Category China adventures

As anyone who follows international adoptions already knows, China released unexpected changes to their adoption requirements on the 6th of July. The new regulations became effective immediately. One of the new regulations precluded our family from adopting from China.

We started the process earlier this year. Here is more about our first steps on the road to adoption.

To share something personal. The day we found out that the new regulations would preclude us was one of the hardest days in recent years. So much emotion goes into an adoption and to have it yanked away in an instant was crushing. We spent the day in tears, all of us. As an adoptive parent you think of your adopted child as yours– even now before we even know what she is like or who she is. She’s out there somewhere. She’s our daughter’s sister. She’s part of our family. To suddenly find out she’s never coming home was almost too much.

In desperation, we called and emailed our adoption agency in the USA. They were swamped with similar correspondence but did finally get in touch with us. “Hang tight,” was their suggestion. They promised to petition on our behalf and reach out to China for more information.

The regulation that precluded us was the new youngest child rule. The youngest child in the home must now be three. Previously, there was no youngest child rule. Many other Hague signatory countries have similar rules so China is tightening up its requirements. Still, the timing and lack of grace period was surprising to our adoption agency.

I emailed and called friends and contacts in China to better understand the origin of the new regulations. No one knew anything substantial. More correspondence with our agency revealed that they were had people in China, petitioning for waivers for families like ours who were already well into the adoption process.

We waited 14 grueling and painful days, but this morning at 2:30am we got an email from our adoption agency that China has agreed to grandfather our case in under the old regulations!

Thank you China, and thank you to our adoption agency for petitioning on our behalf. After two weeks of pain and anxiety, we’re only back where we started but now we’re elated to be there!

With that painful bump in the road behind us, we are now ready to be paired with a child. Basically, China takes a look at our dossier and takes a look at the kids they have in orphanages and institutions and they try to find kids that match. When they do, they’ll send information on the child to us and we’ll determine if that fits our needs. Essentially, they do their best to make a good fit, and we do our best to stay open minded and not get an image in our head of a specific person. You don’t know the most important things about a person from a picture or a medical summary. What they will like, their personality, their interests… all of those important things can’t be documented. That’s the adventure.

As with our two lovely kids, we’ll find out who our adopted daughter is as she grows and lives with us.

So, the adventure continues and we’re all the more thankful to be on the road to adopting from China.

We began the journey to adoption the way many parents start thinking about adoption: by realizing just how lucky we are. We have a beautiful family; we have food, clothing and the means to provide. We have all of these things but we know that there are a lot of people out there who have nothing.

It was a long road from thinking about adoption in a detached, distant way to thinking about adoption in “we could really do this!” way. And so, after months of discussing the idea, we finally started researching the process.

If you don’t know anything about adoption, prepare to be confused. We sure were. To start, it is an expensive, bureaucratic nightmare that only an insane person would ever try to navigate. And there are many beautiful, insane people out there who have trudged through the process because the end result is worth the agony.

I don’t know who made this graph, but it perfectly summarizes the clarity of the Hague adoption process.

International adoptions by Americans have declined between 65-75% in the last ten years. A fact that isn’t lost on anyone now navigating the Hague process, especially from abroad. People give up because of the cost, because of the paperwork required, because of how invasive the whole process is…

The average adoption costs about as much as a few cars. Once we looked at the cost this way, we realized we could do without some things to make room financially for the adoption. We don’t need a new anything. We can do without luxuries. When you wrap your mind around the total estimated cost and then decide not to let the little fees get to you, the process becomes much less stressful.

The money is spent in a range of fascinating and bizarre ways. First, home study and adoption agencies charge application fees, technology feeds, document fees, processing fees and so on. While they are accredited and must adhere to non-profit laws and Hague requirements, they sure find creative ways to nickel and dime prospective adopting parents. So, before you even officially get started, you toss away a grand.

Next you pay for your home study. Since we live abroad, we pay more to have an “international” home study. We filled out mountains of paperwork. We filed dozens upon dozens of documents. We wrote essays. We asked friends for recommendations. We ordered police certifications. We paid to fly an accredited social worker over and paid for his hotel, his flight, his transportation and even per diem. Then we paid the home study fee. Then we totaled it all up and said goodbye to another three and a half grand.

Then we called our adoption agency (not to be confused with the home study agency) and paid their first fee. Mwah, another three and a half grand. And in return, they send us another bundle of paperwork to fill out, documents to order, tasks to complete. If you want to adopt and don’t have access to a free notary, that’ll be a big part of your total cost. If you want to adopt and don’t have the patience for bureaucracy, that will add a lot of time.

After the dossier is prepared and the home study is done, we file with USCIS for approval to adopt. They, of course, also charge a fee.

So, this is where we are now. We’ve turned in every required document. We’ve jumped through every Hague hoola-hoop of bureaucracy and now we wait. We wait for our agency to: A) approve all of our documentation and; B) charge us the next three and a half grand fee to actually send all of this to China. At each step, you pay to play.

From there, we pay China. Then China matches us with a child based on our home study and dossier, and we accept or reject the match. Once we’re matched we’ll fly to China, pay the orphanage, and pay for visas and passports, do a bunch of paperwork, jump through more interviews, red tape and Hague hoops, and then go home with our child.

