The Blithe Traveler

Random Tidbits From Our Day

The weather has turned fabulous, and we are all pool bound just about every day. We can swim in our own, but we have also been heading to one of the local compounds where many of the children's friends live and swimming in the outdoor pool. All of this water activity has left the Boy Who Loves Transportation jonesing badly for a boat. Tom has always been a transportation kind of guy. Planes and trains vie for first place, followed up by boats and things that drive on the road. One of his prides and joys in the US was his Bathroom Flotilla. Gathered through the years as we passed through local consignment shops, or at end of season sales at Wal-Mart, Tom had quite the range of boats in all shapes, sizes and colors. Some floated better than others, some connected to make barge trains, and some were just built for speed. Or at least as much speed as one can get up in a bathtub.

I did not pack the Flotilla to come to China. Why would one? These items all cost less than a dollar and were made in China. Surely it would be easy peasy lemon squeezy to replace them?? Wrong! One of the very first scouting trips I made was looking for bath toys and the selection was not good. I found some baby boats with some creatures that we dubbed "The Bunnies and the Squids." The Bunnies and Squids are good swimmers and often have bathtub races, but they really are pretty baby-ish. And as any mother of a five and a half year old child can tell you, five and a half year old children are so over baby-ish.

But at the pool last week, finally I found someone who has exactly the boat Tom has been looking for! In fact, exactly the same set of boats that he already owns and are stored neatly by the side of the bathtub back in the US. I asked where these items were purchases, and not surprisingly, the answer was Toys R Us. We finally have one, by the way. It opened a few months back, and it stocks US toys at US prices. It's weird to walk through there and see familiar brands, familiar toys, and worst of all, familiar prices. And let me tell you, if you tell the Toys R Us employees that the price on a particular toy is too high expected to get a counter offer, they will laugh at you.
My favorite subway ad. Because I use the product, I know exactly what it is: plastic wrap! I have no idea what the kitteh is meant to be thinking, but one assumes something along the lines of "Fish? What fish?"

So this morning, we decided to make a family outing to Toys R Us to purchase said boats. It takes about half an hour to shlep the children to the subway (it's a fifteen minute brisk walk for Jeff and I, or a five minute bike ride when I am feeling particularly brave about leaving my very nice bike locked by the subway stop), then about half an hour to ride up to Toys R Us, we spent about an hour browsing through the hordes of people with bouncing off the wall children who flocked to Toys R Us on this lovely Saturday, and then headed home. Basically, we killed an entire day for what amounted to three plastic boats that cost a total of $4 US.
Toys R Us is in this totally upscale mall filled with odd brands of things I've never heard of. Like Biem ldfllk. I just love the idea that one should get some fancy duds in order to Fight a Golf.

We did play in the fountains at a newly sprouted park by the subway stop. so its not like it wasn't a fun day. It was just a little shocking to realize exactly how long it takes to get anything done in the Big City. Today's photos are a random selection of things that entertained me along the way.
 
This is a new Insta-Park that appeared recently near the subway line. When I have a few minutes I'll have to expound on the concept of parks that just appear fully formed, almost over night. To be fair, we did go away for about a week while they were working on it, but really, the thing just sprouted while we were gone.

Laowai

We are laowai in China. This is made clear to us daily as we walk through the neighborhood and local people whisper, or sometimes shout the word at us. It means "foreigner."  Caucasian foreigner, to be precise. There are different words if you are Japanese or of African decent. What is not exactly agreed upon is the is the connotation of the word. Many people presume it to be fairly derogatory, while others (in the minority) understand it to be friendly, or even respectful.

From my personal experience, I would be inclined to shy away from respectful. Certainly we have been in situations where it has been used as a full on derogatory comment, and others where it is seems to be meant descriptively. As in, one man nudges another as we walk past and whispers, "Laowai!" to his neighbor. He's not making fun of us directly, but he's alerting his compatriot that there are aliens in the 'hood. Respectful, though? Not likely.

The other, apparently, often heard word to describe the likes of us white folk around here is "waiguoren." It also means foreigner, although it is apparently considered a more polite description. I don't hear waiguoren so much, but it might be my ear; "laowai" is pretty easy to pick out. It also might be a regional difference. It is possible we are more likely to be called waiguoren in Beijing or Tianjin, but maybe laowai in the relative foreigner-free Nanjing.


