Archives 2012

Between Grand Junction, CO and the beautiful Columbia River Highway in OR there is basically nothing but a litter box. That’s harsh. There is nothing but a litter box with a strip mall in it.

Believe it or not, our USA Lonely Planet boasts of Utah as being a well kept secret full of adventure, outdoor activities and wonton awesomeness. We’re wondering what Cool-Aid these writers were drinking. The long stretch of dull we drove through was like driving across a giant block or dirty butter. The guide book did mention some amazing rock structures to the south, but if you have to drive across more of the same dirty butter to get there, we weren’t interested. Perhaps that’s why it is such a well kept secret. Everyone turns around and gives up before getting to this mysterious awesome part.

Salt Lake City was a place I was interested in seeing. Having watched the Big Love series about the LDS church, polygamy and Bill Paxton, I felt I had invested a sizable chunk of time in seeing parts of a city I otherwise had no interest in. The Temples sounded unique and worthy of exploration. Sadly, our time in SLC was limited to a quick drive through town. We saw the temple, the streets paved with … pavement, and not a lot more. It was largely uninspired. More depressingly, the outskirts (which sprawled for hours!) were run down and beat up. I was reminded of the folks in the show who were outcast from the community. Thus, we pointed our hood away from the state and its mysterious, hard-to-locate awesomeness and headed North by Northwest.

Idaho can be quite beautiful in parts, and I spent a lot of time there as a youth with my lovely grandparents. But they lived in the hills and valleys—absolutely stunning. We drove through what seemed like one continuous potato field covered in a depressing layer of recession.

Our intention of driving from Colorado to Washington without stopping was foiled by exhaustion. We stopped in Idaho at a hotel that would have given us all hepatitis had we not slept on our own blankets. In the morning, we discovered a junk yard was the backyard of the lovely hotel. The front yard was the highway. What a charming spot for a center of hospitality. Onwards we went. And from here on out the geography began to get ever more beautiful.

Every time I drive through a chunk of land that looks like the bottom of a dirty work shoe I’m rubbed by a sense of curiosity I can’t shake. I wonder if the folks who settled there were part of the original pilgrims who headed west in search of land, gold or just adventure. I wonder if they know that they gave up in the desert when the oasis was just a mountain range away. IF their ancestors had kept trudging, they’d be in the grace of the forests, hills, rivers and lakes instead of a trailer on the edge of nothing. I thought about this a lot driving through Utah, Idaho and Oklahoma. If they had but continued on, they’d be on the coast! Instead they risked everything, left the comfort of the East Coast, and all to end up in a wasteland. Or, perhaps they find the wasteland beautiful and deplore the forests and the rivers. I’ll never know.

Merry Christmas one and all,

We’re thrilled to have you as a reader of our humble travel blog. Thank you for your readership over the years, and for making our adventure all the more enriching by allowing us to share it with you.

We hope you enjoy your holidays, wherever you are this season!

Love,

Mike, Lauren & Gwendolyn

Yes, that was a pun because pot was legalized in Colorado a week before we dropped by. Did we partake? No we didn’t. But it’s still a funny song for a legal state!

What we did do in Colorado was see Colorado Springs, Denver and Boulder before cutting through the amazing, breath-taking Rockies to see Vail and then Grand Junction. Did we love Colorado? Does the Pope have a funny hat? Yes, he does. Yes, he does.

Colorado Springs was not spoken of highly by our Colorado friends. Perhaps that’s because the hills surrounding it look like just that, hills, when compared to the stunning peaks visible from Boulder. But we did enjoy the quaint downtown area and walked around until our buns froze before heading to Garden of the Gods.

This amazing set of natural rock formations is quite stunning in winter, but I imagine it would be all the more bizarre in summer, surrounded by green trees that offset the orange of the rocks. We walked around for over an hour before our buns, again, froze. On to Denver.

We were on a mission in Denver to see the location of the next Matador Restaurant. The chain, which started in Seattle, will be opening a location in Denver and we had the inside scoop on it’s future home. After seeing this top secret spot we drove around downtown and, of course, strolled the lovely pedestrian street that bisects the city. Denver is stunning, but you can’t see the mountains from the city. Time to go look for a view of the mountains.

Boulder has it all. True, there are a lot of questionable folk milling about (have you ever played bum or hippie? You’ll lose in Boulder!). But the university brings in fresh cash and personalities galore. It’s a vegan’s paradise and the most important thing about Boulder is that you can see, smell and feel the mountains from the city. We walked around, drove around and then like a giant magnet the mountains pulled us Westward.

Cutting through the Rockies is like driving a car through a tunnel of awesome. We started our dissection around 4:00pm and by 6:00pm it was pitch dark in the mountains. You’d think that would ruin the drive, but instead the full moon lit an eerie and beautiful landscape of trees covered in snow and looming peaks. Pulling into Vail was like pulling onto the set of an expensive Hollywood Christmas tale. The lights were crisp and shed beams of wonder on the slopes, lodges and walkways. We strolled around Vail and munched on salads overlooking the ski slopes. I wished I could stay forever. But alas, only a Murdoch or a Trump could afford a random drop-by stay at a Vail lodge.

Grand Junction didn’t have much to offer and was a depressing port-a-potty of a town. Actually, we’ll never know if it was cool or not because after Vail anything would look like a cheap, swirling crap. Thus, we left Colorado on a Rocky Mountain high with a bit of nostalgia and, of course, some altitude sickness.

One of our last days in Beijing was spent seeing Oklahoma! A good friend of ours was playing the role of Jud Fry. He was a masterful actor/singer, and took the role to a new extreme (think: the Joker in the latest Batman series meets Syler from Heroes). We got a wonderful idea about the landscape and musical people of Oklahoma from the musical. So, when we found ourselves in Little Rock looking at a map and scratching our heads we decided to head to Tulsa to check out the panhandle state and see a few cowboys and cowgirls singing and line dancing together in the streets.

Funny story. Tulsa (at least the part we visited) looked almost nothing like the backdrops in the musical. Gone were the Western store fronts, the horses ties to hitching posts, the smoke houses and the creepy barns. In their place were Olive Gardens, A plethora of fast food options, and a sleazy nightclub called Blush whose pink flashing lights penetrated the windows of our hotel across the street. All is not well in Oklahoma, and it appears Jud Fry took over the place in a sinister scheme to modernize it and strip it of personality. Well done, musical villain!

Driving around Oklahoma one gets a sense of what it would be like to be on Mars. There is litter variation in geography and it becomes a battle of mind over reality. I imagine this is the exact feeling insane people have when locked in a padded, seamless room. On an more positive note, the world’s largest McDonald’s cuts over the highway in Oklahoma. I was worried about the structural integrity of the overpass with all the obese people waddling in and out of the restaurant. I hate to reference another movie, but Oklahoma isn’t far off from the characters in Wallie.

All of this being said, some of the most interesting, creative and intelligent people we know hail from Oklahoma. We didn’t meet them there. No, they were smart enough to get the hell out. But perhaps a barren geography and lack of entertainment means the people turn inwards and work on their own beauty and skill. Musicians, artists, thinkers and politicians are among the traits our Oklahoma friends have. Maybe there is something positive in the water.

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Regardless of your political views, the presidential libraries are an amazing asset to our country, and they offer a very biased view of each president’s life. Naturally you don’t get a lot of republican curators at democrat’s libraries and vise-versa. So the exhibits are very pro party, pro president.

Established in 1955, the Presidential Libraries Act provides government employees to maintain privately erected libraries. The act encourages presidents to donate their gifts, papers and records. The National Archives and Records Administration run each library and maintain the president’s artifacts and papers.