It’s so exciting and terrifying to think our kid is out there right now somewhere in China. Playing the same waiting game that we are. At least we will have patience in common with our child.

From other adoptive parents we’ve heard this is actually the hardest part of the process. The waiting. You do all the song and dance and then you sit on the sidelines and wonder what will happen. What our child will be like. What our family will be like. Just wait and wonder.

Wish us luck as we wait.

 

And Wait.

 

 

and wait.

Read the next post about our China adoption here: Adopting from China: A Bump in the Road

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

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.

It’s a long story, and one we’ll share at another point, but we’ve moved on from our management of 12sqm Bar in downtown Beijing. We’d like to take this opportunity to thank all of our regulars, customers, tourists and friends and family for making our experience as bar operators one of the most thrilling and rewarding jobs we’ve ever had!

Mike and I on our final day at the bar, a bit sad but full of amazing memories! (above).

Mike has one final beer and I mix a final cocktail at the bar. Happy times, great memories! (above).

Thanks again to everyone who helped make this the amazing, life-altering experience that it was!

We recently had some friends visit us in Beijing, an occurrence which was a wonderful reminder of how many amazing sights there are in this city. Instead of the major tourists hot spots like the Forbidden City, our friends enjoyed the smaller, more tucked away treasures. The Llama Temple was a favorite, as was eating street food and walking around in the hutongs. We did hit the main highlights (hey, ya got to!), like the Great Wall at Mutianyu and the Forbidden City and Summer Palace, but the real days of exploration and discovery involved the more local favorites, Jingshan Park after the rain, Houhai on a weekend, etc.

Above (image) a very crowded summer-time Forbidden City. The palace was so packed we had to wait in “line” to peek into each throne room. On the other hand, the Great Hall of Clocks provided air conditioning and an early glimpse at China’s attempts to reverse engineer Western technology.

Above (image) Mutianyu. Surprisingly, this favored section of the Great Wall was not that busy mid-week in late May. It was, however, beautiful and worth the drive up. Our guests couldn’t have dreamed of better weather for their Great Wall day.

Above (image) of a side street off Nanluoguxiang. Our guests enjoyed waking up and strolling around the hutongs in search of coffee and adventure. They usually succeeded in one of the two. People watching in the hutongs is a great way to pass some relaxing time. The little window at 12sqm Bar & Cafe was a great place to peek out at the world.

Above (image) of a very un-crowded Llama Temple mid-week. The guests enjoyed this a great deal. It has easy access, isn’t swarmed with camera-touting tourists in floppy hats and smells like sandalwood.

With the current crackdown on foreigners the guests did have to deal with the raging xenophobia common in China. They don’t have other “races” to deal with so they don’t know how not to be racist. Unfortunately, they project all of this on foreigners, which is a broad term that can mean basically anyone who isn’t Han. We had a hard time getting cabs, even though dozens would screech by empty and looking for Chinese passengers. Our poor guests also had several doors rudely shut in their faces. At the Summer Palace the guard told them to go buy tickets to get into a temple, they went, got in line and when they handed the lady their money she slammed the little window down on them, the guard then shut the temple doors.  The same thing happened at closing time at Jingshan park and again on their last night at the Bird’s Nest. A shame, but then it is also an accurate picture of a broad swath of people who dislike and distrust anyone non-Han. The crackdown had many other adverse effects, including random passport checks and a crackdown on foreigners riding the subway without their “papers.” This added a lot of stress and was a pain in the ass for tourists and was, essentially, a pointless campaign. Still, I doubt it ruined their experiences.

China is a great place to get artistic. Granted, it’s hard to paint outdoors because a mob will gather around you, suffocating any sense of serenity or peace, but at the same time the social vibe can be fun if you’re into painting people. What I love about painting in China is the cost.

On Wusi St. in Beijing you’ll find several art shops that sell a range of supplies. From modeling to wood work to painting, sculpture and sketching, everything your artistic heart could desire. And at the fraction of the cost of buying stateside. In 2007 for my birthday I was given a $100 gift card to an art store in Minneapolis. I was in 7th heaven running around filling up my cart. Turns out $100 doesn’t go far in an art store in America. I ended up buying one giant, awesome canvas, some brushes and paints and a sketchbook and pens.

On Wusi St. I took $100 and walked out with ten meters of canvas (unframed), around 30 paint tubs, 12 new brushes, a sketchbook, charcoal pencils, eraser, drafting rulers and all the fixings (paint thinner, sealer, finisher, etc). It was a bonanza. And more recently when my folks visited they did a similar shopping spree at the art store. And why not, you take a suitcase of paints out on your flight and you can paint for a year!

A few days ago a lovely lady at the bar asked to buy one of my paintings (remember the giant llama painting?). I’m pretty attached to my dignified animals, but it was a happy moment nonetheless to have an offer. I’ve had some other interest in my dignified squid. I’m just hoping to hold on to them long enough to get the whole series completed and photographed. Here are some of the dignified animals below.

Dignified Animals:

Dignified Llama (above). The canvas is around 4X4feet, framed.

Dignified Hippo (above). The canvas is around 5 feet x 2 feet, unframed.

Dignified Squid (above). The canvas is 1 foot x 2.5 feet, framed.

Dignified Sloth (above). The canvas is 1 foot x 9 inches.