Behold the Laowai child! He walks, he talks, he seldom smiles for the camera!

Maybe not so surprisingly in the blog-o-sphere and expat communities, these words are a topic of conversation. And there is discussion around the idea that the meanings may be in transition. The Chinese community in general has moved away from words like yangguizi (foreign devil), which was commonly used in the early 20th century, to the less pejorative terms used today. And as laowia and waiguoren become more common in China, the language connotations may be changing to reflect greater acceptance. We hope, anyway.

My most recent laowai experience was in a taxi. It was one of those days when Jeff needed Jackie to get him to the office, so I dropped the children off and I grabbed a cab home. The taxi driver headed off in a direction that would have gotten me there eventually, but it was far from the fastest way. As he was veering right, I headed him off by shouting, zuo!! or "left!" in Mandarin. He got what I was saying, swerved to the left, clipping only two bicyclists and one electric  motor scooter rider, and we were heading in the correct direction. I pasted a mental Post-It on my front left lobe to remind myself that I was going to have to provide the next direction to him, and busied myself with some knitting, car knitting being a totally new skill set that I have picked up here in China (1).

My mental Post-It popped up a few seconds late, just as we were about to pass the road that is our next turn. The good news is that missing that particular turn is not a big deal - you can just take the next turn. The bad news is that as I peeked up from my knitting and saw the familiar corner, that big yellow Post-it apparently blocked my "sensible" receptors and I once again shouted zuo!!, "left!" again.

The really unfortunate bit about this is that as the beleaguered driver heaved a huge sigh and randomly slewed the car around to the left (taking out only three pedestrians and one ubiquitous black Volkswagen Santana) I suddenly realized that I actually meant the other left. You know, not left left, but the other left. Also known as right.

Yes, I'm one of those grownups who must have been out with the chicken poxs when they taught that right /left stuff at school. My riding instructor, the trainer/therapist, tried all kinds of tricks (different colored gloves, a string around one wrist, beating me about the head with a dressage whip), but I have always had a mental block about it. Jeff long ago gave up - between not being able to read a map in a car and not having total clarity around "left" and "right," my usefulness as a navigator is negligible.

But back to the crisis at hand. With Mr. Taxi Driver working his way through the skid clinging to the wheel with one hand (he had a cigarette in the other and was talking on his cell phone, so I was actually pretty grateful that he had the one hand on the wheel), my brain kicked into high gear, and I started shouting, "No, no! I meant you zhuan!" The above was exactly what I shouted, and the mix of English and Mandarin, with the Mandarin tones interpreted randomly, in the adrenaline driven heat of the moment, did nothing to help the situation. He turned to stare at me. This was bad, as we were still skidding around the corner and he was still smoking and holding his cell phone, although no longer talking into it.

"You zhuan! You zhuan!" I shouted again, gesturing toward the road rapidly disappearing behind us. He glared at me, growled something into his phone, shut it down, and with the kind of driving skill that leaves me weak and breathless in not a good way, flipped the taxi around and got us going in the right direction (scattering a small kindergarten class that was crossing the street and nearly taking out the back end of a bus that dared to get in his way). I thanked him for his terrific driving skills, and sunk back in to my seat in an effort to return my heart rate to something under 4,000 beats a minute.

He glared at me again in the rear view mirror and whipped out his cell phone again. And in rapid fire Mandarin told the story of what had just happened to his buddy. While I didn't every word, or nearly ever word, I sure didn't need to. "Laowai! You zhuan! and Zuo! came through loud and clear." As did the hooting laughter coming tinnily through the phone. I sunk deeper in my seat. But, the taxi driver suddenly decided the whole thing really was pretty funny, too and started yucking it up with his buddy. "Laowai! Laowai!" the crowed at each other, snickering. He glanced back at me, decidedly happier.

He hung on up buddy #1, then rang somebody else. He told the story again, this time jovially. I poked my head up from the seat to whisper, occasionally, as necessary, and with great care, "You zhuan." "Zao." Every time I said a word, the now pretty happy taxi driver would guffaw at me, and repeat it into his cell phone, to whichever buddy he was talking to at the time. He called three or four, so my mangled Mandarin got a fair showing over the air waves that day.

