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

Expat in China: 10 of My Favorite Blog Posts from 2006

It's hard to believe that in less than two weeks, my family and I will be moving back to the United States. As I get ready to leave Shanghai, I find myself reminiscing--with friends, my husband, the lady in the lane, my ayi, my daughter's teachers...pretty much anyone who will listen to me yammer on for fifteen minutes at a stretch.

Since I've been blogging from China since we moved here in March 2006, over the next 12 days, I'm going to take you on a stroll down blog-memory lane. I'll start with some of my favorite posts from 2006, take you through 2007, 2008, and 2009, and end with 2010.

(Please note: I cringe a little when I look back at my first blog, "Shanghai Adventures of a Trailing Spouse." I was using iWeb and it's kinda clunky and bumpy. Bear with me.)

So (drumroll, please) here are 10 of my favorite posts from 2006:

• "Oh No...I've Got Smold" (Um, yes, I still have smold.)

• "An Overheard Conversation" (also now known as, "God, this laowai is an a*#*#!@*#")

• "Literary Shanghai" (funny how rich my writing life is now...sure wasn't when I wrote this post)

• "Our Chinese Names" (love this...)

• "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the ____" (truly an "only in China" story)

• "A Nathan Story" (definitely one of the reasons going back to the U.S. is so sweet right now)

• "Synthesizing China" (dreaming in China)

• "Centered in Shanghai: Open Your Eyes, Junior Birdman!" (I forgot I'd written this.)

• "Stomach Update: Amoebas Be Gone" and "My Stomach: Final Notes (I Hope)" and "Damn Amoebas: They're Back" (This is a very unfortunate series.)

• "Traffic Trouble in Shanghai" (2006) & "How To Avoid Getting Hit on the Streets of Shanghai: A Word Problem" (2010)

Enjoy the ride!

How (Not) to Talk to Adoptive Families: Part IV

Setting: the small gym in our apartment building in Shanghai

Setup: I’m on the elliptical machine with the Black-Eyed Peas blasting in my ears when this 10ish-year-old kid named Frederick (name changed) whom I’ve known for over three years hops onto the elliptical next to me. Most of the time, I like Frederick. He’s smart, boisterous, friendly, and funny. But he’s also got a bit of a dark side, and when his folks aren’t looking, he often taunts younger kids, gets physical (swings bookbags at unsuspecting heads, etc.), and looks for ways to irritate adults.

Here's how it went:

Frederick: "So...did you adopt Tully?" (This was his opening line.)

Me: (pauses music) "I couldn't hear you, Frederick. What did you say?" (even though I'd heard him perfectly)

Frederick: "Did you adopt Tully?"

Me: (takes off headphones) "Yes, we did. Tully's dad and I adopted her from Vietnam."

Frederick: "Oooohhhhhh, THAT'S why she doesn't look like you."

Me: "That's why she doesn't look like me." (Hoping to leave it at that, I turn to look for Frederick's mom who often follows him into the gym at this time of day for Frederick's 30-minute workout, but alas, she's nowhere to be seen.)

Frederick: (obviously not planning to leave it at that) "Because if Tully were your REAL daughter, she would look like you."

Me: (I take a very deep breath so I don't tell this 10ish-year-old kid to *#@&% off as I consider how Tully would feel if she were standing within earshot and heard this kid say that she's not my REAL daughter. I think about the many ways she does look like me and her dad--gestures, facial expressions, voice inflections--the many beautiful ways she probably looks very much like her birth parents, and the miraculous ways she looks like her own gorgeous self. I also think about the word "real" and its implications.) "Frederick, what I think you mean is that if I'd given birth to Tully, she would look more like me physically. But birth or not, Tully is my real daughter."

Frederick: (churns away on his elliptical) "But if you didn't give birth to her, she's not your REAL daughter. You know what I mean?"

