Looking Back at My "Ten Years Ago Today" Retrospective

Perhaps to make up for the 23rd lasting so long, July 24th, 2010, was a short day... mainly because I didn't even wake up until shortly after noon.  There were a few moments of disorientation as my mind tried to wrap itself around actually being back in my own room and a few pangs of loneliness when I didn't have to worry about who used the bathroom first while the day's first bottle was being prepared... but then things sort of settled into place and I could deal with things like the astonishing volume of dirty (smelly) laundry I'd jammed into my suitcase during the rush to get packed...

With some concerns about overwhelming the Pipsqueak (plus a few lingering concerns about bonding, based upon what a lot of smart & experienced people had been telling us about it for years), we kept the day to "just us" and I rejoined AJ & Miri at their house with Mom & Dad -- but we had asked friends & family to give us a day or two to settle back in and everyone understood.  It was fun regaling our folks with all the stories that didn't share well over Skype and to watch them start to build a real relationship with their new granddaughter. (Who, by the way, seemed to think they were a pretty good catch as grandparents.)

The next few weeks were filled with meetings and baby gates and introductions and all that goes into establsihing a new "normal" that had been under construction for half a decade.  Everyone was thrilled to meet the Pipsqueak -- the first time AJ walked down the block where she lives, she ended up with almost a dozen neighbors congregating around her to meet Miri -- and everything began to fall into place.

I dd have an unexpected but important lesson taught to me shortly after I returned to work.  A number of the residents at the nursing home knew about the adoption and were asking me for updates and photos, and those who didn't know about it were curious about where I'd disappeared to for almost a month.  I was explaining to one older woman that I had gone to China to meet my new adopted niece, and the GNA who was taking care of her stopped what she was doing, stood with her hands on her hips, and addressed me loudly and firmly the way a mother might lecture a wayward child.

"She is not your adopted niece -- she is your niece, and she is loved, and that is all that matters!"

It stopped me in my tracks, and I thanked her for the mini-lecture because she was dead center on-target... and from that moment forward Miri lost the title "adopted" any time I spoke about her.  I never felt any kind of separation from her (from Day One I honestly felt she was as much my little girl as she was my sister's), the lack of direct genetic link meant nothing to me, and if anyone wanted to make an issue out of it they would encounter that part of my personality I refer to as The Beast In The Basement... but somehow I had been unaware of how often I was saying "adopted" while speaking about her even though it had such little meaning in the relationship.

(For anyone thinking, "But she's gonna know somehow, dufus!" my polite response is "DUH!" -- but that does not mean she needs to be addressed with a title that emphasizes the difference between our genomes and minimizes all the other very real links between us.)

Which, in an odd roundabout way, brings me back to the present day.  My body includes several added creaks & groans that were absent in China, and I definitely move a little more slowly than back in 2010; AJ's hair is a lot grayer, and the less pleasant of daily life's realities long ago rubbed off the sense of euphoria that lasted from Gotcha Day well into 2011.  Dad just turned 90, and Mom 86; for their ages, they're doing well -- but life at that age (and with parents that age) is decidedly different from what it was back when they picked us up that night at Dulles.

And the Pipsqueak... well, she really hasn't been a pipsqueak for a while, now (but still likes it when I use that pet name for her).  Once easily identified as the smallest kid in any photo, she has grown like a weed, is an honors student and accomplished dancer (who is talking about becoming a veterinarian), plays the flute and wants to learn to play the guitar, is an artist with a good eye for design & color, retains all the lung power she first demonstrated in China, is learning to keep her very highly-developed sense of justice and right/wrong in check, and is very much a Tween -- and she has retained every bit of the empathy, desire to help, loving, and kindness that she demonstrated in her first couple of years home.

I expected this ten-year retrospective to be a pleasant stroll down memory lane, a nice way to strengthen the echoes of experience that may have faded over time while sharing them with my readers.  What I did not expect was the combination of nostalgia, wonder, and melancholy that began with the first installment and kept growing with each subsequent post.  

The nostalgia is rooted in the sense of hope for the future and euphoria at the succesful conclusion of a years-long adoption journey that I felt back in 2010.  Nearly five years of anxious waiting, concerns over bad news out of China, of repeated expenditures for repeated renewals, of fear of something going wrong, and a sense of my family never being in control over our own futures all began to rapidly fade the morning of that last "just the four of us" breakfast in the main terminal at Dulles, and totally vanished when we walked out of that same terminal as a family with five "immediate" members.  Between those two moments, I got to add thousands of miles to my travel logs, ticked off several items on my bucket list, and experienced a series of adventures unlike any before (or since)... a truly amazing time in my life.

The wonder comes from the almost immediate effect the Pipsqueak had on how I perceive the world, life, family, and my role in all three.  Anyone who knows me well is likely to have heard me say, I may only be her uncle, but she's my little girl -- and the shared, mutual connection and sense of love between Miri and myself that has grown continuously since those hot, sweaty days of tyring to keep her stroller in motion is a constant sense of happiness and awe.

The melancholy... Well, some of what's causing that is probably obvious.  I just spent hours typing essays about a time of almost limitless hope for a newly dawning future while having to worry about unemployment, pandemic, my parents' advancing age (and my own), societal upheaval, and a steady drumbeat of news about steadily deteriorating relations between the US and Chinese governments. I have an intimate sense of the desperatoin and sorrow the many families still trapped in The Wait are now feeling,.  I've had to have in-depth discussions with Miri about how her feelings of isolation due to pandemic precautions are linked to her feelings of isolation due to abandonment a decade ago... along with conversations about how to deal with people who now want to avoid her (if not hate her outright) purely because of her genetics.  AJ and I are both a lot grayer (and I'm a lot creakier) than we were, and our folks are in many ways much older than "just ten years" might sound like.  It truly feels like I am living in an entirely different world from that of  July 2010, one with far less hope for the future, far less sense of wonder, and very little chance of ever being the subject of nostalgia.