It was a draining experience, I have to admit, being totally made fun of a foreign language, and understanding just enough of it to know that I was being made fun of. And yet, even feeling quietly humiliated, I had to admit it was kind of funny. By the time we got to our destination, the driver was in a splendid mood. He gave me a big thumbs up as I staggered out of the cab. I gave him the biggest smile I could muster and a shaky thumb (just one) up. I had listened carefully - at no point did I hear him calling me a foreign devil, so maybe I should have given him the benefit of the doubt and added the second thumb?

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(1) As one of those people who gets car sick even thinking about reading in a car, I figured I could never knit. Then one day I tried it, and lo and behold, all of my car time has become useful! I still can't read, but for some reason I can knit. I'll take it. Getting at least an hour of quality time knitting in the car a day makes me kind of like being driven around. But only "kind of."

The Olympic Flame Is Coming!

I call it the torch, Tom sniffs and corrects me, "It's the FLAME, mama." Whatever you chose to call it, the thing that is carrying the fire to Beijing will be right outside our doorstep Tuesday. We still don't have great clarity around when on Tuesday, but sometime between 7am and 17:00 we expect to see it trot by. Given our proximity to the Olympic Stadium, we expect to have fab seats for whatever it is that is happening.

Yesterday, we hung around the venue and watched the workers putting together the stands. The place was pretty darn crowded, relative to the normal weekend gatherings, so we're thinking there might actually be a reasonably sized group here on Tuesday.



In English!! Just for us!

 

The podium where whatever is going to happen is presumed to be happening. Jeff was musing that we should get there early to get good seats, so we can hear what was going on. That made both of us laugh. Here what, exactly?? Beyond the sizzle of the flame, I doubt they'll be much we get out of it.

 

Everybody wanted their picture taken with all of the Olympic stuff.

 

Including yours truly


Maybe crowded is relative. It seemed like there were a lot of people there, but this photo does not convince me. A Chinese friend of mine said that it will be crowded, because the government will bus in people - so it looks good on television. We are planning to watch from on high right about now, as between the humidity, temperatures, pollution and expected crowds, the venue might be too uncomfortable.

The Olympic Flame is Here!

Although maybe I should say it was here, as it has now gone on its merry way. What a hulabaloo! And I have to say, it was lovely to see it.

First, we totally cheated. We borrowed a balcony on the 11th floor, the better to see the entire spectacle. What we lost in immediate contact with the torch, we gained in perspective. The photos are unfortunately kind of crappy, because the weather today is heavy pollution, but it really was pretty spectacular in person, so I'll try to communicate a bit of the drama through words, and squinty sort of photos.

The crowds began gathering at about 6am, bussed in. Since the vast majority of the early arrivals were all wearing white Olympic shirts, we presumed they were mostly students. The effect was really quite grand, which is not unexpected. The event was televised, and it was all designed to look good on screen. That sounds quite cynical, and one can say it cynically, but I don't really mean it that way at all. The event was staged, and staged to look good - that's just the way it is.


This guy had the best seat in the house - I did explain to the children the value of the railing on our balcony.

The crowds, while certainly small in comparison to what you would find in Beijing, were huge for around here. And one assumes quite a lot of effort went into making it all work logistically - up until a few days ago, the whole thing was going to start at the top of Purple Mountain and wind its way down to the Olympic Stadium, rather than starting here. From what I understand, the entire torch schedule has been ratcheted back, in deference to the earthquake victims, so the Nanjing portion was changed to reflect a shorter, maybe more subdued route.

So it was all put together quite quickly, and, I must say, in mostly complete secret from the foreign community. That was maybe said a bit cynically, but getting information about the event was impossible. There were schedules circulating that were quite out of date, information on the internet was sketchy at best, and mostly, just plain wrong. And while we had the inside track, being right here at the stadium, the best we could get was that the event was going to (a) start at 7:00am, (b) start at 8:00am, or (c) maybe start at 7:00am, or maybe 8:00am and run straight through to noon.
High pollution day. No kidding. It's not rain, or raining. It's polluting.

