A Daring Adventure

Guess That's What Happens

I mean, when a child of yours is so sick that the amount of school they have missed in the last month is counted in WEEKS and not days, you know that the (school-wide, pre-scheduled) Parent-Teacher Conferences you're going to attend at the tail end of that sickness are going to SUCK.


And well they did. Suck, that is.


Yes, after a marathon sick session resulting in one of my sons being out of school for WEEKS, James and I then had Parent-Teacher Conferences yesterday.


Joyous.


We basically sat with each teacher individually, and listened while they talked to us about all the end-of-the-year (translation: HARD) work that was missed, and how there was SO MUCH missed work (translation: MOUNTAINS) and how it's a shame so much school time was missed (translation: HOPE THE KID WAS ON DEATH'S DOOR, LADY, CUZ THE FALLOUT IS GONNA SUCK SUPER MEGA ROYAL).


After a while, externally I was listening to what the teachers were saying to James and to me, but internally I was pretty much





and I'm totally not even kidding. 


Now, it's not like said son is going to - you know - FAIL ANYTHING or whatever, so I guess I should be glad that none of the teachers pulled any kind of Gandalf


(translation: YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!) 




But since I'm pretty much as close to an Asian parent as one can be when one is, you know, WHITE, and since my point on view on things closely tracks theirs


(translation: THE FOLLOWING NON-ANIMATED PICTURE, WHICH IS SELF-EXPLANATORY:)

I thus came home from said Parent-Teacher Conferences and pretty much was all






And was wholly unable to function the rest of the evening.


FAB.


So, anyway, all that to say... sometimes, when you're overseas, your kids get REALLY SICK. 


For a REALLY LONG TIME.


And then, when they're done being really sick, they have eleventy gazillion piles of backlogged schoolwork.


And that's life, sometimes, when you're overseas, folks.


Just FYI. 

 

Oh THANK GOD

We FINALLY have plane tickets for our summer R&R back to the United States!!!





I can't even describe the awesomeness of this. The amazingness of this.


If you haven't been through the torturous process of getting plane tickets for an R&R before, then you cannot imagine the bureaucratic pain involved in doing such.  


It literally took James something like TWO MONTHS to go from beginning to end. From the initial search for plane tickets to completing the entire bureaucratic process (including all the red tape) of getting and purchasing the R&R tickets.


He needed something like a zillion different people to authorize the tickets in order to create the plan/budget for it, then it got returned to him at the very last step because of semantics over one single (non-substantive) box, then it had to go back around the approval chain from the beginning, then when it finally got approved, the prior plane tickets he had used to establish the approval/budget initially WERE GONE (of course- that's what happens when a long period of time goes by, right? Plane tickets get sold out) and the remaining tickets were - of course - more expensive, and by then James was all






and trying DESPERATELY to find plane tickets that were within the budget/plans that had been previously approved, while knowing that the only currently available plane tickets were much more expensive, etc., and while having to go entirely through third-party purchasers whose native language isn't English (you can't search for or look into these things yourself), and while simultaneously trying to avoid having to begin the entire authorization process over from the beginning- AGAIN.


Which, a couple of days ago, it looked like he would have to do.


GLORIOUSNESS.


The story is long and torturous, so I will spare you the details. YOU'RE WELCOME. Long and short of it... in the end we had to pay out of pocket about $360 for R&R tickets that were initially fully in our travel budget, but then got more expensive as the days of bureaucratic wrangling went by. 


But I'm not complaining, because...


...at this point, we're just deliriously happy that the process is over and that we now have tickets!!! Other than the one-day-long school field trip we went on (during which I was introduced to Chinese "squatty-potties,"), it will be my first time outside of Chengdu since we arrived at post last September.  

BEEN HERE A WHILE, YEP.


                                              ~   ~   ~


And speaking of bureaucratic paperworky sorts of things, we're (mercifully) coming to the end of the current EER season!


There's nothing half so fun as staring at the same document for - what? - two months or something? - while simultaneously knowing that the document in question CAN MAKE OR BREAK YOUR CAREER.





No pressure.


Rumor has it that there's some sort of secret EER code of things to say and things not to say and things that, if said, mean more than just what normal people would think that they mean.