But all is not bleak, all is not dark, all is not lost.  In viewing the events of July 2010 through the lens of the events of July 2020, it is easy to forget the difficulties, the challenges, the fears.  The "shadow child" of unknown health and potential turned out to be a little girl full of empathy and caring and talent and intelligence, with a solid and realistic sense of her own self-worth and an awareness of the effect she can choose to have on others, all with an innate drive to Make Things Better.  My father passed his love of history on to me (and to his granddaughter!), so I know the pendulum of time often swings outside the zone of comfort... but it then swings back again, and with a little care & patience I, AJ, and Miri will see that happen.

The little girl who once just looked at me quizically in a Chinese hotel room because she didn't know how to react to being tickled has grown into a young lady who makes me proud to be her uncle on a daily basis -- not because it is asked or demanded of her, but simply because that is who she is.

Ten years later, the adventure has changed... and the adventure continues.  

Ten Years Ago Today (July 23): A Long Day's Journey Home

I've never been good at getting up very early in the morning, but on the 23rd I popped WIDE AWAKE the moment the phone rang with the usual trilingual wake-up call at 5:00am.  We had to figure out how to cram the Pipsqueak's usual morning routine, our morning routine, all the last-minute arrangements and repacking, AND breakfast into far too small a number of minutes.

The schedule for the day was a bus ride to the airport, a three-hour flight to Beijing, a little over four hours' layover in that airport, and then another 13-1/2 hour flight back to the U.S. (which our itinerary showed lasting only 1-1/2 hours due to the International Date Line and time zones involved).  All three families had all luggage ready for pickuip by 6:00am and I even managed to squeeze in two platefuls of food at the breakfast buffet before time remaining ran down to zero.

Someone (perhaps Lucy) had mentioned in conversation the idea of mailing a letter to the baby being adopted for them to read in the future.  I wanted to do this as soon as I heard about it but hadn't had the time -- but the way we had split the morning's to-do list gave me a few precious minutes alone in the room while AJ took care of the last checkout details so I took advantage of the free hotel letterhead & envelopes and quickly wrote a note for my niece to read when she was older. (I know the envelope has not yet been opened -- but you'll have to ask Miri what the note says, it's entirely up to her.)  I did one last sweep of the room (finding two of Miri's outfits hidden between bathrobes in the closet), then zoomed back downstairs with sealed letter & toddler clothing in hand to rejoin the group. Lucy gladly took the letter to mail for me, refusing my offer to pay postage; it showed up Stateside just a few days after we did.

Our final departure from the White Swan (past the red couch from the previous evening's photo session) was akin to a salmon's swim upstream; there was a solid flow of American families with young Chinese girls coming in the same door we were tryint to exit through. I noticed the kids were all grade school oage or older, so during the traffic jam I asked one of the parents and learned it was a group on a heritage tour -- they'd all been at the White Swan years earlier to adopt their daughters (no boys in that group) and now that the kids were older they were bringing them back to retrace their adoption trips and let the kids experience a little of their birth culture firsthand.  AJ & I were hoping (still hope) to do the same in the future... but right then all we wanted to do was get to the airport on time!

Ironically, the bus for this trip was the largest & most luxurious of the entire trip, but the ride to the airport was quieter than usual. We would be saying goodbye to Lucy at the airport, another final farewell to someone ho'd very quickly become a firend and who had played a major role in making each family's adoption dream become a reality.  The Pipsqueak dozed off... we reached the airport... our goodbyes were said... and we were boarding our plane for the flight to Beijing.

The only moment of note aboard the plane came when the pilot switched from ground power to internal power during our (late as expected) push back from the gate.  The air conditioning dumped all its excess moisture into the cabin in the form of thick, white clouds that obscured the ceiling (and scared the dickens out of Yours Truly) for a few moments.  Once airborne, we watched the landscape below change from a deep, rich subtropical green to a browner, more heavily populated appearance and it didn't feel like much time had passed before we were descending into beijing.  Of course, once Miri woke from her nap, she had energy to spare -- so Mommy and Uncle Brian had to take turns distracting her (Cheerios helped!) and convincing her she really did want to say in her seat.

Once in Beijing, we all had to figure out how to get from Terminal 2 (domestic flights only) to the distant Terminal 3 (international flights only). We found it required using an airport shuttle bus that ran on a strict schedule, with no bilingual help in sight.  We quickly hoofed it en masse across the several lanes of traffic between the terminal exit and the bus stop only to discover there was no way we could all fit onto the already-crowded bus.  An empty bus pulled up next to us just before despair set in and the menfolk quickly began slinging suitcases aboard. By the time all our stuff was aboard the bus had almost completely filled with other passengers -- but the mommies found seats and the guys just hung hopefully onto the overhead rails as the bus pulled out into traffic.

We were surprised to discover the route between terminals required leaving the airport entirely but after a quick tour of a nearby office park we passed through another security gate and arrived at Terminal 3.  Offloading was rushed but easier and then it was time to locate the check-in counters.  The three of us were flying home to Dulles airport while the S and B families were on an earlier flight (on a different airline) to Chicago, but we all decided to hang out together as long as possible...thus AJ & I were able to watch their travel plans evaporate at the last minute.  Just 45 minutes before their scheduled departure, Papas S and B were still what looked like miles from the check-in counter, with a massive crowd still ahead of them. They were eventually told that the flight had been cancelled and the airline staff was scrambling (with amazingly little organization) to find people a way home.  Well after their originally scheduled departure time, both famillies learned they would be leaving late that night to fly into New Jersey for a weekend stay in a hotel before each boarded a different connecting flight to their respective homes.  Aside from a few things said quietly out of earshot of the youngest in our group, this gave rise to jokes along the lines of, "At least you'll understand the language... oh, wait, it's New Jersey, maybe not!"

