Life in the fishbowl

In the world in which we live where streets are sidewalks and sidewalks are streets, where everywhere is a bathroom --or at minimum a trashcan, the respite we should have found last Friday in the sprawling Wuhan Zoo was limitless. After all, there are multiple exotic species of animals which we had never seen before and needed to be photographed. And, in many ways, I would consider the trip a success. Yet, there definitely came a point where I was tired of everyone photographing the exotics.

And by exotics, I mean us.

It is probably far too easy to find myself constantly comparing life in China to my life in the United States. And while I can get overwhelmed by the lack of crackers in the store or fresh air outside, I think with time, maybe even by the time I leave here, those things will not be annoying anymore.

In effort to enjoy this country for what it has to offer, I am going to have to depart from the daily attack on its differences. Was the zoo crazy different? Yep. Do they treat animals contrary to how I think they should? Yep. But you can read about those things elsewhere online. 

Looking as a whole, the Wuhan Zoo is a gorgeous, spacious, botanical heaven in the middle of an industrial city. We got to see kangaroos and camels and pandas and yaks and a ton of familiar animals ridiculously closer than I have ever been to them before. I saw an animal that looked EXACTLY like the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz. Minus the wings. For real.

They have swan pedal boats which I think is super cool and the boys are dying to try. The habitats of several of the animals were very well arranged and quite beautiful. We got to feed a ton of different creatures for less than $1.

But if I am to record true history of our voyage, I am not in a complete comfort zone yet. The photographing and touching and staring, the relentless staring, wears on me. I notice it more when I am too hot or too tired or too hungry. Friday was just like any of the 14 before it: we were watched like monkeys in the cage. My ability to brush off people staring at us through restaurant windows while we eat or gawk at us (instead of the amazing animal right in front of them) while we are at the zoo has been an incredibly difficult aspect of life. As the Queen of Passive Aggressive I unfortunately know I can be, it is one thing for me to body block the kids from their cameras. It is another to bust out my phone camera and start taking pictures of them. You want to photograph me? Awesome. Because. I'm. gonna. photograph. YOU.

I really wish I could speak to our driver, Mr. Song, about this. Not only could he provide maybe some cultural insight into the curiosity that is displayed, but I wonder what he thinks about being on the side of the watched. Because, of course, he was. Carrying around the curly blond or pushing the big blond in the stroller caught him a whole wealth of staring as well. Was it bothersome to him? Or does he just understand something I don't.

Maybe he gets it. I am the exotic here. Yes, it is shocking to this someone from a melting pot like Logansport, Indiana (insert sarcasm) but we are new and different. We are worthy of curious looks and since the staring is never confrontational or aggressive, what is my problem anyway? Maybe I should just start waving like the celebrity movie star (or recently released local felon) they make me feel like I am.

Maybe there are things about this culture that are not what I think they are. And if we can't talk about Jesus here, maybe I at least should act more Christ-like. 

Wordless Wednesday: These are some people in our neighborhood

They were alive --and all try to escape!

And I thought I was dressed too warmly.

Let me just chop your chicken and get you some change.

Love the juxtaposition between modern and old.

Nice hard hat.

Squid. It's what's for dinner.

Ha! Didn't see that one coming. Mama needed a yoga mat
and it was the only one they sold.

Kid culture

Most Americans think that it is the law for Chinese families have only have one child. That is not the law, per se, rather it is the most fiscally sound option as, from what I have been told and researched, you are taxed a hefty amount for the first 16 years of your second (and any additional) child's life if you do-- in fact--live in an urban area. As recently as this year, married couple who have only one sibling are allowed to have two children without penalty. Rural Chinese are exempt from this penalty all together.   From the huge displays of protection at every single check out lane I have been in thus far, preventing multiple children is definitely something they take very seriously.

Hudson and some new friends. He was teaching them to play Go Fish before our lunch yesterday.
 These three brothers are from Singapore and
attend foreign fellowship with us. Because they look Chinese, their parents
get asked often about how they afford three children here!