We decided, given the confusion and possibility that we could miss the whole thing if we ended up too early or too late, that discretion was the better part of valor, and we booked the aforementioned balcony rather than walking down to the venue itself. Best choice we could have made. Jeff and I took the children and our morning coffee up to the balcony (the rather unfortunately not terribly well used balcony, which made it a rather soot and who-knows-what-else covered balcony) and enjoyed the festivities.
The sooty balcony. You have to admit, the girl has talent.

The sound system was really great, so we could hear everything that was going on. Alas, we couldn't understand it, but the music was great, and we could just see lots of action and enthusiastic flag waving up on the stage. We could see when the torch began started to make its way toward us, and we could see the flame, although I will admit that we could barely see the flame.


The big picture - that's the flame procession - it was much clearer in real life.


The flame! It's that bright bit in the middle left. Squint a bit if you're having trouble making it out. It's there. Really.

The whole thing really was rather spectacular for me to see. Probably a nice to see for Jeff, while the children were basically bored. We did explain to Tom that when the Olympics finally come, we will be able to watch on television the torch being lit, and the torch will be from the same flame that he saw (barely saw) here today. He's kind of excited about that, although I don't know if the excitement is so much about having an (albeit) tenuous link to the torch, or if he's just excited we're going to let him watch television.

It's baaaacccckkkk!

The playground, that is. We did ask why it left. The answer was that the property the playground had been built on did not belong to the building owners. So they had no right to put the playground up. I have a little trouble swallowing that, given the configuration of the grounds, but, I asked, they answered. I should be happy with that.

But what I am really, really happy about is whatever feudal land squabbles were going on, have been resolved and the playground has been restored. Yippee!
 
Some time in March (I think, really who can remember that far back. If I had a better internet connection, I could check my own blog, but I don't have an hour to spare)
A month or so later, a playground ripped out by its roots. Sniff.
Back again! Yeah! A slightly different configuration, and so far without the swing set. But I'll take it!

In other important news, the Flame is coming! Oddly (poetically??) enough, it seems it will either be starting from, or ending at Olympic stadium! Data on that is a bit scarce, but it is clear that the Flame will be there at some point, given the hullabaloo going on over there now. How terrific for us! We did a little preview of the venue, and I'll see if I can get some photos posted tomorrow.

Chengdu

Faith's comments about Chengdu are spot on.

"I am a bit behind (ok, quite a bit) behind) on your blog. It's a bit odd for me to be reading about Chengdu now that it's only 11 days after the earthquake that destroyed quite a bit of the city. If the quake hadn't happened, it would be just another city that Ellen visited. But, i knew the name of this city before reading your post. It felt a bit odd. And looking at the people and buildings wondering about them. It is very sobering to think you all were there 6 weeks before, and there were other tourists and visitors there on the day of the quake. It's just been odd reading this at this time. Even the pandas have been in the news."

It is chilling to realize that we were staying in a building a few weeks back that is now quite possibly rubble. And I have a friend who left Chengdu the day before the quake. Although, frankly, I hesitate to type either of those things, because we weren't there, or anywhere close. And there are somewhere between 60 and 80,000 people who were there, who are no more. Those numbers are incomprehensible - and with respect to those people and their surviving family members, I have no interest in making this disaster about my family in any way.

I mentioned while we were in Australia that I didn't want to write about the disaster because I wasn't in China, and my posts would be nothing more than a retread of CNN reports - the same stuff anyone in the US has access to. And given that most people watch some kind of news coverage on television, you are probably far better informed than I. But, we are back in China, and it is interesting, and heartening, to watch the news, recovery, and the mourning unfold.

As many of you probably know, China held its first National Mourning (not related to a deceased dictator, that is) for the victims of the quake. The mourning period was held over three days, during which the Olympic Flame ceased its travels (thereby delaying its run through Nanjing from Saturday, May 24th to Tuesday May 27th). During the three days, there was a period of silent remembrance during which air raid sirens were sounded. Most newspapers printed only in black and white, eschewing usual color photography and advertising. Cinemas were closed, there was no music on the radio, no movie stations on television, and other entertainment venues were closed. For those who were here, far from the earthquake epicenter, the down-time was described as being eerie.