Now thoroughly paranoid about our own travel arrangements, AJ & I excused ourselves and jogged to the United counter several hours early -- and not only checked in without a htich, we even got the desired upgrade for extra legroom on the long flight home.  We actually felt a little guilty telling the other families, but they were genuinely glad for us. (At this point I decided the "wishing vessel" in the temple only worked for the wisher's immediate family.)  All travel arrangements finalized, the group headed through security for one last time... nope, two last times... oops, make that three times...  (Dude, you better not complain about buffing the floor at U.S. airports with your stocking feet after all these security checks!)

And then came the point we'd all expected but weren't really ready for: AJ, the Pipsqueak and I had to go left, and the other two families had to go right.  We had all been together nearly 24x7 since arriving in China; each had watched the others meet their new daughter for the first time; and had shared many personal moments, family differences, dirty diapers, and new adventures. Now we had to separate, no knowing if or when we'd be able to see each other again.  There was a last round of hugs, hopeful mentions of possible reunion times, and after one more look over our shoulders (and Papa S calling out to general agreement that we were all family for each other now) we went our way and they went theirs.  It actually felt strange for just the three of us to be wheeling through the airport knowing that we weren't all getting together again for dinner that evening.

I remember thinking that our new family life had really begun at that moment, with faint glimmerings of our new "normal" on the horizon... 

....and our China trip was now truly over.

Once again in liminal space, we walked -- and walked, and walked! -- through the departure areas as I mulled over our situation.  The last time we had been moving through an airport like this, there were just two of us starting "The China Trip" we had been working toward for years.  Once that trip began, we were always with two other families and at least one guide, with each family participating to some degree in the other two families' addition of a new member. There was always one more hotel breakfast buffet, on more day sharing the sights or worrying over paperwork, one more day of wondering how the little ones would do once we were all back Stateside... And now, with an unexpected suddeness, the trip was done & over with, there were three of us instead of two, and each subsequent day would be a new version of mundane without the daily flow of new sights, sounds, scents, and flavors.  (I knew better than to think there would be no more adventures; they would just be occurring in more familiar surroundings.)

I tried writing in my journal -- sadly neglected throughout the trip, due partly to exhaustion and partly to the Pipsqueak wanting to play with the pen whenever it was within reach -- but found myself more involved with people-watching.  It took me a few minutes to realize why the scene seemed so strange... (Dude, all these adults... where are the kids?!?)

We needed water to mix a bottle of formula, so I found a vending machine and bought three bottles. I used a Yuan note for the first bottle, and the machine gave me back the first Chinese coins I'd had for the whole trip -- which I really wanted to keep, but the only other Yuan notes I had left were denominations the machine didn't take so I used the coins to buy two more bottles (that way AJ and I could have a drink and still have water for more formula later.) As usual, the Pipsqueak attracted some attention, and there were a few short but pleasant conversations with other people waiting to board the plane. (One woman noted that the last time she'd used the same airline as the S and B families, she had a similar problem that chewed a couple of days off her itinerary!) The call to line up for boarding finally came, and we were bumped us to a shorter, earlier-boarding line because of the Pipsqueak. Finally, we started filing through the doorway, boarding passes scanned as we did the Baggage Dance one last time, and...

Yet another security checkpoint was being set up at the base of the jetway.  I had no idea what they could be looking for, since everyone there had already gone through at least three permanent checkpoints where their luggage & papers were repeatedly examined, but right there -- at most 15 feet from the door of the plane! -- was a set of folding tables with two armed guards at each.  Everyone scrambled to unlock and re-open bags, carry-ons, etc. for yet another examination by the Chinese authorities. Even more annoying was the confiscation of our unopened water bottle; had I known I woudln't have bought it and thus would still ahve some interesting coins to add to my souvenirs.

A young woman in miitary uniform motioned me toward the closest table, then patiently(?) waited while I dug out all the necessary keys and unlocked my carry-on.  She quickly rummaged through everything, oddly not bothering to check any small compartments or look in my laptop's carry sleeve but carefully looking inside all the folded clothing, then gave me a polite "Okey!"  A quick reorganizing, rezipping, and relocking later, I was waiting for AJ to be allowed to catch up and a few minutes later we finally boarded the 777 for our flight home.  (Note: Back home, AJ told me that she & Miri had been checked for explosive & chemical residues with an electronic "sniffer" -- not just this time, but at every security checkpoint throughout the trip!)

For the first time since arriving in-country, we pushed back from the gate on schedule and it wasn't long before we again felt the familiar pussshhhh and lift and (albeit with mixed feelings) were leaving China behind.  The seating was arranged 2-5-2 across and we had seats 3 through 5 with Miri between us; I missed having a window but was glad to lea be able to lean back, catch a movie or two, and maybe catch up on some sleep.

Wait... sleep? On a plane? Moi?  I've never been good at it, and this flight was no exception.  The young Chinese girl on my right (in her young teens) and her mother had a tendency to lean away from each other, which meant she was usually leaning into me.  Meanwhile I was helping keep an eye on the Pipsqueak, who was traveling like a pro but would periodically either get too close to the edge of her seat or conk her head on the seat belt buckle when she laid down (the latter bothering her much less than it bothered AJ or I).  To our left, one row up, was a mother (accompanied by an older woman) traveling with a little girl in a "lap seat" -- meaning the child was in her lap for the entire flight -- and while I understood the likely desire to save money it wasn't too long before I caught myself wishing the kid would just pass out or something. (I actually didn't blame the poor girl for being loudly crochety; her mother unintelligently failed bring along anything to keep her entertained.)

Counterpoint to the young girl's occasional crying & whining (and, once again, the infotainment system being glitchy) was provided by the polite & happy attentiveness of the cabin crew.  The three ladies working in our section were a good team -- and they seemed to take a shine to Miri, quickly learning the timing to bring water for her formula & frequently checking to make sure she and her Mommy were OK.  The flight was relatively uneventful, and the Pipsqueak only got smelly a couple of times (which is how we learnged the B777 only as fold-down changing tables in some of its bathrooms).  It was cool to see our wingtip just brushing the North Pole on the seatback monitor before watching another rerun of "Ratatouille" or "Date Night" or "Clash of the Titans" (hey, I like variety).

