet of the shore. Several beginner scuba diving classes were in progress when we arrived. After lunch I ventured into the water. This was a big deal. Our guide had called it Shark Island or something like that. If you know me at all, you know that I have an irrational fear of sharks and the ocean. I know it is irrational but I have the fear all the same. When I was five years old my parents took me (and my younger siblings) to see the movie Jaws. Apparently I had been hounding my mother for weeks on end to see it. So she did, and I had nightmares for weeks, maybe months afterwards. [I used to think my mother was half crazy to do this but now that I have a 4 ½ year old child myself, I completely get it]. It complicates matters that I wear glasses and once they are off, as they are for snorkeling, I cannot see all that well.

Sharks just below me — unclear due to being underwater and not my my shaking or anything

So there I am in the water, halfheartedly paddling about, trying very hard to appear at ease, while pushing back the scenes running through my head of my impeding loss of life and limb by shark attack. And there below me I spot a circle of divers practicing some basic scuba lessons. And off to the side is a circle of black tip reef sharks doing what appears to be staring at the divers. I felt a flutter in my chest. I might have peed myself. Wait, it is the ocean, I did pee myself. I felt terribly brave and slightly panicked at the same time. But I stayed put. I willed myself to stay put and watch them. I took pictures with the underwater camera a colleague had loaned me. I had just seen sting-less jellyfish and touched them and now here I was in the water within quick swimming distance of some sharks and I was relatively, surprisingly calm. Would wonders never cease?

Monument at the top of Bloody Nose Ridge.

On my third day in Palau, I joined a full day WWII tour to Peleliu island, the site of one of the fiercest battles of the Pacific War, resulting in the largest casualty rate of any amphibious assault in US history. It was here that 1000s of marines were met with an entrenched Japanese force of nearly 11,000, all on an island only 6 miles long and 2 miles wide. Over two months of fighting resulted in 40% of the 28,000 marines killed or wounded. Although I am not a WWII buff I am very interested in history and before my trip I had watched the miniseries “The Pacific” and read the autobiography Hemlet for My Pillow by Robert Leckie, one of the true characters from the documentary who had served and was wounded on Peleliu.

An hour speedboat trip from Koror brought us to the shores of Peleliu, the southernmost of Palau’s main islands. It looked like any other tropical island with palm trees and a short sandy beach. Like any other place in history that has seen atrocities, I felt strange standing there looking at the beautiful sea and sky and greenery and trying, completely in vain, to imagine the horror that both sides faced and wrought upon one another. The divers in the group headed off for their morning dive, which just left me and a family of 3 for the full land tour. We walked with our guide through the small town, investigated several caves (one with a large spider that I might never get over), to the old airfield, through the jungle to see rusted out tanks, downed planes, armaments, and gutted bunkers and buildings. We lunched and the divers returned to join the second half of the tour including a hike up Bloody Nose Ridge and to the small, but informative museum. Our hike up Umurbrogol Mountain or Bloody Nose Ridge, a 300 foot high peak, took maybe 30 minutes. During the US offensive, military leaders planned on 72 hours to take the ridge, but instead it took 73 days. It was a sobering day but well worth the trip.

Storyboard depicting Ngibtal

My fourth day was a lazy no-tour day. I got a lift down to the town center for a visit to the Palau Aquarium. I love aquariums and I try to visit them wherever I can. It was a nice little place, part of a larger coral reef research center, but after actually snorkeling around the actual reefs of Palau, the aquarium could not hold a candle to the real thing. I then walked over to the Koror Prison, an important stop on any tourist to-do list of Palau. Unlike my visit to the Women’s Prison in Chiang Mai I was not here to see a specific prisoner but to call on the prison workshop where you can browse the beautifully wood-carved storyboards made by the prisoners as part of a rehabilitation program that benefits them and their families. I hemmed and hawed between two particular storyboards while chatting with the carvers before deciding to purchase one depicting the legend of the fish-bearing breadfruit tree. From the prison I meandered through some neighborhoods before getting lunch and then visiting the pleasant Belau (as Palau is sometimes spelled) National Museum.