Why this is heartening, though, is that it represents distinct change from the past. There are many factors, of course. One is simply access. One of the big "news" stories coming out of the quake was how quickly people on the streets were able to pass along information. Quickly is relative, of course, because the big news media outlets were still reporting limited injuries and deaths eight or nine hours after the quake hit. The rationale that I have read is that there is no point in exaggerating death tolls - far better to take a conservative tack early on and get it right, then to blow things out of proportion early in the reporting. But bloggers, a few journalists who were present in the town, and people taking photos and video on their cell phones did get the word out that a major disaster was in the making.

But the reaction to this quake is a far, far cry from the 1976 response when a possible 240,000 people perished in a 7.8 magnitude earthquake that the government refused to acknowledge for months. Today, China's Premier, Wen Jiabao has been physically present at the quake site and all over the media, providing support and encouragement to victims and rescuers. The reaction of ordinary people, people who packed up cars with medical supplies and food and drove to Sizchuan, people who are giving blood, and giving money, and praying (publicly) for the victims is incredibly heartening.

And with that, I'll stop. No pithy ending. Just sadness and prayerful thoughts for the victims.

You Ever Have One Of Those Days?

You know, that kind of day where you hit the wall at the end and you wonder if somehow or another you were teleported to the Land That Time Forgot? Only, it's Half-Past Dinner Time and the wee creatures for whom you are responsible, who apparently did not get transported to the Land with you, not to mention the guy who foots all the bills for your stay in the Land, are actually hungry. (Which is interesting - you are, of course, not hungry, because the Land Where Time Forgot is actually a wry euphemism for Ladies Lunch, which around here tend to run around 3 hours, start to finish). And they, the hungry family, are wondering what exactly you are going to do about it. And because, let's face it, feeding the three of them would be your number 1, wait, scratch that, your Only (Single) Life Responsibility, they look to you expectantly when hungry.

Had one like that lately? Well, have I got an appliance for you!

Chaos Defrost: Specifically Designed for Dwellers of the Land that Time Forgot. My Microwave: don't you wish you were me?


Here's an upclose, just so you don't miss it. I have to admit, I was tickled when I realized my very own microwave, which clearly I had never bothered to read, was so blessed entertaining.

Our Summer Vacation, Part 47

This is tricky. I do this public blog thing that millions (1) of people read because I wrote a book and am an internationally acclaimed author (2). However, the reality check is that currently we’re hanging out in Australia to go to a birthday party. We’re not sight-seeing, we’re not exploring, there’s no culture involved, unless you consider a 1:24932 scale model of the Forbidden City executed in sand “cultural”; plain fact, we’re not doing much of anything beyond hanging out.

The Forbidden City: 1:24932 scale

We’re sauntering to the beach and reveling in the sunlight, the blue sky, fresh air and brushing our teeth with tap water. We’re eating really great, albeit incredibly expensive, Thai, Japanese and Italian food – and suffering no stomach illness! We’re  catching up with people we haven’t seen in ages and going to parties. Graeme, the Big Birthday Boy, Himself, turned 70, and his son, Robin turned 30, so that covered Saturday and Sunday night. 

So, really, gentle reader, do you care? No, of course you don’t. Nor should you. Consider today’s blog entry for my mom, only. She needs some cute kid photos, and since she has met most of the parties we are in Australia to see, it’s only fair that I share photos of the events with her. The rest of you can read along if you like cute kid photos or check back in a day or so if you don’t. Our Epic Journey Home begins very early in the morning Oz time, Wednesday. That’s probably, like, a week ago last March in the US, so maybe you won’t notice if I don’t post again until we get back to Nanjing.

Either way, one imagines that I’ll get back on the China track in a day or so. There is, of course, news on the Chengdu earthquake. China is apparently celebrating three consecutive days of three minutes of silence in memorial for the victims. But, since I’m not even there, it seems pretty disingenuous of me to be posting about it. Since I’m reading about it on the internet, one assumes you, dear reader, know as much if not more than I do about what’s going on there. I will do some poking around when I get back and see if there is anything interesting to report on the local front. Culturally, this kind of national grieving is quite unusual, so I’m particularly interested to see what my local sources say about it all.