In 2009 we visited the George Herbert Walker Bush Presidential Library in Texas. That was an amazing treat. Located on campus, we’re told the former president and first lady have an apartment nearby and often stop by to chat with visitors. The library had a war plane, replicas of various White House rooms, and loads of interactive exhibits. It took us several hours to peruse the documents, artifacts and interactive exhibits.

This year, we visited the William Clinton Presidential Library in Little Rock. In contrast, the library didn’t offer the range of interactive exhibits. The majority of the artifacts on display were documents, letters and the like. There was a row of gifts from visiting dignitaries and the like, but they were a small section of the overall library. The Clinton library holds the largest bulk of records and documents, we were told.

There is a replica of the Oval Office that is stunning. We were informed that each president redecorates to his or her (yeah right!) preference. You can see a certain upper-crust elegance in the Clinton Oval Office.

In 2006 I visited the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library. This is not one of the official 13 libraries under the Presidential Libraries Act, but it was quite astonishing. The appeal here was its universality. The Clinton library was for serious research and a quick browse of the documents on display, the Bush library was about creating the image of a legacy, while the Lincoln library was a Hollywood-style production of a man that became larger than life. The tour opens with a multi-sense film called “Behind Lincoln’s Eyes” where we delve into the emotional/psychological study of the man. Cannon smoke fills the room during the Civil War section. The seats shake. I’d say it wasn’t an effective learning tool, but six years later I still vividly recall the visit.

Outside of the Bill Clinton Presidential Library sits charming Little Rock. It was a smaller town than expected, and quaint. The downtown area could be any small town in America, and the bars, shops and restaurants offered a certain southern elite charm. Situated right on the river, the library looks out over the river, the countryside and the town itself.

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By Al Green we do in fact mean the amazing, talented and smooth creator of “Let’s Stay Together” and “Love and Happiness.” He is one of gospel and soul’s biggest names and he recently went on tour. Sadly, we missed it. But we did hear that he was the reverend at the Tabernacle Church in Memphis, so we got up at the crack of dawn on Sunday and headed for Memphis, leaving lovely Nashville in our rearview mirror.

We drove by Elvis Presley’s Graceland, and were surprised at how rundown the area was, and how kitschy the place looked. I know it’s Graceland and it’s meant to be kitschy but wow! Not far from where tours leave for Graceland you’ll find the Reverend Al Green’s church.

We pulled into the parking lot and saw several people heading inside. We followed them in and opened the doors to the sanctuary to reveal that we were one of about eight white folks in the room. They were already well into the service (which started at 11am) when we arrived at 30 minutes after the hour. We took seats near the back in case our infant started to howl.

The music was amazing! Al Green wasn’t there yet, but his choir and choir leaders were stellar. They sang almost on improve and the live band was equally astonishing. You could tell they loved what they were doing. They sang their prayers.

At noon Al Green came out in white gloves and a black reverend smock. He swayed with the music and received applause and turned all the applause upward. He was very humble and deflecting of attention. His mother led the announcements, and his nephew gave the sermon. Al Green was the greeter, occasional singer and commentator. As we gave tithe he asked us where we were from. Mike said “Chicago” and he started singing “hello Chicago!” as we walked by. Nice guy, and a very friendly congregation. He even made a “Love and Happiness” reference. Nice.

We left Memphis after church. Driving around downtown proved that the city itself has a lot to be desired, especially after the beauty of downtown Nashville.

Arriving in Nashville is like driving into a time warp. The downtown area is crowded with hole-in-the-wall bars where musicians are playing live music starting early in the morning. We were there on a Friday with Lauren’s uncle. He took us to Tootsie’s, the most famous of the local bars, where a cowboy and his cowgirl crooned into rusty microphones over a rowdy crowd. It was 2pm and the beers were flowing and the crowd was hopping. We sat with a couple from New York who were fleeing Hurricane Sandy in search of fairer weather and cheerier sights. They couldn’t get over the $5 PBR cans.

Down the street at Layla’s we got PBR cans for $1 and watched an authentic hill cowboy and a lovely lady on bass really bring country music to life. They were no joke, and at 3pm in the afternoon they had a lively audience of diehards, cowboys and tourists.

You can buy cowboy boots and outfits for cheap downtown. Some boots sell three pair for the price of one. We looked but didn’t buy, and continued on down the way for the mid-afternoon bar crawl with our infant baby. Don’t worry, they still can’t smoke inside and Gwen loved the music. She stood on my lap and cooed along with the best of them. And she wasn’t the only toothless lady in the bar.

Nashville has a great dining scene. We were introduced to more southern BBQ at several restaurants and adored every delectable bite. It’s hard not to overeat when the food tastes like ambrosia.

Out on the streets you’ll find wildly talented people playing handmade instruments, dancing or playing guitar. There is so much talent in the city that it overflows into the streets. Record labels sign big named there, like Taylor Swift, and music celebrities mingle with regular folk without putting on airs.

We were lucky enough to have family in Nashville to stay with, and enjoyed a lovely birthday party for my cousin while we were in town. A great visit, an amazing family and a lovely city. I’d live in Nashville if I could. I’ve never been anywhere else where music was loved so much.

Winston-Salem isn’t a hotbed of tourism, and that’s great because it’s a well kept secret. It’s only a few hours to the mountains and only a few more to the beach, so it’s location is perfect for the weekend warrior vacationer. You’ll find a decent amount of trees in the area, in fact it’s the largest selection of diverse trees in the USA. For that reason, it’s also the hub for furniture in the country, and you’ll notice all kinds of furniture stores and outlets along the highways. Golfing is a big activity in the area, and loads of snowbirds flock south from the frigid tundra up north to enjoy mild winters in NC.

Of all the attractions in NC, our favorite was visiting with family. We were able to see a whole lot of family all at once. A fun, crazy, wild ride that included a trip to the mountains with one uncle and a trip to the beech with my mother. We also went to see Carmen in downtown W-S with one aunt, and were lucky to be able to stay with another aunt in her lovely downtown apartment. We visited friends in Wilmington, and had a party at another uncle’s place. We even got to see my aunt’s new restaurant outside of town. And of course visiting with my amazing grandparents was a joy. We got to enjoy so much family; it was a treat for us and for Gwen, who was, as always, the belle of the ball.

If you happen to find yourself in ol’ W-S don’t skip the historic old Salem area. This was pretty neat and included old structures from the original town that have been converted into nice shops. Downtown (the new part) was also thriving, and we enjoyed an amazing dinner at District, dancing at 6th and Vine and deep fried pickles at Finnegan’s Wake. W-S is great for food, and the finer things in life.

In terms of food, we ate so much southern cooking we put on several pounds in the month we were in North Carolina. We discovered Dickies southern style BBQ, the best BBQ on the planet perhaps. We also fell in love with Darel’s, more BBQ. And of course we loved Bo Jangles and all the chicken. I don’t know how anyone with constant access to this food remains slim.

We were very sad to eventually leave North Carolina and the fifty or so family members who live there. But the road is long, and we have miles to put on the car.

One of the best times to see DC is on a Sunday. Especially on a Sunday when there isn’t a big activity downtown. Here’s how we saw DC.

We drove right past the pentagon and around the bend into down town. We rolled into town without encountering any traffic around 10am. Downtown, there was virtually no traffic and all the lights seemed to turn green as we approached. We drove by the capital building, headed around the White House and drove past a few of the beautiful museums.

Granted, we had very limited time in the city and many miles to cover by nightfall, so we didn’t end up walking around. Instead, we drove all through down, winding up and down streets and passing by the city’s top attractions. We decided that DC is a city that deserves more time. However, if you have the time, free parking on weekends was available and spaces were readily available. I think so many people in the area are terrified of the traffic that they never even attempt to drive into town. If you’re of this mindset the park-and-ride is a great option but takes about half an hour from outside of town.