Pouring rain that looked like it would not end but suddenly did, almost sunk my kayaking and snorkeling tour on day five. Four people cancelled. Luckily one other person had not as the tour company required a minimum of two. My tour companion was an American working on a US naval vessel who just wanted a quiet day of swimming and boating in the Rock Islands. We stopped first for snorkeling above a reef and then at a partial cave, more an opening in one of the smaller islets. At another location we picked up the kayaks to begin our trip along the mile-long Long Lake, a saltwater lake surrounded by mangrove forests. It was quiet and relaxing.

Some of the stone monoliths of Badrulchau amongst the lush greenery of Babeldaob

Rain the next morning nearly washed out another tour but again the skies cleared just in time. This time it would be just me. I agreed to pay extra for a solo land tour of Babeldaob, the country’s largest island, and the largest island in Micronesia (other than Guam). Despite its size, only about 30% of Palau’s 18,000 residents live there, and is one of the least developed islands in the Pacific Ocean. Babeldaob. It is a mouthful but it sounds exotic. Unlike the other islands of Palau, which are limestone, Babeldaob is volcanic. It is hilly and still very much covered in foliage. Here in 2006, Palau established its new capital of Ngerulmud, moving it from the most populous town of Koror. Though the capital is the only settlement to have its own zip code (the country is serviced by the US postal system), and it has a few capital-looking buildings, it does not have the feel of a bustling capital city.

My tour took in the capital, ruined Japanese WWII sites, the mysterious stone monoliths at Badrulchau dating back to 161 A.D. (sort of like Palau’s version of Stonehenge), waterfalls, and traditional Palauan meeting structures, it was my conversation with my young tour guide as we drove around the island that stuck most in my mind. “A” spends most of her time leading scuba dive tours. Her father, also a scuba dive tour leader and instructor, worried about his daughter spending too much time underwater and the toll it might take on her body. He wanted her to find another job. So “A” did go the United States for college. Palau, with its small population, only has a community college but no four year institutions. But there are special considerations and scholarships for Palauans to attend university in the US. Many go to Hawaii, but not all. “A” went to the mainland, but quickly became homesick and after a year or so called it quits and returned home where she returned to the job she loves, much to her father’s consternation.

On my final day, I was picked up once again by representatives of Sam’s Tour, the company with which I had taken every single one of my tours. My flight to Manila, like the one I arrived on, would depart in darkness, after the sun had set. I would spend the day at the Sam’s Tour headquarters – where they have their dive shop, gift shop, bar and restaurant facing the marina with beautiful views of the water. I arranged one final tour – a helicopter flight over the Rock Islands. I was joined on the tour by two 20-something Japanese girls whom the pilot inexplicably assumed were my daughters. Seeing the islands from the air was breathtaking. And it was a great end to having experienced Palau from land, sea, and air. I spent the rest of my trip awaiting transfer to the airport, sitting in the bar, nursing beverages, as I looked out at the water.

Sunset at the Sam’s Tours marina

August 11, 2016 by trs

Palau – Islands on the Edge (2011) Part One

[As part of my blog I am posting stories from my past travels. These are edited, augmented, versions of email stories I sent to friends and families, or in some cases meant to send but were never completed. They are at times supplemented with information from my diaries and/or memories. This trip to Palau was one of my last before I started carrying a baby on board and joined the Foreign Service. It was a trip in which I pushed up against my comfort zone (swimming in the ocean with a twist), bent to convention (signing up for lots of tours – because the nature of the islands make it nearly impossible to get to places on your own unless you have your own boat – and realized what things I might be too old for (like running after Taylor Swift in the Manila Airport during transit–I did not do it in case you were wondering. I only thought about it.]