There was one scare just after we began fina descent into Dulles.  We had all 3 tray down to discourage Miri from exploring that big open area under the seat in front of her and AJ & I were talking about nothing in particular... when all of a sudden my niece disappeared headfirst through the tiny opening between her seat and the tray table with a loud THUNK! as her head hit the floor.  Of course we had all kinds of stuff on the tables, so there was a mad scramble to get one folded up out of the way so we could reach the Pipsqueak.  I don't know how AJ did it so fast but she was scooping her daughter up off the floor and checking her head (not even a bump!) and cooing calming noises in her ear in about 2.7 seconds.  Heart rates slowly returning to normal, we were soon stowing everything away for the last time...

...and then came the experience of getting into the terminal.

As I mentioned in my post about our flight to China, Washington Dulles International Airport[1] at that time still used a 1960s system that falls into the "it seemed like a good idea at the time" category. To avoid the then-common walk across an open tarmac followed by a climb up a portable stairway into the plane, passengers would be carried between terminal & aircraft in a "mobile lounge" -- the entire body of which would rise to the height of the aircraft/terminal door for everyone to get on, then drop down onto its chassis for the drive between doorways, then rise back up to door level to let everyone back off.  ("Jetways? We don' need no steenkin' jetways!")  This means you have to endure the usual crush & rush to get off the plane only to get crammed into a crowded bus, wait for it to fill, wait for it to drop down, wait for it to make its way to the terminal, wait for it to rise back up, and then endure that lovely rush & crush again before actually stepping inside the terminal.

So we pushed & pulled our way off the 777 onto the crowded, stuffy mobile lounge... and didn't go anywhere. And then didn't go anywhere some more... and then for a while longer.  The flow of the crowd had pushed AJ & Miri far forward of where I stood, but I was right next to the cabin crew and overheard the last one to leave the plane tell the rest that there was a confused elderly Chinese gentleman on the plane who thought he had lost something. Problem was, he didn't remember what he had lost, where he had sat on the plane, or if he'd lost the something on the plane or back home in Beijing; he just knew he'd lost something and didn't want to get off the plane without it.

Flight schedules eventually overrode the needs of one confused passenger and we finally dropped down, dodged around a few planes & trucks, then rose back up to match doors with the terminal and everybody piled off. Then we walked down a corridor... and walked down a corridor... and walked down a corridor some more because the delay had forced us to be dropped off at the far end of the terminal from where we were originally supposed to pull in.  We finally reached the Customs area and stepped to one side to catch our breath.  AJ needed to make a pit stop so I gladly held onto the Pipsqueak.  I realized it might be the last "alone time" I had with her for a while, so we had a quiet little talk, just the two of us, and I think she understood my tone if not my actual words.  It was a nice private moment between me and my niece, and I'm glad I had those moments before having to start sharing her with the rest of the family.

Consular staff back in Guangzhou had told us we didn't need to stand in the Foreign Arrivals line when we returned Stateside; since ours was just one of five planeloads of international passengers arriving at the same time, the U.S. Citizens line was happily much shorter. Even so, we had to zig-zag through the line for at least 20 minutes before reaching the line of kiosks where an officer would open that all-important Brown Envelope (it really was a capitalized proper noun in our minds) and stamp a couple of pages that would magically turn the Pipsqueak into a U.S. citizen.  While standing in line, I marveled at the variety of people around us: a rainbow of skin tones, dressed in everything from African tribal designs to business attire to plain ol' cutoffs and tees... an amazing variety that we did not see in China.

We finally reached the front of the line and one of the guards motioned for us to come to his kiosk. He took a quick look at the papers and did what he had to (although the SSN application we were told was in the envelope was not)... and then we were on the other side of Customs and the Pipsqueak's Chinese passport was no longer valid.  (I think that was the first time in five years that my sister dared to breathe normally.)

We got to Baggage Claim to find all the carousels shut down and several planeloads of luggage simply spread out on the floor.  By this time we could have probably recognized our luggage with our eyes closed so in less than five minutes it was all on a baggage cart.  We pushed through the double doors...

...and found ourselves on yet another line.  (Dude, there's a theme here...)  This time there were two guys in uniform -- just two!-  in the middle of the hallway collecting all those little Immigration cards that everyone on every flight had been required to fill out.  (AJ had needed a second card because Miri got hold of the first one.)  I handed our cards to the guy on the left, he smiled and said, "Welcome home," and we pushed through another set of double doors to the Arrivals area.  I was concentrating so much on navigating our baggage cart through the crowd that I missed Dad standing on one side, waving his arms in the air and snapping his first photos of his new granddaughter.  I eventually realized that AJ was yelling for me to stop and wait, and then we all found each other and jumbled together in a big happy family "HI!" for a couple of minutes.  (We all enjoyed the little in-joke of the pink "Made in China" tee AJ had put on the Pipsqueak just before our flight landed -- and were amazed when Miri showed signs of recognizing her grandparents as the people she saw in all our Skype sessions in China.)

A few more photos and a pit stop later, we slowly made our way to the exit and out into the parking lot. It was a beautiful night, and after two weeks in subtropical southern China the heat and humidity of a late July Washington summer felt cool and comfy.  Our folks had picked us up in AJ's SUV because it had the most room, so there was a bit of comedy as everyone tried to remember which button did what (or even how to open the doors).  All that practice on the tip paid off because AJ & I waved Dad off and had everything stowed in three minutes flat.  Dad & I both took photos of the moon rising above the main terminal building...

...and then the peace was shattered by the Pipsqueak's discovery that she was going to have to ride strapped into a baby seat instead of sitting in Mommy's lap.  She might actually have been heard all the way back in Guangzhou, and we were all wondering how we'd manage the long ride home with that sound, but by the time we reached the Dulles Toll Road Miri had mercifully fallen asleep.