Me: (I attempt to minimize the steam puffing out of my ears and remember that this is a 10ish-year-old kid and that this is an opportunity to educate him about adoption, but OMG, it's so hard. This half-Indian, half-Chinese very privileged kid lives in China, attends an international school, and has savvy, world-smart parents who've lived all over the world; two of this kid's close friends are Chinese sisters who were adopted by an American couple...does he talk to them like this?) "I know exactly what you mean, Frederick, but you are wrong. Tully is my daughter. No, I did not give birth to her, but she is my real daughter."

Denouement: With that, I turn up my music. Frederick's mouth keeps moving but the Black-Eyed Peas drown out his words. I'm not in the mood to explain or defend my family. After a few minutes, his mom comes in, tells him to stop bothering me with his chatter, and puts him on the exercise bike in front of "Xi Yang Yang," a wildly popular Chinese cartoon show about a happy sheep.

_____

Note: This, unfortunately, is Part IV in my ongoing series "How (Not) to Talk to Adoptive Families." If you're interested, you can read Parts I, II, and III here, here, and here.

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Photo Credit: graur codrin / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Zai Jian, Shanghai: 27 Days & Counting

In 27 days, we fly out of Shanghai and move back to the U.S. (sniff, sniff) Here's a quick look at how it's going:

• I'm having lunch/dinner/coffee/drinks/dessert with many, many friends. Happy to say, my dance card is brimming and that I've got some pretty amazing friends in this fascinating land.

• Over the weekend I had dinner with some really cool brand-new friends. Strangely it will be hard to leave them, too.

• Last week, three moving companies came on three consecutive days to survey our stuff and place bids to see who gets to move us back. A hand-to-hand competition that comes down to: "Who will break the least amount of stuff?" and "If said stuff gets broken, who will reimburse us with the biggest check?" I was kind of nervous for the first survey...felt like I was auditioning for a show and had practiced my Vanna-White moves for showing off our furniture. ("And this," I said, wafting both hands through the air and scooping them dramatically in the direction of a cabinet, "is our lovely Tibetan chest." By the last survey I was like, "Yadayadayada. Tick-tock. Tick-tock."

Quick summary:

• The first guy, eh. Probably my first choice business-wise, but the guy hates China & I don't want to give my business to someone with so much negativity (and someone who shares such negativity with a potential client...um, hello?).

• The second was a ball of dough going through the motions. I looked for a sign that she gave a hoot about her job or at least how well my stuff would fair on the journey from China to the U.S., but alas, nary a one.

• The third was good. Personable. Informative. Thorough. But I've worked with this company before on a move and am not convinced the follow-through is as good as the promise. (Maybe if this guy could accompany our stuff in the shipment container, be present at every customs check, and oversee the packing & unpacking...but the survey is probably the last I'll see of him.)

• On Sunday afternoon, I spent a good bit of time packing up papers in my office. I'm a writer. Inevitably there is a lot of paper wherever I go. But I dumped much of it (except, of course, for the 29 hard copies of my novel manuscript that I've printed to read/edit...they weigh a ton, but I'm taking them back...ssshhh, don't tell my husband).

Good god...did I say 27 days until we fly out of here? What the heck am I doing writing a blog entry? I've got work to do! Boxes to ship! Journals to pack! Thumbtacks to put in a box!

Stay tuned!

_________

Yinyang Photo Credit: Filomena Scalise / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

A Novel: Writing the Pitch

When I posted on Facebook that I was working on the 1-sentence pitch for my next novel, two friends came up with great suggestions:

• Just read me!

• International bestseller!

Good god, I wish it were that easy.

Instead I've been holed up in my tiny office for the past six days rolling sentence after sentence around in my noggin, on a piece of scratch paper, and on the computer screen. I've written possible 1-sentence pitches on receipts from City Shop, my left hand, yellow stickies, a menu (while out to dinner), the inside cover of The Best American Travel Writing 2009, and other sundries.