That said, whether you buy into Hillary Clinton's philosophies or not, I will tell you that it takes a village to raise a child [in China] because you need about 20 extra eyes and hands to manage one kid. My philosophy is that it is just too difficult to have more than one kid in urban China. I have noticed Hudson getting more cognizant of those dangers around him and he has become quite helpful doing daily tasks like the grocery shopping or putting clothes on the line to dry. Yet, he is still a big brother who likes to put the smack down WWF-style on his baby brother every 30 minutes or so. Couple the fighting with the other urban pitfalls and I am thinking one child here is enough for anybody.

While I do feel like I am doing a lot of this management Monday through Friday on my own, I have had the awesome gift of our driver, Mr. Song, step in on more than one occasion to block the punch from one boy to the other. As if people are not watching us enough, there is nothing like having the two blondes duke it out at the checkout lane. I was asked last Friday at Metro if the boys were twins (shuangsheng) and again today at the mall.  Nope, I say as I pry them apart. I am just THIS lucky. (Interesting to note, the Chinese are extremely curious. They will ask you anything. A group of strange women asked me how old I was last week.)

But the cool thing about the one child culture is children are really coddled and treated well. There are play places EVERYWHERE here. And yes, the all cost money, but wow! How cool for kids! I took this picture at Golden Harbor on Saturday. This little guy was having such a great time riding these mechanical scooters of sorts. Pure joy.

And you see play toys like these outside and inside all the grocery stores and "strip malls". It is pretty torturous for our kids. Hudson has even started asking by saying, "I know you are going to say no, but could I ..." 

Today I took the kids to a real playdate at the mall with the other women from foreign fellowship. The mall has a ton of places to play and they all cost money. We opted to go to the toys store on the third floor because they have an awesome playscape/playground thing in the back. It was 50RMB (almost $10) per child. I had to wear nylon stockings on my feet because I would have been barefoot. (All the grandpas and dads in the playplace had to wear them too! Hilarious.) Interesting instead of a sandbox, they had dark brown/black rice to play with. It does not build castles, but it also does not stick to your hands and feet. All in all, even if it does cost money, nothing can beat the kids having a safe place to play out of the heat. (It is 3 p.m. and 99 degrees right now. The heat index is 117. Holla!)

Unfortunately, I had to use my first "squatty potty" despite my very best intentions to NEVER do that. Good gracious to I wish I was a boy. No, I did not take a picture of it, but I will sometime just for you crazies that have asked to see one. [You know who you are!] While it appears that some Chinese are starting to opt for diapers, I have seen my share of little bums with children wearing their "split pants". I REALLY wish they all had to wear diapers in the playgrounds because, well, we will just say that the green slide became a no-no sometime around 11 a.m. Ahhhh, the joys of children in China.

How we got here

One day when Hudson and Tucker are older, like 20 or more years from now, or better yet when they become parents, I will enjoy sitting them down over a cocktail and telling them all the ways that they nearly got killed or sick or hurt during their first week in China. I say this, of course, in jest as I am just marveled that we have actually survived an entire week without any of us falling into a manhole or getting hit by a crane (knocking on fake wood IKEA desk as I type).

After all I already dodged a dead rat on the sidewalk and Josh silently stood with his feet astride a pile of poop on another. (Never point out poop to a five year old. They are mesmerized by it.) And those things might be shocking, but are actually easier to deal with than the millions of things all little boys just do (like licking the table or running their hand along the street as they are pushed in the stroller) that you might chastise them for if you happened to see it, but here could be the final act before dysentery. My mind flashes back to the travel doctor's stern warnings as we walk around markets where sellers are offering up beautiful, juicy grape samples to my kids. "And what do they use for watering and fertilizer?" he rhetorically asked. When I did not respond promptly, he leaned in and said sullenly, "Sewage."

In effort to preserve the memory of our voyage here, this blog is just a little reflection on our trip. You would think that after weeks of delays, visa issues, and general uncertainty I would have been more prepared for a hectic, stressful trip to China.