We got to AJ's house in good order, and discovered that a neighbor had decorated the front as a surprise to welcome her home with the neighborhood's newest addition. We unloaded everything and transferred my suitcase & carry-on into our folks' car before hauling everything else up the steps and into the house. It felt weird to leave my stuff in a vehicle instead of bringing it through the door with me, but the idea of "home" was (very slowly) beginning to settle in. We spent some happy time just hanging out, watching Miri explore her new home with a little help from Mommy and Grandma. Everyone enjoyed watching Grandma feed Miri for the first time ("Is she always this messy?" "No, sometimes she's worse...") while Grandpa taught her how to play pattycakes and give high-fives. 

Miri was beginning to doze off again and AJ & I had pretty much exhausted our adrenaline reserves, so the newly-minted grandparents forced us to say goodnight and drove me home.  I had thought it felt stranged to be traveling without the other families, but there was no comparison to how weird (and kinda lonely) it felt to be going somewhere without AJ and the Pipsqueak nearby.  I thought I would be too wound up to sleep, but I simply dropped my suitcase inside the door, hauled my carry-on up to my room, and managed (barely) to stay awake long enough to wash up before collapsing into bed... a bed that I had long complained was too firm to be comfortable, but which now felt like a cloud when compared to the beds I'd been sleeping in during the trip.

I did manage to stay awake long enough to check the clock and do a little basic math.  We had flown "backwards" across so many time zones that it was officially still the same day as when we'd woken up in Guangzhou... so for the three of us, "Friday" had lasted almost 32 hours!

I'd like to say I closed out this landmark day with some pithy thoughts or meaningful insights, but what I actually did was turn off the light and pass out while wondering how long it would take me to catch up on all the laundry in my suitcase.

We'd gotten the Pipsqueak home.[2]

[1]  Most locals just call the airport "Dulles" (and its three-letter code is IAD for "International Airport Dulles") but its actual name is "Washington Dulles International Airport" -- with the "Washington" added sometime in the 1980s when someone realized that an awful lot of foreign tourists were accidentally flying to the Washington, DC metro area instead of their intended destination of Dallas, Texas.  (No, I did not make that up!)

[2]  I've written about it before, and I'm sure I'll write about it again, but just for the record: 1st I-8 adoption forms filed, August 2005; 1st home study completed, November 2005; LID (log in date of adoption paperwork by the CCAA), May 2006; 2nd home study completed, June 2007; 1st I-8 renewal, July 2007; Hague Convention goes into effect for all US adoptions, April 2008; 3rd home study completed, November 2008; Hague Convention goes into effect in China, January 2009; Miri is abandoned at the Health Center in Wushizhen, June 2009; 4th home study completed, April 2010; AJ & Miri are matched by the CCAA, May 2010; Miri joins the family, July 2010.  Elapsed time: four years, eleven months.

Ten Years Ago Today (July 22): Our Last Full Day in China

The morning of the 22nd felt a little strange for me.  We had moved from "we'll meet her soon" to "I hope we can bond" to "so this is China" and were suddenly at the point of "holy cow, how do I fit all this into my suitcase?!?"  Every morning had been suffused with the idea of "more adventures today" but somewhere in the night that had changed to "our last adventures today," and I was having trouble deciding whether or not that was a negative.  (While Yours Truly bounced all these thoughts around the inside of his cranium, the Pipsqueak did the smart thing and grabbed some extra Z's while Mommy and Uncle Brian tried to figure out stuff like, "Do I need to wash this today, and will it be dry enough to pack if I do?")

Luckily, it was also one of the most leisurely mornings of the trip, with a later-than-usual departure time and a relaxed schedule for the day. That meant we could cruise easily through our now well-established morning routine without pressure, and even have a little extra free time left over.  The Pipsqueak had finished inhaling her first bottle of the day and was in her usual spot in the middle of a bed (curiously studying a couple of Dollar bills she'd pulled from Mommy's bag) when AJ said, "Let's put her down and see what she does." For some reason, up until this point it hadn't occurred to either of us to give the little one more real estate than what's available atop a hotel bed -- so we weren't sure how mobile she was on her own.  I picked Miri up, gently retrieved the money, and put her down on the carpet.  My niece looked up at me with a surprised expression, looked around the room, and then...  Zoom! Surprise, y'all -- the kid can crawl faster than you can walk!

She checked out the beds, then zipped to the other end of the room by Mommy and checked out the bathroom, pulling herself up unsteadily onto her feet in the doorway for a better look at the counter -- at which point in the video I was filming I hear myself say, "Uh oh, she found where we're hiding her bottles!"  She then wobbled/crawled to the louvered wood doors of the closet and made music with them for a while, quickly learning that hitting them just so made an interesting "bonging" sound instead of the usual "whack!".  AJ turned to me and said, "We better get those baby gates put up fast when we get home!"  (You can read about the now-infamous baby gates here.)

We were eventually able to corral the now-mobile Pipsqueak and got downstairs for one last day of touristing.  Upon reaching the lobby we learned it would be just us, Lucy, and Papa & Baby S; everyone else was either a bit under the weather, too tired, or had too much planned shopping or errand-running left to do. 

Our first stop was the Temple of the Six Banyan Trees, an ancient Buddhist temple right in downtown Guangzhou.  It was established as "Baozhuangyan" (roughly translated as "solemn conclave") but about 1,000 years ago the famous writer/poet Su Shi called it by the new name and it stuck.  It's been burned, rebuilt, and modified a number of times but has occupied the same spot for nearly one and a half millennia.

We pulled up to an unassuming gate in a plain, high wall on a busy street... and left most of the modern city behind as soon as we entered.  We passed guardian figures painted on the inside of the gateway doors and guardian statues by a covered gallery just inside the entrance, then strolled into a large, open courtyard dominated by the tall, beautifully intricate Flower Pagoda (with an only slightly less imposing but beautifully decorated building to the right).  A steady trickle of locals entered behind us, and as we moved further into the courtyard I caught an occasional whiff of incense being burned. (Dude, this ain't a tourist trap, it's the real thing!)

