January 30, 2020 by trs

Going WAY North for the Winter (Part 2)

The second and final installment of our amazing trip to northern Finland in early December 2019. 2 Santa Welcome Part 2 C Rovaniemi. Fourteen months ago I had never heard of this small city located just four miles south of the Arctic Circle in Finland’s northern region of Lapland. Yet after months of planning and expectation, the name began to roll off my tongue and also come to mean grand adventure.

A confluence of events, accidents of history, turned this Arctic village into a major tourist destination. In the 1930s Rovaniemi was a good-sized trading town, a confluence for miners, loggers, and Sami reindeer herders. But during World War II, the town became a pawn between Russian and German aggression and from 1940 German forces occupied the town, building the airfield that has become Rovaniemi’s airport. As Germany’s fortunes changed, their troops’ scorched-earth tactics destroyed 90% of the city, leaving only 17 buildings standing. But in 1950 Eleanor Roosevelt made a surprise visit to survey the reconstruction efforts and the governor and mayor had a log cabin built in her honor. (And you can visit the Roosevelt Cabin today in Santa Claus Village). In 1984, the Finnish Tourism Board decided to market Lapland as the home of Santa Claus, and thus began the legend of Rovaniemi as a premier Christmas themed destination. The combination of Arctic activities and Santa Claus magic brings some 600,000 tourists a year to this city of 63,000.

2 Lauri Airbnb — The lovely Lauri guesthouse complete with unique snow characters

Initially, we dreamed of staying in one of the glass igloos, but after looking at the prices and weighing the costs against the enjoyment, we went in a different direction. We were really lucky to find a wonderful room in a highly rated Airbnb right in the center of town. Our room at Lauri, the only 19th-century log house in Rovaniemi (not one of the 17 remaining after 1944, but was relocated to the city in 1968), had nine beds–enough for all of us and five friends, but there were few options in the city when we reserved in August. Most places other than some very pricey or characterless options were already fully booked. But the manor, located in a residential neighborhood, across from a school, and only two blocks the city center, was perfect.

We — myself, my daughter C, my best friend CZ and her son Little C — first arrived in Rovaniemi at 7:15 AM after traveling on the overnight Santa Express train from Helsinki. Traveling about ten minutes in a Santa-endorsed taxi, we were deposited at the Lauri guesthouse around eight in the morning. The hosts had given us a code that allowed us to store our luggage until we could check in later that day, and then there we were tired and hungry and a wee bit cold with children who could not pay attention because there was SNOW everywhere. We herded the kids to the one restaurant we knew would be open, a place in the nearby shopping mall. The walk took probably three times longer than it should have as C and Little C had to climb up, jump in, or touch every bit of snow along the way.

2 Part 2 J — Though always cold, the temps fluctuated during our week. Negative zero though?

Our first day would be low key as we were all a bit knackered. Little C and I were both suffering from colds – he fell asleep in CZ’s lap and I felt as though I were still rocking to the rhythms of the train. We stayed put til 10 AM when we could make our way over to the Pilke Science Center. I would not have thought a museum on forestry and sustainable logging would be that intriguing, but the center is really well set up and kid-friendly. We easily spent a few hours here. Then we all headed back to our Airbnb to check-in and relax. CZ and I alternated time with the kids in the room so one of us could go out, do some shopping, and be child-free.

Day two was all about Santa Claus. Right after getting out of the taxi at the Santa Claus Village we made a beeline for Father Christmas’ office where we would have an opportunity to meet The Man himself. Though we waited about 20 minutes, this was not nearly as long as we expected and frankly, Santa was awesome. He is not your suburban mall Santa in a cheap red suit, but a more authentic working Santa with shirt sleeves and a traditional knitted vest and snow-covered elfish-like boots, comfy colorful socks, and a waist-length beard. He was engaging and though many were waiting to see him, we each got a bit of personal time with him. I love that he engaged the parents too.

Santa Claus Village 1 — Left: the ice bar at Snowman’s World; Center: Arctic Circle marker & thermometer; Right: Santa Claus’ Office, the blue light also marks the Arctic Circle

We explored a bit around Santa’s office (i.e. the gift shop — don’t think for one second that I am some super-parent who is able to bypass such places), crossed and re-crossed the Arctic Circle, and then we had lunch at the Three Elves restaurant, where I willingly tried a bit of CZ’s reindeer burger (much to C’s chagrin). The next stop was Snowman World (which is created of ice and snow every year), where we enjoyed some beverages at the ice bar, some snow tubing, and admired the ice sculptures. Then we spent some time at the Elf’s Farm Yard petting zoo to meet a few reindeer resting after flying school, feed some very furry and ornery goats, then roasted marshmallows over a fire in the Arctic version of a teepee, and C and Little C joined some other kids in sledding down a small hill. At about 4:30 PM we called it quits. That might seem early, but the sun had already set three hours before and we had been out and about in the cold for over six hours. And we needed to rest up for our next adventure…

Dog-sledding! Although visiting Santa was a key focus of the trip, something very special for the kids, dogsledding was the top activity on CZ and my Rovaniemi to-do lists. Driving a sleigh pulled by adorable and excited dogs across the snow was CZ’s and my ultimate bucket list activity on this ultimate bucket list vacation. We were as excited, if not more, than the kids. Ok, I am 100% positive we were more excited, we could especially see this as we changed into the tour organization- provided sleigh gear. C and Little C were not so keen on the ski suit, hats, socks, and boots that turned them into stiff-armed and legged zombie-like marshmallows. But once outside getting our dog-sled driving instruction in front of hundreds of uber-excited huskies, the kids too perked up.

2 Dog sledding — Left: look, so easy! Right: That blob of winter wear at the helm is me!

As the tour operator led us to our sleighs, the excitement of the dogs was palpable. The dogs were barking keenly; they were jumping, leaping, straining against their harnesses, lots of tongues lolling and tails wagging. They could hardly wait to get going. These incredible dogs – Alaskan Huskies – can four together pull 150 kilos weight, average 10-14 kilometers per hour, and often run about 150 kilometers a day. To fuel this incredible energy, the dogs consume about 10,000 calories a day!! Sitting around is not in their nature. The most important part of our dog-sled driving training was the use of the brake!

CZ and I alternated our time driving the sled, 30 minutes each. It was exhilarating. The temperature on our dog-sled day was below freezing with snow flurries. As we slid our way through the forest and then out onto an open field, small, hard snow pelted my face, the only exposed part of my body. It kinda hurt and yet I could not wipe the ridiculous grin from my face. On several occasions, I laughed out loud with joy I could not contain. My 30 minutes felt like it was up in a split second and I didn’t want to give up the driving seat. This was hands down one of the best activities I have ever done in my life.

We had already learned that being cold can be tiring. It turns out driving a dog sled is also exhausting. So the combination meant that we were not keen on doing much else. We ate at a Japanese restaurant (none of these in Malawi!) for lunch and then the kids played in the snow in the city center. That evening CZ took both kids to a baking class in a traditional Finnish home while I hung out in the room watching Finnish television.

The following day we joined a tour to the Ranua Wildlife Park, an Arctic Zoo (and second northernmost zoo in the world), located an hour south of Rovaniemi. There were some cool Arctic animals there from the Arctic fox to the polar bear, the wolverine to the grey wolf, and a nice wooden walkway through the exhibits. I had never been to a wildlife park of this kind and I knew that this was something C and I would enjoy, but, to be honest, it was not quite as magical as I had hoped. I think in part as we were on a tour, and although we hung back from the group and walked at our own pace, we still were herded on and off the bus and through the disappointing buffet lunch. And Little C was definitely not so keen on the zoo and wanted to make sure we all felt his displeasure.

That evening C and I tried to have an evening of pseudo-normalcy, to do things we are unable to do in Malawi. We planned to eat dinner at McDonald’s (once the northernmost franchise in the world, now the second most northern) and then go and see a movie. CZ and Little C do not partake of McD’s and Little C will not sit through a movie, so this was to be a mother-daughter outing. Unfortunately, the only age-appropriate movie was a universally panned movie about a dog, but C loves dogs so I was up for it. I had checked carefully that the film would be in English, but once there the ticket seller informed us that they had previously shown the English version but no one had come, so now it was in Finnish, and that was a no-go. But we did get our McD fix.

On Friday, our last full day in Rovaniemi, we returned to Santa Claus Village to get in a few more wintry activities. We took two sleighs pulled by reindeer – the kids in one and the adults in another (fifteen minutes to ourselves, hooray!). Although just a 1000 meter-ride through the village, the route slipping quietly along a path bounded by snow-covered silver birch trees was enchanting. I am not sure how the kids felt — they had indicated that the reindeer were too slow to their liking — but CZ and I would have been happy to be pulled along quite a bit longer.

To satisfy the kids’ need for speed, we headed next to the snowmobile park where children could take a spin around a track on their own. I expect for some parents it might seem crazy to let kids do this, but I expect the Finns know a thing or two about winter sports from an early age. The man running the course asked each child if they had driven a snowmobile before (many had!) and if they did not, he gave them some quick instruction on a model nearby. Both our kids kept their speeds moderate and reported the experience as top-notch.