We also learned that you now have to apply to see the White House several months in advance and get early screening approval before you can show up. If you want to plan a trip to DC perhaps apply first and buy your airline tickets once your approval comes through.

Being surrounded by history isn’t something we’re new to. We’ve lived in China’s historic hutong alleys for the past few years. But being around America’s old history is new to us, and really cool. After our trip down Freedom Trail in Boston, we hit the road for Philadelphia without knowing what we’d see or do while in town. Turns out you need a few days to see all of Phily.

We started by checking out the Christ Church Cemetery, where Benjamin Franklin and a few other signers of the Declaration of Independence rest. This was a beautiful spot to call home for eternity. Aside form the throngs of tourists tossing coins on your headstone, that is.

From there we walked to the Liberty Bell. When I was a child I saw the bell in the middle of the commons, but now it is housed in a glass building surrounded by helpful signs explaining Philadelphia’s history and it’s position as the home of the American government. My favorite moment was when a Chinese man in line behind us commented in Mandarin on how inappropriate it was that there was a large poster of the Dali Lama making the peace sign in front of the Liberty Bell. Priceless.

We joined one of the tours through Independence Hall. You can’t go in without being tied to a tour, luckily though they are free. A friendly tour guide explained the historical significance of the structures to our group of around thirty as we strolled through the main building. Independence Hall is home to the room where our brave forefathers drafted the constitution. This is cool because it was literally a group of regular guys deciding what kind of nation we’d become. The room wasn’t preserved well, but it has since been recreated to look like it did at the time. Despite it being October, it was hotter than hell in the room. This made me appreciate the hard work of the creators of the Constitution even more. I can’t imagine being so optimistic in such a hot room.

I had to stop on the lawn where our nation’s freedom was announced to change a dirty diaper. Afterwards we grabbed the customary Phil-cheese steak sandwich for an outrageous $7 and headed to the oldest continually dwelt-upon street in the USA. It’s quaint and adorable and normal people live there, despite the constant string of tourists. It reminded me of our home on Nanluoguxiang, in Beijing, right smack on a historical lane.

Philadelphia was a great city and, perhaps because it was such a beautiful day and a beautiful, history-rich city we were tempted to just stay put. But there was more to see…..

We decided to head to Boston to see do the freedom trail. This is a fairly short walk through all the major landmarks in Boston related to historical events. The route is conveniently marked by a double row of red bricks and along the way there are signs explaining the top sights. There are a few amazing things to see along the way that are not marked with red bricks, like the USA’s oldest continually operating pub. Yes, we had a few pints there. It’s historical research!

As a heads up, parking in Boston is a rip off. We paid over $30 for the privilege of spending slightly over two hours walking around Boston in the rain. That’s enough for a low budget hotel. What a scam! We’re told there is cheaper parking, but downtown we sure couldn’t find it. On the upside, we spent $30 to see all of downtown Boston and be close to the car for our pre rush-hour escape.

We started the walk by checking out the oldest school on the coast. Pretty fancy for a bunch of pilgrims turned city-folk. Then we saw the site of the Boston Massacre and the town hall. A wee bit depressing but it really brought the whole story into reality for us. You can picture angry residents in the square demanding more rights, and then the inevitable shooting that occurs whenever young soldiers are stressed and confronted with a situation they weren’t trained for.

The oldest pub, the Bell in Hand, was amazing. A bit on the tacky side once you get inside for a pint, but the prices are reasonable, the ale is good and the story behind the pub is worth the visit. Nearby the Green Dragon was the home to inciters who helped launch the American revolution.

Ben Franklin was born in Boston, and his statue graces a few corners and nooks throughout the city. It’s also home to the late, great Paul Revere. We visited his home, a cute little place right down town.

Boston is a beautiful city clothed in red brick, surrounded by clean, green-tinted water and full of friendly people. We leave you with a picture of Town Hall, behind which the Boston Massacre occurred.

Okay, so we’re not sure what the top sights in New Hampshire really are, but we’d be happy to tell you what we saw!

Mount Washington Hotel and Resort is a beautiful retreat away from the bustle of the East Coast. It’s a self-contained mini paradise. We’re talking spa, pool, tea room, bar and dining room, wine room and of course amazing views of the mountains as well as the gold course. I assume there are great hiking trails nearby and the concierge would be happy to point the right direction. One of the greatest amenities, though, was the massive fireplace in the center of the lobby and the board-game room behind it. This is the largest indoor fireplace I’ve seen, and I imagine a bottle of wine and a good book would be great accessories for it.
We also got to see the former home of the late celebrity actress Betty Davis. Yes, she did summer in New Hampshire, as did many of the rich and famous once upon a time. Betty Davis lived in a small cottage in the woods off the beaten path outside Frankonia. Her home was made of wood, and has a secret passage way between the two bedrooms (tsk, tsk Miss Davis!). A beautiful arches wooden ceiling was the main highlight, and the new addition to the home stayed true to the time period, adding appeal and even more old-world charm. Of course the walls are covered in Betty Davis memorabilia.

Downtown Littleton is another great reason to visit New Hampshire. We were impressed by the world’s longest candy bar at Chutters. The oldest surviving building is indeed quite old, and beautiful as well. The whole downtown area is just as quaint as a postcard. My favorite shop was the Little Herb Shop where the owner was incredibly friendly and kind, and she carried a great selection of herbs.

But of course the most famous thing to see in New Hampshire are the leaves in fall, and we hit that perfectly. Driving up to the overpasses to see rolling red, orange and yellow hills was a joy no East Coaster should miss.

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Leaving Niagra Falls, we headed into New York on the I-90. For those who don’t know New York, like we didn’t, I-90 is a toll road. We ended up paying thirteen dollars for the privilege of using the road. Once you’re on I-90 you’re somewhat trapped. They have stop-n-go centers along the route that have overpriced gas and food, but one teller confided in me that gas prices were higher by about 8 cents on the toll road.

I-90’s toll ends and the toll road turns into I-89. We got off the toll road with lighter wallets, and hit the 787N to the 7. This is where New York finally got interesting for us, but also where we exited New York in general. Coincidence?

Entering Vermont was a nice transition in terms of getting off the toll road and finally seeing some back roads and character. Farmhouses emerged out of the woodlands and those pastures gave way to mountains that bore small resorts, B&Bs and winding roads with stunning autumn views. Night fell as we entered the Green Mountain Forest, where around every precarious bend one finds another small shire of homes, small businesses and more stunning outlooks over fiery orange hills.

Eventually we hit the interstate on Vermont’s eastern border. This N-S highway boasts the worst drivers we’d encountered so far. Fair enough, they were distracted by stunning trees in transition, as were we. We followed I-91N until we saw exits for Littleton, New Hampshire. If you’re traveling along this route keep in mind that exits are not marked with what’s behind the trees so if you’re hungry you mind as well start swallowing your spit because it’s not easy to find the right exit for food. Here’s where a GPS would be of massive assistance.

New Hampshire is apparently sales tax free. That’s pretty amazing considering you can purchase stuff there and save yourself about 6%. We bought diapers for our sweet baby, but didn’t take advantage of that deal for much else. We were now set to spend the next week with family outside of Littleton.

See more photos of the trip on the Photos page.