After unloading our luggage at the departures curb a serious rainstorm pummeled the Indianapolis International Airport. If you have been there during similar weather, you know it does sound like a mortar attack to that metal (?) roof when it rains cats and dogs. The rain was so heavy throughout the Midwest that our flight was late leaving Chicago. Our first flight was delayed about an hour.

8 suitcases, 4 backpacks, 2 rolling carryons, 2 carseats.

He loves airports!

This is my favorite picture.

Before we even landed our seriously turbulent flight in Chicago (our only US layover) it became pretty clear based on the time that we were in serious jeopardy of missing our next plane. Running to the train to the next terminal was going to be our only option and with the kids and the stroller in tow, it seemed like an impossible idea. Immediately as we deboarded our plane, I was met with those stewardess giving transfer information. They pointed us to the nearest United desk and we had them call our gate in Terminal 1. Had our flight left? Answer: Yes, it was pulling away from the gate right then. We had missed our flight. With only one flight a day, our 24 hour trip just doubled in length.

There are worst places in the world to be stranded than the Windy City, but suddenly my yoga pants seemed like a poor choice for a hot Midwest summer day. We decided to not regain possession all of the luggage and carseats for obvious reasons. We were not allowed to get into the bags either. It was an all or nothing choice. Deciding to just stick with our 2 rolling carryons and backpacks and those sweet (insert sarcasm font) "we are sorry you missed your connection" goodie bags from the airlines. Reluctantly, we headed out to our hotel.

Thankfully our hotel had a free shuttle to a couple of restaurants and a transfer to the local mall. Our evening included a couple of big drinks for Josh and I and shopping. Hudson spilled pink lemonade all over the table and my pants and shoes, so I had to dry those out with the hairdryer later that night. The yoga pants were all I had to wear!

The next morning we returned to the airport to catch the flight. Our gate was already crowded. We camped out and ate our $45 breakfast (all foods from the Hudson News). I am amused now how I felt like such a minority on that leg of the flight. But now, I realize that was the most Americans I have seen in a week.

 Already, I saw that the kids were going to be a hit. We received several smiles and Hudson straight up made the best of friends with one Chinese woman who spoke no English. I had been previously warned about the way those of this culture push and shove to get to the front, but it really is not enough to hear about it. You kind of have to see it for yourself. I was amused that the Chinese stewardess at the United gate was straight up annoyed with the general mass. "I promise you will ALL get on this flight, everyone!!!" she yelled as the mob went straight for the gate check. This will continue to be a cultural difference that I will have to get used to.

The Boeing 777 (flight UA851) was our home for the next 13 hours and 40 minutes. We had three seats in a row with a fourth across the aisle. Josh sat between the two kids and quite quickly Tucker fell asleep. Hudson marveled at his very own TV with a huge selection of kids movies and TV shows. Over the course of the next "day" he watched the Lego movie three full times. We ate two meals plus a snack (ice cream!) and marveled at our flight pattern on the "Map" feature on the TV. Instead of flying due west as you would assume, we flew north over Canada, the Arctic Circle, and then back south the other side of the globe.

Somewhere over Russia I realized that Tucker was running a fever. My concerns for his health were compounded by the reality that I knew the Beijing airport had thermal scanners and I was uncertain of what they would do to us/him if he was too hot. Tucker has always been extremely difficult to give medicine to and while I had intelligently packed some Tylenol with the carryon, I had not packed a syringe. He spit out a good half of what I put in the dosage shot cup. He did not take any of the Benadryl previously, so I was not surprised. (Hudson did.) We landed at PEK at 2:30 p.m. local time or 2:30 a.m. Chicago time. The airport was insanely hot. If they were running an air conditioner, it was set to "inferno". We joined the entourage of people headed towards Customs and I did not even pause as I adverted my gaze and quick stepped through the thermal scanners. It was a moment of relief for me; however, the lack of sleep for Josh, Hudson and I proved to be a difficult contribution to the events of the next two hours.