After lunch we then headed over to Santa Park, a few kilometers away. While Santa Village is mostly outdoors and free to visit (you just pay for the experiences), Santa Park is entirely indoors. In fact, it is all underground. Surprisingly, the place was not crowded at all (the website had indicated popular times and days with large groups, so we planned our visit outside those times), and we had good seats for Elf School (where incredibly in-character performers took us through a fun activity), almost no wait for the miniature train ride, close to the stage view for a short acrobatic play, and waited all of five minutes to see Santa. It was not my favorite place in Rovaniemi, but it was enjoyable and a nice to be indoors for a change.

2 Fox Northern Lights — Arktikum’s interpretation of Fox’s Fire

Our final day, Saturday, was a partial day as we would return to Helsinki on the overnight train departing Rovaniemi at 6 PM. Funnily enough, friends of mine with whom I served with in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico and are now in Romania had booked a trip to Rovaniemi arriving by train the day we left, and even more improbably, had reserved at the same Airbnb! So when they arrived in town SP and their two kids came to relax in our room while RP went to pick up their rental car. All the kids seemed to instantly bond and I had a chance to catch up a little. After they headed off for the day we did our final packing, stored our luggage, and then headed out for Mexican food (Another thing we really cannot get in Malawi and honestly I did not expect in northern Finland). We then spent a few hours at the Arktikum, a museum dedicated to exploring and sharing the nature, culture, and history of northern regions. C, Little C, and I grabbed the kids activity book at the front desk and headed off into the museum while CZ checked out the Christmas market in the lobby. I had to move a bit quicker through the exhibits with two kids keen on completing their activity than I would on my own, but the center is impressive and even displays on Arctic animals, the northern lights, and, surprisingly, northern bog biodiversity caught their attention. My favorite part was the northern light simulator. Well, it was more like sitting in a planetarium and watching a movie on the formation of the aurora borealis and legends surrounding the phenomenon. In Finnish, the name for the Northern Lights is “revontulet,” which means “fox fire” and is derived from a Sámi story of a magical fox running across the snow-covered fells whose tail would emit sparks of light. My daughter loves foxes, they are her new favorite animal, and I thought she would enjoy seeing the lights based on this tale. Unfortunately, during our visit there was only one night of even middling chance to see the lights, the night after our epic dog sledding, and all of us were just too tired (it required being out in the cold until at least midnight). But the Artikum’s display kind of made up for it.

That night on the return train I marveled how this small city of 63,000 inhabitants, not only had risen from the ashes of war but had also ingeniously crafted a niche tourism industry. I also could not help but think how the small city had more restaurants, cultural activities, and entertainment venues than the nearly 1 million strong Malawi capital. It’s an unfair comparison, I know, given Rovaniemi’s location in developed Northern Europe, but the thought came to me nonetheless. However, I have to say once back in Helsinki for one more day, and being able to peel off a few layers of clothes (I wore three pairs of pants in Lapland – a pair of long underwear, then a pair of heavy leggings, then a pair of ski pants!!) and even more so to when I returned to the lush green warmth of Malawi in the rainy season, that I while glad for the opportunity to experience northern Finland in winter, I was also glad to be home.

January 20, 2020 by trs

Going WAY North for the Winter (Part 1)

Part 1 0 About 14 months ago, while chatting online with one of my best friends CZ, she happened to mention her interest in taking her son Little C to Rovaniemi, the small city in northern Finland, in the region of Lapland, known as the Official Hometown of Santa Claus, around Christmas. She had just read an article about it. Funny thing is, I had also just read a similar article and had stayed up late researching the possibilities just the night before. We went back and forth a few times – excitedly discussing the possibilities, sending one another links to possible activities and lodging – but then it fell out of our conversation. Lapland seemed really far away, further away than just time and distance. Nonetheless, the seeds of this adventure were planted.

Last July during our Home Leave, we visited CZ in North Carolina, and our conversation again turned to the topic of winter vacation in Lapland. And this time, the planning came fast and furious. I messaged my colleague in Malawi to ask if he were okay with my taking leave in early December. Although likely a wee bit annoyed I was asking about it in July, he agreed. CZ and I arranged our flights – she with points, me with miles – and then a week later, with each of us in different locations, we logged on to the Finnish railway website to simultaneously purchase our Santa Express overnight train tickets (in adjacent compartments). In August, I happened to find a great place to stay on Airbnb; I messaged CZ while she was out shopping, and that afternoon (evening for me) we had our lodging. Holy moly – we were heading to Lapland in December! Nothing would stop us now (unless my new boss denied my leave – but thankfully that did not happen).

Once back in Lilongwe, with all the primary logistics worked out, I settled back into my Malawi routine. Actually, work was really busy, nothing felt routine, and thoughts of heading north for the winter were pushed to the back of my mind. Around October though, it began to dawn on me what I had done. We were going to the Arctic Circle in WINTER. What had I been thinking?? I may have grown up in the U.S state of Virginia and spent a few years working in Washington, D.C., so I had, of course, experienced some cold weather, but for much of my adult life I have largely followed what I term my “winter avoidance strategy.” I have lived in Indonesia, Singapore, Hawaii, California, the Philippines, and now Malawi: in places where it is rarely, if ever, cold. Even in Ciudad Juarez and Shanghai snow was rare. In the winter, my modus operandi is to head south, to tropical climes. I bought a condo in Florida for goodness sakes. Yet, here I was willingly preparing to head somewhere guaranteed to be quite cold, and where literally the sun would not shine, or rather never rise above the horizon in the dead of winter.

Arrival in modern developed Finland

I needed to be more prepared! I looked up websites about what to wear in Lapland in winter and either purchased the necessary gear (thick, non-cotton socks, ski gloves, ski jackets, ski pants, long underwear, waterproof winter boots, fleece hats) or CZ, who skis, would bring to loan us. Given our location and mail situation, I needed to purchase items by late October for guaranteed delivery before we departed on December 7. There could be no returns. CZ and I scoured the Internet for activity ideas and, being the planners we are, started a day-by-day itinerary for our trip. To get C excited about our overnight journey on the Santa Express, I bought the movie The Polar Express and hosted a movie-watching party for (21!) kids in our Embassy community.

And then there was nothing really more to do but wait for the day to come.

Except freak out.

Because this vacation was one in which I was putting myself WAY out of my comfort zone. If it wasn’t the freezing temperatures then it might be the 2 1/2 hours of daylight (or rather the 21 1/2 hours of darkness) that would get to me. I would bear all of this to take my child to see Santa Claus before Christmas, to possibly secure myself the Mother of the Year trophy. Or die trying.

Right: Helsinki around 2:30 PM from the steps of the Cathedral overlooking the Christmas market; Left: Downtown Helsinki around 5 PM

On December 7 we began our journey. Any travel from sub-Saharan Africa to Europe is tricky. From the less-visited Malawi to Helsinki trickier still. And then throw in the random routing from my “free” ticket and you get our Lilongwe-Addis-Istanbul-Helsinki routing. It wasn’t pretty, but we landed in Helsinki around 11 AM on December 8, excited as we could be.

We changed from our travel clothes to our Helsinki in winter clothes, then caught the train to the city center. Along the way, C marveled at the sights from the train window. What caught her eye first and foremost? Orderly, pothole-free, multi-lane roads and functioning traffic lights! (“Mom, look! Look at these roads! Imagine if Malawi had roads like this?! Look at the lights, they are working!!”) Even the train and the train station were delights. We stashed our luggage in the left luggage lockers at the station, then got some lunch. While there CZ and Little C, who had arrived in Helsinki two days before, met us.

We had a few hours to kill before our 18:49 departure on the Santa Express from Helsinki to Rovaniemi, so we headed first to the Christmas market located in the square below the city’s iconic Cathedral. We browsed the quaint Christmas booths, bought hot Gluhwein and hot cocoa, and sipped our drinks in heated outdoor seating booths. It was cold, but not THAT cold. And it was after all a novelty for C and myself to be wearing winter jackets, to have our noses twitch in the chilly air. The atmosphere was festive and lively and we were with our best friends. Even the sun setting at 3:15 in the afternoon was novel and amusing.

From the market, we headed over a few blocks to the Children’s Town at the Helsinki City Museum to let the kids burn off some energy before the train. With the early morning arrival in Rovaniemi, we wanted the kids to be ready for bed shortly after boarding. The museum did its trick. We stayed til the 5 PM closing, then walked back to CZ’s hotel, gathered up her luggage, and returned to the train station.

C’s and my compartment on the Santa Express

How do I even begin to describe the Santa Express? I used to backpack quite a bit in my 20s and early 30s and spent many a time on long train journeys in Europe and Asia. I was nostalgic for the feel of riding the rails and excited to be sharing this experience with C and our friends. CZ and I had each booked a two bunk sleeping compartment with en suite bathroom for the 12 1/2 hour journey. The compartments were tiny but well equipped. We had a small chair, table, two bunks with an alarm clock and charging stations, and could shift one wall in the tiny bathroom to reveal a shower. So clever! Scandanavian efficiency at its best.

We boarded as efficiently as one can with large suitcases and small children in a foreign country (i.e. not elegant), got our things quickly into the compartments, and then headed down to the dining car so we could park ourselves at a table. Our plan worked beautifully. We had the first choice of tables and no line at the restaurant counter service and could keep the kids and ourselves busy until bedtime. By 9 PM we were ready to turn in.