If you plan on visiting Niagra Falls, don’t skip the Canadian side. It doesn’t take that long to get across the border in Buffalo, so take a few extra hours and check out the much more impressive Canadian view. Why is it cooler? For one you have a clear shot at American Falls, which isn’t really visible from the U.S side. Also, the Fun Walkway along the Canadian side includes the Hershey factory, a retro Coca Cola shoppe, A Ripley’s, Planet Hollywood and Hard Rock—all nestles in a neat walkway with souvenirs, with the falls nearby. Fair warning—parking is $18 per car! To get by that we parked at the Duty Free shop, bought a bottle of Maker’s Mark and got free parking. Walked around the falls and then got to cut in the line to the USA directly from the Duty Free parking lot. Once they catch on they’ll figure out how to stop this, but in the meantime save yourself $18 on parking and get a cheap bottle of whiskey to boot.

The falls themselves are amazing, and it’s no wonder the US and Canada both wanted them. The spray comes up over the road, wetting the cars that drive by. You can walk down under the falls, which is amazing, or you can take a Maid of the Mist boat ride near both falls. They provide you with plastic rain covers. We didn’t do either because we have our newborn with us and it’s winter—too cold for the tiny tot. Instead, we watched the falls from the walkways and the bridge. Both beautiful views.

Final tip—if you’re leaving Canada get in the far right lane going through the border, it splits a few more times and it’s the fastest lane to be in.

More photos on the ATC photos page!

Lauren and Gwen inside a giant Hershey bar

Horseshoe falls.

We recently flew from China to the U.S via Japan. What a nightmare. You can read about the travels here. Once in the states we did a few short road trips across country. One from Chicago to the Upper Peninsula in Michigan, another from there through Canada to New England, and a third from there to North Carolina. All of these road trips were amazing, but they were not as relaxing or inviting as a cruise. So in the middle of all of these chaos, rushing, hurrying, gas price monitoring and construction navigation, we’re reminded of how wonderful it really is to just relax on a cruise.

With our little baby we’re not permitted to be on the high seas until she is 6 months old, for some cruise lines, or a year for the remainder. That was a real disappointment for us when leaving China as we had hoped to hop on one of Cunard’s Around-the-World cruise legs and get from Hong Kong to Europe, and then from Europe it’s fairly easy to hop over the pond to the US on any cruise carrier. After talking with Cunard we learned they make no exceptions to that rule, and little Gwen was only a month old when we wanted to cruise out. Oh well. So fly we did, and once again I’m forced to admit just how mind-numbingly exhausting and horrible it is to fly. If she had been allowed on the cruise, then on the ship we would have come!

One of the best things about cruising is just how totally coddled you are. From the moment you wake up your day is planned for you– if you want. Activities nearly every hour! You have food at your fingertips, a pool, gym, spa, and of course the option to just sleep on deck or in your cabin. On a flight you get nothing but rude looks from flight attendants, soda and a box lunch that would be perfect for a third world prison. On a road trip you eat hunches over the steering wheel, fretting about burning gas to heat the car while you eat, and constantly in danger from bad drivers, construction or just road neglect. I’ll take the cruise, please.

They aren’t even that expensive anymore. Sometimes the same cost as flying, depending on your departure port.

So as we finish our road trips across America I’m eagerly looking forward to our next cruise. Once the baby is bigger, that is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our road trip began in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Why does Michigan own the U.P? We don’t know. It borders Wisconsin- but they can’t have it, and it borders Canada- but they can’t have it. Alternatively it doesn’t touch Michigan at all and they had to construct a giant bridge to even get over to the U.P—but they can and do have it. Odd. I bet there is an interesting story there.

We drove along the length of the U.P heading east and stopped along Lake Michigan for fresh air and a wee leg stretch. Our tiny tot Gwen was eager to watch the waves and of course vomited profusely on herself when she was returned to her car seat.

From the U.P we drove to this magical connection bridge. In Michigan everyone who lives south of the bridge is called a “Troll,” while everyone who lives above the bridge is called a” Yooper.” Residents of both areas take an odd portion of pride in this. After crossing the bridge and paying the troll our $4.00 toll we found ourselves in surprisingly dull territory.

The scenery looked almost identical to the mind-numbing drabness that is the American Midwest. Dead fields, dead trees and a sprinkling of depressing farm houses facing mega highways and signs for fireworks and casions. The bridge into Canada from Michigan boasts one of the single most depressing views of a lake I’ve ever seen. Dozens of factories lined Lake St. Clare spewing foam, smoke and foul aromas into the air and sea. Not a good billboard for tourism to either area.

Entering Ontario was east. It’s always easier to get into Canada than out. Drivers in Canada must really fear the Mounties, because they don’t speed. It’s odd because I doubt a horse with a burly Canadian on it’s back could catch my car, especially the way I drive.

We learned that the Canadians are not the most creative town namers. We hit London, Paris, St. Thomas and Waterloo, and that’s just in the tiny peninsula of Ontario between Michigan and New York. And while I’m on the topic, Buffalo isn’t the most creative city name, either. Eh, Canada?

Some of the major highways in Canada close for construction at night. That means major detours for lost Americans whose GPS systems don’t have Canadian maps. Yup, that was us. We were detoured more than an hour out of the way, with ill-marked signs and of course following the world’s slowest truckers. Still, at least the detour wasn’t for a major accident, and that’s always a plus.

Niagra Falls is a unique city. It’s both the name of the falls and the city on the Canadian side, and it’s situated in a cozy and industrially convenient location. More on Niagra Falls later. For now, we leave you with this advice: Don’t travel in Canada at night. Who knows when the roads shut down for the evening.

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If you’re following our road trip then you know we hit the U.P via Wisconsin from Rockford, Illinois. This after a long stint in Beijing. Beijing is home to twenty million. The U.P has less than a million in the whole massive area. Needless to say, agoraphobia set in as soon as we hit the dimly populated area. One nice comparison is that there are probably as many birch trees in the U.P as there are people in Beijing.

Having come from a massive city, we found the U.P to be a delight. The people are tough, and remind us of the characters in Northern Exposure. They tell stories that end in “eh” and involve bear hunting, being snowed in for months on end or else hilarious tales of drunken debauchery as they were snowed into the tavern for the night. A great sense of humor and thick skin are prerequisites to living in the U.P. But more than that you need to love the outdoors, because they creep in, and in the U.P there is no contest about which side would win- humanity or nature.

While in the U.P we baited bear, went fishing, hiked around waterfalls and up on the golden hills, and watched the leaves go from green to yellow to vibrant fire red.

See more of the epic photos of the leaves in transition on our photos page!

The American Midwest is a strange land. Daniel Tosh says middle America is for those who have given up on their dreams, and to some extent that’s what the scenery looks like. Lonely farm houses dot the highway, they face the road instead of their fields almost as if longing to jump on the road and escape the monotony of their farm life. Don’t get me wrong, living off the land and farming sounds like it could be amazing, but somehow in the Midwest they make it look draining and miserable. At least that’s how it looks from the window of a car.

We started our road trip from Chicago, having landed there from China in September of 2012. From Chicago we rented an SUV and burned fossil fuels to Rockford, IL. This town has, the residents told me, the highest per capita crime rate in Illinois. Nice claim to fame. A quick drive in the wrong neighborhood and I understood why. What was once a thriving industrial blue collar town has given way to massive unemployment as jobs were shipped overseas. Ingersoll was once based in Rockford, supplying thousands of jobs. They were bought by a Chinese company and moved abroad. Our last week in China we spotted an Ingersoll-Rand road paver. So Rockford went from a thriving industrial hub to a quasi wasteland of unemployment and quiet depression. Moving on.

We then drove through Wisconsin to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. But the scenery along the way bears mention. First, Wisconsin has some odd ideas about traffic diversions when roads are under construction. Narrowing a four lane to a one lane seems like a poor idea, Wisconsin. Just an observation. Also, your people are fat. Might want to take out the escalators and elevators and put scales at the bottom of the stairs as motivation. Just an idea, Wisconsin.