Since we missed our flight the day before we had no flight Air China tickets for Friday. While I will be very grateful for the helpful luggage assistant, who was not supposed to accept tips according to the English on the luggage cart, for his pushiness getting us to the front of the line so we could confuse the heck out of those workers at the ticket counter, (They kept asking for proof of our flight from Chicago as if the fact that I was STANDING IN FRONT OF THEM with my tagged luggage was not enough.) he really lost some of my initial trust for Chinese people when he quickly hustled me for more money when he left us. I did not have much time to process all of the events of the airport because when we finally did leave the ticket counter, we had four AirChina tickets for a plane that was to start boarding in 14 minutes.

We hustled as much as four Americans ever have, running onto trams and in corridors to compensate for additional scrutiny at the terminal security where they scanned and rescanned-- among other things-- Tucker and Hudson's HotWheel collection. We were photographed by the officials, both boys being extremely uncooperative at this point.

We made it to the Air China flight. Thank goodness. We were the only non-Chinese on the plane. At one point, Josh told me to look forward. There were 29 rows of jet black haired people. I think that I slept some on this leg of the flight (2.5 total) but am not sure. They served dinner again. Dessert was a mini Kit Kat. Silly the things I stick out in my head.

The funny thing I remember about arriving at Wuhan was the heat wave that smacked us as we walked off the plane. I thought it was just another hot airport. (Nope.)

Now, I realize that it is a miracle that ANY of our bags made it on that flight from Beijing. I have since been remorseful that I was not more grateful that the majority of our bags came through. However, when we reached the baggage claim after the journey we had, I was on the edge of a monumental melt down when all of our stuff was not on the belt. By the time I had attempted to communicate with the official that we were in need of more luggage, you could have looked at me wrong and I would have cried.

It was 8 p.m. Friday, July 25 local time. We had been on the journey for 47.5 hours.  We had made it.

Just keep breathing

Just keep breathing, I tell myself. Then I remember about the smog. Well, crap. My mantra yesterday (Sunday) was to just take it one step at a time. That proved to be just as hard as it could be. 

We walked to foreign fellowship leaving our apartment at 9:07 am. It was already hot. To get there we had to cross the major road out in front of our building which is under construction. Construction here is NOTHING like what you've ever seen before. First of all, they're building a double decker road. So there are cranes and diggers and equipment galore. Yet no "CAUTION there is a whole the size of a lawnmower" signs anywhere.  There are no yellow indicator signs of where to be or drive. Cars, scooters, buses, just dive in and out of the "scaffolding". To cross the street we walked a block or so through the parking lots near us. It is crazy the mix of businesses near us. Foot massage/car wash/convenience store-ish/Chinese food/hotels/unidenifiable operations all crammed into little teeny spaces. One clear business near us is Mr. Mai's Coffee Shop/foreign language club. It is exactly what it sounds like: a place for locals and university students to come to and practice their skills. It looks promising. (You can find it on FB) So we are walking, it is ungodly hot, the smog hazes the city skyline, and we get to cross the major intersection north of us: Dongfeng and North Checheng Road. 

Holy crap.

I won't describe it and for sensitive grandma readers, I won't, but Josh's quote literally was, "Now we are gonna take our lives in our own hands for a second"and when the ridiculously terrifying experience was over he said, "traffic isn't too bad  right now". Gah... However, once we crossed we had a very calm, quiet stroll. It was actually... Pretty. A little park like grove of trees. Flowers everywhere. Aside from the river of sweat flowing down my back, it was pleasant. Little man did a heck of a job. It took us 30 minutes and a bottle of water to get there, but we made it. 


Foreign fellowship is held in a conference room of the corporate building for Diamond Power. It is lightly air conditioned. The first person I saw was wearing an Ohio U green tshirt. (Awesome!) As the group of 40 to 50 people gathered one resounding thing stood out: people were so nice. Like Mary Poppins nice. Not just smiling, but welcoming. Introducing themselves. My "membership chair" self was overwhelmed. The entire room looked like home. A mix of races and ages (definitely not all white, although the Asians must be foreign because Chinese people can not attend church from what I gather). And so. Many. Younger. Couples. And most with two blond children. 