I so want to be able to say that I slept like a baby, lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the train as it slipped north. The berth mattress was not uncomfortable; we were not cold beneath the provided comfortor. The train’s rhythmic swaying and muffled clickety-clack were comforting. But I had a cold I had picked up in Addis Ababa where I had been the week before on a business trip and coughed enough to keep me awake, and I could hear poor Little C, also with a cold, coughing on his side of our thin shared wall. C insisted she needed to sleep with me and we were wedged together in one berth. Not terrible mind you, but I had very little space to maneuver. And though we had few stops en route, I awoke each time with the squealing of brakes then lurching re-start with the train whistle. Not altogether unpleasant sounds, but unfamiliar and I am not as sound a sleeper as C.

We woke around 6:30 to prepare for the 7:15 arrival at Rovaniemi. We changed into our “really cold weather” clothes, packed up our bags, and pulled up the compartment blinds. Outside it was dark, and yet not the sort of black night that descends upon Malawi. Perhaps it was the 3/4 sized moon (waxing gibbous) reflecting brightly off the snow-covered ground, but certainly, there were electric lights on the train and from the stations and towns we passed that also contributed to the relative brightness. There was definitely a lot of snow on the ground. Ice encrusted our compartment window. We had traveled through the night to awaken in a true winter wonderland. We were here!

Arrival at the snow and ice-encrusted Rovaniemi

We readied to disembark and then, well, things happened. Things that happen to moms when traveling with kids. In the final shuddering of the train as it braked into Rovaniemi station, Little C, sitting in the upper bunk, lost the contents of his stomach. CZ managed a record-breaking speedy clean-up and final gathering of belongings, and we all flung ourselves gracelessly off the train. C and Little C speeding like bullets aimed themselves directly at the biggest piles of snow. CZ and I circled the wagons so to speak, gathering our belongings to do the necessary arrival checks. CZ noticed Little C was in the snow sans his hat and a quick search of her bags indicated it had not made it off the train. Back onto the train, she emerged a minute later victorious, only to find her phone was then missing. I pulled off my gloves and fumbled to locate my phone with newly-installed European SIM card, turn it on, and then call her phone. Back into the train she went, once again returning triumphant. Whew!

Santa, or his spies, are everywhere in Rovaniemi

C and Little C, oblivious to the whole drama, continued to frolic in the snow. Though we were both a wee bit rattled at the close call and thanked our lucky stars the train stopped for 20 minutes at Rovaniemi before heading to its final destination, CZ and I congratulated ourselves in making it this far. We were the last people standing on the snowy platform so we corralled the kids and began trudging towards the station to flag a taxi to our lodging.

August 17, 2019 by trs

Home Leave: An American Education Part Two

The second half of my home leave return trip between my two tours in Malawi.

C and her travel buddy Little C

After leaving Williamsburg we headed south to New Bern, North Carolina, where my long-time friend CZ and her son Little C live. CZ and I go way back. In fact, back to the College of William and Mary, when like Seinfeld and Kramer, we lived across from one another in our senior dorm. We are also both single moms. Back during our first Home Leave after two years in Mexico, we spent a week in New Bern when Little C was just a month old. CZ and Little C visited us in Shanghai, and we met up with them in Paris. Here we are returning to see them for a few days; Little C is now five.

New Bern is a bit like Williamsburg — lots of history but also plenty of natural activities. We visited some places we had been before – such as my taking C and Little C to lunch at the Cow Cafe and then over to the Birthplace of Pepsi Cola (I may be a die-hard Diet Coke fan, but Diet Coke shortages in Malawi have led me to embrace Pepsi Light) – but other places like Tyron Palace did not fit this trip. We did picnic near Atlantic Beach and then head out on pirate boat for some fun out of Beaufort. We also took a National Park ferry service to Shackelford Banks for some beach time and wild horses. Mostly, though the kids just were happy to see one another again, as were CZ and I. It was bittersweet leaving CZ and Little C — the kids did not want to part (C had told another child we met along the way “Little C is like my brother, he just has a different mom”). But CZ and I knew it would not be too long before we meet up again.

C at the beach in Nags Head

In the car again, we headed to our next destination: the Outer Banks. A good destination for those with younger kids is almost always the beach, but I was still determined to shove some American history into C. Wait, I mean, expose her to the wonders of America’s rich history. And though C may not know a whole lot on that subject, she does know the story of the Wright Brothers and their first flight on the sand dunes of Kill Devil Hills.

Funnily enough, the last time I was in the Outer Banks was 1994, where I headed with my sorority sister CZ, just after graduation from the College of William and Mary. The one other time before that, I was 16 years old, as the long-time babysitter for family friends. (I remain friends still with this family — in fact just as I wrote this sentence a message box popped up from one of them). Another American and personal history trip.

The incredible stage at the performance of the Lost Colony

On our first day, we checked into the hotel, and then immediately we headed out to grab some quintessential American beachside food. Ahhhh, ordering at a small window of a short order takeout place, then sitting at picnic tables, in the summer beachy heat under the shade of an umbrella. There is nothing like it in Malawi. Maybe nothing quite like it outside of the U.S.A.

That evening we headed over to Fort Raleigh National Historic Site on Roanoke Island to see the production of The Lost Colony, the nation’s longest running outdoor symphonic drama (that’s a mouthful, right?). In its 82nd season, the play depicts the history, drama, and mystery surrounding the ill-fated first settlement in the “New World.” The stage is set at the actual location of the settlement and has run every summer since 1937, only stopping briefly during WWII with the threat of German U-boats off the coast being able to see the lights from the theater. Having already visited Jamestown and Williamsburg, I thought C would really enjoy the play. Nothing could quite have prepared me for the emotional roller coaster that was to come. C loved the antics of Tom, the drunkard turned heroic settler, and the pageantry of the scenes with Queen Elizabeth. But the scenes of fighting between Native Americans and the settlers had her on her feet, full on sobbing, “Nooooooo! Stop it! Stop it! Mom, why did you bring me here????” I felt like a bit of a jerk making her sit through the entire performance and yet at the end she asked if she could have her photo with the actress who played Queen Elizabeth and she patiently waited in line to chat her up (Sir Walter Raleigh was there too, but she could have cared less), and on the car ride home she asked me lots of questions about it. (“Mom, so why were the settlers always talking about God?” “Mom, why are they lost if they carved where they were going on the tree?” “Mom, why didn’t the guy from England just go to Croatan to find them?”) So, despite wanting to sink into my seat at the theater as those near us observed my daughter’s very raw, and rather noisy, emotion, C seems to have gotten out of it what I had hoped.

Part Two 4 When we returned the following day to visit the rest of Fort Raleigh, she had even more questions about the missing settlers. Then we headed over to the North Carolina Aquarium because we are simply incapable of passing up on an aquarium. We followed up with a visit to Dare Devil’s Pizza so I could introduce C to the massive stromboli I remembered from my visit 30 years before and then we had some time to stroll and play on the beach.

Our activity for the following day involved driving an hour south to visit Hatteras Island and its famous lighthouse. Nothing is more fun to do in the middle of long drives between destinations is to take another drive. No, really, I love driving. And while overseas I always miss American roads. The state of Malawian roads especially has me hankering for the smooth, largely pot-hole free, clearly lined arteries that criss cross America. I also love to hear C repeatedly asking from the back “How much longer?”

We didn’t just visit the historic site, but we climbed the 257 steps to the top. My heart pounding, not so much from hauling my increasing out of shape self, but from the genuine fear that seized my heart walking up the curved staircase, holding (no, gripping) its low, surely not regulation height, handrail, trying not to look down at the increasing distance between my location and the ground floor. Nah, just kidding, it was loads of fun, especially once back on terra firma.

Part Two 7 Once back in Nags Head we stopped at Kitty Hawk Kites because its an Outer Banks institution and I remembered visiting when I was 16. It is also the place to go to book adventure tours and activities. By the time we left about an hour later, C had convinced me to buy her a fox kite (word to the wise: know the dimensions of your extra suitcase so you do not buy a kite that is 4 inches too long to fit) and for me to sign us up for mother-daughter hanggliding classes on the dunes for the following day.

Ever since I had visited Jockey’s Ridge State Park at the age of 16, and watched the hanggliders on the dunes, I have wanted to go back and try it myself. It took a bit of fast talk to convince C to give it a go. She wanted to go to mermaid swimming school, but that was not on offer at the time. But with a promise to give her a SpongeBob SquarePants ice cream after we successfully completed the course, she reluctantly agreed.

Together with the rest of our class, we marched up the dunes. At the top we were re-instructed on the basics covered in the classroom and then we divided into three groups, with the children under 16 in their own group. We all had five flights — two flights, then a rotation through the group, two more flights, another rotation, and then a final flight — I was able to watch all of C’s flights. C seemed nervous at first, but in an all kids group she relaxed, soon in her element. At one point she was surrounded by the other kids, all older, as they asked her about life in Africa. When C went to do her flight, one of the other kids told me that “she is pretty great.” I beamed.

It was an incredible day on the dunes. I found it somewhat frightening and exhilirating. We never really flew on our own. The adults had a single instructor who ran with us the length of our flight, tethered to the contraption so we could only get so much lift and distance; the children had two instructors. We only flew short distances, but I felt absurdly happy as my stomach dropped as the wind lifted me up. I laughed. A lot. A storm moved across the Roanoke Sound. The skies darkened, the wind picked up. The instructors had to double up even for the adult fliers. C finished up first so she could watch my final flight, then the two of us made our own way back to the training facility as the skies opened up.