For example, on another State blog that I won't link to (because not everyone who reads my blog LIKES STATE BLOGS), I was reading that one potential example of an EER kiss of death would be if a supervisor said that he or she was "pleasantly surprised" at how the employee was able to do X or was "pleasantly surprised" at Y, because then they were secretly communicating to the panel that the supervisor had actually expected the employee to SCREW IT UP LIKE THEY ALWAYS DID, and were shocked when they didn't.  


Fun EER pitfalls.


Because, from what I understand, when writing your EER you can TOTALLY be writing along like all is well and that everything you're writing about yourself sounds great, but then it can be interpreted differently by the panel, thus resulting in unexpected ruination and despair, not unlike





 
Could someone well schooled in the fine art of EER writing and verbiage please write a secret dictionary or handbook of EER do's and don't's?  Or, if there is already such a thing, could someone please provide me with a copy?


Much obliged. 

Freaking KILL ME

Recently I've stopped complaining about this because, you know, hearing me whine about the same crap over and over has to get FREAKING OLD at some point, but seriously you guys...


...all my children ever are is SICK.


We've been at post for more than six months now. This morning, when not just ONE but BOTH of my children were too sick to go to school, I was all





I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE.


After trying to figure out if either of my kids had any hope of going to school this morning (nope), I closed the second bedroom door of the second too-sick-for-school-child (after having already given up on the first sick child) and walked down the hall back to my bedroom and basically collapsed from the hellish horror of it all





Knowing that I woud then have to 1.) call the school bus lady and tell her that neither of my kids will be at the stoopid bus, and 2.) email the attendance people at the school and say, YES, for the ELEVENTY ZILLIONTH TIME, my kids are sick.

Which is going to start another email conversation with the school about my children and their seeming lack of any basic immune system, and honestly at this point the idea of continuing to email back and forth about how my kids are, you know, ALWAYS FREAKING SICK has me all wanting to





I mean, the school is a nice school. The school is a GREAT school. THE SCHOOL IS INSANELY FANTASTIC and probably the best thing my family has going at this post.


But after a while, when one's children are, like, NEVER FREAKING THERE, you know the school has to wonder what in the world is our problem.


I'm sure the school has to wonder if I'm a pushover mom and if my kids are instead home, being all






(You can decide which sick child is represented by which dancing person.)  


But the above is NOT the case.


In fact, I am SO OVER the whole sick thing that let me just show you the kind of mood I am in/mother I am going to be today to Misters Sick and Sicker:




EXACTLY.


And I love you guys, but PLEASE DON'T EVEN START WITH ME and try to make me feel better. 


The first month we were here and the kids were sick the whole time, I was told by well-meaning people Don't worry, everyone is sick the first month at a new post!


Then when the second and third months came around and we were nothing but sick, everyone was all Yep, those first three months are really hard because *everyone* is always sick!


But now we're working on MONTH THE SEVENTH, PEOPLE, so if anyone tries to comfort me and be all Well, those first SEVEN MONTHS at a new post are really hard, because *everyone* is always sick! I'll be all




Because we're the only ones at post going through this crap.


I know, I know. I'm too uptight. It's wayyyyyyyyyy too easy for little things to tick me the heck off.  I freely admit to this.


I need to smell the roses. And look on the bright side. That the world isn't ending and no one is actually, like, DYING (unless I kill them!) and that I should try to be more




Except that 1.) I don't drink, and 2.) I'm not a beautiful princess.


So today, NONE OF US will be living happily ever after.


Especially not James and not me.


Because THIS is what life is like when *both* kids are SICK and CALLING FOR YOU EVERY MINUTE OF THE DAY/EVENING/NIGHT:






You parents know EXACTLY what I'm talking about.


THE END. 

Loud and Clear

Of all four of our family members, I think it can safely be said that I like China and Chengdu the most. By far. Because I really, really do like it. There is something amazing about being immersed in another country, and I am incredibly grateful that the people of Chengdu look at me and my family members with interest and even curiosity rather than hostility, as I know happens in some other countries to other Foreign Service families. 