Un-Dignified Alpaca. This one wasn’t part of the series, but it kind of fits in well here. The canvas is about 1 foot by 9 inches.

Picaso Copies

I was also fascinated by Picaso for a while and went through a phase where I was tossing color and shapes around, even more ridiculously than the master himself (and not as successfully). Here are a few of the Picaso replicas:

The pregnant woman seems sadder in mine than Picasos, and also a bit more Dr. Seuss like.

The above was also not as successful as Picaso’s (that’s why he’s the man!). I’m also not sure why her boobs are hanging out while she’s reading. I usually don’t read that way.

The above is my least favorite of my Picaso copies. I might do some work on the tiles to make them pop more, and I’ve always disliked the muted mirror.

The above isn’t a Picaso copy, it’s an original! But it borrows from Picaso with the dual faces. I was going for a rich woman-poor woman dichotomy.

Dali Copies

A few months ago I went through a Salvador Dali phase. Below are two of the many Dali look-alike pieces I did:

The above is a bit more “southwestern” than Dali’s normal landscapes, but I love the long-legged elephant look.

The above is obviously part of a pair, I did them to flak a doorway.

Oil Paintings

Below are a few oil paintings I was working on a year ago. Oil has never been my medium just because it takes too long to dry and thus fills up with cat hair before it can set.

The above is a mix of oil and acrylic. 3 feet by 2.5 feet, roughly. The reflection is all oil, the rest is acrylic. The below image is meant to accompany it as a pair.

Disturbing Images

Mike says some of my art is creepy.  I don’t really agree, but here are some of the ones that he dislikes.

The above was part of a very long phase where I painted eyeballs. I have about twenty eyeball paintings.

The above started out as one thing, and morphed into another. Mike calls it the “creepy hermaphrodite” which is an insult to real hermaphrodites everywhere. It’s unfinished, but I might leave it that way to add to the oddness.

All is going well with the pregnancy at present, and our baby girl (that’s right, it’s a girl!) will be arriving this summer. Below is baby’s first solo photo shoot:

Mother is doing well, too. Here’s what Lauren looks like when round:

Baby Gear: With one more trimester to go, things are looking good. We have several of the things we need for the baby girl’s arrival. Including little tiny clothes, a stroller, a bathing cot, bottles and a few other accessories. At present, the baby owns more clothing than Mike. Many thanks to Lauren’s sister for providing such adorable clothing! (see below). We also have a lovely baby shower in the works for late May, thanks to a very special friend here in China.

We also have a pretty sweet ride we’ve dubbed the “Mini Batmobile” because it’s sleeker than any other mode of transportation we’ve ever owned. Save for Mike’s first batmobile.

Baby Name: One thing we don’t have is a name. Any ideas? While Mike is interested in a more traditional name, Lauren is holding out for something unique. That brings the grand total of names on the short-list to two. And no one is doing back flips over either one. We need your help!

Pregnancy Care in China: Many of you are asking about the level of healthcare at our hospital. We’re pretty happy so far. Earlier this month we had a gestational diabetes screening test followed by a fetal cartographic scan. They are keeping an eye out for preclampsia and other disorders without being overly invasive. Lauren has had extensive blood work done, and her weight (and the baby’s) is tracked monthly. We also have a fetal heart monitor at home, basically a Doppler ultrasound where we can check the baby’s daily heart rate. We pre-paid at our hospital for the prenatal plus delivery packages, which totaled around $5,000. Not cheap by local standards, not cheap by Cube Abandoning standards but decent considering the amount of testing we’re getting each month. The baby’s first close up photo at the top of this blog is from a 4D ultrasound, advanced technology in any country and readily available here along with a technician who knew her stuff! So the care is good, but having never been hospitalized or spent serious time in a US hospital we don’t know how to compare it to prenatal care back home.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Beijing. You’re supposed to dye the waters green, not layer the city in three-five inches of impenetrable snow.

In the hutongs near Nanluoguxiang we got around 3-5 inches of light, fluffy snow.

My hog, covered in Beijing’s first snow of the year, on March 17th, 2012.

Our little hutong alleyway as the giant snowflakes fall. 2am.

And finally, the classic shot of the streetlight in the snow.

A friend of ours took these side-by-side pics from her highrise in downtown Beijing. 1:30am.

The other day Mike and I were buzzing around on our super sleek moped. He calls it a motorcycle as his man points don’t decrease when saying “I’ll be there on my hog!” but they sure do when you use the words “scooter” or “moped.” Anyways, we were on the “motorcycle” heading to the other side of town when we saw a curious, and heart-wrenching sight.

A woman was lying at the point where the sidewalk meets the pedestrian crossing of a very major intersection in Beijing. Her legs were straight out, her arms were by her side. A local man was bent over her lightly pushing on her chest and looking around with a bored expression while texting on his phone. Every once in a while he’d blow in her mouth. She was imbobile.

We parked the moped and Mike, who was once a lifeguard at a swimming pool, ran over to get the local man off the lady and administer CPR correctly. Not only was he pushing her chest incorrectly, but he was essentially just blowing air into her mouth, none of which would be reaching her lungs.

I’ll pause here to point out that I didn’t notice anything wrong personally other than how bored the man looked. Mike was in a panicked rage as he jogged over and checked the woman’s pule. She was alive! And not only that, she was breathing normally. The man’s feeble attempts at CPR were endangering her much more than helping. I’ll pause here again to point out that after this incident I looked up how to do CPR, and now I can safely say that the dude had clearly seen it on a movie or TV show and was trying to mimic what he’d seen.