Bright light and storm clouds as C prepares to take off

Later that afternoon we drove about 45 minutes north to meet my sister, husband, and kids, and their friends at a popular seafood restaurant. We had found out at the very beginning of our Home Leave that my sister and her friend’s annual beach week in Duck, North Carolina, the northern Outer Banks, would coincide during our week in the area. It was fun to catch up in an unexpected way.

History and Photography Fun

On our final day, we finally headed to the Wright Brothers National Memorial. At last, C would learn more about the history of aviation in America right at the source. It was a hot July day so we started off first in the wonderfully informative (and air conditioned!) museum. Then we walked the flight path and up Kill Devil Hill, where the brothers conducted many of their glider tests and where now stands the 60 foot tall granite monument to their achievements. We then returned to the car and drove around to the First Flight Centennial Memorial, where Orrville, Wilbur, the plane, and other observers of that first day are memorialized in bronze. C and other kids (and many adults) loved that visitors can actually climb all over the sculptures, a sort of interactive historical playground. I then took C to Dairy Queen to enjoy her first ever Blizzard, a wonderful, fattening, concoction of thick soft serve ice creams and yummy goodies. Ah, America.

Next stop: Chincoteague, Virginia. Finally, a place I had never been, but which has long been on my bucket list from way back when to I was a little girl. Chincoteague and its sister island Assateague are two Virginian barrier islands (the northern two-thirds of the long and narrow Assateague falls into Maryland’s jurisdiction) are both part of the national park system – the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge and the Assateague Island National Seashore – but they were made famous by a children’s novel (Misty of Chincoteague) written in 1947 about the wild horses of Assateague and the annual pony swim to Chincoteague. The book, still in print, still fires the imagination of young readers, especially those who love horses. I read the book to C just before we began our trip.

One of the famous Assateague ponies

Chincoteague has small town American charm (population about 2,800), but with its protected spaces and history of wild ponies woven into popular literature, it just has more. Soon after checking in to our hotel (hours later than anticipated thanks to an accident on the ONE northern bridge off the Outer Banks), we headed out to dinner, walking up to a family-style italian restaurant to appease C’s hankering for some simple pasta. Afterwards we played mini golf.

Monday, it rained. We had a lazy morning, carry out lunch in the room, then in the afternoon headed over to Assateague to visit the two Visitor Centers. Although they are not too big, C enjoyed finding out about the flora and the fauna, especially because one really fantastic young park ranger encouraged C to work on a park booklet to become a junior ranger. As the afternoon waned, the sun came out just in time for a beautiful drive along a nature loop road. On our last full day we went out on an early morning boat tour. The weather was perfect and we not only had the opportunity to see the famous ponies, but also some other wildlife, including a bald eagle. Then back over to the Visitor Centers on Assateague, including a climb up the Assateague Lighthouse.

Some of the beauty of Assateague

Before we departed Chincoteague, I rented a bicycle with a trailor, so C could sit in cool comfort (even with her tablet) while I did all the work. I love cycling and I have been waiting for when C is able to ride with me. Our overseas life has not exactly been conducive to her learning to ride though. In Shanghai, there was a rooftop linking the eighth floors of the two apartment buildings and the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. It was not an empty area; there were tennis courts, an area for a bouncy castle, a trampoline, the swimming pool, and covered area with tables and bar-b-que areas. A small child could cycle a little on a small bike, but scooters were all the rage in Shanghai. And then here in Malawi, the roads are not all that safe. There are no sidewalks or shoulders. The bicycle carriage was the perfect compromise. It felt AMAZING to out and about — the hour riding the trails and roads on Assateague was perfect.

Part Two 8 We then drove on to Winchester, Virginia to spend a few days at my Aunt C’s, including a night at her cabin in West Virginia, and then a few days in Sterling, Virginia, my original home town. We caught up with friends and family. And then it was time to say goodbye to the U.S. How did four weeks pass by so quickly? But we squeezed a lot in. C had time in NY with her father, her paternal grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. I had time in Jacksonville with my Aunt C and doing more in my home-away-from-the-Foreign-Service. We caught up with CZ and Little C in New Bern. We visited my college town and soaked in some early American history, and had another walk down my memory lane and more American history in the Outer Banks. And we both made new memories enjoying time in the beautiful barrier islands of Virginia. We visited a total of five places in the U.S. National Park system. Not bad at all for four fabulous weeks.

Then we needed to begin the journey home. And it was going to be a loooooooooooooooooooong trip back, even longer than when we flew to the States. Due to the amount of money authorized for our Home Leave travel by Washington, and the limited time between that authorization (early May) and our departure (mid-June), being in the northern Hemisphere summer time, we had to fly a different routing. So we would fly from Washington Dulles on the eight hour red-eye flight to Frankfurt, Germany, arriving at noon. Then spend 10 hours on a layover in Frankfurt before our ten-hour red-eye flight to Johannesburg, South Africa. Then five hours in Jo’burg before our two-hour flight to Lilongwe. But I was determined to make the most of our time in Germany.

Long, long ago, also when I was 16 years old, my sisters and I spent a month in Frankfurt with my Aunt C and Uncle D. So the plan was to give C just a wee bit of a taste of Germany and a touch more of a walk down mommy-memory-lane. We freshened up in an airport shower, went through immigration, stored our luggage, and then caught a train from the airport to the Frankfurt Main Train Station. Then we headed to the Old Town to do a little sightseeing. In three hours we had lunch and hit many a place from my store of old family photos.

At the David and Goliath sculpture at the Hauptwache Station, Frankfurt – My sisters and I in July 1989 (left) – the acid washed jeans a dead giveaway – and C in July 2019 (right)

Then it truly was the end of our mid-tour Home Leave and time to return home – to Malawi.

July 16, 2019 by trs

Home Leave: An American Education Part One

Jax Beach at sunset – my now official home away from Foreign Service home

Home Leave is here again! Home Leave is the congressional mandatory requirement for Foreign Service Officers to spend a minimum of 20 working days in the United States between overseas tours so that we may reconnect and reacquaint ourselves with the people and the country we represent and serve.

But wait? Between tours? Aren’t I still serving in Malawi? Why yes, yes, I am. However, I have extended my time in Malawi yet again and am now essentially serving two consecutive tours in Lilongwe. Thus, Home Leave (HL), or rather Home Leave Return to Post. This is my third HL, but the first time my daughter and I will return to the same place we were before the HL; the first time our pets and our belongings will be able to remain in the same place while we are gone. For a Foreign Service Officer (FSO) this is rather novel.

Off C and I head to the U.S. of A to home leave with the best of them. We begin with a long trip from Lilongwe to Dulles, Virginia via Johannesburg, South Africa, and Accra, Ghana. We arrive late after weather-related delays cause flight schedule issues in Jo’burg; my one checked piece of luggage takes a detour and does not arrive with us; Customs and Border Patrol welcomes back this diplomat with a fun trip to secondary for extra scrutiny. Hooray! (no, not hooray. I jest.) My sister, who has been circling the airport pick-up area with my mother for a good hour, picks us up and whisks us off to the local IHOP to meet the bro-in-law, niece, and nephew, for a quick family breakfast. Well, I have a cheeseburger because A. who knows what time my body thinks it is? and B. I have missed a good American cheeseburger; I can get pancakes and eggs in Malawi.

Thanks FL!

I am whisked back to the airport to catch my flight to Jacksonville, FL. C stays the night with her aunt, uncle, and cousins, and then is deposited back at the airport the next morning to meet her stepmom so they may flight up to upstate New York to meet her dad and his side of the family for paternal family fun. Her dad and stepmom work jobs that are busiest on Saturdays, so we had to do it this way. Seems complicated but with a lot of help (my sister and C’s stepmom especially), we make it work.

C enjoys her time in NY — goes out on her grandparent’s boat, played with her cousins, and had oodles of family time. Me, I spent time with my aunt in and around our condo. I went shopping for consumables (a special shipment of foodstuffs and personal and/or household items that are authorized for certain Posts like Malawi) and had the movers come pack them up, had a doctor’s appointment, consumed great quantities of Mexican food (there is a dearth of such cuisine in Malawi), took walks on the beach to watch the sunrise, sunset, and moonrise, and was midly insulted by a young ticket seller who insisted on selling me the senior rate for a movie.

C and I then flew back from our respective first locations to meet again in northern Virginia, grab the rental car, and begin the road trip portion.

C at Jamestown

Being overseas in the FS life is amazing; my daughter is exposed to many different people, cultures, and traditions. However, her exposure to American history and culture is limited. Not non-existent, mind you. She watches Disney Jr, and Nick Jr on television. She discusses Five Nights at Freddy’s and Minecraft with her friends. Yet although she attends a fabulous international school, it is not an overseas American school.

I therefore planned our home leave around introducing C to some of America’s most iconic historic locations. Our first destination: Williamsburg, Virginia, home to the historic Colonial Williamsburg, part of America’s historic triangle (with Jamestown and Yorktown) and my undergraduate alma mater, the College of William and Mary, the second oldest university in the United States.