I mean, duh, right? Americans aren't, you know, universally loved everywhere around the globe. 


Were the tables turned, and *I* was the native Chengdu-ian and *someone else* was the white (obviously American) lady coming into my shop to, oh, buy fruit/get a foot massage/what have you, I would have every reason to assume that she can't speak a word of Chinese beyond maybe saying hello (ni hao). If she even knew how to say that.


And that's the assumption that is always made about me.


I totally don't blame Chinese folks in the slightest that they assume that I can't speak or understand Chinese. Because they're correct 99.9% of the time... the vast majority of shopping white ladies here probably can't understand much of anything that is said in Chinese around them. Which isn't their fault, of course - not all wives (by any stretch of the imagination) have gotten the opportunity to study the language before accompanying their husbands overseas. 


But the same isn't true about *me*.


Because, even though my 2/1+ in Mandarin doesn't get me too far, it DOES get me far enough. And the same goes for James, who has a 2/2.


We hear. We understand. We know.


Sometimes Americans don't meet the Chinese standard of what people should look like. Some are taller or stockier than the norm here. Here in China, when you are physically outside the standard or norm, the method used to bring you back into the cultural parameters of how this society says you "should look" is OPEN HONESTY and even public ridicule. No - oh, maybe we shouldn't say that because it will hurt people's feelings - and no - oh, maybe this will damage their self-esteem.


Nope.


If the Chinese think you are too fat, then they will straight up tell you: You are too fat. And then they will laugh at you. As will others within earshot. Who will then probably, themselves, repeat the charge. Because everyone knows that you are too fat. To them, it's obvious. To them, saying these things isn't taboo at all. James and I understand EXACTLY what is being said if we are there to hear it. Sometimes, people who are too fat or too this or too that are even asked by incredulous questioners: Why are you so fat? 


Not so fun. 


                                            ~   ~   ~


The other morning, I was in a little fruit shop buying some fruit. The sales girls behind the counter were talking about me. I just let them talk. They weren't saying anything bad about me - but I was very much an object of intense curiosity. One of them even said I'm sure she doesn't understand us. I let them keep talking until I went to the counter to pay. 


Then I broke out the Chinese.  It's not the best Chinese in the universe, but it is good enough to get eyebrows raised, shocked looks, and to be able to answer all of their questions:


Them:  "You speak Chinese really well!"


Me: "Thank you, but I think I speak Chinese really badly."


Them: "Do you live here?"


Me: "Yes, I live here."


Them: "How long have you lived here?"


Me: "Oh, about seven months."


Them: "What country are you from?"


Me: "I'm an American. I studied Mandarin back in America before I came here."


I paid for the fruit without fumbling with the money (because I understood exactly what the cost was, and I knew how to pay in kuai even though it's different than dollars), put the fruit in my bag, and then bid them goodbye.


::continued shocked looks:: 


                                             ~   ~   ~


One of the most wonderful things about Chengdu is that you can get FANTASTIC foot or even whole body massages for a tiny fraction of the price that they would be back in the U.S.


Heavenly.


I have taken Matthew with me several times.


On the vast majority of those occasions, I have listened to the conversations between the girl massaging *me* and the girl massaging *Matthew*. And they talk about him.


He's so tall! So very tall. And so handsome, they will giggle. They have universally assumed that he goes to college here. Once or twice they have (correctly) assumed that he is an American, that he is the son of someone at the U.S. Consulate nearby, and that he is here because of that.


They pay him particular attention.


On more than one occasion, they have assumed that Matthew and I are a couple. Which is when I rouse from my not-speaking-Chinese-but-just-enjoying-the-massage-stupor to set the record straight: 


Me: "Um, NO. He's my SON. He's my oldest SON."


Them: "Oh! You speak Chinese! He's your son?!"


Me: "Yes. I am very old."


Them (*giggling*): "You are not old! You look very young!"


Me: "Thank you. But yes, I am very old. Very, very old."


Them: "He is very handsome! Does he go to Sichuan University?"


Me: "No, he is in high school."


Them: "High school! But he looks so old! And so very tall! How old is he?"


Me: "He's 18 years old."