Mike asked what happened and it was revealed that the woman had suffered a seizure and fallen over. Unsure what to do (or what a seizure was) a crowd gathered around the woman’s body, which was locked up and nearly paralytic from the shock of the epileptic fit. Since she was non responsive, they assumed she was dead or dying. There was no telling how long she’d been there except to say that it was long enough for quite a massive crowd of onlookers to have accumulated around her seized body. The show was made all the more fantastic for the onlookers with the addition of a frantic white man pushing his face against the Chinese lady’s body and holding his fingers to her neck.

Once Mike determined that she was okay, he instructed the crowd not to touch her, he turned her head in case she vomited, and made sure she had room to breath while awaiting the ambulance someone assured him had been called.

An ambulance pulled up, with several EMPs jumping out hauling a defibrillator. At this point Mike vanished into the crowd and dashed back to the moped. There are horror stories of lawsuits and legal charges against people who are attempting to help a victim on the street in China. We zoomed off and listened to the ambulance siren as it whisked the woman away. There’s no telling how much air was in her stomach from the inaccurate CPR, or if foam and saliva had been blown into her lungs, exacerbating the woman’s plight.

The strangest thing about this whole story isn’t how strange it is. It isn’t how feebly the one man helped, or how an entire crowd gathered to watch but not assist, or even our shock at seeing our very first ambulance in China — in three years! The strangest thing was that the day went on and as with most things in China, this bizarre event was quickly forgotten and it wasn’t until the next day that Mike remembered what had happened and told the story to a friend of his at the bar.

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s official! We’re expecting a tiny little cube abandoner of our own! The little guy (or gal) will be here late this July. We’re planning on having the baby in Beijing, China.

If ultrasound pictures don’t gross you out, one of out little babe is below.

One of the most interesting (and comically frustrating) aspects of staying in China for the pregnancy and birth is that it’s 2012. Many of you think of this as the year the Mayan calendar said we’d all bite the dust. In Asia, 2012 is the glorious Year of the Dragon. This is the single most fortuitous time in the Chinese zodiac to have a baby. Thus, anyone who could wait to have a child has done so aiming to have it born in 2012. Their baby will be bold, wealthy, decisive, confident and lucky. On the other hand, there are some downsides to being born in the glorious Year of the Dragon.

For one, these kids will be hugely disadvantaged. Starting with their birth. Hospitals are all pre-booked (like hotel rooms) and already sold out. All the good (local, Chinese) hospitals are booked. In order to have a prayer at a slot you have to opt for a C-section so they can time your short stay in the much-coveted (and lucrative) hospital bed. This is forcing folks who could afford better care but didn’t get into the system in time to opt for lesser-quality care. This is forcing us to run all over the city like crazy people trying to find a space in a hospital somewhere.

The second disadvantage is the huge amount of competition that these kids will face. Beijing expects an additional 200,000 babies this year over last, which they attribute to migration and the zodiac, much of the former being attributed to new families or expectant families. Already the cost of a nanny has jumped drastically in anticipation of the increase in kids. The price of diapers, milk powder and toys are all jumping up… and not marginally.

When these kids turn 6 the schools will not be equipped to handle the sudden surge over the previous year’s attendance. When they reach high-school age, they will have to compete to get into the good schools. When they hit college, the competition will be more fierce than previous years, or the following few years. Essentially, once every decade one group of supposedly lucky kids will be hugely disadvantaged by increased competition and a lack of resources.

Still, for us we’re watching the chaos with a shrug of the shoulders. This will all make for a hell of a story someday, and of course our kid won’t be raised in China so the disadvantages only extend to him/her insofar as finding a hospital for the birth and the first year’s baby necessities. And the surge in pregnant women in the city is noticeable and, clearly, strange.

We’re excited about our new family member coming this summer and look forward to meeting the little kid and showing him/her around Beijing.

Yours,

Mike & Lauren

The other day Apple was set to release the new iPhone 4S in China. What transpired has hit news stands around the world, so I’ll only summarize briefly. A crowd of around 1-2,000 gathered in Sanlitun at the shiny Apple store the night before the new phone was set to release. In the morning, having waited through another blistering and dangerously cold Beijing night in the depths of winter, there were too many people and not enough phones. The police showed up and announced that the store would not be opening to protect the people, the employees, and the store. Some people were paid to stand in line all night, with no reward if they returned without the coveted phone. Needless to say, the crowd turned mob and pelted the store with eggs in disgust. Here’s a longer version of the story by the NY Times. Apple iPhone sales are now banned in retail outlets and will only be released online. Good move!

This isn’t the first time we’ve had an embarrassing mob problem with Apple in Beijing, and not even the first incident in the last few months. Not long ago two citizens got in a fist fight at an Apple store over the last available iPhone, a fight that resulted in one man being hospitalized and a broken window. As a result of the fight, the Apple store now has more security than the queen’s crowned jewels. These giant, well-trained men stand without blinking as they monitor the interior crowd as well as the exterior. They even have a frisking station, and the number of security cameras has doubled.