The incredibly stunning and calm waters of Palau

“The Caroline group includes, besides coral islands, five mountainous islands of basaltic formation, beautiful and fertile with rivers and springs…They look very picturesque as you approach them, with the white shining sands of the beach in the foreground dotted with their queer-looking canoes; then the cocoanut [sp]palms, lifting their tufted feathery heads seventy or eighty feet in the air, the long drooping leaves of the pandanus trees, and the dark, shining foliage of the bread-fruit, while beneath all one can here and there catch glimpses of thatched huts of the natives. With a closer inspection, however, the beauty vanishes, and the barrenness and isolation of the island are realized. The heat is intense, and there are heavy languor and lifelessness in the air, which is heavy with the odors of decaying vegetation and the rancid copra, as well as the odor which seems inseparable from heathenism…To establish protectorates over any of these groups must be purely philanthropic work—a laying up of treasure in heaven for there will certainly be none to lay up on earth.” —Harper’s Weekly, November, 20 1900

Palau. A string of small sun-kissed islands in the Western Pacific Ocean. Who wouldn’t want to visit? Certainly not the author of this Harper’s Weekly article over 100 years ago!! Funny, how our visions of far-flung tropical islands (and heathenism) have changed. I suppose if more than just a few die-hard divers, WWII history buffs, and Asian honeymooners knew the place existed (and I am none of the above), I expect many people would like to make their way there. Yet these days even many guidebooks seems to have given up on Palau. Perhaps a decade and a half ago I had myself a Lonely Planet guidebook to Micronesia. I was going to visit Guam and had visions of myself soon after somehow making my way to these other difficult to reach islands. That did not happen. But it must not only have happened to me because Lonely Planet no longer makes a guide book to Micronesia.

Sunset view from my hotel

I had a number of reasons to visit Palau. I love visiting different countries and cultures. But I do have a particular interest in the South Pacific after spending 6 months in Hawaii as a visiting fellow and then visiting the Cook Islands and Samoa in 2004. I am not quite sure when Palau came on my radar – but it was sometime after 2004, just 10 years after Palau’s independence from the United States, after 47 years in trusteeship status. Just a few years ago I started thinking I would really like to visit Palau, but it seems a long way from anywhere. Unlike Hawaii, which, although it is the world’s most remote island chain in the sense of distance, is connected to many places by daily flights, Palau has but a few flights a week, some only by charter, from Manila, Guam, Tokyo, Seoul, and Taipei. Although it is perhaps closest to Indonesia (they share a maritime border!) there are no air connections between the two countries.

I love that Palau is home to the longest river and second largest island in Micronesia. And amazingly enough there are bridges between several of the main islands! I find this extraordinary in the Pacific. Also the famed Rock Islands, featured in multi-years of my National Geographic Islands calendars, are here.

Another interesting tidbit about Palau is that in 2009 the country offered asylum to the 20 Uyghurs held at Guantanamo. Eight took them up on the offer (and on my first day a guide took me by the apartment where they all supposedly reside. According to the guide, they are all “very nice”.) Several months later the US offered Palau something along the lines of $240 million in long-term assistance and in September 2010 the first permanent U.S. Ambassador to Palau started work. Previously, the US Ambassador to the Philippines also covered Palau.

Palau is different. Most flights arrive in the darkness. Mine landed right on schedule at 2:05 am. Despite that, I noticed something was off as soon as I got into the car to take me to my hotel. My driver got into the right side of the car, but we also drove on the right side of the road… Uh, what? When I asked him why he was driving on the wrong side of the road he said he was not. So I asked him why his steering wheel was not on the other side of the car. Turns out, a majority of the vehicles in Palau are from Japan. i.e. for the Japanese market. Though the traffic patterns of Palau are those of the US. I found this confusing because well, the Philippines is perhaps Palau’s closest neighbor (though parts of Indonesia might be just as close, there are no direct flight connections) and they manage to have their steering wheels and their lane directions matched up. But this is just one of Palau’s many idiosyncrasies.

Clothing store downstairs and the German Consulate upstairs. Old school representation in Palau

Like when I went into a souvenir shop and looked at the postcards. First, the selection was really limited. But then I noticed that some of the cards were not even of Palau! I noticed three cards were of Yap, Micronesia. Okay, I guess that is relatively close by, but it is a different country, the Federated States of Micronesia. And then I noticed a card that showed an aerial view of a village. I picked it up to look at it closer – and thought there was far too much land visible for it to be of any island in Palau or Micronesia. And, wait, the houses looked European. What? I turned it over and the card information was not in English, but I noticed the words C. Krumlov. Oh my goodness. I have been to Cesky Krumlov. It is in the Czech Republic! Why in the world would they sell a postcard of the Czech Republic in Palau?

