Greetings from beautiful Guangzhou!
We have escaped the crushed mass of humanity known as Xi'An City, and I am now writing you during naptime (for both Cooper and Meghan, the latter of whom always kids herself by thinking she's going to "read for a while" during naptime---I think the book is really just her version of a teddy bear) from the Victory Hotel on Shamian Island. (Yes, technically, I suppose it IS an island, but if there's a river on one side and a man-made "moat" on the other, does it really qualify?) Anyway, here we go (CAUTION: this is a long one.)
DEPRESSING DIGS
On Thursday we visited Cooper's home to this point, the Xi'An Children's Welfare Institute, or orphanage. We had to endure another 45-minute drive to the outskirts of the city, but we had a new driver who seemed somewhat less aggressive, though he still had to deal with the non-stop circus outside our windows. I was very interested to see where Cooper had lived, and wished I had my camera to document it (Meghan loaned me hers instead). After thinking about it from all perspectives, I decided to leave Cooper in the lobby of the orphanage with Meghan while I took the tour of his rooms on the third floor. I just could not see any benefit to him by taking him back up there. I'm sure his teachers would have loved to see him again (as evidenced by the one lady who saw him in in the lobby and came running over, shouting out his Chinese name (XinYan) over and over again), but I figured seeing his old rooms and teachers again would either confuse him, make him want to stay, or make him fear that we were returning him (the latter of which my case worker had said sometimes happens). I was very curious to see where, exactly, my boy had come from.
Based on the meticulous level of detail they use in tracking their kids' progress (they gave me complete medical/vaccination information, photographs taken every 3-6 months, and even a report of the dates for each tooth eruption), I truly believe that the Chinese care deeply about their children, even in the macro, societal sense. But boy, this place was depressing. The overall sense of it was dark and dingy, with very little light and bare concrete floors in some places. Everywhere I looked, it was clear that they were running on a minimal budget. It almost made me cry when they took me in to see his crib, its light blue metal frame immersed in that image of 20-30 wooden, toyless cribs lined up rail to rail, giving me a cold, institutional feeling of a factory or something. They had very few lights on in the place, and flipped them on in the classroom just after we walked up (perhaps electricity in China is expensive; that would also explain the keycard requirement for power in the hotel rooms). The classroom was less impactful, looking much like an American daycare, but institutional and bare-bones nonetheless. Ten to twelve kids sat in the floor with three workers, most of them braving a wave hello to the most recent set of strangers in the window.
I was eager to speak with Cooper's "Gramma", the lady that took primary care of him the last two years in a group of three children (Cooper plus a boy and a girl). Of course, she could not speak English, but my guide Celine served as intermediary and we got into my questioning. In a flood of non-descript, rapid-fire Chinese sounds, I learned that his name, AnXinYan, was chosen like this: all the kids here are given the same surname of "An" to reflect the city; his first name, "Xin" (pronounced "sheen") means renewed, fresh, etc., to reflect that he has been given a new life after being found in a hospital, and "Yan" (pronounced "yawn") means literally "wild goose", which was the name of the police station where he was first reported (which, by the way, is the part of the name I am very glad I kept after seeing him bounce off the walls the other night before going to bed).
After the tour, I was stoic and couldn't figure out what I was feeling. The place depressed me, but I felt sort of guilty for feeling depressed. After all, these caregivers were doing the very best that they could do with the conditions they were given. Kudos to them for taking care of the next generation, knowing that none of their relationships with the kids are long-lasting or that they will ever be thanked by them. I promised Cooper's Gramma that I would send her periodic updates and pictures, and thanked her profusely for doing such a good job with my son, wondering all the while if the intensity of my gratitude would be able to cross the chasm of translation.
After returning to Meghan (and a crying Cooper after he saw me on the stairs), I told her about the place and she asked, "So do you still feel guilty about taking him out of here?" "No, not really", I replied, with a closed, half smile, hoping somehow, some way, all the other kids I had just seen would find a way out of there to a family of their own. I also felt much better about my mandatory donation to the orphanage, knowing that they needed so much more (after they were so excited when we gave them some pairs of shoes too small for Cooper, I decided to send them Cooper's clothes as he outgrows them).
FINAL ESCAPE
Friday was our travel day out of Xi'An. In the evening we were leaving for Guangzhou, where all the final processing is done for adoptions by American parents due to the presence of the American consulate there. This would be Cooper's very first time on an airplane, and be a good early indicator of the difficulty of the 14-hour flight we had in our near future.
That afternoon we toured the city wall, walking on top of it like you see people do on the Great Wall (or the castle wall of your choice). Just as we had seen at the Terra Cotta Warriors site, our "tour guide" (not our adoption guide) began as a history-telling guide and ended as a salesperson for the local souvenir shop. We've come to expect a sales pitch at every turn. This was our last event with Celine, so we made sure to get her dark-haired, Scooby-Doo Daphne likeness in a few photographs, along with me and my borrowed pink, flowered parasol/umbrella. Incidentally, did you know that in China they say "chez" instead of "cheese" to generate smiles for pictures? Better than saying "eggplant", I suppose (the meaning of "chez").
We got to the airport early, and I laughed when Meghan walked into a restroom and back out in no time, refusing to use the Chinese public toilets, ceramic holes in the floor with no seat. In the gate area, we had a blast talking with 6 school teachers from China, one an English teacher so we could communicate. She started the interaction by walking up and offering me pumpkin seeds and watermelon seeds, and I proceeded to ruin the international reputation of all American seed-eaters right there. Pumpkin seeds I could crack---after generous training, trials, and Chinese laughter---but hard, dried, thin, tough watermelon seeds? No way. That's a cost-to-benefit ratio I'm definitely not interested in.