Up ahead was a large cast iron vessel, easily ten feet tall, that resembled a pagoda balancing on top of an incense burner sitting on a teapot.  There were two large openings near the top and Lucy told us that anyone who was able to toss a coin into the vessel through one of those holes would have a wish granted.  Papa S handed me the Chinese equivalent of a penny and told me to give it a try.  I'm awful at hitting targets with thrown objects of any size, but everyone looked so hopeful that I couldn't say no.  I faced the vessel, hefted the coin a few times to get a feel for its mass, took a deep breath, and made a wish for everyone to have a safe, comfortable trip home. I gently swing the coin up in an underhand toss...

...and was shocked to see it sail through the center of the hole and drop straight down inside. Even the little dragons that decorated the vessel looked a bit bug-eyed at my success!  We all agreed it was a good omen but I don't think anyone (with the possible exception of lil' sis) realized how amazing it was.

We continued past a large cast iron vessel full of sand that had many sticks of burning incense placed in it by worshippers making requests of the three massive golden Buddhas in the pavilion just beyond.  Lucy pointed out various details in the buildings around us (for example, the fish figures on the rooftops were an aspect of the dragon spirit's son -- though I doubt the original architects thought of adding colored electric bulbs).  While admiring the intricate wood carving and ironwork, it was impossible to not also see the modern apartment buildings practically leaning over the temple walls, yet another example of the old vs. new contrasts that seemed to be a hallmark of Chinese cities.

I don't have many photos of the three golden Buddha figures in the back of the shrine because Lucy (who shyly admitted she was a practicing Buddhist) said it was considered disrespectful to photograph the figures inside the building.  I did take one shot (she said it was OK) from outside but it really doesn't do them justice.  One detail we all noticed was a tiny swastika cast into the metal of the chest of each Buddha.  Lucy was embarrassed and tried to explain that it wasn't that swastika, but we all already knew that it was a symbol of mystical importance for centuries before being misappropriated by a 20th century European dictator so we were able to simply admire the art & workmanship of the shrine.

Lucy pointed out a statue of the sage Su Shi off to one side, and we learned he was also known as Zizhan, Dongpo Jushi, and Su Dongpo  We decided to not wait for a priestly blessing of Miri and Baby S, but took a few more minutes to look through the open areas of the temple. There were examples of architecture from many periods, a small Thai-style Buddha in its own shrine in a smaller side courtyard, and many locals quietly stopping by to pray, place incense offerings in the braziers, or just sit and enjoy the quite shade under a particularly large tree.  An obviously modern white wood post in a flowerbed had an inscription in different languages on each side; I remember hoping they really meant it.  One last glance at the back wall showed one of the dragon spirit's sons serving as a focal point for families in the apartments next door, along with a window that looked like it had been bricked up by committee.  Then, as we exited, AJ noticed something odd about the ongoing renovation work and asked me to take a photo. (Excuse me, sir, but shouldn't the stairs go around the support columns instead of through them?)

Folding up the strollers on the sidewalk outside, we stopped for a moment to admire the bas-relief panels in the wall across the street depicting scenes of everyday life in old China -- and there was our friend Chicken Man, handing out olives to the children! (We still don't know the connection between chickens and olives.)  We boarded the minibus and headed back into the crazy traffic, on our way to the main city park and the statue that served as Guangzhou's mascot.

Reaching one of the many gates to Yuexiu Park, our driver tried to go in to save us a long, hot walk -- but despite our being passed by another minibus and a couple of taxicabs while he argued with them, the guards refused to let him enter.  He backed out and dropped us off, and we started a longish trek through the park.  It was pretty, with lots of trees & nicely landscaped paths, but ominous clouds were gathering overhead and I began to wonder what would happen if we couldn't get under cover soon... then realized that I was already so sweaty that getting rained on would probably be an improvement!

The closer we got to the statue, the steeper the slope became and the more steps there were to deal with (AJ & I often simply each took one end of the stroller and carried the Pipsqueak in it instead of trying to roll it along).  Finally reaching the top of the hill, the statue turned out to be much bigger than anticipated -- so tall that (Lucy told us) the sculptor had to remake the biggest goat's head not long after the statue was erected because it had acted like a giant lightning rod.... thus the collection of actual lightning rods now surrounding the statue.  I took my time circling the statue (it was HOT and we were all exhausted from the climb) and noted how every goat had its own pose & personality. It was a funny and interesting counterpoint to all the sterile, carefully posed human figures we'd seen in Tianamen Square to commemorate the Communist revolution.

Papa S headed over to the nearest souvenir stand to see if they had water. After chuckling a little at the signs on the awning (remembering I'd seen worse English back home), I got a real laugh out of the water bottles he brought back: "Grand Canyon" brand, complete with the Stars & Stripes on the label!  

Our visit with the city's mascots over, we headed back downhill... and it wasn't long before we were getting rained on for the first time in the trip. Luckily, the rain was light, and we came across a large clearing with concrete shelters along one side. We took refuge there along with several dozen locals of assorted sizes, shapes and ages, and waited for the clouds to stop dripping on us.

There were the usual strange glances, but were used to it; everyone basically minded their own business after nodding hello and/or cooing over the kiddos. We became distracted by a tall young man who was showing off with the love child of a Hacky Sack and a badminton shuttlecock; he was kicking it up into the air, moving it from foot to foot without ever dropping it, sometimes kicking it higher and "catching" it on his head or between his shoulder blades and balancing it there. One thing led to another, and shortly Papa S and Yours Truly were showing the locals just how uncoordinated Westerners can be with their feet.  After we had amused the crowd for a while, the weather began clearing and we prepared to move on.  Lucy spoke with our new friend, and a few minutes later were both proud owners of (obviously homemade) feather toys like the one he'd been kicking around.

We continued on our way through the park to one of the museums on the grounds, admiring it from afar because the only way to get to the entrance was lots and lots and lots of stairs, and Lucy wasn't sure the climb was worth the entry fee. I took a couple of photos...