I had only a few things planned for my first day. Buy sunblock, get my watch battery replaced (it died the day before I flew to Palau), arrange a few tours, and take a walking tour of Koror. The live-in-manager of the hotel, Maisa, drove me down to the main shopping center in Koror around 10 am. (well, at 10:15 am she told me she wanted to leave at 10 am! – but hey, I got a free lift to town). I browsed through the supermarket to check out what was available, had my watch batter replaced (check) and bought the sunblock (check). Then I decided to talk a walk around town. Funny, but that morning as I looked out from the hotel balcony, to see swaying palms and the crystalline sea, I thought, “I could live here”. After about 10 minutes of walking in the blazing heat, along the main road lined with nondescript buildings, I thought, “there is no way I could live here.”

Koror reminded me of Suva, Fiji, and even parts of Hawaii. Blessed with beautiful blue skies, warm trade winds, palm trees, and stunning vistas across clear aquamarine seas – but cursed with ugly, functional concrete block architecture. Maybe it is a result of so many WWII battles being fought in the Pacific that so many of the buildings resemble bunkers? Tall, often colorfully painted, bunkers.

I had a delicious lunch at an Indian restaurant staffed by Filipinos before calling Maisa to come and pick me up. She let me know that she had arranged a river tour for me that afternoon and they would be picking me up in about 40 minutes. I was thrilled.

The River Tour was great! First, on the way there, the self-employed Polish couple from Chicago with whom I shared a pick-up service regaled me with their hilarious tales of tourism in Palau. When asked how long they would stay in Palau they said 2 months – but so far it was three weeks and they wryly said they were not sure how much longer they would stay. They said that Palau is odd because it thrives on tourism and yet is not very helpful to tourists. There are few, if any, maps available. Many tourist sites have no signage. For example, they told me how they tried 3 times to visit the Crocodile Farm. The first 2 times they went it was closed. So, on the third try they called the place at 8:30 am to ask their opening hours and were told until 11 am that day. But when they showed up an hour later it was locked up tight! So they parked the car, scaled the fence, and took a look around themselves! They also told me when they arrived and the immigration officer asked them how long they were staying, he laughed and asked them “what are you going to do here for that long?” They loved my story of the postcards!

I am quite sure I would never grow tired of seeing tropical flowers

Once at the river boat tour site we had an opportunity to hold a juvenile fruit bat and a baby crocodile. I think fruit bats are cute. I really do! Their faces look like puppy dogs. It is just when they spread their leathery wings and reach out with their clawed toes that things start to get a bit scary. Still, I held him as he pawed my shirt, then licked and nipped my hand. Until the nipping got a bit too hard. However, better than the little crocodile, which I dropped as soon as he started to squirm…

So, yes, there are crocodiles in Palau! I was rather surprised myself. As part of preparing myself for snorkeling in Palau, I googled “sharks in Palau” and came across some articles about the crocodiles, which some divers seemed a little concerned about. I know I certainly became concerned as well. I get that the Philippines and Indonesia and Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands have crocodiles – they have some fairly large islands – but the little islands of Palau, a minimum of 400 kilometers from anywhere? However, an online search of the worldwide habitat of saltwater crocodiles revealed that they were in fact in Palau. Though there has not been an attack, at least a fatal attack, on a human being since the 60s. That attack turned the Palauans against the crocodiles, nearly wiping out the island population.

While meandering down the river we saw only one crocodile. On the way down river, we saw him sunning himself on the bank, on the way back he swam up to the boat. Otherwise there was little to see along the river – a few birds and fruit bats, but mostly lush green vegetation on either side. It was quite relaxing. The tour was supposed to last around an hour, but I think our guide took at least twice as long. Time seemed unimportant. There was no hurry.

Back at the hotel, the owner told me that she would be going to the supermarket at 6 pm and I could join her. I told her it was already 6:10 pm. That’s Palauan time. Her friend ended up taking me at 7:30!

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