Michigan, you have some work to do as well. In 2008 the whole country kept a weary eye on Detroit wondering what would happen if the auto industry failed. Detroit no doubt suffered an unfair amount of the burden during the worst of the financial crisis. Luckily, we skipped this city and instead headed to the U.P. This undiscovered land is home to amazing beauty as well as hardy people. More on that later, Amy dear TC readers.

In the meantime, I’ll leave you with this short story about our arrival into Chicago from China. Upon landing in the US we were met with friendly smiles, helpful attendants and about the nicest car rental agent in the Midwest. This was a stark contrast to the rudeness in Beijing, and was a welcomed occurrence this side of the Pacific. Thanks, Chicago, for making our homecoming so warm!

The photos here were only one month apart, and we were up in beautiful leaf country for the transition!

By bear baiting we do in fact mean we’re baiting a bear. Bear baiting consists of taking a bunch of fish guts, molasses-dipped bread and other smelly stuff and tossing it in a pile in the woods. Then you take big logs and toss them on top. When the bear gets hungry he pulls apart the logs and eats the mess beneath, and the hunter can tell if the logs were moved and the chow consumed. You apparently bait a bear for a long time, and then when bear season opens you go sit in a tiny metal chair strapped to a tree and watch for the bear.

In addition to bear baiting, we’re also doing a spot of fishing. So far we’ve only caught tiny perch, walleye and a few small mouth bass, but most of them are not keepers, and the few that are keepers are tiny. No luck there, but it’s such a beautiful thing to be out in nature, rocking in the boat and watching the sun go down. We’re not at all bothered that the fish aren’t biting.

And I, for one, and happy that the bear keeps outsmarting the hunters.

The time has come, my lovely friends, to bid adieu to the Middle Kingdom. We packed up our belongings– things we had acquired over two years in Beijing– and shipped them home in suitcases with friends over the course of a few weeks. When the 8th finally rolled around, we had a giant pile of suitcases to take with us, and of course tiny Gwendolyn and all of her belongings.

One side note. Our little baby was five weeks old when we boarded the plane from Beijing to Tokyo to Chicago. Yet she now has more clothing and accessories than both Mike and I combined. She has a car (stroller) a lazy-boy (car seat) and a contraption to strap her to our chests like royalty on parade. She also has a giant suitcase of clothing that spans from formal dresses and shoes to nightgowns and day clothes that would make Kate Middleton jealous. And that’s not even counting all of her diapers, wipes, lotions, soaps, medicines and more. So, of the five suitcases we flew out with, two were her things.

Our first flight to Tokyo was on JAL – Japanese Airlines. As someone who hates flying and hasn’t done it in over five years, I have to say that the folks at JAL were amazing. They took what could have been a horrible experience for me and turned it into a bit of a wonder. The ladies were so nice, beautiful and concerned with the baby’s comfort that it was almost over-the-top care. We went through the diplomatic line at security as JAL folks led us and the baby to the shortest line. We then went through security (baby got her first pat down) and then got priority boarding at the gate. Once on board they brought a snack for the baby (she was too young for bananas and crackers) and brought her toys (too young, but they left her a JAL burping bib) and then after takeoff they showed up immediately before giving drinks to anyone to set up the clip-on bassinet. Then they came by periodically to make sure she was comfortable and gave us a bag of diapers and wipes for her and allowed us to use the first class bathroom to change her. They were amazing. The flight was only slightly over three hours, and they filled that time up with doting on Gwen.

Then we had a five hour layover in Japan where we were shocked to discover a Mother’s Room with an area for breastfeeding, padding changing tables, and a tap that shot out purified, boiling water for cleaning bottles. Next door was a play area. We were so shocked at the care given to mothers, babies and kids in Japan, especially because in China people were still elbowing their way past me holding the baby at the airport, and smoking near her. Tsk tsk.

From Japan we boarded an American Airlines plane where the flight attendant never even acknowledged us. We had reserved a bassinet, but once in the air they said they couldn’t find it. They never brought us anything for the baby, and when Mike went to change her in the business class bathroom they kicked him out (the coach bathroom is smaller, smaller changing area impossible to use and a giant line to wait in while holding a fidgeting baby on turbulent winds). This flight was eleven hours long, which means that without the basket to rest her in we were stuck holding our newborn on our laps. That meant we couldn’t even fall asleep for a moment or she could fall. 11 hours of no sleep right over the nighttime was tough, really tough. And since we were landing in Chicago and renting a car we were worried we’d be too tired to drive. American Airlines was really, really bad. We were so dehydrated from lack of anything to drink in addition to sleep deprived and exhausted from holding up our eleven pound baby for eleven hours that we were near zombies when we landed. And by the way, there is no priority treatment for people with babies once you land in the USA. No Mother’s Room or anything. It’s hard to see such a stark contrast. (By the way, type in “American Airlines Sucks” on google to see more photo evidence).

We rented a car from Budget and the guy there upgraded our ride once Mike told him we had a newborn. That was a nice surprised. We had a Jeep Grand Cherokee and it barely held all of our luggage and piles of baby stuff.

So, we’re back in America and landed safely after 24 hours door-to-door with a newborn. She was a champ and didn’t cry once. And we’re so grateful to the amazing service on JAL for making the first part of our return so wonderful.

Newer photos loaded every few days at the bottom of the page. NEW!

Here are photos of Gwendolyn at the hospital. We’ll load more on this same page soon. Check back in a week once we get the rest of the memory cards rounded up!

Lauren with Gwen one day one, still in the hospital.

Mike and Gwendolyn, a few hours after birth.

Lauren’s mother with Gwen, hours after birth.

Lauren’s sister with Gwen, day three.

Gwen’s tiny feet– day two.

Gwendolyn, day one. Hours after birth.

She looks like a little umpa-lumpa! Day one.

About her name: Gwendolyn Xiaolong. “Xiao” means “little” in Chinese. Long means “dragon,” so her middle name is “little dragon.” Xiaolong is pronounced “shaow-long.” All one word.

We named her this because it is the year of the dragon, a fortuitous year to be born. She was also born in the 8th month, the luckiest month and one associated with fortune. Since she was born in China we wanted her to have a piece of her story in her name. Plus, she really is turning into a little dragon beast!

Here are some of our nurses and our translator. We had about 20 nurses on various shifts and three doctors. (Photo from Dad)

Gwendolyn in a tiny monk hat. So adorable and grouchy looking. Three days old. (Photo from Dad).

Here is our last photo before we went into the delivery room. Still pregnant and oblivious to the trials ahead!

Lauren’s grandma, Gwen’s GG. (photo from Dad).

The first moment Mike saw Gwen. Minutes old.

Lauren’s sister, on her birthday, the 4th. Also, Obama’s birthday she informed me. (Photo from Dad).

Gwen with her fairy god mother, Lauren’s sister. (Photo from Dad).

Gwen at exactly one day old. She was born at 5:35pm. She rolled over and looked at the clock (and didn’t seem happy about the result). (Photo from Dad).

With all the photos FROM Dad, this is the only one OF Dad and Gwen.

Here she is in her little sling. We tried to take her out for her first outing a few days after we came home from the hospital and she just wouldn’t have it. Ended up staying in.

Aaron came over to see the mini-me. He held her for less than five minutes and she pooed on his lap. Least she was in a diaper and Aaron was a good sport about it!

Grammy all dressed in white for the baptism.

Uncle Sam, reclining in his baptism garb.

A great shot of the baptism of Gwen by Dad and Grammy. A beautiful ceremony in the park.

Our little family at Gwen’s baptism.

Lauren and her siblings at the lake for the baptism.

All the boys at the baptism playing Abby Road.

Gwen at her swearing in ceremony at the US Embassy. Applying to get her passport and SS card. Yay, another American!

my auntie is awesome!

look at my pretty dress!

inconceivable!