...and the rain came back, this time for real. We found a dry spot under a friendly tree with a nice view of a nearby stadium and the new downtown area.  The strollers were next to each other, and it was fun to watch the Pipsqueak and Baby S interact. (It was only after reviewing photos from the SWI back home that we realized they already knew each other.)  Unfortunately, they both took interest in the same toy, and AJ had to intercede to prevent a full-blown boxing match from breaking out.

Just as she got Miri laughing, the light, refreshing rain turned into a heavier, annoying rainstorm. We moved and sheltered under some larger trees, but the dry spot we occupied began to steadily shrink. Several Chinese families nearby had the same problem, each in turn giving up and trotting or running down the road to shelter. Lucy called our driver on her cell phone, and I don't know what he did to get past those guards at the gate but just a few minutes later our trusty minibus came rumbling down the road & picked us up, only slightly damper than absolutely necessary.

We headed into the new downtown area for lunch at arestaurant known for its specialty dishes, and enjoyed a meal that included "dessert" both before and after the main courses. Lucy invited our driver to eat with us, and even though he didn't speak English he seemed to enjoy the company & interacting with the little ones. We noted that he & Lucy had different desserts from the rest of us, and she explained that she'd ordered something for us that most Westerners would like a lot more than what they'd had -- and I'm not sure what it was, but when couldn't decide what the black stuff in their bowls even resembled, I was quite content to stick with what I had in mine. (In retrospect, it was likely black bean paste.)  The food was beautifully presented and tasty; the view of downtown was excellent; and despite being tired, damp and concerned about the next day's multiple airline flights, we all had a good lunch... even the Pipsqueak.

On the bus heading back to the hotel, I experienced one of the strangest moments of the trip.  Traffic was its usual horrendous self, so the bus was frequently barely be moving at all.  During one of these slow times, I noticed a nearby building housed a modeling agency (I knew because all the signs were in both English and Chinese).  There were people coming & going, mostly younger women in tight jeans & high heels, when all of a sudden a young couple came out the door and stopped to talk on the sidewalk. As I watched them, I had a sense of their being different, somehow; I had no idea what made me think that, all I know is they simply looked... weird. They were joined by a young man who looked equally strange and out of place; I'm lucky they didn't look in the direction of the bus, because by this point I was staring at them, trying to figure out why they looked so strange.

Then it hit me.

Omigawd, they look like ME!

The three models(?) I was staring at were Caucasians, and they stood out like a sore thumb from the passing crowd. I expected to see people of European descent at the White Swan and the U.S. Consulate, but I had become so accustomed to the adults in our little group being the only non-Asian faces around that unexpectedly seeing unfamiliar non-Asian faces was jarring. I simply hadn't realized how accustomed I had become to the relative homogeneity of the crowds everywhere we went... or how much AJ, our companion families and I stood out as being From Somewhere Else.

Just then, our driver spotted an opening in traffic and we quickly pulled away from the spot; we'd been there just long enough for me to learn a valuable lesson.

I would miss China, but not in the same way I missed Chile, or Belgium, or any of the other places I'd traveled or lived. My memories were all good, and my sister was (finally) adding a wonderful little girl to the family... but we really did not belong here.

Dude, I think it's time to go home...

It wasn't too much later that we reached the White Swan, and as we got off the bus at the main entrance (It's the last time you're getting off after a tour!) I took a look upriver at the rain squalls passing over the part of Guangzhou we'd just come from.  I don't know if I'll ever see that particular vista again but somehow the grayness suited my mood at that moment.   Months later, while tweaking the color saturation of that photo to post here, I found a rainbow in the clouds that I'd completely missed seeing when I took the photo; I like to think it was Guangzhou telling me things really were working out as they were supposed to.

Almost as soon as we got upstairs to our room, AJ & I decided we'd better get in a last round of souvenir shopping -- plus it was time to pick up that extra suitcase we needed to carry 'em all back home.  We were a little short on cash so I headed to the Bank of China branch next door to the White Sawn to change some more Dollars into Yuan while AJ got the Pipsqueak ready.  I walked in and noticed they operated on a "wait until your number is called" system, then noticed an ATM-style machine on one side that apparently dispensed those numbers... Then noticed that there wasn't a single recognizable character, indicator, icon, or pointer anywhere on its screen, just totally unintelligible Chinese characters with arrows pointing to various buttons.  I must've stood there for 5 minutes staring at the screen, desperately willing it to translate itself, when the young guard realized what was going on, came over and asked, "Change?" (possibly the only word of English he knew) and when I smiled and vigorously shook my head yes, he pushed the appropriate button for me and gave me my little number ticket with a smile.

After many a "xie xie" I picked a seat in the waiting area and after a few minutes my sister & niece appeared. Miri didn't want to sit still so AJ took her back outside in the stroller while I waited. And then AJ wheeled her back & forth in front of the bank while I waited. And then AJ wheeled her down to the end of the block & back a couple of times while I waited... and then AJ wheeled her into a nearby store & shopped for a while... Just about the time I was actually beginning to doze off, my number came up and I zipped over to the appropriate window. The very polite young woman knew enough English to coach me through the appropriate paperwork and then began to examine my money.

Every single bill.

In detail.

Twice.

We'd been coached in advance of our trip to take only "like new" bills and had been carefully choosing to change only the crispest, least wrinkled, cleanest bills... but this was absolutely the most detailed, most complete, near-microscopic examination of U.S. currency I'd seen in my life.  Eventually, the teller handed back a $100 bill I could've sworn was perfect, and pointed out a teeny tiny little tear on one edge. I apologized and passed her a different bill, which was carefully examined (notice I didn't say "quickly") until finally she put all the Dollars into an automatic counting machine and had me sign for a smallish wad of Yuan.

I thanked the teller, crammed everything into my wallet, and zipped it into one of my pockets. I scared the little old lady next to me by smiling & nodding at her, smiled at the guard & gave him one last "xie xie," smiled & nodded at the guy who'd been sitting & waiting next to me, and made good my escape. I managed to find AJ & the Pipsqueak in the store next door, and we set off to Jordon's for squeaky shoes and a new suitcase. 