Then there was the saga of the fake Apple stores, where some of the employees working the fake stores didn’t even know they were not legit. The fakes were so good, and the shops designed to replicate real Apple stores, that customers, employees and clearly officials were all fooled. Someone wasn’t, however, and the fake stores were quickly shut down. Anyone who has spent time in China knows they will be back, but for the time being with media hype high, the fakes are temporarily on hiatus.

But that isn’t all! When the released the previous iPhone version the line was so massive that it stretched through the Sanlitun village, congesting traffic, resulting in scuffles and fights, and generally disrupting the entire area. So many people went without the phone thanks to migrant workers who were paid to stand in line to acquire the phones in bulk for sub distributors. To this day you’ll find men and women standing directly outside the Apple stores hawking the iPhones they bought on the release date, for an increased fee of course. These peddlers are not only annoying, but it’s hard to watch how desperately they tried to push the phones in the run-up to the 4S release.

What is it about Apple products that drive the Chinese crazy? Sales in China account for 1/6th of all Apple sales, but there are only five stores in the country. They are packed every day of the week with more of a curious mob spending their hard earned cash than the new rich or wealthy. Even those who can’t really afford it save up for months to have the latest gadgets.

But what we learned from the Apple staff is that nearly all the folks who buy the Apple computers and phones have no idea how to use them. The technology is so new in China that they can’t turn them on without detailed instructions. Thus, nearly half of what Apple does in China is training courses for new Apple buyers. This is a brilliant strategy and Apple is truly one of the best success stories in terms of breaking into the Chinese market with huge brand recognition.

If you follow us on Facebook, then you’ve probably noticed the bad-ass photo of Lauren on a motorcycle. Here’s how that transpired:

So it was Christmas morning, the morning after an insanely busy night of serving rowdy Chinese at the bar. We were exhausted and slept in, unlike most Christmas tales where people wake up and run to the tree. We woke up and ran to the coffee. Then Mike started fidgeting and eventually yelled “I can’t wait!”

We ran outside and there next to the grey brick wall was a shiny red motorcycle. . . well, motor-scooter. It’s an electric bike actually with a range of 30km and a max speed of 30km per hour. It’s beautiful, not unlike the motorcycle from The Great Escape. Side note: did you notice that the bike used in the film was actually invented AFTER the supposed date of the film. Major movie flaw, but still you can’t hate Steve McQueen.

So, our first day out on the bike we didn’t charge the battery fully and it died about 3km from the house. A long, embarrassing walk pushing a giant scooter. The second day out we were waiting at an intersection when a local blew through a red light and T-boned the bike, obliterating the fuselage and jolting the frame. Lauren was driving, so she yelled “Get off! I’m chasing him!” and then took off at full speed (30km per hour mind you) chasing the hit-and-run asshole. She yelled, he drove faster. Eventually she sped up enough to ram right into the side of the terrified man, knocking bits of his bike into the air and finally forcing him to a grinding halt when she pointed the nose of the busted red beauty directly in his escape path. The man then had no choice but to either face the wrath of a woman with a busted Christmas gift or to call the police. He chose the police.

They arrived leisurely and overweight, and refused to talk with us. He listed to the Chinese man and then said there was nothing he could do. We insisted the man had not only run a red light, but did a hit-and-run, and was now lying to a police officer. It looked (and sounded) pretty serious. Finally, the lazy cop sucked in his paunch and called his home-base. After a long conversation he reported that the traffic camera showed the Chinese man breaking several laws, and slamming into two foreigners who were breaking none. He sighed and told us to name a price.

This is where it got even more uncomfortable than chasing down a hit-and-run culprit Bullit style. We had to pick a price, out of the blue, and the cop was mitigating and managing the amount. He then would tell us if the price was too high. We demanded the man pay for a new bike or a new fuselage and estimated over a thousand rmb (slightly more than a $100 USD). The cop laughed, and by then a massive crowd had gathered who also laughed in support of the hyena cop. We lowered our bid, there was more laughter. Finally we said we would go with the man to a body shop and accept the estimate amount. The cop agreed, wrote out a slip and was off to serve and protect in another quarter.

We eventually ended up with 300RMB, not enough to fix the bike. Still, it was our first encounter with the legal system and with the police in China and although it wasn’t pleasant it could have been much, much worse.

It was in the depths of a dreary and cold winter in Beijing when Christmas hit, almost unexpectedly, amid family visits and mad rushes at the bar. The garland was hung, the lights were strung, and a fake fireplace had been painted on the eastern wall to give the dark living room the feeling of a home. But still, it never did feel like Christmas.

Christmas eve is a drinking night for Chinese, who remain clearly and openly confused about the contradictions of Christmas. Without a multi-episode series by the BBC it would be difficult to decypher how a baby born in Israel during a census year was related to a jolly man who dressed like a Bloods pimp from the North Pole. And how this all related to gift giving, midgets working as indentured servants, indoor evergreens and songs about sleighbells is literally anyone’s guess here. But it looks like fun, so the Chinese have adopted their own traditions:

1) The words for “Merry Christmas” sounds somewhat like the word “Apple” causing many to gift apples to one another on the 25th. In Sanlitun, in downtown Beijing there were apples ornately wrapped in beautiful cellophane boxes retailing for 50RMB ($7) a pop leaving Mike and I wondering if apple sales wouldn’t be a better industry next year than booze.