The kids, who had been up since 4 am, were starting to fade. Both hung on us in the hot room like full body fat suits. The singing began. Just voices and a guitar. I sang but was soon crying (definitely more on the inside than out). In my head flashed every vision of the past 36 hours and my tired brain started to melt. 


I came to China for very specific personal reasons. Among them...to step away from an American life consumed by things that take me away from being a more in tuned, more present parent to my kids. You know what I'm saying I hope. Be more patient. Be less stressed with the daily to do list....

Yet since we have been in China I have been a shining example of the worst mother. I snap at Hudson. I'm over anxious about everything. I'm fearful for their every step that is out of my control. And even those we take together across the street! All those things do not make for a good parent. If I can not get myself together, I'm leaving here pronto. 


While singing, I silently I'll give myself a week and if it is not better I'm out of here. 



But the songs get in. To me. To my heart. I felt very called to come here. It was not some rash, this-will-be-super-cool-and-nothing-else decision. Where is my patience? Where is my faith? 

Following the six or so songs, I take the boys back with the other eleven or so kids (under the age of 5) to the little ones' class (in another VERY air conditioned) conference room.  The teacher was amazing. Like Harry Wong (famous teaching pedagogy author) would write a book about her lesson. She taught the kids bible songs. Old stuff I have not sung in 35 years. She did the most awesome object lesson on the parable on forgiveness. And then she had to leave. Emergency call from her husband who was with her sick kids. Would I and this mother named Rebecca do the craft and snack? Um, sure. 

Rebecca is from Texas and like many others at the fellowship she is here because if the international school. After our work is done and the kids had free play time, she offers to take me grocery/necessity shopping at WanDa shopping center this afternoon. Would I like that? 
I burst into tears. 

Walking out of foreign fellowship was as emotionally overwhelming as leaving our home church last Sunday. What seemed like everyone stopped us to give us the offer of their driver, their extra cellphone, a meal, to help with this transition. People looked at me intently and said nodding, "yep, I remember my first week here."  One mother of two named Amy handed me a paper with her phone number and email on it and said, "Going to China [to live] is like childbirth: you read about it, you talk to friends, but nothing can prepare you for it."

AMEN. 

We took a sweet lady from Ecuador's offer to go with us to the other side of the block and try to get money. (Easier said than done) Our second bank was a success! We have money!!! We can buy stuff! We can eat! And her offer included getting us with her via taxi to the (very American) Aloha Cafe for lunch. I'm dying to try more local cuisine, but Tucker has eaten so little up to this point, I want him to get something he will enjoy. 


The taxi ride was ... I'll just edit myself and say that to only focus on those seconds where we were left of the double yellow heading straight towards that bus would be a disservice to the rest of the 10 minute ride which was equally terrifying. But it cost us 12 RMB ($2) and took us to the very quiet French street shopping area which looks calm and promising. Lunch was so great. Tucker sucked down a chocolate milkshake, huge grilled chicken breast, and fries like a true American. I am so grateful. Mr. Mai himself sat next to me in our group of 15 from church. The cinematic feature  ET is showing at the coffeehouse tomorrow. They have kids programming each Saturday. And I get all the free tea and coffee I can ingest if I walk the 2 second jaunt from our apartment to voluntarily sit and speak English to all the locals. We left with full stomachs and love tanks. :) 

The rest of the day was shopping (for me) and naps (for all the boys). 

I know several of you have told me you envied this opportunity. Fair enough. But remember we are not tourists here. I'm not just walking the Great Wall of China and feasting on eggrolls all day. I'm breathing in the smog with the adventure. Culture shock does not even describe it. 

Mr. Mai, real name David, unsolicited advice told me that I need to give it 30 days. (Did I have "I'm outta here" plastered on my face???) China is not for the faint of heart. Your hungry but don't know how to order. Your scared but don't know what is safe. 


You have to be patient to hear God. So I will try. 

Written Monday, July something 
1:30-3:19 a.m. Wuhan, China