Back when we had ordered some painting/calligraphy from Jordon (that we now had to pick up), we'd  decided that one of the suitcases he had for sale was exactly what we needed for the Pipsqueak.  (She could've fit inside it several times over with room to spare -- that's how much extra clothing, diapers, souvenirs and general stuff we'd collected during the trip!) I also realized that I still didn't have a photo of another favorite statues that we'd been walking past all week, so I quickly rectified the situation.

The calligraphy work turned out very nicely -- and the painted "picture text" of the Pipsqueak's English name may not have been as formally artistic as samples we'd seen at other stores, but there were an originality to the design & personal touches that more than made up the difference. AJ shopped for the de riguer squeaky shoes and we made many a decision about what souvenirs to bring back for friends & family. (Looking back, there were several good purchases I should've made but didn't... and I still regret it!)

Back in the main room of the store, I got into a really interesting discussion with Jordon himself about family, title, and privilege.  Here in the West, we've got "uncles" and "aunts" and "cousins" but we don't differentiate too strongly beyond degree of relation.  However, in Chinese culture there is a specific title & role for every. single. relative.  (To paraphrase another blogger, when you've got 1.3 billion people, you've got to be pretty specific.)  At one point, Jordon's English skills weren't quite up to the task so he interrupted his son's grade school homework to figure a few things out -- and the kid was good! The three of us figured out I might be a da bo (an honorable older close relative) but definitely wasn't the Shu Shu I'd thought I was ever since AJ first announced she was starting the adoption process.

I was enjoying the conversation but AJ was itching to do more shopping and the Pipsqueak had woken up and was getting a crochety. We said our farewells to Jordon (it was finally sinking in that we were really, truly leaving in the morning and might never return), did a little more shopping at a couple of other stores, and headed back to the White Swan. AJ took a couple of photos and then we headed up to our room to prepare for the (in)famous Red Couch Photos.

What's a Red Couch Photo?  Back when U.S. adoptions of Chinese babies first began to happen, it was a common thing for groups of families to pose all their kids on one of the big red couches scattered around the lobby of White Swan Hotel.  It became such a tradition to have a photo on one of the White Swan's red couches that even families who aren't staying there often headed on over to take that photo!

None of us wanted to break with tradition, so it was back up to the room to put on a clean shirt and get the Pipsqueak into a brand-new outfit purchased just for this occasion. Miri was so little that AJ hadn't been able to find any classically styled silk shirts or dresses for her -- so she settled for a bright, clean, brand-new outfit that the Pipsqueak seemed to find very attractive. I mean, c'mon... have you ever seen a more smug expression?

AJ & I amazed ourselves by reaching the agreed-upon couch on time, where we found Lucy had received all the babies' new Chinese passports, ID papers, and the infamous "brown envelope" of papers that was Not To Be Opened By Anyone Except A U.S. Immigration Officer upon our return Stateside. There was a flurry of ultra-careful proofreading, a huge sigh of relief was shared by all, and we began trying to get our three not entirely cooperative models to pose prettily on a nearby couch. What felt like several hundred attempts later (just try to get three toddlers to sit still and look in the same direction at the same time, I dare ya) we had the photo we wanted, plus a happy shot of the three of us getting ready for the long trip home...

There were lots of other photos of various combinations of the different families & their different generations, and then we had a little free time before we were supposed to have Lucy and her husband join us for an American-style dinner at Lucy's.  AJ and I decided on one last look around the White Swan and found a few angles & vistas (and some nooks & crannies) that we'd missed before, then just slowly wheeled the Pipsqueak around the shopping area on the lower level.  Some of the items for sale were amazing... but unfortunately the prices were as well so photos were all we took.

We all met up again by the rear entrance, Lucy explaining that her husband would join us later because of work (and what must have been a hellish rush hour commute). We streamed on down the street to Lucy's Bar & Grill one last time and were ushered into a large back room (I think it was Papa S. who'd made reservations).  We were happy to have air conditioning, and it wasn't too long before Lucy's husband joined us. He seemed a little bewildered by the items on the menu -- we insisted that he try Western-style food! -- but we all had a good time and after few photos of the whole group headed back to our rooms to pack for the trip home.

But first -- "A Home of Love" one last time for some more shopping!  AJ & I found a last couple of gift items for family members, and Vicky had a chance to say goodbye to the Pipsqueak.  AJ got into an interesting conversation with a single adoptive mom from the UK, I agonized over whether or not to buy a book I'd found... and then we really were out of time, and had to get back to our room and start packing. I don't know what was more amazing: how much stuff we had, or how well we managed to distribute it all among three big suitcases, two carry-ons, a big diaper bag, and AJ's bag/purse.  As usual, I was the last one up, making sure our travel blog was complete. I'll close out this post here with the (slightly edited) closing words of my last blog post from China:

"And now it's passing 11:30pm, and I have to shut down so I can pack the laptop and catch a few Z's before our 5:00am wake-up call... I can barely believe we've been in China for two weeks, that I'm able to cradle my cute little niece in my arms & rock her to sleep as if she's been a member of the family for all 13 months of her life, or that we're about to return to the USA to begin the next phase of all our lives. Although neither of us will miss living out of a suitcase, I'm going to miss being able to spend so much time with [Pipsqueak] and [AJ]. My niece is an amazing little girl who's already grown by leaps & bounds in the very short time we've had her, and my sister is (as I already knew) a close friend & confidante, a good fellow traveler and (as we all knew she would be) a wonderful mother.
        I won't be posting anything new here for a couple of days (I'll probably sleep through most of the coming weekend!), but I do plan on posting a wrap-up journal entry (or three) next week.
        So, for one last time from China... goodnight to you all, and we're looking forward to introducing [Pipsqueak] to everyone in person really soon!
        Zai jian!"

Tomorrow's post: our longest day ever.