2) The Chinese have observed that foreigners enjoy drinking profusely on their profound holidays. Take, for example, St. Patrick’s Day, New Years, Australia Day, Flag Day, President’s Day, Groundhog Day, Valentine’s Day and Thanksgiving. Thus, although foreigners are not out drinking on Christmas eve en masse, the Chinese have taken up the burden and march out into the bars with the grand scheme of leaving on a stretcher. This they do by ordering expensive scotch they don’t enjoy and chasing them with Blue Margaritas.

3) The Chinese have taken to decorating in somewhat a similar fashion to decorations they apparently saw in 1980s Christmas films from the deep south. Strings of lights are tossed up on trees and bushes in hideous colors and in all manner of flashing, vibrating and noise-making variations. A favorite decoration is a close up cut-out of Santa’s jolly face, only his eyes have been adapted to appear more Asian, and his mustache is pointed like Stalin’s. Still, it’s a comical, if not inspiring adaptation of the jolly man’s mug. One particularly bad copy of a Christmas tree involved a massive cone shape covered in purple, vertical lights and interwoven with neon purple ribbon. The cone was decorated in magician stars and moons. The cone was about three stories high and despite being the most unsightly cone ever erected, was a favorite spot for local “Christmas photos.” One that gets points for creativity is a rendition of a tree that was so creative it goes in the “creative” pile and not in the “epic fail” pile. It consisted of three Chinese lanterns covered in vertical lights with a star on top. Props to that one! (image below).

Christmas day can come and go in China without noticing. There were no major special events, though several large hotels held tree-lighting ceremonies full of pomp without circumstance. And these same hotels capitalized on the holidays by offering singularly outrageous meals for those unfortunate enough to be lodging solo for the holiday.

At the bar we got a special treat on Christmas. A band of merry (via drink) carolers were going from bar to bar in what they called a “caroling pub crawl.” This is a tradition I’d love to see catch on. They had guitars and great vocals, and had a few shots of courage before belting out “Oh Holy Night” and a somewhat confused version of “Oh Christmas Tree” that started off in German and migrated, once it was clear no one spoke German in their group, into English. It was a magical, Christmas moment that smelled of eggnog, and sounded like home.

When I was in high school I distinctly remember the day we learned about the concept of a Malthusian Crisis. The teacher drew an upward bow on the black board representing population, and another bow, not as bent as the former, representing food supplies. Where those two bows intersected, the teacher explained, chaos would ensue.

Now that we have seven billion people, I’m reminded of the dread of watching my teacher run the chalk back and forth of the giant X that marked the crisis point.

The BBC is making light of this in one way by offering a “Which Number are You” algorithm to show you exactly what the upward bow was like when you were born. As someone approaching thirty, I was surprised to see that when I was born, the crisis wasn’t all that bad. Check out the slope roughly thirty years ago. I appeared where the orange turns grey.

As far as I can tell, the upward slope started around the 1950s, which would be the post WWII era. But the western world isn’t where the population is necessarily exploding. Look at the next chart:

The above chart shows that the USA has a +0.9 population growth. This is in line with what we’ve been hearing about developed nations– they produce fewer offspring and thus preserve resources. Japan, for example, has one of the lowest growth rates and is one of the most advanced first world nations. (The stats in the image above fr Qatar and Moldova are skewed by immigration statistics versus real birth/death ratios).

The BBC offers a very helpful list of ideas to reduce the global population, but I’m of the opinion that unless people slow down on their own the crisis point will get nearer. China’s one child policy, for example, doesn’t seem to be slowing it’s overall growth, and loop-holes for the super rich mean that you can “buy” the rights to another child, making children a commodity and a status symbol. Essentially, the mindset of producing more children so you have a stable, large family has to be replaced with the concept of producing one or two children to either decrease or stabilize the global population and preserve each nation’s food stock.

One of the points in the Malthusian theory is that not only will resources run out (like oil will, in my lifetime) but diseases will be more prevalent due to overcrowding, which we’re already seeing in the form of new antibiotic-resistant superbugs and diseases like SARS and hoof and mouth and mad cow. Not just overcrowding of humans, but of the livestock raised in cramped corners to feed the obese population.

Still, one of the craziest parts of having seven billion people is how connected everyone is, now more than ever, by internet and phone technology. And as the population grows and people get better connected, it’s surprising to see that the top 1% continue to thrive, mostly unopposed, despite the massive scale of the lower ranks. This current Occupy Wallstreet phenomenon hints and deep distrust and resentment on a grand scale, but also demonstrates that the system isn’t as unstable as Malthus would suppose at this point in the upward bow of humanity.

Yesterday in the bar a Chinese gentleman quipped that if we can survive the next year, as a people, we’ll be okay. He didn’t look optimistic about the markets, humanity, or its bulbous population.

Let’s hope they find that Mars rover and that all of Ray Bradbury’s space colonization dreams come true.

We’ve had the bar for a month now, and so far things are going well. We’ve made a few changes to the place that we think is helping, and already we’ve had a record month (ha ha). Below are some pictures of the bar, and more will follow. I’m also redesigning the menu, and we’re adding more seating. Of special interest, we bought fish for the vacant tank, so we have angels floating around the bar now. Nice.

That’s the front o the bar at night.

Also the bar at night (above).