And there are Local Big Events coming up on the Nanjing  front. Saturday May 24th is meant to be Roasted Goat In A Yurt Day … and … it is also the day the Olympic torch makes its way through Nanjing. One hopes that these events would generate some interesting material. I’m hard pressed to image they won’t.

And now, onto the Cute Kid Photo section of today's blog:

Beach Bums

Uncle Walter perusing "It's Elementary! with Tom. "It's Elementary!" is Tom's new favorite book. It's all about the elements. You know, like oxygen, hydrogen, gallium. You remember gallium, don't you?? Anyway, it goes through the periodic table in excruciating detail. I was glad to be spelled for a bit in the reading by Uncle Walter.

The Ladies - on their way to brekky with their sunnies.

Robin's 30th b-day party (that's Robin in the embarrassing headgear and his wife Linda) was at a Japanese restaurant. They have a gorgeous new baby - Faith. Hope was entranced. Which seems cosmically right. We did scout about a bit for a Charity, but to no avail.

An unflattering photo of moi. But, really, how could a grownup wearing a party hat and a purple lei have a flattering photo taken?

Actually, Aunt Kerri looks rather a bit better in the hat than I did. No comment on Uncle Walter's headgear.

 

And some people just look good in anything.

The Blue Family gets ready to go to Graeme's 70th. I was wearing pink. A detail that will be left to your imagination as there is no photo record of the outfit. Sadly, there aren't any other good photos of the event itself, but the best way to look at that is that we were having too much fun to be snapping photos. Which was pretty much true.

Saying goodbye to the Birthday Boy - Graeme, his beautiful wife Titiek, and us.

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(1)    Okay, that’s an exaggeration. Maybe even a gross exaggeration. At some point I should check the click statistics on Typepad – I’m sure I can see how many people actually read this thing. But, really, do I care? One imagines not, or I would have checked at some prior point in time.

(2)    Two Canadians checked in a few blog pages back – so I can say with alacrity we have validated this statement.

G'day Mates!

We’re here! All in all, it was an uneventful trip. Remembering, of course that some of my recent trips have included prolonged barfing in transit, $10,000 US credit card charges, lengthy, perilous discourse with Chinese baggage carousel personnel (details of which shall never be released to the public), and of course, the Tussle In Dulles in which the baggage handlers used our bags as ammunition in a Massacre on the Macadam. Uneventful is relative.

Shanghaied!

For example, if you and, say, your two small, cheerful children had a lovely drive to the train station and without incident boarded a train for Shanghai and managed, again, without incident to hop in a taxi and arrive at the (proper!) airport at the (proper!) terminal, wouldn’t you agree that things were going smoothly? Perhaps you might consider the fact that when you popped open your wallet to pay the driver the rather considerable sum you owed him for the hour long taxi ride (150 RMB, or about twenty US bucks), that there wasn’t any money in your wallet (1), you might consider that an “event.”

Although, since the solution was really quite simple and since it did not result in any delay in our trip, it does not qualify in my mind as an event. The solution, if you’re ever in a similar situation was thus: (a) leave bag with cab driver as collateral, (b) put two wee children on baggage trolley, (c) trot the length of the terminal (way, way smaller than Terminal 3 in Beijing! Halleluia!), (d) sing cheerful songs to children, to reassure them that this sort of thing happens to people all the time and really is no big deal, (e) locate cash machine, insert card, interrupt cheerful song for a moment when the card is rejected (f) begin breathing, and consequently singing cheerful song again when card is accepted at the next ATM over, (g) dash back to cab, exchange cash for bag, (h) find check-in area and begin check-in.

See? Total non-event. And, as it turns out, in a strange twist of fate, this whole cash-dash turned out to be extremely fortunate. For while I had remember many, many things for the trip, including, but not limited to passports, e-ticket printouts, phone, train tickets, Magic Oz Sim Chip, Jeff’s Magic Oz Phone number, had had forgotten one tiny details. Australian Visas.

D’uh!

Gelato at the Shanghai airport.