And the conversation continues. Because once my cover is blown and it is demonstrated that I can speak enough Chinese that we can at least have a rudimentary conversation, I know that we will all be talking during the duration of my time there. And that 99.9% of the conversation will be about Matthew. 


Yes, he plays basketball. He likes math. Yes, he's an American. We both are. The conversation continues...


Which is, you know, fine. Because I like being able to show that, yes, sometimes the Americans here can speak your language enough to communicate even a bit.


It makes me feel good.  


Most of the time.

Are We Happy? (Possibly Part the First of I Don't Know How Many)

A very brave bloggy girlfriend of mine (no, sorry, won't link to her because not everyone who reads my blog LIKES BLOGS) recently wrote about how she's been at post for a while now and whether or not she's happy there. She answered yes. And no. And maybe. And how things at post are WAY different than what she and her husband had expected before they got there. Not different *bad*, just... different. 


It got me to thinking. About expectations pre-arrival and realities post-arrival. 


Pre-arrival, James had many high hopes for his first overseas assignment. Somehow, he had envisioned that he would be using his trained-for-a-long-time-language skills (2/2 in Mandarin, baby!) Every. Single. Day, and that he would be sharpening them to utter Mandarin perfection, leaving post with a higher language score upon departure, just from the sheer awesome immersion language-y experience of it all.

Neither of those has happened, nor will they. 


He also dreamed of our family traveling around frequently on breaks or weekends (actually, I'm not specifically sure when exactly he planned on traveling) around China or Asia or the EAP area or... something. You know: travel. Seeing stuff. That was another one of his major goals. Another thing that he specifically looked forward to.


Which hasn't happened, either. Nor will it.


It's hard when your children are older and you don't want to pull them out of AP classes in order to go look at some random something somewhere. Or when they're always either sick or injured, as is the case with our two sons. So the traveling thing hasn't really happened. Oh, sure, we have DS friends on Facebook who literally seem to be jetting off to Lord only knows where every freaking weekend (hate you people! You know who you are!!), but that's... not what's been going on with us. 


It's just... reality. It's not bad, it's just...life. It's different than what we expected.


The other weekend, even though one of our sons was ill (of course) and the other was injured (of course), James and I left the house via taxi to go to a local tourist-y place that we had not visited yet. Because, let's face it: the boys wouldn't have wanted to have gone with us even if they had been feeling 100% fantabulous, that's why.


It's spring!  A smallish tree across the street from the Consulate burst out in bloom recently:






The flowers only lasted for a few days at the most. But they were pretty. And in a city filled with 15 million people, you sorta hafta grab the beauty when the grabbin's good. You know?


On the way to the touristy spot, we passed an excellent reminder of why we don't own a car/drive here:





I snapped that above photo from the back of our cab, and it made the cab driver reallllllllly nervous. 


What you're looking at in that picture is a tiny portion of a HUGE, rowdy crowd that had gathered literally in the middle of the street after an electric scooter and a car collided. People were yelling at each other in Mandarin, police officers were at the scene yelling at the yelling people, injured folks were there, as well, and as we drove by I was all Oh hell no, I am SO GLAD we don't own a car. Because when wrecks happen here, from what I understand money changes hands before people depart the scene. So the crowd gets involved in who did what wrong and whose fault it was, advocating for this and that for one person or another. Can you even IMAGINE?  


::shudder::
 

We got to the touristy spot and found the solution to one of life's MYSTERIES:





Namely: Who the HELL has been selling teenaged and young adult Chinese girls eyeglass frames WITHOUT ANY GLASS OR LENSES WHATSOEVER INSIDE THEM and convinced said girls that wearing empty, plastic eyeglass frames on their faces was a good fashion choice?!


That street vendor, for one.


Craziest thing I have ever seen, I kid you not, and it's all over the place here... girls will wear those empty eyeglass frames on their faces. Out in public. Like those colorful, plastic, COMPLETELY EMPTY eyeglass frames are some kind of face bling or something.