We began first with a trip to Jamestown to learn about the first permanent English settlement in the Americas, founded in 1607. There we visited the world class museum, walked through replicas of a Powhatan Indian village and the colonist’s fort, and boarded two of the three replica ships that brought the colonists across the Atlantic on their four-and-a-half month journey to their new lives in the New World. C reports she liked she liked the ships the best, but I think she enjoyed touching the animal pelts in the Indian village the most.

The beautiful Governor’s Palace in Colonial Williamsburg

We spent the rest of that first day walking the grounds of Colonial Williamsburg, the world’s largest living history museum. Its costs nothing to stroll the streets of this extraordinary place depicting the reconstructed and restored 18th century city that served as the capital of the Colony of Virginia for 74 years (after the colonists moved from swampy Jamestown). I had wanted to come here to have American history come alive for C, but I did anticipate how the memories of my own personal history would also come back to me. We stopped at the Cheese Shop on the top of DOG (Duke of Gloucester) Street. Though the shop now had a place on Market Square (instead of the side street where it stood during my day), their signature “bread ends and house,” which provided me so many days of sustenance in my college days, was just as good as ever. We stood outside the Kimball Theater, the small movie theater, where I saw many an odd indie film back in the day. Filled with nostalgia, I bought C and I matching William & Mary shirts at the college store.

On our second day, we headed to the Busch Gardens amusement park. Here too were memories from college, as for graduation the college had rented out the park for seniors. How cool is that? I had regaled C with stories of the Loch Ness Monster coaster, once the world’s tallest and fastest coaster and still the world’s only interlocking, double-looping roller coaster. C, who hated Disney’s Space Mountain and refuses to ride the Tower of Terror, was very keen to ride the Loch Ness and we headed there first thing. Though I am too old to love coasters anymore (though truth be told, I never did), I still enjoyed the Loch Ness and C could not stop telling everyone she met how much she did too.

The famous Governor’s Palace maze (and W&M rite of passage)

For our last three days, armed with a three-day pass to Colonial Williamsburg, we could explore the living museum more fully, stopping in at tours at the Capitol, the Wythe House, and the Governor’s Palace. We also lucked out getting a spot on 15 minute horse carriage ride (something I had never before done in the ‘Burg). At the Palace, we took part in a children’s tour of the building itself, presented just right for C’s age group. At the beginning, I asked the guide though, if William & Mary students still “jump the wall” as they did in the past. “Jumping the wall” was a student tradition whereby students were to make their way to the Governor’s Palace at night, haul themselves over the perimeter wall, and then run to the center of the palace’s hedge maze, and then depart the same way without being caught. I might have done it once…or twice. The guide told the group that while it is still done, security advances have caught up with the college tradition – yet now there is supposed to be a “triathlon” of jumping the wall, streaking the Sunken Garden (a grassy field located on the W&M campus), and swimming Crim Dell. This prompted C to ask what is streaking….

We then enjoyed our own exploration of the Palace gardens and of course a race through the maze. I remembered, armed with my W&M ID, which gave me free access to many Colonial Williamsburg sights, sitting in the gardens on many a sunny day eating my Cheese Shop Bread Ends and House while reading for class. I also remembered nearly peeing my pants when I thought we were caught as I raced across the gardens toward the maze on a ridiculously well moonlit night…

The Wythe House from its gardens

I tried to get C to join me on a Colonial Williamsburg ghost tour, but she refused. There was one aimed listed as good for 4 to 7 year olds that started at 5:45 PM, but no matter how I tried to sell it (“it is for 7 year olds!” “when it starts it will not even be close to dark outside.”) but she would not have it. I told her how I had joined a ghost tour when I was a student and had the beejeezus scared out of me. Although she refused to do one, she did ask me about mine and I told her of the three stories I recalled. One was of the Mistress Wythe, who after attending a ball at the Governor’s Palace had run the short way to her home with the red door, losing a shoe along the way, and then, well…she died, and her ghost is supposed to haunt the house.

So, we went to the Wythe House and I asked one of the historic interpreters for the fuller story, to see how much my brain had retained from a very scary night tour 25 years before. I remembered it pretty well, but had left out the part where Mistress Wythe hangs herself. Immediately, C latched on to that word and asked me to explain… That was unexpected. Even more unexpected was when C, playing with an 18th century wood children’s toy in the upstairs hallway of the Wythe House, patiently explained the details of the hanging to another child, and then recommended the child go over to the Governor’s Palace maze where her mom had once run through the maze naked… (I had NOT — C had conflated the maze run with the Sunken Garden streaking.) So to the mother of that other child, you are welcome!

Crim Dell

We visited the William & Mary campus. I showed C some of my dorm and classroom buildings. We passed my sorority house (yes, I was in a sorority!). Memories flooded back. Many, I could not share with a 7-year old. We crossed Crim Dell, which my graduating class crossed many moons ago, and in the 90s Playboy magazine listed as one of the top 10 most romantic college places in the U.S. Yeah, I know. First, wtf is Playboy doing ranking romantic college locations? And second, hey, its a pretty bridge with some nice trees, but ugh, that water! I left out the Playboy connection for C. I did not want to answer anymore odd questions.

I loved that as we cross the campus, C turned to me and said “mom, it sounds like you had a really great life here.” Yeah, I did. And I had forgotten so much of it until our visit.

Part One 6 After educating (and sort of torturing) C with the American history lessons and walks down my memory lane, it was time to reward her with two fabulous days at Great Wolf Lodge. GWL is a chain of indoor water park and amusement hotels. My sister and her family had been a few times and I could hardly wait to bring C. I must have splurged for a Cub Club room, where we could have fit 6 people, but had forgotten I did so. What a fun surprise! I thought C would be all about the water park, but she was actually all about the indoor MagiQuest game, where she ran around with a fake wand activating sensors and solving quests. She made lots of friends doing this. We also won the rubber ducky race — kids decorate a rubber duck in the morning and then enter it into the water park race. All the ducks are dumped into one section of the lazy river and make their way to the finish line. The winner gets to sit in a special section of the water park for 24 hours. (Experienced Winner Hint: Show up on a day when only 4 people enter the contest and then be the only person to show up poolside during the activity. Yay, you win!) It also turns out C has a wicked sense of timing for the arcade claw games. Good thing I brought an extra empty suitcase….

It was hard to believe that after Williamsburg we were already nearly half way through our Home Leave. It was time to move on to the next location….

April 28, 2019 by trs

Namibia: Superlative Spring Break Part 1

A Himba woman in Windhoek

Namibia. I have wanted to visit this country since my friend CG traveled there during her posting to Angola. All I knew is that Namibia is home to large sand dunes . That sounded sufficiently cool. Fast forward a decade and my daughter and I are living in southern Africa. Another friend is posted to Namibia. She once noted on Facebook that she had received a notice to stay indoors as a leopard had been spotted in her neighborhood in Windhoek. That sounded terribly exotic; we only have the occasional hyena in Lilongwe.

We landed at the Windhoek airport close to 10 PM. Our hotel shuttle driver was waiting. On the 30 minute drive into town, even in the darkness, it became quickly apparent we were no longer in Kansas, er, in Malawi anymore. The drive from the airport in Windhoek is similar to that in Lilongwe, approximately half an hour, and a distance from the city limits. But that is where the similarities end. The paved road was better, clean, smooth, nicely painted. We stopped at a police checkpoint, it had a well-crafted metal dome, it was well lit. That means electricity. Police checkpoints in Malawi are much cruder – no cover, wooden beams placed over oil drums. As we approached Windhoek we saw sidewalks; we saw them because there were working street lights, working traffic lights. It was hard not to already feel impressed with Namibia. And then to feel a wee bit silly that I found sidewalks and streetlights so remarkable.

Christchurch, Independence Memorial Museum, Parliament

The next morning we headed out on a free guided walking tour recommended by my friend MB. There is not much to draw visitors in Windhoek, but the few tourist sites are located near one another. We could have walked to them on our own, but our student guide gave us a plethora of information in the 90 minute tour. We stopped first Windhoek’s most iconic landmark, the Christ Church, a 100+ year old German Lutheran church built during the German colonial period. The clock, bells, and part of the roof were brought in from Germany; the stained glass windows a gift from Emperor Wilheim II. Inside is a plaque inscribed with the names of German and military casualties during the colonial wars.

We then crossed the street to the Parliament building, built orginally as the headquarters for the German colonial administrative offices, and its gardens. We then headed a short way up the road, at the corner of Robert Mugabe Avenue and Fidel Castro Street, to the Independence Memorial Museum. The building is jarring. Modern, yes, but also leaning on eyesore. No surprise then that it was built by a North Korean firm in the socialist-realist style. The bronze statue of Namibia’s first President was also made by North Korea. Behind the museum we ended the tour in the currently closed Alte Feste, once the headquarters of the imperial German military, in front of which stands the Genocide statue (also gifted by North Korea) representing the brutal extermination and punishment of Herero and Namaqua people during the 1904-1907 Namibia-German war, and how the indigenous people of Namibia overcame repression. We left the tour there and headed to the museum, which while informative, most certainly had that same socialist-realist vibe. We swung by the kudu statue and then headed back to the hotel.