“i feel pretty, oh so pretty!”

Two of the girls, and the cat is still bigger!

The godmother supplied little Gwen with so many pretty clothes.

Tiny cargo pants for a newborn! ha!

Gwen in one of her godmother’s outfits. This one was hand made!

Uncle Sam holding Gwen.

Gwen visits her friend Lily. They have a stare down in the nanny’s arms.

She weighs 4.54kg at 3 weeks. Lilly weighed 4.71 and is a few weeks older.

Nuts about Grandma.

Pretty!

Alfalfa hair and princess shoes.

My princess shoes.

cute expression.

pretty in my squid dress.

1950s baby.

baby cheeks.

snake style martial arts pose.

mama and baby.

my other babies!

asleep at last, asleep at last, thank heaven she’s asleep at last.

She looks like a female Eminem in this outfit.

Gwen’s one month birthday outfit. polka dots, tutu, pink and skin tight– so adorable.

Gwen in her birthday suit, on her one-month birthday!

At one month, Gwendolyn in her Great Grandma’s hand-made baptism outfit.

Gwen was born at around 15 inches, and today she was at 18 inches — one month later. Happy Birthday Gwenie!

Mike looks a tad uncomfortable. Cute.

Two little hippos.

Mom with her creepy, freaky green rabbit doll. Yes, she carries it down the street with her.

Baby, baby mama and baby’s mama’s mama.

The Chinese says “Beijing” because she is our little Beijing baby dragon.

_________________From China to the USA____________________

Our last moment in China at the Beijing Airport.

Gwendolyn meets her grandma Bromley.

..and Gwen meets her grandpa Bromley as well!

Gwen gets ready for Thanksgiving a bit early.

This is the creepiest rendition of this American classic I’ve seen in a while.

Mama tells Gwen to learn to drive early.

Gwen sings Elvis songs on the car ride north.

A beautiful smile from a beautiful baby girl. She smiled after a silly joke.

She made this face when I told her that there wouldn’t be a Madagascar IV.

At the smell of beer, Gwendolyn makes a face. And yes, I’ve become that crazy person who snaps millions of photos of her baby and posts them online.

A beautiful knit sweater gift from family friends up in Big Bay. Thanks Ray and Lionna!

Cute sleeping outfit for Gwen from the Bradleys. Thanks guys! She looks adorable, and the giraffe may be her power animal.

————–And now, a series of photos of Gwen’s blowouts————

Here’s Gwen pooping in grandma’s arms.

And here she is having exploded out of her onesie, over her pants and all over her new sweater (oh, and on Mike and grandpa bromley’s armchair)

Here’s mama cleaning up the aftermath.

And finally, Mike changing his first diaper with Gwen one day old.

Oh my, a massive blowout while visiting family in North Carolina. Below, the changing photo.

Gross.

Here I change her diaper on the lawn in Philadelphia, where our nation’s independence was announced.

————–Back to poop-free photos————-

Uncle Sam naps with Gwen.

A cute duckie outfit for bed time.

A pretty outfit for Uncle Sam’s golden birthday party!

Little Gwen in her greaser outfit.

Daddy and Gwenie hanging out outside.

BearPaw introduces Gwen to an alpaca.

Party outfit!

Daddy’s pretty baby.

Auntie Kristin, who dresses Gwen so nicely.

Honi takes a nap with Gwen.

An OMG cute sleeper outfit.

Cabin clothes for Auntie and Gwenie.

Gwen at Lake Michigan.

Daddy and Gwen at Lake Michigan.

Gwen at her Build-a-Bear Dragon take a road trip.

Gwen meets her first Canadian.

“Oh hai, why you no talk to me?”

One happy road-tripping baby.

Gwen’s first interaction with a giant personified piece of candy.

Inside a giant Hershey’s bar = heaven for mama and Gwen.

Hard Rock cafe- Niagra Falls = CHECK!

Daddy and Gwen at Niagra Falls, Canada.

The family at the falls.

Gwen, the little angel, and her awesome pacifier.

So happy to be so fashionable!

A cute hat from Auntie Gayle.

mama rocks a baby to sleep in a cute snail-themed nightie. Ironically, she fell asleep slowly, too.

Daddy picked out my outfit. I look like a grouchy, color-blind umpa-lumpa.

Uncle Mike shows the kids how to hold a baby.

Uncle Mike teaches a class about China to nephew Andrew and his lovely classmates in New Hampshire.

Loves her car seat.

Gwen sees the liberty bell.

The first cousins meet! Cooper and Gwen (and my cousin Josh and I).

The first cousins.

holy cute.

Great Oma and Cooper and Gwendolyn.

Great Opa and Gwendolyn.

A cute Calvin Klein outfit from Aunt Nancy!

Grandma’s new pink outfit for Gwen.

Gwen’s Halloween costume.

Gwen on her 3-month birthday!

Grandma holds Gwen (photo from Aunt Kim!)

Lauren’s grandparents at the Melang family photo shoot!

Family photo.

In Nashville, a lovely hat and sweater from Aunt Pam, Sarah and Uncle Erik!

Gwen goes to Tootsies, in Nashville.

Another Nashville bar, 3pm. Awesome.

Gwen sees Al Green, in Memphis.

Gwen visits Bill Clinton’s library, in Little Rock.

A cute outfit for her day in Tulsa.

Gwen visits Uncle Sam in OK.

Peanuts in Colorado Springs.

Gwen meets a Jarvis.

At Garden of the Gods.

Gwen keeps an eye out for snakes.

“This pool is just my size!”

Gwen wears little Bear Paws cuz she missed her BearPaw and Honi.

Kristin teaches Gwen how to sing……. then the baby took over!

So chic and fashionable.

Gwen turns 4 months

Present from Auntie K

Toy from fairy Kris

Gwen’s first thanksgiving

Visiting friends.

Holy cuteness, Batman.

Almost Christmas!

Gwen’s first snow

Foreshadowing?

More cuteness.

Christmas!

Daddy’s helper

To the beach!

Gwen turns 5

Present from Kris

BearPaw!

Photo shoot

Ahhhhh!

Playing with Grampy

Grammy babysits!

Lovin’ on Grampy

Playing in the high chair

Eating crushed peas.

How you doin’?

Too much fun!

family photo!

We’ll load more photos soon. Check back if you’re interested.

Although the last post was overwhelmingly negative, the actual delivery and birth went quite well, and our baby is now safely tucked in our room.

We were concerned about a great many aspects of the pregnancy because of the poor prenatal care and the total lack of respect our doctor and nurses on the prenatal floor had for us, and for the process in general. Mary’s could use some major work in this area. But, the folks up on the fourth and fifth floors- delivery, operating room, maternity nurses, etc- are of another breed.

Upon arrive on the delivery floor we were greeted by a barrage of blue-clad nurses, some of whom spoke English quite well to our surprise. Our translator, who until this point had been distant and nonchalant, appeared eager to help and anxious. A nutritionist came in to inquire about my religious-food habits and the baby’s doctor came in to introduce herself. My own doctor came in to introduce herself as well. We all agreed to start the induction as progress was going too slowly, in the morning.