Once on the airplane---which looked remarkably like a Southwest Airlines plane---Cooper didn't understand why he had to sit down, restrained by a seat belt, but he did OK on his first flight. He cried to get out of the restraint, but then settled down. I fed him dinner (every Chinese flight we've taken has served a meal so far), and he fell asleep. It was a good precursor for the marathon flight back to the States, as he didn't seem scared, didn't have any ear pressure problems, and didn't cry very long about having to sit.
SOMETHING'S....DIFFERENT
We landed in Guangzhou, found our new guide, "Jennifer", and boarded the van for the hotel. Without thinking about it, something seemed different here. Where was all the crazy traffic? Why are these roads so smooth? Why is our driver using turn signals? Slowly but immediately, Guangzhou began to revive us, with its brighter street lighting, its more orderly traffic, its newer and more frequent signage. The hotel was just as nice as the last one, with white marble floor and bellhops galore in the lobby. Jennifer told us of a place nearby called Lucy's Bar, "a restaurant the American families like" (noticeably not "a restaurant I like"), and we have already been there three times. Yes! Pizza and pasta and burgers and enchiladas and ice cream! We may survive this trip after all. Lucy's was a direct appeal to the Western adoption crowd, all the workers in blue jeans and red polo shirts, the menu full of American and Mexican food and drink, Hollywood photos and movie posters on every wall, and almost every table with a permanent baby chair.
This little area on Shamian Island is the funnel point for American Chinese adoptions, the White Swan Hotel nearby called "the baby hotel" by the locals due to all the adoption business. It's somewhat of a cottage industry here, with small mom and pop shops dedicated to selling American-oriented baby clothes and souvenirs.
The general impression of Guangzhou continued the next day: we woke to sunshine for the first time in a week, and were pleased with the cleanliness, professional atmosphere, and bright lights of the medical clinic we visited for Cooper's final exam to clear him through US immigration (he came in at 33 inches and 25 pounds). This was Lucy's clientele times 3 or 4, adoptive families seated everywhere, white clad nurses scurrying between them, and doctors set up in multiple stations for the exam (this very basic set of checks required four different examiners in different rooms). The level of activity was like an emergency room on a Summer Saturday night. I experienced my first empathetic pain when I held Cooper as he cried during his TB test. Seeing all these Chinese kids making their way to the US and other countries, of all different ages and sizes, made me think that international adoption is probably China's secret plan to infiltrate and someday take over the world. Haha.
The next day (Sunday) we took the city tour, and saw several old Chinese temples and other buildings (getting tired of ducking under low doorways and ceilings), with incredibly intricate carvings and weavings and architecture.
THE MIRACLE OF ATTACHMENT
I told you this was a long one! As father and son, I think Cooper and I are doing OK. This is my first time doing this so I have no reference point, but he seems attached to me and seems to be fairly content with how things are going so far (Dad sure is!). His personality comes out more all the time, and he seems to get feistier every day and is already giving me reason to be a proud daddy. His vocalizations have become more frequent, more loud, and more articulate, with some noticeable English sounds being made. He's known his new name for a few days now, and yesterday he said the words "food" and "book"! When walking down the sidewalk yesterday, I said, rhetorically, "give me your other hand"----and he did! Now, how did he know that? We think he's a bit of a clean freak, too, as he's picked up a plastic wrapper off the floor and handed it to me, put a pair of his shorts into his suitcase unprompted, and returned a water bottle to its place in his backpack (by the way, I'm calling them "sucky cups", since you don't really "sip" out of them). I decided to test the limits here and handed him a wadded up piece of paper and said "go throw it away" (in English, mind you!), without pointing, and he walked over to the trash can and tossed it in. Impossible, right? Anyway, now I'm afraid he's going to start thinking of Dad as a slob (he'll be telling me to clean MY room).
We also seem to have a small problem with reprimands. When he does something wrong, and I get stern with him, mustering all the body language and tough tone of voice I can (since I don't know his language), he laughs. He apparently thinks the whole "no!" thing is a big, funny joke. Meghan joked that the compliance and cooperation displayed the first few days was just a scheme to get me to sign all the papers. He's also inserted himself into the stroller when he's ready to go, handed me the shampoo when I'm taking too long in the bathtub, and tried feeding crackers to Queen Latifah on the TV. Anyway, I think he's attaching to me more every day, is adjusting to the new language quickly, and is coming out of the shellshock of having his world turned upside down last week.
SNAPSHOTS
I've always heard pregnant mothers say how they're losing their minds since they got pregnant. Well, I feel like there's now so much more to remember---especially where things are---and my scatter-brainedness was demonstrated today as I looked down and realized I had addressed the postcard to my mother to "Pepto Marquette". We had just been talking about giving Cooper some Pepto Bismol, of course.
Some more city sights: construction scaffolding made of bamboo & twine, women walking arm in arm all over the place, a highway sign reading "Do not drive tiredly", a guy packing away scrap re-bar on his back from some highway construction, and a highway vendor wearing one of those netted lumbar back supports on his head.
A hand-written sign in a retail shop for a toy that you can see with no light: "grow in the dark", hard evidence of the transposition of Ls an Rs in Chinese speech.
Rather than hacky sack, here we saw dozens of people playing "cheen toe", a similar kicking game but using a weighted, feathered projectile instead.
I could really use a drink with some ICE in it!
Scratching out a living in retail: each time we've gotten Cooper's picture taken, we've visited a little mom-and-pop store with a small, point-and-shoot camera, one of which had to dig his printer out and reconnect it to make some copies.
Just 5 more days,
Dave
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