Fashionista or victim? You decide.  The girl is a built a bit like the beloved Pooh Bear: stout. She finds normal pants uncomfortably confining, and so choses to mostly wear dresses. The one exception to the pants rule are her "horse pants." This odd attire item was acquired in a random clothing swap from someone who does not have a horse - so, we're really not sure what their origins are. But Hope declares them the epitome of comfort and I get a huge kick out of her wearing them. The shirt, Jeff's mom got her. I do think the pink Crocs totally make the outfit.

You need a visa to enter Australia. I know this. I have gotten visas to go to Australia before. I had remembered many times over the prior few days that I need to get visas for the children and me. But, as fate would have it, I was so busy, busy, busy with my football games and aquarium set up, not to mention adding to my Pirate Wear Collection, that I had forgotten this one, mission critical detail. The good news is that the nice Qantas people are used to dealing with people who aren’t smart enough to rank visa acquisition higher on the priority list than populating their new aquarium. And all it takes at the check in counter is the application of – say it with me – cash! Which, of course, I now had. Whew!

So, consider that bit non-event #2.

The children and I did manage to keep happy, cheery attitudes through it all, so we decided to congratulate ourselves on our on-time, event-free arrival at gate-side with some Dulce De Leche Gelato. Happiness all around.

Time passed, as is its wont.

Time passed, as is its wont, and we arrived in Sydney. There was a brief, scary moment: my Magic Oz SIM Chip phone rang just as the children and I arrived in the customs area – whaoo! It worked! Jeff wished us a g’day, just as the customs official tapped me on the shoulder, pointing to the sign that indicates a $10,000 (Oz!) fine for people who use electronic equipment in the customs area. What with the American Peso now on equal footing with the Aussie dollar (remember, not so very long ago, we were still about $1.30 US to Aussie??), that $10,000 fine was looking mighty disquieting.

Reunion!

Anyhoo, I hung up on Jeff (he didn’t mind when I explained to him that it was hang up or pay up when we caught up with him post-customs) and the children and I had a joyous reunion. Then, off to Brisbane! 

We arrived, and discovered that this is where we are staying. That's the Pacific (ocean!), if you were wondering. Graeme (the b-day fellow) made all of the arrangements, so we weren't quite sure where we would end up until we got here. Seems rather nice, doesn't it? I can assure you, it is just tops. I expect updates will be scarce - while the apartment is beyond lovely, the internet access is crap. Not to mention that we are seeing a lot of people we haven't see in quite a long time, so we're rather occupied with fun and frivolity. So, I'll do what I can during down moments.

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(1) I was sure when I left Fuzi Miao after fish and Pirate Wear shopping that I still had a wad of cash in my wallet. I am still not sure if I had a senior moment and will find the wad back in the safe in Nanjing, or if I had a senior moment and there was no wad, or I had a senior moment and someone relieved me of my wad. I suspect we will never know. But I have learned a valuable lesson - assumptions are bad. And maybe lists are good for people who are suffering from senior moments.

Speaking of Piracy

I see stuff like this and I wonder if it's Pirate Wear, or maybe I am just totally out of touch. When you have limited exposure to western media, a lot of new, lexicon-ic phrases that are part of the average conversation just don't make it here.  I'm mostly hanging out with British people, continental Europeans and Australians. What happens in the US stays in the US.

Is there some wildly funky Levi ad that I am missing in my quest for the International Life?? Like that Verizon guy that everybody but me seems to be on BFF (1) terms with. I confess, some days maybe I feel a little left out.

And then there's this one. I bought it for Jeff, although since it's obviously black, clearly not blue, it seems unlikely he'll wear it. I'm darn near convinced this one is Pirate Wear, despite its assertions to the contrary. Or maybe it's just a clever ploy??? Maybe it's really real LEE, and the LEE people are trying to trick me. I paid the going rate for this particular shirt: 25 RMB, about $3 US. Which is pretty spendy for a t-shirt. So, maybe it really is real. Your thoughts? And how many should I buy, bring back and sell on e-bay?

Oh, and are you wondering ... did they make it to the Land of Oz ... or not?!??!? Sorry, I don't know yet. I'll let you know as soon as I have more data.

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(1) Best Friends Forever, in case you were feeling left out. I do try to keep up with Paris Hilton. I mean, a girls got to have her brain candy.