Kristin Bair O'Keeffe: Writer. Mom. Teacher. Traveler.

The Path to Shanghai's 2010 World Expo Is Paved with Bamboo Scaffolding

One year from May 1, the 2010 World Expo will open in Shanghai. The countdown has begun, and so has the mad scramble to renovate, rehab, update, polish, and spit-shine every friggin' building in the city. The results are wonderful, but for those of who have to navigate the streets and sidewalks with strollers, the path to urban grandeur is hell. Bamboo scaffolding is everywhere. When it's not up, it's down...humongous bundles of the stuff lying about, waiting to be moved in the middle of the night to new locations. Here's a bundle on my street, Anfu Road.

My First Mother's Day, The Purest Truth

In Mandarin, the word for adopt is lingyang. I purposely learned this word before going to Vietnam to bring Tulliver home because I knew once back in Shanghai, I'd get a lot of questions from folks on the street. Although there are many expats in Shanghai who have adopted (mostly from China), it is not common for native Chinese to adopt and adoption is not a concept most Chinese understand. (Most, I say, not all.)

Every weekday morning, Tully and I take a walk, usually ending up at a playgroup, a singing circle, or a park. On the way there, every single day, we are stared at and talked about by many, including the herd of waitresses and chefs from the Chinese restaurant across the street who gather in a nearby lane to cut veggies and clean fish; every day when Tully and I walk down the lane, their eyes nearly pop out of their heads with wonder and confusion.

The looks we get say it all..."What the heck is this white woman doing with this Asian baby?"

At least once a day, usually more, someone asks me at least one of the following questions (in Chinese):

Is this your baby?
Are you her mother?
Is she Chinese?
Is her father Chinese?
Why does she look Chinese?

My response varies according to my mood. Sometimes I feel as if I...and Tully...are ambassadors for adoption...and that by sharing our story, we make a difference. On these days, I slow the stroller and explain that Tully is Vietnamese and that my husband and I adopted her. Other times, I simply smile, keeping moving, and say that she is my daughter. Ta shi wode nuer. This statement is the purest truth. She is my daughter.

The Opera Singer: The Brighter Side of Shanghai Parks

So while at the SAME park in which Tully and I were kicked off the grass and during the same visit...

From across the park, I saw a man near the pond. Chinese guy about, oh, 50ish. Like dozens of other folks, he was doing tai chi and giving a vigorous rub to his temples. I'm always captivated by people in Shanghai parks...doing their own thing...swinging their arms, walking backward, bumping up against tree trunks, dancing with fans, etc. But this guy was different. He had this confidence about his swinging and rubbing that made me (and lots of others) stop to watch him. He was like the Michael Phelps of tai chi (minus the bong). Right away, I liked him.

I first saw him before the grassy knoll incident, and then again, after. And even though I was miffed, I was interested. Pretty soon he was walking along behind Tully and I, and he began to sing. At first he sang scales, beautiful scales, and his deep voice resonated throughout the park. Even the leaves and flowers perked up when he sang.

All of a sudden he was singing opera. Tully stopped. I stopped. Tully turned. I turned. And then he was singing to her. She was fascinated. So was I.

He finished his song, said, "Beautiful" in English to and about Tully, and moved on.

Do Re Mi.

Get Off the Grass: The Wacky World of Shanghai Parks

"Get off the grass! Get off the grass!" This morning a uniformed guard raced at me and Tully from across the park, waving his arms and shaking his finger. We were--had been--playing in the grass at Jingan Park. It was a gorgeous day--sunny, clear, with a nice breeze.

I looked up when I heard him and grumbled. This again. No playing on the grass in the park.

Of course the guard was yelling in Chinese, and since I haven't been studying my Chinese like I should be, he could have been yelling, "Hey, do you guys want some French fries?" and I might not have known.

But he wasn't. It was very clear that we were NOT supposed to be playing on the grass.

As the guard took the liberty of pushing my stroller onto the pavement, a gaggle of similarly uniformed guards stood nearby shaking their heads at me. I'm sure they were thinking, "What is it with laowei? Why do they always want to play on the grass?"

After all, the Chinese grandmothers and grandfathers who had escorted their young charges to the park were playing quite happily on the small concrete slab.

But me? Brazen me? And Tully? That brazen toddler of mine? Well, we were picking up sticks from under the tree. Shocking. Tully was learning how to hold sticks in her hands and walk at the same time (an important lesson for a newly walking child).

Crap. I wanted to play in the grass. I wanted Tully to play in the grass.

Oh, well, we moved on and watched a group of women dance with red fans.

Old Blog / New Blog

For nearly three years, I blogged at Shanghai Adventures of a Trailing Spouse (www.shanghaiadventuresofatrailingspouse.com). I wrote about my writing path and lots of personal stuff (culture shock upon moving to China, intimate details of my amoebic dysentery, dreams, our adoption of Tulliver, etc.). No matter what I was writing about, I told the truth.

But strangely, here, in this spit-shiny new blog, I feel exposed. Weirdly exposed. Exposed in a way I never felt at the old blog. Maybe because the background of this blog is so white. Maybe because the organization of it is so simple. Maybe because it uploads so quickly compared to the uploading of the old blog (created on my iWeb program).

I don't know. I just know that it feels different and it's something I have to get used to fast, because as always, I've got a lot to say.

Old blog.
New blog.

New blog.
Old blog.

My Favorite Way to See Shanghai

What I Wanted to Be When I Grew Up

Today, as I read to Tully "It's okay to dream BIG" (from Todd Parr's The Okay Book), I rattled off a list of things she could dream about being when she grew up (and of course, actually be someday). "Dancer," I said. "Astronaut." Then, "organic farmer, puppeteer, architect, florist, mapmaker," and a few others.

Then as she studied the star above the illustrated girl's head, I thought of some of the things I'd dreamed about being when I was a kid.

1. writer
2. architect
3. inventor
4. farmer
5. gorilla-ologist (one who studies gorillas...something to which I still aspire)

Anyone else?

The First 30 Days: Blogging Every Day

Here's my goal: Every day for the first 30 days of this new blog, I blog. I get something down. I explore writing or Shanghai or mamahood or adoption or some other topic. I get back into the blogging groove.

This is day 3.

And this is my daughter Tulliver.