For all you non-writers out there, the 1-sentence pitch is your "elevator pitch." You know, you find yourself in an elevator with a top editor at a top publishing house who can make or break your career and you've got, oh, 15 seconds or so to pitch your book. (Of course, this is an absurd and highly unlikely scenario in today's publishing world, but go with me.)

You can also think of the 1-sentence pitch as what you tell a fellow mom you meet at the playground and with whom you have a quick conversation while your kids are climbing the monkey-bars. As her two-year-old runs off in the direction of the street, she hollers over her shoulder, "What's your book about?" and you've got about 15 seconds before she's out of earshot.

Soooooooooo...how's it all going?

Well, while being tortured by the 1-sentence pitch, I've also written a 1-paragraph pitch and a 2-paragraph pitch (getting it all done in one fell swoop). According to my husband, the 2-paragraph pitch is (hee hee) "pitch-perfect."

Whoo-hoo!

But, he went on to tell me, the 1-sentence pitch isn't.

UUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I wish he were wrong, but I know he's right.

So it's back to the scribbling pad.

Wish me luck. Cause you know, since I am going to moving halfway around the world in about five weeks, there are just few other things I should be doing.

___

Pencil Photo Credit: Francesco Marino / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Film Clip Photo Credit: Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Big, Sad, Happy, Crazy News...We're Leaving China

Okay, folks, here's the scoop.

After spending 4 1/2 years in Shanghai, China, we are repatriating. We'll be moving back to the United States at the beginning of October.

Wow...did I just say that out loud? Cause you know, saying it out loud makes it real.

Let's listen again.

After spending 4 1/2 years in Shanghai, China, we are repatriating. We'll be moving back to the United States at the beginning of October.

Holy cannoli.

I said it out loud. It must be true.

How do I feel?

Damn good question with no easy answers. To help clarify the three main emotions I've been experiencing since making this life-changing, boom-da-da-boom-da-da-boom-da-da-boom decision, I drew a few pictures. Let's see if this helps us sort it out:

I'm happy. Very happy. I can't wait to have family and U.S. pals within hugging distance. Get ready...I'll be hugging BIG!

I'm so so sad. I'm gonna miss many things like Mr. Chen (our driver), the Chicken Man, my writing pals, my writing students, lots of very special friends, Out Loud! (the reading series I run), kick-ass jiaozi (dumplings), an incredibly diverse multi-cultural life, easy access to tropical paradises (i.e., Borneo), having an ayi to clean up every single mess my two-year-old makes, my daughter's bilingual school, the monks at the Longhua Temple, the view of the Pearl Tower from my 23rd floor apt, and...and...and...

Oh me gosh. Y'all know that moving is crazy even if you're only moving a few blocks down the street, but moving to the other side of the world is even crazier. It's a completely insane journey that (as you can see) is already making me just a wee bit loony. And guess what? I'm only going to get loonier. 

Sooooo...anyway...I imagine I'll be doing a lot of writing in the next 6 or so weeks about China and change and all the crazy stuff that happens during this process. Pop in often to witness the happy-sad-loony tales (a.k.a. the yippee-boohoo-OMG tales) of my next around-the-world move.

How (Not) to Talk to Adoptive Families: Part III

Yep. Part III. (Haven't read Parts I and II? Click here and here respectively.)

Yesterday I was at a kid's birthday party with 2.5-year-old daughter in Shanghai and I met a woman from Eastern Europe. A seemingly smart woman who has lived in Shanghai for five years, is married to a guy from a different country than her own, is mom to a one-year-old daughter, and will give birth to her second in September.

Pretty savvy, right?

So we were chatting. The normal expat chatter: "How long have you lived here? Whose job brought you here?" Yadda, yadda, yadda. A few kids raced past. The woman said, "Which one is yours?"

I pointed to Tully as she screeched to a halt in front of me. "That one."

The woman jolted upright. "That one?" she said, pointing at Tully as if there was no way in hell that one could be my daughter.

"Yep, this one," I said, once again indicating Tully who was by then wrapped around my legs.