Here is a better shot of the “Family Table” area. It seats seven expats or about twelve locals.

And a shot of the bar, if you look closely Mike is in the background. He’s drinking Baileys. Feel free to slap him for that when next you see him.

More photos were loaded onto the 12SQM Facebook page, and of course to the www.twelvesqm.com website.

As many of you already know, Mike and I have taken over management of the famous 12SQM bar in Beijing. Once Beijing’s coziest (read: smallest) bar, it’s now a massive 44SQM and contains enough space for some pretty awesome events and parties.

Mike and Lauren have managed the bar for less than two weeks and already their combined happiness index has risen (ironically just as S&P are downgrading every country on the planet).

Lauren has been hard at work creating the 12SQM Website: http://www.twelvesqm.com. Check it out, let us know what you think.

Meanwhile, Mike has been busy actually running the bar. He’s taking inventory, stocking daily, managing customers and running the bar. He’s been a 12SQM superstar! And to top it all of today he was interviewed by Beijing’s largest expat magazine. Snazzy.

You’ll find more photos on the website, and we’ve also launched a Facebook Fan Page so you can share your thoughts about the bar and, as always, keep up on the gossip.

We’re extremely excited to be hosting the Beijing Book Smugglers book club at the bar, as well as the last SinoScuba dive meeting. We’re all for adventure, and 12SQM is a travel-themed bar full of treasures the former owners and ourselves have gathered over years of traveling around the globe (well, portions of it anyway). Most of our clientele are travelers themselves, and they pop in for a drink and then walk out at 3am recommending the pub to their friends. We’re proud of this traveler pedigree.

See you all soon!

A recent Chinese census found that 118.06 males are born in China to every 100 girls. This statistic hasn’t changed for the past ten years, but has become less drastic than it was when the one-child policy was originally instituted in 1979. The policy affects some 35.9% of the population in China (usually city dwellers). (See: 25 year policy)

One of the most unsolvable problems in China’s social fabric, the one-child policy means that for your name to continue you have to produce a male heir. This leads some families to abort female fetuses and hope for better luck next time. It leads other families to continually stay on the run while they have multiple children, or to pay fines for multiple children in one family, which only the wealthiest elites in the country can afford. Biden, in a recent trip to China, commented on the necessity for the policy (See: Biden’s One Child Support) The imbalance is dangerous though, with more males unable to find mates, some are resorting to extreme measures.

Take, for example, the recent kidnappings of Vietnamese women by Chinese men. These Chinese men then sold them to wealthier wife-less men in remote areas of China. 24 million marrying age men may find themselves without wives in 2020 because of the imbalance. Some psychologists suggest that this surplus of men can be dangerous, and the government needs to recruit these singles into specific occupations where aggression can be vented in safe ways, like the military.

If you want to get PADI certified, you’ll have to find a certified instructor to teach you the basics of scuba diving. This isn’t easy when you live in the middle of nowhere, or in our case in Beijing. While we’re near the coast (5 hours by train) we’re not exactly in prime scuba diving country, nor is it easy to take a course of this type in a second language. Luckily for us, SinoScuba operates an English-language class led by Steven Schwankert, who is also the representative for South and East Asia in the renowned Explorer’s Club. When out in the wild, underwater, no where near a hospital you want to be with a coach you trust. We think that if the Explorer’s Club trusts him to represent the most populated are in the world, we can trust him to take us 18 meters down.

We’re in the middle of our PADA open water dive certification, the most basic certification one can get. It involves reading five chapters in a coursebook and taking short quizzes. The theory aspect of the class culminates in an exam administered by Steven. Since we’re only on chapter 4, we have one more chapter to go and the final exam which I’m confident we’ll ace (or at least pass). The coursework isn’t hard, but it is important.

Following this we’ll have two long confined water dives at the Blue Zoo in Beijing, an aquarium full of distractions that will simulate what it’s like being underwater in a lake or sea. I’ve already done one dive with Steven in the Blue Zoo, and survived despite the presence of some menacing looking sharks. Steven tells us that sharks are mostly a calm and beautiful creature and that only a few kinds of shark like human snacks. These, he says, are not at Blue Zoo.

After the confined dives we head to a submerged section of the Great Wall for our open water dives. According to Captain Jack, who did it in 2008, “Swimming along the wall you will come across a big hole in the wall; it was a gate to a tower! One at a time swim through this short corridor being very careful not to touch the wall or kick up the mud to come out the other side. You will encounter bricks from the great wall and some remaining building.Its amazing seeing this huge wall still standing even after being underwater for the last 30+ years which also defended against the enemy thousands of years prior!” (Check it out at the GoodDive Forum)

It’s interesting that the four of us doing this dive course together have such diverse interests with diving. I want to do ice diving, and swim beneath the ice in Lake Baikal. Steven has done this dive and listed it as one of the most intense and interesting. In order to be allowed to dive in Siberia, I need an advanced open water dive certification, ice diving certification, dry-suit certification and 30 logged dives. I’m a long way off. If you’re interested and in Beijing, get in touch. I’m forming a small group (so far I have one crazy Frenchman and myself interested in this dive in late 2012 or early 2013.) Check this out (http://www.abyssworld.com/diving-destination/sibir/lac-baikal/ )Mike is interested in the mixology aspect of diving. Different chemicals for different pressures, and that sort of thing. The others are daydreaming about diving in Bali and Thailand, which I confess would be easier and after this PADI course we’ll be certified to do. Yay.