We went into the touristy spot, and I'll say this: it was quite lovely. Which is why it had to be touristy. Just saying. No offense, Chengdu. But there were no green or yellow spat-out-phlegm-globs on the sidewalks or baby/toddler poo on the sidewalks (or baby/toddler puddles of urine on the sidewalks), and the stores all looked something like this on the outside:




 
The stores sold touristy sorts of things, such as Mao bags:

And t-shirts that were, um, ODD:





:::speechless:::


And there was food EVERYWHERE.


I've said it before and I'll say it again: Chengdu, China has the best food of any post anywhere on this planet. Kid you not. Don't even approach me to try to challenge me on this. YOU ARE WRONG.






I loved the buildings. So much character! Touristy character, of course, but HEY, I'LL TAKE IT:





and




And just in case you were wondering, HELLS YEAH Chengdu has Starbucks. It has them all the heck over the place. There's even one within a one minute walk of the Consulate. 


This one was very.... touristy and pretty:





It even had the Chinese name for Starbucks on a separate sign that lined up with its English Starbucks name, allowing me to get a shot of both of the signs at once:




Which is fun, but probably only for those of us who tortured ourselves in Mandarin and thus care about these sorts of geeky language things.


All in all, it was nice to get out and about a little, even if everything we saw WAS just touristy, and even if we stayed within downtown Chengdu the whole entire time, basically just minutes away from where we live or where James works or where our kids go to school, etc. Not so much... travel. And not so much as a family. And we didn't even use our wicked Mandarin skillz (kidding! A 2/2 gets you pretty much nowhere here!) at all.


So... yeah.  Differences in expectations pre-arrival-at-post and realities post-arrival-at-post. 


Interesting to ponder, especially since we've just passed our six month mark here in Chengdu. Meaning that our assignment is now officially more than a quarter over.  And did I mention that we bid this summer/fall?


Crazy.

Bigger Than You and Me

So much to say.


First of all, have you read Jill's latest Foreign Service BRU (Blog RoundUp)?  If you haven't, then you're missing out!  


Also, I have two other issues to bring to your attention...


1.)  United Airlines has made it tons more difficult and SCADS more expensive for those of us in the Foreign Serivce who are pet owners to take our beloved pets with us when we move overseas.  United has knowingly exempted members of the U.S. military from their insanely expensive new rules (noting that the military serves its country, as though we don't or something??), but refuses to exempt us.  And yes, these new policies will be dire for pet-owning Foreign Service families. 


A dear, sweet girlfriend of mine is collecting stories of Foreign Service pets and she has been posting them (and will continue to post them) on her blog, the name of which is At Post. If you are a Foreign Service pet owner, please consider sending her your pet's photos and story for inclusion. You can email your stories and pictures to her at: kennedyas(at sign)yahoo.com, and you can read more about this project on her blog's sidebars.


We want to show United Airlines that their policies are hurting real families with real pets. Pets who are dear to us. Many of whom have even been rescued from difficult circumstances all over the world:





To keep up with the happenings in regards to United and our pets, you can track the updates on AFSA's website.


2.)  Speaking of, have I mentioned that I LOOOOOOOves me some AFSA? 


Oh yes, my friends, me a AFSA are like peas and carrots. Peanut butter and jelly. Or, if you're in Chengdu... like chicken feet and spicy veggies. (I'll be the chicken feet. They can be the veggies. I love you that much, AFSA!) We just... go together.


So when my bestest buddies at AFSA wrote me and asked if I could help get the word out about a very, very worthwhile cause, I was all HELLS YEAH, MAH PEEPZ!! And a worthwhile cause it is.


So- calling all of you who are federal employees! You know who you are. You're the ones universally hated by Congress, and blamed for all of the financial ills of not just our country but all of the countries of the world, somehow. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. And it's time to help one of our own.


Her name is Hannah, and she is brave. And sweet. And a brand-new State Department employee. And unexpectedly battling cancer. And in dire need of your leave donations. Watch her video and you will understand why:





Any federal employee can donate leave to her. Here's how. Let's make it so that worrying about her leave balance is the last thing on her mind as she walks the difficult path ahead of her.


And can I just say?


Hannah is extraordinary. Were *I* the one in her position, my video would be of me whining. And crying. And probably cursing the skies. Because I'm just...um...less sweet and less patient than she is. But her video is nothing like mine would be.


And I am in awe of her.