Because I'm very familiar with the "big-crap-is-about-to-come-out-of-this-person's-mouth-about-adoption" tone of voice, I knew I should have scooped Tully up in my arms and headed home...or at least hightailed it to a different room.

But before I could move or speak, the woman tossed back her head and laughed. Then she said, "Who is her father?"

"Excuse me?" I said. But then somehow instead of punching this obviously-not-so-smart woman in the face (which is what I really want to do), I ended up explaining that my husband was from Ireland and that we had adopted Tully from Vietnam.

All while Tully was standing there, looking up at me, hugging my legs, and listening.

Then the woman said, "Oh, my god, how did you feel when they plopped a one-year-old in your arms?"

I wanted to say, "In love. Peaceful. The happiest I've ever been in my life. Glowy. Thankful. Totally overwhelmed. Frightened. Just like every other mom in the world--birth or adoptive," but instead I sat there fighting back the tears because all I could think was "Tully is listening to this nincompoop."

Of course, the woman couldn't leave well enough alone. She studied us for a few minutes, then said, "You know, she kind of resembles you. Thin. Long face. She could almost be your daughter."

"Uh, dumb-ass," I should have said, "she is."

But instead...I sat frozen in my seat, confounded by this woman's brazen insensitivity. My face flaming with anger and mortification.

To be fair, the woman's husband looked a little embarrassed as she spoke, and I believe he actually sensed my discomfort. Maybe his wife is a nincompoop all the time. Maybe she's just one of those people who, no matter what the circumstance, sticks her big foot in her mouth.

Today?

I'm pissed at myself...because I didn't handle the conversation better...because I haven't yet gotten down a smooth response to people like this...because I feel like I didn't protect Tully properly.

But don't worry. I'll be fine. My hubs and I have an ongoing conversation about how best to respond to intrusive questions/comments about our family. It's a process...like everything else in life.

___

Photo by Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Summer in Shanghai: From Sunsleeves to Belly Rubbers

It's the end of July in Shanghai. The plum rains have ended (thank god), and the temperature has climbed higher-and-higher-and-higher.

As always, two things happen at this time of year:

• 90% of women don sun-sleeves, sun-capes, sunhats, sunbrellas, and sun-masks. (Of course, if you don't have a sunhat handy, anything with which you can cover your head will do...see below.) It's hot here. H-O-T hot. Super hot. Scorching hot. And unlike we Westerners who are always trying to get a little color, cop a tan, etc., women in Shanghai do anything and everything to avoid the sun's rays.

• 90% of men on the streets roll up their shirts, and 75% of those, rub their bellies while repeating "Oh, good gracious, it's hot" (in Chinese, of course). Thus, my nickname for them: "belly rubbers."

Check it out:

Forgot your sunhat? A damp towel with a clothespin clasp does the trick quite nicely.

Classic sunhat/sun-cape combo (from the back).

Another classic sunhat/sun-cape combo (from the front).

Sun-cape with the not-so-fashionable but incredibly functional sun-mask.

Wearing short-sleeves but don't want to wear the full sun-cape? A pair of sunsleeves is your answer. Brilliant, aren't they?

The sun-mask can be paired with a long-sleeved shirt for maximum coverage.

Sunsleeves and sun-capes can be purchased at most markets in Shanghai.

Available in a variety of colors...

Sunbrella in action...

As you can see, it's best to match your sunbrella to your outfit, but if you can't, on the hottest days no one will care.

See? Up goes the temperature, up go the men's shirts.

Belly-rubber on bike.

And at the market.

How to Avoid Getting Hit on Shanghai Streets: A Word Problem

Location: Anfu Road, Shanghai, China

Incident: Twice this morning I was very nearly mowed down by hurtling cars, flying scooters, and zooming bicycles while walking my daughter to school. Twice in 4 minutes. This a ridiculous daily occurrence in Shanghai where pedestrians have no right of way and where vehicles do not obey the rules of the road. Such anxiety-inducing incidents often result in very bad expat behavior (i.e., hollering, cursing, waving of the middle finger, tire kicking, etc.). Instead of "road rage," we have "pedestrian rage." (Well, there's road rage, too, but one thing at a time.)