Morning rolled around and progress was non existent. We started an IV in the pre- delivery ward. The room was barren and toothpaste green, with two beds and a lot of hardware. A local lady was across the room chowing down on some unidentifiable piece of meat while watching her IV go down. They hooked me up and we watched the clock. A few hours later there was no progress. Then suddenly around noon the contractions started in every two minutes and extremely painfully so. I was doubled over, vomiting, coughing and panting. Nothing prepares you for that level of pain. They put me on oxygen and the nurse sat on the bed with me for the next four hours. Although the contractions became more frequent overall progress wasn’t occurring. Between 9am and 4pm I had dilated less than one centimeter. The translator came in with the doctor to tell me pain medication was not an option until I was dilated, but that in an epic catch 22, that simply wasn’t happening. They set a time limit- either dilate by 4am or they would insist on a C-section. It was nearing 5pm. I threw up a banana Popsicle (gross combo anyways!) and the doctor agreed that a C-section at this point was probably the best option considering the oxygen, vomiting and painful labor without progress. I was very disappointed in myself, but continuing in that state seems futile considering the slow dilation over the past eight hours.

So, we prepped for surgery. At this point things happened very quickly. Mike signed about two dozen release forms while they prepped me for the operating room. The next thing I knew (still in contractions every other minute) I was being wheeled down the hall, horrified pregnant women peeking out of doorways as I rolled past.

They blocked Mike at the doorway to the operating room, and lifted me onto a table under a giant white light. I was rolled onto my side and given an epidural. If you’ve never experienced this, it’s a unique feeling. The anesthesiologist (who spoke English nearly fluently) moved the needle around making my limbs feel like they were being electrocuted. It was so bizarre.

I was strapped to a cross-shaped table, my arms were tied down. They raised a screen so I wouldn’t see the incision. Sadly, in the rush the pain killers hadn’t yet reached the spot, so I felt the cut and howled into the oxygen mask. The nurses all jumped and the doctor’s eyes about fell our of her head. They waited a few minutes and tried again. I could still feel everything, but not as painfully. It was as if my stomach was unzipped. I could feel the cuts at different layers without experiencing overwhelming pain. This was pretty fascinating because my mind was 100% lucid. Probably not a great idea without a psychological pre screening.

They reached in and I could feel them holding her head. Then they pushed on my stomach from the outside to urge her out. I heard a doctor comment at how big she was. She didn’t make a sound and I started to panic, thinking the worst. My heart monitor was beeping so fast that the translator came over to hold my hand and she brushed my hair and whispered calming things. A few minutes later I heard the first baby cry and, of course, started crying too. The translator wiped away my tears and the nurses all gushed and there was sobbing all around and people coming by my face to say how pretty she was.

A few minutes later a nurse walked over with her, showed me her genitalia and announced “it’s a girl!” Remember, at this point we weren’t supposed to know. It was an odd first view of my baby, but she flipped her around and put her cheek up to my face so I could kiss her and see her from a more favorable angle. She really was adorable, though a bit covered in blood for my taste.

The nurse took the baby away and I heard them performing the Apgar in the background. The doctors and nurses spent over half an hour closing me back up. What had taken around five minutes to do, was 30 in the undoing. Still, an amazing medical feat and I’m always impressed at how quickly and professionally surgeons do their craft. The translator stayed by my side and held my hand the whole time. How was this the same person who didn’t care at all in pre- natal? She was saving the day.

I was rolled out of the room and into the hallway where I saw my dad and brother. My dad’s flight had landed while I was in delivery, so he got to the hospital in time to wait outside the O.R with Mike and my mom and brother. It was such a nice sight to see them right away. They wheeled me to my room where I saw Mike holding the baby in the doorway. A few hands lifted me into bed and I think I slept. I didn’t hold the baby for several hours. I did hear my family in the room as the pain medication wore off. When it was gone, there wasn’t overwhelming pain but it was ever present. I fed the baby for the first time but still hadn’t seen her up close. It wouldn’t be until the next day that I got a good look at her and could hold her sitting up.

Well, that’s the story of how Gwendolyn joined the world. A bit of a rocky start and I’m sure she’ll hate bananas forever, but she came out a champion and a dragon.

Side note about her development. At exactly one day old, we laid her stomach down on the bed for a photo next to the clock at 5:35 (her birth hour) and she pushed herself up to look at the clock. She is amazingly strong! She can nearly sit up on her own, and she is holding her head up and looking around, pushing away from shoulders to view the other people in the room. She’s strong enough to push and pull items and, before I could feed her, she sucked the skin off her own hand. What a little beast! Cute beast though.

Having a baby in China as a westerner is an astonishing experience in every sense of the word. It’s unlike the process back home in almost every way. Granted, I’ve never given birth anywhere else– I’ve just heard stories from friends who have and a few brief visits to maternity wards to see friends. Still, the experience sound almost nothing alike.

Recap of Available Hospitals in Beijing:

There were several hospital options to choose from as an expat. I could attend a local hospital where the doctors only speak Chinese. I could attend an expat hospital, where the doctors were trained abroad. Or I could attend a high-end Chinese hospital where the facilities and equipment are western but the doctors are local. For some ungodly reason I chose the later. Actually, the reason was money.

There are two expat hospitals in town. Beijing United and AmCare. Both charge a small fortune, and cater almost exclusively to expats whose insurance will be carrying most of the financial burden. When I contacted the hospital for a price quote I nearly delivered the baby on the spot when I heard the shocking sum. Over 50,000rmb. AmCare was slightly more affordable at 40,00rmb.

Of the high-end Chinese hospitals, Mary’s Maternity and Beijing Union, we preferred the latter. Unfortunately, owing to the popularity of both the year of the dragon (2012) and the fortuitous nature of the 8th month (August) that hospital was fully booked for our due date, and had been for months. That means people reserved their beds before becoming pregnant. Essentially, that left us with only one option- Mary’s Maternity Hospital. So, that’s where we went.

Mary’s Maternity Hospital:

Mary’s had quite a mixed reputation. Some friends of ours swore by it (“they sent the baby a birthday card every year!”) while others lamented it as low quality and high price. At 30,000rmb, it was cheaper than the expat hospitals but more than the local hospitals. They claimed to have translators on staff who were also studying to be nurses who would be there every step of the way.

If you do a search for photos of the hospital you’ll find an amazing array of beautiful snapshots…. of other hospitals. Even the image above is a massively doctored photo of the actual shoddy building. I don’t think Mary’s understands what false advertising is. In the lobby of the real hospital is a collection of photos labelled “Mary’s Mothers and Infants Hospital” and then photos of luxury hospitals and hotel rooms. I asked dozens of times (mostly for the fun responses) if we could see those rooms and lobbies. They always looked confusedly at me and said, “but that isn’t here!” Silly me. Anyways, here is a photo of the actual pre-and-post delivery room.

Our initial visit was a success. The hospital was relatively clean, and unlike most local hospitals there was both T.P and soap in the bathrooms. Our doctor was a 90-year-old communist with close-cropped hair and a smile that could re-freeze the ice caps. She was about 4 and a half feet tall and had a grip like a caged gorilla. She sized us up as morons and immediately advised us to go home to deliver the baby. She couldn’t be bothered. She had a point, but we had a business to run in Beijing and couldn’t leave, so we ruined her day by making her aware of our intention to stay in China for the birth. She sneered not so differently than a badger would when defending it’s burrow, and ushered us out of the room without a word. Apparently we were done for the day.

Our next few visits were not much of an improvement. They sometimes weighed me, sometimes didn’t and then looked shocked when there was a jump of a kilo or more in a month. They sometimes monitored my heart, sometimes didn’t. Everything was haphazard. They took blood and urine samples without fail, however. The results of all of these tests were not shared with us, and we were not entitled to them. When we asked the answer was always the same. “It’s nothing.” It wasn’t until the fifth month that I finally insisted on taking my records home and looking at them. It was then that I discovered any information about my pregnancy at all.