On the way back we had to pass the craft market. On our approach I suddenly saw a group of five extraordinarily dressed women pass in front of us. Tall, lithe, dressed in only a goat hide skirt covered with a sarong like material; their bare arms and chests covered in leather and bronze jewelry, their feet in gladiator-like sandals. Their skin and hair shown a deep bronze terracotta color for the otjize paste (made of butter fat and ochre) they use to protect themselves in the harsh desert climate. I gasped audibly and blurtered out “you are beautiful.” They immediately turned to me, gave me stunning smiles, and one wrapped her arm around mine to walk with us. The Himba people are known for their incredible friendliness. Once they had set up their stand C purchased one of their bracelets and they allowed me to take a photo.

My friend MB got off work at the Embassy and picked us up so we would head to lunch. She then helped me to purchase a SIM card so that I would not be left completely without phone or data while traveling around one of the least densely populated countries in the world. Then we picked up the rental car and stocked up on bottled water, apples, and snacks.

The following day it was time to begin our Namibia road trip. Now, back in Malawi, having finished the Namibian vacation, knowing we survived the drives is so different from before it began. Back when I was planning the trip I thought most about doing the driving. I wanted the freedom driving ourselves would bring. C and I have gone on a few day group bus trips. They have been convenient and sometimes fun. But there have been those, like the one to the Cape of Good Hope, where we were too much at the mercy of other tourists who had their own agenda at the expense of everyone else. I did not want to do that for a whole trip. Yet I am a single parent, who has limited (my diplomatic way of saying non-existent) car repair skills, traveling with a 7-year old long distances in a country I have never been to. I have traveled to many places, I am intrepid, but honestly, the driving had me a tad worried.

Heading north from Windhoek toward Etosha National Park though, I had nothing to worry about. It was a long four hour drive but on the most beautifully tarred road. There was not much to see along the way, a few times we saw warthogs and baboons, but mostly miles and miles of green shrubs, every once in awhile a town that we could drive through in minutes.

After over four hours of driving we arrived at our lodging, the Etosha Safari Camp. We had a little cabin a short one minute drive from the main building. From outside it was functional, plain, but inside it was bright, modern, and whimsical. We had a sweet queen sized bed below a same-sized loft. C loved the bathroom the best.

We spent the next two days driving around Etosha National Park. Nothing could have prepared me for the incredible, stark beauty of Africa’s oldest national park. The biggest feature of the park is a massive salt pan that can be seen from space. Most of the park is savannah woodlands but near the pan, where we visited, its sandy grassland or very low scrub. Because of this one can see animals far in the distance. We saw many animals, mostly springbok, oryx, and ostrich, but could also drive for twenty minutes without seeing an animal or another vehicle.

Wildlife of Etosha

We drove for two hours the first day, five hours the second. Long times in the car, but it was not boring. I bought C a checklist book so she could mark off the animals we saw and she had her tablet and a few toys. Lucky finds were the lion cubs and later lionesses, kudu at a watering hole, and wildebeest. We would have loved to see more predators but we were not that lucky.

Fortunately, I planned for us to visit the Cheetah Conservation Fund, 45 minutes outside of Otijwarongo, about two hours south of the Andersson Gate at Etosha. C LOVES cheetahs and Namibia is one of the best places to see them as the country hosts the largest concentration of this magnificent wild cat. In Namibia there are about 3,500 cheetahs; compare this to the 16 recently reintroduced to Malawi. At the facility visitors can observe their resident cheetahs, who cannot be released into the wild, see feeding time, and take drives into the enclosure. We also stayed the night at the Cheetah View Lodge where we could watch the sunset and then rise over the beautiful Waterberg Pleateau. It was so peaceful.

cheetah view lodge

July 2, 2018 by trs

Malawi: The First Summer Begins

Sleepover fun with star light

Summertime. Remember when you were a kid and you looked forward to the hot, leisurely days with your friends through a long school-less summer? Maybe you even piled into the family car for a drive to the beach for a week? Spent a week or more at a summer camp? Or maybe you do not even have to think back that far — you might be on your summer holiday right now. Perhaps a road trip? Or spending some time at the lake or at a mountain cabin? Have your toes dug deep in some sand? Whenever summer comes around I still associate the season with those long languid days. I long for Summer Americana.

Foreign Service summers though are different. In the Foreign Service, summer generally means either you are transferring or you are covering for those who are (or those who have to take mid-tour home leave), and thus watching colleagues, some who have become good friends, leave. Summer is the end of an era. One in which you are too busy to mourn until September rolls around.

As this summer gets underway, it feels even stranger. In Shanghai I did not take any leave between May and September for either of the two summers. But then again, neither did anyone else — all my co-workers in the visa trenches slogged through the high visa season together. Here though, in this much smaller Embassy, we are on the cusp of a very busy, and somewhat lonely, summer.

Sleepovers mean sleeping fun in the living room

OK, hold up. I know, do not cry me a river. I DO get vacations. Absolutely. I was just in Cape Town last month, Paris in April, and last Spring you would have found me enjoying a not-at-all-shabby seven week Home Leave. I am not at all vacation deprived. But indulge me if you will, because while the Foreign Service certainly has its perks, it has its downsides and sacrifices too. I try to keep it real.

One downside is the transfer season position pile-up. This is not my first rodeo–summers in the service are always busy, but this is the first time as the sole direct-hire Foreign Service officer in a section at a small Embassy. I am the political-military officer. I also cover the economic-commercial office in the absence of that individual, and back-up the Consular officer. This summer there will be gaps–multiple weeks with no Economic, Consular, or Public Affairs officers. I am also a social sponsor for an arriving family, an office sponsor for another new officer, and will serve my duty week (when Embassy personnel man the after hours American citizen emergency line) this summer. And politics in the country are heating up ahead of next year’s elections.

Another downside is the wee bit of mommy guilt that sometimes tickles in the back of my brain. Here I am giving my kid an international life full of once in a lifetime experiences, but my parental conscience pricks me all the same. She is the single child, of a single mother, whose job requires us to move every few years. Maybe “guilt” is not quite the word, but I wonder at times about this lifestyle and the effect it will have on my daughter. Last year we lived in three different countries on three continents, so while it is a relief to not be moving this year, the goodbyes happen regardless.

Now that her friends are leaving, C has to get creative with her playmates — she invited our chickens into her play fort. (the cats are also thrilled at her increased desire to cuddle and play with them)

C just finished up her first year at the international school. She has 8 1/2 weeks off before the next school year begins. It is not just that it is the summer holiday and she will not see school friends for awhile, it is more than that. Several of her friends are leaving, or have already left, Malawi for good. And now that she is older these friendships mean more to her than in the past.

To help her say goodbye, we hosted sleepovers for the first time at our house for four of C’s best mates who would move away this summer. I tried my best to make them Sleepovers To Remember. We had movies and popcorn, turned our rooms into dance clubs with revolving colorful star displays on the ceiling and C’s favorite pop songs “blasting” from my mini speakers, and did fun crafty things like make suncatchers or Shrinky Dinks. We stayed up late. We went to the Italian restaurant around the corner in pajamas. We had chocolate chip pancakes. The guest child got to collect the eggs from our chickens in the morning. I repeatedly heard THIS IS THE BEST SLEEPOVER EVER. Top Parent Award Achieved.

The final sleepover was perhaps the hardest. C’s best friend is our next door neighbor WW. Like C he is six, enjoys music, playing for hours, and butt jokes. He and my daughter are thick as thieves. I think back to when I was five and six and my next door neighbor Kent was my best friend. He too moved away after Kindergarten. Dang, this is going to be hard.

Ready to walk to “summer” camp in the chill

It is what it is. A phrase that rolls off my tongue with increasing regularity. To try to stem the summer boredom and sadness I have come up several ideas to keep C engaged. She will attend “summer” camp the first week of July (actually one of the coldest months in Malawi with temperatures in the low 50s Fahrenheit overnight/early morning) with the possibility of additional weeks (the nearby preschool offers up to four weeks for children aged 2-8 at a cost of $5.50 per day). I am increasing her guitar lessons from once a week to twice. Recently I started reading chapter books to C, so I bought several books to read this summer such as James and the Giant Peach, The Indian in the Cupboard, and My Father’s Dragon. One of my New Year’s Resolutions this year is to do more arts, crafts, and activities with C, so I ordered several things to facilitate this (because I just do not have the energy to be a Pinterest mom). I have art supplies, Kiwi Crates, and an Easy Bake Oven I gifted C as an early half birthday present. I ordered “American History in a Box” for Kindergarten and First Graders, a great resource for American kids living overseas and attending schools that do not teach U.S. history.

Basically, I have got a ton of things for C to do. I just wish I could take some time to spend with her doing them, but that is not in the cards for me this summer. It is certainly not going to be Summer Americana. It’s more Summer Foreign Service Style.

June 4, 2018 by trs

Escape to the Cape (Town)

C jumps for joy atop Table Mountain

Cape Town. I have long wanted to visit. In 2010 I visited South Africa. I was living in Jakarta and one of my best friends was living in Luanda, so we met up in Johannesburg for ten days of Jo’burg, Pretoria, and Kruger National Park. But not Cape Town. So after years of hearing about the city that some say is their favorite in Africa, and others say is their favorite in the world, it was time to experience it for myself.