 Source: Urban Daddy

Despite repeated warnings from friends that we’d come back covered in stranger’s vomit, we set out in a group of 12 from Beijing to Qingdao to lie on the beaches and then attend the annual Qingdao Beer Festival. Here is our trip report:

0600: We awoke to the third or possibly even fourth series of alarms on multiple cell phones and clocks that alerted us that we had already overslept by thirty minutes. We were set to meet the two Germans outside in fifteen minutes.

0622: Met the Germans seven minutes late. They scowled.

0730: Arrived at the Beijing South Railway Station in a panic thinking the train was about to pull out any second.

0731: Realized the train was scheduled to leave at 7:45. We then went to McDonald’s before boarding our high-speed train to Qingdao. The rest of the crew met up and we boarded in typical 7am fashion for a bunch of youngsters, with yawns and lazy high fives.

0801: The first bottle of Champagne was opened as the train started to leave the city. Glasses were poured (Mike even brought Champagne flutes for four. Classy.)

1200: Arrived in Qingdao to sweltering heat and humidity. The train station was alive with noise and, unfortunately, smells. Outside the station there were three-wheeled cars with simple motorcycle engines ready to whisk us (for silly fees) to our hostel.

1228: Arrived at hostel to find it wasn’t ready for us. We dumped out stuff, switched into swimsuits and hailed more three-wheeled cabs for the ride to the beach.

1311: Arrived at Qingdao Beach 1, a homage to the speech in The Matrix about humans being a virus. People were so close along the sand and in the water that from a distance it looked like a brown algae wave. We found a spot in the back, far away from the water that reeked of urine, and set up a small quilt of towels.

1400: A volleyball was procured and a three-on-three game was started. Chinese lined the edge of the court in confusion as we slammed the ball back and forth over an imaginary net, diving around in the sand as if there were real boundary lines.

1532: The losing team had to bury one of their members in the godaweful sand. Mike was chosen and the boys promptly started sculpting inappropriate bodily features on the mound of sand that covered him. It wasn’t long before a small audience gathered to smile, point and most importantly, take pictures of themselves in front of Mike’s sandy new mermaid shape. They aren’t decent to post.

1605: We hopped in a van to get to the Qingdao Beer Festival. This was a decent sized, four-wheeled van. The ride took 45 minutes and naturally we all fell asleep on the way there.

1650: Arrived at beer festival. Found a tent and sat down inside it on wooden benches. Beer wasn’t cheap either, it was the opposite! We bought mini kegs and, naturally, drank them all too fast to realize they were costing us like $50 a pop.

2000: We left the beer festival and went had an impossible time finding a cab. I jumped in front of a minivan and the curious driver took us down the street to get food and beer in a bag, which was the first thing we all heard about Qingdao and my secret beer festival dream. See happy faced me in image.

0900: Woke up, showered, ate and in some cases, vomited. Some people couldn’t get out of bed. We ate breakfast on the roof (again, some of us didn’t) and then headed to the beach.

1120: Arrived at Beach Number 2, which was WAY better than beach number one, which was the virus pit from hepatitis land. The beach was sandy and beautiful, and the water wasn’t over heated by urine and full of used diapers.

1600: We made it to the train station in time to catch our train back to Beijing. The ride back was less Champagne-filled than the ride there. Still, we were all slightly sunburned, happy and enjoyed our day in Qingdao. Here’s one final beach picture of Mike.

Well, a few years ago we did a post on the sink saga, which nearly resulted in the death of several repair men who were standing ankle deep in dirty sink water when they realized all the outlets were about ankle deep plus a half a centimeter. I dove at the shut off for the power and we all made it through the day. The sink took several days of repairs, though.

Now, a few years later we encountered another electrical appliance problem in China. This time, massive thunderstorms and flooding in the hutongs resulted in some of the appliances shorting out. One such appliance was the water heater in the bathroom. So, like any good renter, we called the landlord. We encountered, then, a shocking (read: ironically not shocking) dead signal. She would be no help.

Mike found a repair man in the street and invited him over to have a look. He climbed up to have a peep and dropped his wrench, shattering our sink. He then sulked off and came back with a tiny, cartoon sink. Which he installed and replaced “for free.” By which he meant, the RMB250 service charge for repairing the water heater covered the sink and his time.  Needless to say, this wouldn’t be a saga is it ended there. Nope. The repairman left and the water heater broke within hours.

He came back. Fiexed it again. It broke again.

He left, he came back for a third time and “fixed it” he left, it broke again.

I could write this out five more times to show how ridiculous last week was, but that’s just annoying. He left five times and came back six. On the final visit he was not a happy camper, he finally pulled out electric equipment and checked the power. Yup, it was blown. Could have started with that in the first place given we told him it shorted in a storm. Sigh….

On the final visit, visit number seven I’ll mention, he fixed it, waited two hours to make sure it wouldn’t break again and then left, he had now taken around RMB300 from us for breaking our sink, ruining a week of our lives, trashing our walkway with dirt and making a nuisance of himself. We were at the point of calling the police on the repairman for charging us without fixing the problem. Still the shower is working at the moment, but if it breaks again this saga won’t have such a happy ending.