Around seven months, they informed me the baby wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Actually, the way they informed me was the translator typed a word into her iPhone and then showed it to me. “Cardiac Ischemia.”Knowing very little about cardiac health and illnesses I called Mike, who was at home, to look up a few details of my newly acquired ailment. He informed me it was a pretty serous thing. I was alone at the hospital all afternoon between oxygen intakes and EKGs and then fetal heart monitoring. The whole time, no one would tell me anything. I was ushered from room to room by an angry translator who reminded me it was her day off with every turn of the hallway. I was a wreck for a week worrying about this, emailing medical friends and researching online. In the western world information releases stress, in the East apparently the less you know the better. Without information, though, my mind assumed the worst.

They made me come to the hospital every other day for a half hour intake of oxygen, and then they’d do a fetal heart monitoring session to see if things were on the up and up. We either got the badger sneer or the frigid smile. No other information was provided, despite our pleas. We snatched up test results for a sneak peek, only to have them grabbed back and stuffed in our file like a top secret dossier of private information.

One thing about giving birth in China– you become your own doctor. Eventually I took home our records and spent days translating them. We used the test results and the internet to essentially play doctor ourselves. Did I have preeclampsia? We learned how to tell using the urine and blood pressure test results. Was I anemic? We learned how to read into the blood test for that. I spent hours studying how to read an ultrasound so I could check the cord blood, heart rate, amniotic fluid levels, PI and RI and so on. You’d be surprised how many textbooks are fully online these days. And so, after a few months we were experts in the fields of ultrasound interpretation and blood and urine analysis.We were not, however, any closer to understanding why our doctor was so cold, or why no one wanted to share anything with us. Seems it was harder to make a connection with anyone at the hospital than to learn all of these insanely complicated medical elements ourselves.

At 8.5 months they finally agreed to let us take an oxygen tank home with us rather than commute through the horrid Beijing pollution to get an intake at the hospital. This was a marked improvement for us, and lowered stress and anxiety (brought on by the very thought of dealing with the hospital) and increased oxygen without compromising it with exhaust fumes on the way to and fro. Here’s a photo of the little tank.

At nine months the baby was late, and the doctor insisted on waiting. There were no special test, but our regularly scheduled ultrasound showed the cord wrapped around the baby’s neck twice. We were informed of this nonchalantly by our mostly incompetent translator as she picked her lunch out of her gnarled teeth and strolled down the hallway ahead of us playing on her iPhone. “So you know, the cord is around it’s neck twice.” and then she walked off. It took about 45 minutes for us to make the doctor and the translator understand that we wanted more information. “We already explained it. The cord is there,” she would say. “Yes, but what does that imply?” I’d ask. “I explained it. The cord!” she’d yell. “Yes, but what does that mean for the baby, for our delivery?” Mike would try to interject. Eventually we left the hospital and, as always, did our own research online.

At this point, we’re frustrated, anxious and entirely fed up with the whole process at Mary’s. You’re not entitled to information about your health or your baby. Ultrasound techs lament showing you the screen. Translators don’t know medical terminology. Doctor’s are too concerned with their two-hour lunch break to offer you any real time or concern, and record keeping is shoddy. If we could do it again, we surely wouldn’t attend Mary’s, but then we’d likely head back home like our under-zealous doctor advised in the first place!

Tune in next week for Vol. II– Delivery and Postnatal Care at Mary’s

We’ve met quite a few people who make their money on the road in interesting ways. Whatever allows you to travel and make a bit of cash to break even is good enough for most.

Surprisingly, though, we’ve met a rash of people recently who have made their travel money playing poker. If you’re interested in making your money via gambling you can try a site like Playpoker.com, where you’ll get the opportunity to play and earn a few bucks in the process. In Beijing recently we met a lucky fellow who won a jackpot and used all of his winnings to fund his entire trip to Asia– several months on the road in exotic lands. A few years ago we met another man who would play online for hours each day, thinking of it as his 9-5pm job. He would pull in thousands each month and once he’d saved enough he took off on a round-the-world tour. If you know what you’re doing, playing poker online can really rake in the dough. Whatever gets you back on the road!

We’ve also met people who, like us, make their money selling their experiences in the form of writing contracts. Some have written books, some have lucrative blogs (those with SEO experience, anyway) and some do journalism or travel pieces as they tour. This is a great way to make travel cash if you’re a decent writer and have a few contacts in the industry somewhere. Sadly, the field is overcrowded and standards have dropped.

We also met a fellow who makes his travel cash building websites. It’s a mobile industry– you can do it from anywhere! He sets up a few website contracts and then travels as he builds them. It’s difficult to find constant internet access in some regions of the world (ahem, Mongolia!) but if you know how to structure a decent site (and perhaps a bit about SEO and marketing) this is a lucrative potential way to make travel cash.

Whatever helps you fund your travels can’t be a bad thing! Get out there, try a few of these techniques and make a few bucks to extend your travels or launch a new adventure. The road awaits!

Recently we’ve had a rash of strange creatures find their way into our little Beijing hutong. Perhaps it’s because we finally broke down and installed air conditioning. The weather outside the hutong is humid, sticky, hot and gross so when little creatures find their way inside it must be quite a relief.

First it was blood worms. At least that’s what I nick-named the bright red worms who crawl out of the shower drain whenever the drain cover is removed for a shower. A search online revealed that there is already something called a blood worm, and it has nothing to do with Beijing’s horrible plumbing practices or the long worms that emanate from the drains in our bathroom. Still, they don’t do any harm so we share the bathroom with them and in return they clean the grout. Not a bad trade off. By the way, as far as I can tell the worm is a regular compost-style worm but when they live in water they turn red. That might be BS because I got it off the internet. I’m not too interested in doing further worm research.

Last autumn we noticed a new scratching noise above our heads. Somehow a creature had worked it’s way inside our roof, but not quite into the house. We debated what the creature could be for a long time. We named it “Chuck” and when he didn’t who up for a few nights in a row we would worry about Chuck’s safety. It turns out Chuck was a feral ferret, or more appropriately a common Siberian golden weasel. They infest the entire area of Beijing…. infest it with cuteness!  We hate to be greedy, but eventually Chuck got so loud that we couldn’t sleep at night, so we bought chicken wire and climbed up on our hutong roof and blocked poor Chuck’s entry into the house. No more Chuck, though I hope he is doing well and has infiltrated someone else’s ceiling.

Next it was the geckos. These guys are pretty cute. So cute in fact that I wish they would stay out of the house because our two little cats are enjoying their first crack at real hunting going after these guys. The geckos are about five to seven inches long as adults, and the size of a postage stamp as infants. They can really crawl quickly. A few weeks ago I watched an outdoor gecko of the same variety attack a giant centipede. The centipede quickly coiled into a ball and flung it’s mighty tail at the gecko, who didn’t let go but furiously flung it’s head left and right. It lost grip on the centipede who scurried into a hole, but the battle was epic while it lasted. On another occasion Gremlin (our cat) caught a gecko and it detached from its tail, leaving the tail to distract the fascinated cat while the rest of the body scampered up the wall and out of reach.

Which brings me to the centipedes and millipedes. These guys are not really welcome, and were the first creatures to get the boot from the house. When we find one, it’s Mike’s lucky job to toss it out of the house before the cats get a hold of it. I’ve read that some centipedes are quite poisonous. They haven’t managed to climb up the walls at all, so at least they are confined to the floor. We keep finding them near the cat food bowls. Not a smart move on the part of the centipede. When the cats do find them, they poke at them but generally are not interested in a quick meal.

Finally this morning we had our most recent house guest, the common yellow scorpion. When I found him I was barefoot rummaging under the bed for our extra blankets. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a shape that registers the flight impulse. So I flew out of the room. Mike came in with a bucket and turned it over the scorpion. Later, he discovered it was already dead. Another causality of the cats, it seems.

So after two years of living in a Beijing hutong, these are the only guests we’ve had. Not bad considering other people have reported cockroaches, ants and rats.