Thought Process: Today's incidents made me think about word problems. You know, from 8th grade math: "A train is heading to Chicago at 175 mph. A second train leaves for Chicago an hour later..." Blah, blah, blah. Honestly, I always hated word problems, but finally I've found relevance for them in my life. Here we go...

Word Problem*

A scooter leaves the corner of Wulumuqi Road and Anfu Road in Shanghai, China, traveling at 35 mph. One second later, a car leaves the same location traveling at 45 mph. How long does it take the car to overtake the scooter (and run down the PEDESTRIAN who is crossing Anfu Road at exactly that moment)?

(Please note: Both vehicles are swerving and veering around bicycle carts, bicycles, an old woman, and a stray dog.)

Let t = the time the scooter has traveled when overtaken

Let (t - 1) = the time the car has traveled before overtaking

Equation: 35t = 45(t - 1)

Therefore: t = 4.5

ANSWER: PEDESTRIAN has 4.5 seconds to get her ass off of Anfu Road before being crushed to bits by the car. (And maybe a second more to escape the scooter...give or take a few tenths of a second.) Run, PEDESTRIAN, run!!!! Faster, faster!

___

*Note to Math Geniuses Around the World: I was always (and assume I am still) terrible at solving word problems. If this answer (or my equation) is wrong, please don't tell me. If you are a math teacher, just cheer on my attempt to create a mathematical solution to my pedestrian challenge. Thank you very much.

Tully & Katie: A Long Friendship (and a lot of ice cream)

Way back in September 2008 when Andrew and I were in Vietnam bringing Tulliver home, we met our wonderful friends Becky and Brian (B&B) Stelmack who were also in Vietnam adopting their daughter Katie. Tully and Katie were in the same orphanage and had known each other for most of their young lives.

Vietnam, September 2008 (Kristin & Tully, Becky & Katie)

Each time we've returned to the U.S. to visit since our adoptions were finalized, we've met up with the Stelmacks, and Katie and Tully have been able to continue the friendship that began when they were wee babies. It's a sweet, loving connection, and when they're not together, Tully says things like, "I went to the beach with my friend Katie," and Katie says things like, "Tully's mumma is Kristin." They look at photos and videos of each other, and we parents talk a lot about the girls to them. It's an important connection.

Last Sunday, almost two years later after our journey to Vietnam, we met the Stelmack family in Newburyport for a day at the beach, lunch, ice cream, and some good Tully/Katie time.

As predicted, these two precocious two-year-olds were a hoot together. It was terrific.

Katie (left) & Tully (right)

"I'll help you."

"This is my bucket. That's your bucket."

A bit of mountain climbing. (These girls are up for anything!)

Lots of hugging going on.

"Hey, Katie, come smell these flowers...the dirt smells good, too."

"I like ice cream. How 'bout you, Tully? You like ice cream?"

"Oh yeah, I LOVE ice cream."

"...especially when I'm running around a tree."

"Try some of mine?"

"Oh, that's delicious!"

Moms & daughters. Look how our girls have grown.

Whew...we're thirsty.

And yeah, maybe a little tired.

Big Love: Cousins, Green Grass & Fish-n-Chips

This entry should be called "Tully: A Photo Essay of Joy." (She's loving her trip to the U.S.)

Elliot, Tully, Nathan...bedtime reading.

Elliot, Tully, Nathan...bedtime reading.

 

Elliot, Tully, Nathan...bedtime reading.

 

Elliot, Tully, Nathan...bedtime reading.

 

Tully: "I love fish and chips."

Tully: "I really love fish and chips."

 

Tully: "I  REALLY and chips."

Tully: "MINE! MINE! MINE!"

 

Tully's new favorite word? Cousin. "Nathan is my cousin," she says.