First we had to get there. Seems simple enough. Go to airport. Get on plane. Fly to South Africa. If it is just you traveling, it probably is that straightforward. If you are traveling with a minor… Nope. In 2015, South Africa instituted new laws for anyone — South African or otherwise — traveling with children under the age of 18. Along with a passport, your child(ren)’s unabridged birth certificate is now an essential travel document. This is if you are one or two parents traveling together with your kids. If you are married but not traveling together, you need to have the affidavit granting permission. And if you are a single parent you are supposed to travel with whatever document gave you that status — a divorce decree, a death certificate. My status is fairly simple; I have never been married and I am the only parent on the birth certificate. Yet that fact seemed to complicate things when traveling to South Africa with my child. The year before the American Citizen Services section in Pretoria had said I would be good with just my daughter’s birth certificate. It was time to check that.

View of Chapman’s Peak and Hout Bay from SC’s home

We rolled up to the check-in desk. I smiled at the woman. She smiled at me. I handed over our passports. Then she asked for the birth certificate and an affidavit. I handed over the BC but said I did not have an “affidavit.” The woman left the desk with the BC and huddled together with another woman. They looked at the BC. They looked at me. They looked at one another. What the what? She then returned and began typing away on the computer – not a word to me. Were we getting boarding passes or not? After some seconds that felt much, much longer, I asked. She told me the BC was sufficient. Whew. I breathed a sigh of relief. But then she stepped away again. Again some consultations with the supervisor. She returned. “I am afraid that we are going to need the affidavit. Please step aside.” Oh no! I pulled out my secret weapon–a notarized document everyone had told me was unnecessary. She looked it over, told me all was in order, and then printed out our boarding passes. Crisis averted. We were on our way!

Our flight took us to Johannesburg, where we cleared immigration (no single parent issues there), and then flew on to Cape Town. My friend from college, SC sent an Uber to pick us up. It took a wee bit of work to find him. Once in the car I joked with the driver that the parking garage at the airport is larger than most buildings in Malawi (though I expect its true). We wound through the darkened streets from the airport to SC’s home. Even in the darkness, the development compared to Malawi was obvious. At SC’s home, a smallish but beautifully appointed condo fronting the beach at Hout Bay, SC and I spent time catching up on old times and new while C and SC’s daughter M got to know one another.

Norval Foundation sculpture garden

On our first full day we puttered around in the morning in our pajamas having a long leisurely breakfast while the kids played. We took advantage of SC’s amazing view of the bay from both her yard and balcony. Then we all headed out to the Norval Foundation to meet a half dozen of SC’s mom friends and their kids for a Mother’s Day lunch. It was an interesting group, including another American Foreign Service Officer (working at the Cape Town Consulate) and another single mother.

The Norval Foundation is a just-opened (only two weeks before our visit) private museum of contemporary and South African art and sculpture garden, in addition to an incredibly beautifully designed restaurant. There we gathered for an epic luncheon lasting over three hours. Part of the reason it took so long was extremely slow service, but it was also the conversation. And while the moms talked, the kids took advantage of the garden. I regret I did not walk the whole garden or visit inside the museum!

C as a squirrel monkey playground

On Monday SC had some morning meetings and M had preschool, so I booked my very first Uber driver to take C & I to the World of Birds (and surprise, surprise, our first Uber driver was a woman from Malawi!). My initial impression of the place was not favorable. I thought we might only spent 30 minutes, maybe an hour there. But I was wrong. World of Birds may predominantly feature birds, but there are many other animals there. C particularly enjoyed seeing the guinea pigs, marmoset, servals (mostly she enjoyed that one serval took an immediate dislike to me and growled and hissed at me), and the squirrel monkeys. The last were the absolute best as visitors can go inside the enclosure, sit still, and if monkeys crawled on you, then so be it. We easily spent 30 minutes there alone. C also loved the birds. She took a liking in particular to the golden pheasant, which she immediately (and correctly) identified as Chinese.

Penguins at Boulder’s Beach

That afternoon we met up again with SC and M, and headed to Noordhoek via the stunning Chapman’s Peak drive (rated as one of the most spectacular marine drives in the world). There we enjoyed a long, late lunch while the children wore themselves out on the playground. At 4 SC headed out–she would fly to London that night on business. The girls and I returned to SC’s house for an evening of play and silliness.

Tuesday found C and I saying goodbye to M and her nanny, then Uber-ing to our hotel in the heart of Cape Town. We settled in quickly and then walked to the Victoria and Albert Waterfront. There we rode the Cape Wheel, visited the Two Oceans Aquarium, and searched for the best rocks at the Scratch Patch. These were all fun, but there were also simple pleasures we had missed in Malawi — eating at McDonald’s (please do not judge — there are none in Malawi), walking through a shopping mall, the presence of sidewalks.

View of the Peninsula from the Cape Point lighthouse

The following day we headed out on an epic tour of the Cape Peninsula. We were once again blessed with stunning weather. I had planned for weather in the region of 60-70 degrees but we were getting mid to upper 70s, even 80s. The sky a dazzling blue. While some may eschew the group bus tour, I sometimes find it provides just what we need. This tour took us to Boulder’s Beach at Simon’s Town to see the penguins and the Cape Point National Park, to include the lighthouse, funicular, and the Cape of Good Hope.

This is someplace I had long wanted to visit, but I can not even begin to describe seeing it in person, being there with my daughter. Everything was perfect. Well, not everything. There are downsides to taking a group tour after all. One being having to wait for folks who are not conscious of other peoples’ time. There was a walking tour from Cape Point to the Cape of Good Hope. The guide informed us all beforehand that the hike would require a level of fitness, i.e. those with heart, back, feet, knee, breathing or other such problems should not join. And still someone joined who should not have, and we all had to wait an extra hour for that individual to make their way to the bus. This brought us back to the city late and earned us another hour sitting in traffic.

The obligatory trip up Table Mountain was next on our agenda. Again, the day broke to reveal another absolutely beautiful day. We took the hop on hop off sightseeing bus to the Table Mountain visitor’s center. I had read of the potential long lines at the aerial cableway and could hardly believe our luck to find there was no line at all! We simply paid and walked right on. The gondola is large, it can hold 65 passengers, but it too was only half full. What magic was this? And then, the car began to rotate. No kidding. Although I had read up enough to know the aerial cableway existed, I had not known it would turn. Mind blown. And the views. Wow.

View from the cable car as it nears the top; a dassie chills out

At the top we took our time. With the temps in the 70s and us standing 3500 feet atop a near-bare stone plateau, we were in need of some popsicles. While looking out towards the southwest, with the spine of the mountains directly in front with the ocean against one slope, we caught sight of what appeared to be a large rodent of sorts on the terrace below. My daughter, being the animal lover she is, identified it as a hyrax. Turns out locals call them dassies. But dassie or hyrax they were plentiful and inquisitive, and our visit to Table Mountain turned into as much about spotting these creatures as drinking in the breathtaking views.

We continued on the sightseeing bus back to the Victoria & Alfred Waterfront for lunch and then a short cruise of the harbor. We were sleepy, lulled by the warmth of the afternoon sun and frankly little else we would see that day could compare with Table Mountain, though having Thai food and frozen yogurt at the mall sure came close.

The next day C and I ventured 45 minutes out of Cape Town to the Cheetah Outreach Centre. C loves cheetahs. They are her spirit animal. In fact, she has told me for at least two years that she is half cheetah. It’s true – that she tells me that. In researching Cape Town I had found out about this place where one could not only see, but also touch cheetahs. I had not realized how far out of town it is located. I began to think it would be easier not to go, except that C would never forgive me. Though I tried to explain the distance, she looked stricken at the idea of not going. I had to make it happen. Part of the problem was that my data roaming, though on, did not work. I could order an Uber when connected to wi-fi, but otherwise could not. There is no wi-fi at the center. I thought of renting a car, but just was not keen. I thought of pre-ordering an Uber for pick-up but was not sure how long we would need and concerned that without a connection to data, I would not be notified of the pick-up car details. I took a chance though of just ordering an Uber and leaving it to fate to figure it out later. And it worked. The driver asked us how we were getting back and I took down his number and called him when we finished.

Given C’s age we were only able to take part in the adult cheetah encounter (she was too young to pet baby cheetahs, meerkat, or bat eared foxes). No matter. It is not every day you get the chance to stroke the fur of a live cheetah. Though the Uber there and back cost more than the entrance and encounter fees by double, the big smile on my daughter’s face was, as they say, priceless.

C and a squirrel have a chat

Afterwards, we headed back to town and on to the Company’s Garden. Originally set up in the 1650s to grow produce for the Dutch East India Company “refreshment station,” where ships restocked on the voyage from Europe to the East Indies, it is now a heritage park on prime real estate in the center of old Cape Town. And while the site of a beautiful historic garden is a good enough reason to visit, it is also the home to some incredibly hungry, and tame, squirrels. At the park entrance several vendors sell packages of nuts to feed the very friendly rodents. We hardly made it ten steps when a squirrel confronted us. He knew the deal. He knew we were newbies. He knew enough to try to get our attention before we even entered the formal part of the garden. Before we met his many friends. He lucked out but so did many other squirrels. I have never before in my life seen squirrels just run right up to people, climb up their leg, sit on their shoulder, and try to pry nuts from one’s hand. It was so awesome. I almost forgot that we had pet a cheetah that morning.

Guinea fowl in Kirstenbosch

For our final day, we headed to the Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden. Located on the lush Eastern slopes of Table Mountain, Kirstenbosch is touted as one of the most beautiful botanic gardens in the world. Certainly the setting is hard to beat and the dramatic backdrop reminded me of the Limahuli Gardens in Kauai. Our favorite part of the gardens was probably the tree canopy walkway, which literally snakes its way through the tree tops 12 meters off the ground, so much so that it is referred to as the “boomslang” (tree snake). Our visit coincided with our first cloudy day, yet the views were no less amazing. SC and M joined us for another long lunch at the wonderful Moyo restaurant located at Kirstenbosch.

It was not easy leaving Cape Town. It is easy to see why it is a favorite destination. I very nearly had to drag C kicking and screaming to leave. She insisted she wanted to stay. I could hardly argue; the trip had been near perfect. We hit so many of the highlights, enjoyed fabulous weather, spent time with friends, and had many, many great experiences with wildlife. The Cape has spoiled us for upcoming vacations.

February 1, 2018 by trs

Single Parent Dilemma: The Business Trip

woman with suitcase It may come as a surprise to some that I spent more than six years working in the State Department as a Foreign Service Officer without going on an overnight business trip. I managed due to a combination of my positions and locations (serving as a Consular Officer in two large high volume visa posts — i.e. my job was identical to that of 30-40 other officers) and personal choice. There were certainly opportunities for travel. While serving in Ciudad Juarez colleagues regularly took part in the Mission Mexico “swap” program in which Consular Officers at different posts would change places for a month. So for instance an officer in Juarez would go to Guadalajara to adjudicate visas and a counterpart there would come to Juarez. In swaps you also swapped homes, even cars. There were also the occasional TDY (temporary duty = business trip) opportunities to places like Las Vegas for a trade show or Baja in support of G-20, and even trips to Cairo and other far-flung locals. Shanghai too had opportunities, many similar: Mission China swaps, TDYs to India and Haiti, and travel to Hangzhou in support of the G-20.

I could have volunteered. A few well meaning, though generally childless, colleagues would offer various scenarios. It would not have been impossible, just quite difficult. In Juarez with an infant, and later in Shanghai with a preschooler, a nanny, and pets, swapping presented a more logistical and financial challenge for me than for my single or married without children colleagues. I also rationalized that given the majority of the opportunities presented were basically doing visas in another place, I could simply continue to work hard on visas and other tasks where I was assigned. These choices I made may have cost me tenure the first time around and later promotion or not; it is hard to know. But, they were the best choices for myself and my daughter at the time.

Fast forward to Malawi. Here I am in a different position. I am no longer one of dozens of Consular Officers; I am the sole Political Officer. Though I bid this position high due to the family-friendly atmosphere and the reported work-life balance, I knew it would be inevitable that travel would come up. It may be a small nation, and this presents opportunities to really learn the issues and see a good part of the country, yet there is so much happening here and as the Political Officer I must get out and about on occasion. What I had not expected were three TDYs in three months; to what essentially worked out to be three trips in seven weeks.

Trip One

mother and daughter For my first trip it would be just three days and two nights within Malawi. In late October I joined my locally-employed colleague on a familiarization trip to the southern Malawi cities of Blantyre and Zomba. Lilongwe may be Malawi’s capital since 1975 but Zomba, the original colonial capital, and Blantyre, the business and judiciary center, together make a triumvirate of modern Malawi’s social, cultural, and political scene. We would depart Lilongwe early on a Tuesday for the four hour drive to Blantyre and take meetings all day beginning with a lunch meeting and ending with a dinner meeting. The following day would be spent 2/3 in Blantyre and then we would travel to Zomba to stay at the Embassy cottage that evening. Original plans for a dinner meeting in town were scrapped due to the ongoing bloodsucker situation. The final day would be a half day of meetings in Zomba before the nearly 4 1/2 hour drive back to Lilongwe. Easy peasy, right?

Well, first when traveling as a single parent in the Foreign Service, you need to fill out a few items of paperwork when away from home but leaving family members, especially children, behind. There is the usual out-of-town locator all employees must complete when traveling. For all those folks who do not work for the government overseas, think about having to complete a form every single time you take a personal or professional trip. In the event of an emergency, Post must be able to account for all personnel. If heaven forbid an airplane or train crashes or a boat capsizes or there is a vehicle crash, Post needs to know if personnel traveling in the area may have been on board or on that road. Security and facility personnel need to know who is or is not at your residence. Even payroll needs to know in case pay needs to be adjusted. It is one of the less-than-glorious aspects of Foreign Service life. On top of the usual away-from-home forms a single parent needs to complete a Power of Attorney and a Medical form for the staying-behind-child or children. I also left behind a contact list of friends and family…just in case. Along with my daughter’s passport in an accessible spot.

I had asked a colleague if she would mind serving as Power of Attorney and the Medical back-up and she said no problem and then even suggested my daughter stay at her house. She has a daughter just a year older and with whom my daughter likes to play with. A sleepover! This would be very exciting for C. Her only other sleepovers have been one night at her aunt’s in NY, one night at her grandparent’s in NY, several times at her father’s in KY, and one week at my sister’s in VA last summer. This would be the first time not with family. She could. not. wait. This did involve me having to pack her suitcase — full of school clothes (including uniforms and P.E. clothing) and play clothes. I also had to contact the school bus to give instructions to pick up at my house on Tuesday morning, deliver her to the other house on Tuesday afternoon, all day Wednesday at the other house, Thursday morning at the other house, and Thursday afternoon drop back at our home. The bus went off without a hitch, but I cannot say I wasn’t worried.

Though initially nervous about leaving my daughter, once on the road I did feel a wee bit of a sense of freedom wash over me. Then I came back down to Earth. It was a work trip after all. But it was not too long. It would all be okay. However, unexpectedly that evening I received a call from my colleague. My normally very independent daughter, who has been left with babysitters in many a city as I ran half marathons (always fingerprinted, bonded, licensed sitters), was on her third nanny, and also previously spent time at two child care centers, a preschool, and just started Kindergarten, who had NEVER had separation anxiety before, was crying because she missed her mom. She told my colleague she could not sleep because normally she snuggles with her mom before bed. My heart broke. I called the following night and talked with C again. My colleague told me C had said she could not sleep because she had left all her dreams in a dresser drawer at home. I smiled at her creativity, but felt guilty too. Soon enough though I was back in Lilongwe and apparently forgiven.

Trip Two

mother daughter goodbye In November I flew to Harare, Zimbabwe for five days and four nights to participate in some professional training. This time I made the decision for my daughter to remain at our home with the nanny. (Yes, I have a nanny. And she lives on property.) While my daughter had mostly enjoyed her two nights sleepover at her friend’s house, working out the bus schedule and packing her bag did add an extra layer of work for me. Besides just feeling too tired and lazy to go the extra mile, it was also a big ask for my (extremely kind) colleague. By staying at our home C also had access to all her clothes, toys, usual foods, and familiarity. Well, all the familiarity a child could establish in a home she had lived in for all of three months, with our household goods from the US not yet arrived in country. Additionally, the nanny was eager to demonstrate she could do the job and I wanted to give her the opportunity.

This time, instead of departing after my daughter headed off to school, I left on a Sunday morning. I had to say goodbye to my daughter at the front door and her sad little face looking up at me tugged at my heart strings. Though once I arrived at the beautiful bed and breakfast in Harare, I did feel a wee bit better. On both Sunday and Monday evening I called the nanny using What’s App. This time C did not want to talk to me. She reluctantly came to the phone, then giggled, and ran off. When I made the nanny get her back on the phone, C sniffled and told me how much she missed me. After I let her go I asked the nanny if she was faking. She was. It seemed her staying at home had been the right choice. She was more comfortable.

Tuesday evening tanks rolled into Harare. Well how about that? In all the single parent travel scenarios I had envisioned I had not thought through what to do in the event of a coup d’état. At least, I supposed, the government takeover was in Zimbabwe and not Malawi. It directly affected me and not my daughter. Although the outcome was unknown for several days — we were confined to our B&B on Wednesday and escorted to the airport in armored vehicles through the military checkpoint on Thursday — the coup ultimately turned out to be one of the most peaceful ever. Still I was glad to get out when I did. Landing back in Lilongwe and returning to the house and C was the first time I felt Malawi was home.

Trip Three

mother daughter welcome home In December I had to fly back to Virginia for three days of training. It is a loooooong trip from Lilongwe to Virginia and I had no intention on leaving behind a not-yet-6-year-old. So, for the third of three business trips C would come with me. There would then be no need to fill out the medical and power of attorney forms. No need to arrange to leave her behind. But, I would need buy her plane ticket out-of-pocket and arrange child care while I was in training. Child care is not particularly easy to find in the Washington DC area in the best of circumstances, and becomes a little trickier in less than ideal situations. Though I would be taking my course at the Foreign Service Institute in Arlington, Virginia, I opted to again stay out in Herndon, close to my parents, my sister, and the school/daycare my daughter had attended three years before. As a State Department employee I would also have access to up to five days of emergency back-up child care. I would have options. Just as I was planning to begin my babysitter search my parents let me know they would be available. Thank goodness! For three full days she had time with her grandparents and then her cousins when they came home from school. It turned out to be a crazy quick trip but I was glad to have C along with me on the adventure.

Three months, three different business trips, and three different single parent solutions. We both survived them. After a wee bit of no travel time we may be ready for another.

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

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