Passport Mafan

Ma fan is this great Chinese word that means trouble, hassle or inconvenience. Its one we hear a lot, and one that locals appreciate that we understand. Really though, every culture has ma fan, and today we experienced it with our own.

Qingdao is a lovely city to live in. Fresh air, clear skies, friendly people, a tolerable climate (in fact, one of the English phrases taxi drivers where to learn during the Olympics was, "Qingdao has a perfect climate. It is neither too hot in the summer, nor too cold it in the winter!" Quite a mouthful for guys who usually just grunt even when communicating in their own language!) But for all its wonder, as expats in Qingdao we feel our city lacking in two areas: health care and citizens services. Now, don't get me wrong, I know many readers are living in much more remote areas. I really do appreciate what we have experienced here. On the whole though, expats living outside of Beijing or Shanghai know what I'm talking about.

We got a note last Friday from the US Embassy saying they would be in Qingdao for ONE HOUR on Thursday of this week. They would be closed Monday, and all paper work would must be submitted by Tuesday. The girls passports are soon up for renewal, so Mr. Johnson dutifully replied to the e-mail notification THREE TIMES, and received no response. He lined up all the necessary paper work, we got photos taken, and had everything in order for the renewal of the girlies passports. We pulled the girls out of school, and drove 40 minutes to a hotel by the airport.

When we arrived a courteous bell man helped Bei Bei from the van, and just as he put her down, an over zealous taxi driver zoomed into the same area of the carport and near enough to where my kids where to make me angry. I stomped over to his window, tapped on the glass and told him: Be careful... Watch for kids ... This is a pedestrian area ... shook my head and gave him a bu hao (literally "no good" ... another phrase equally used with ma fan). Inside that cab, I later learned, was the Consular rep... we were off to a great start.

They had no record of our appointment.... Our photos were the wrong size... (we had had the standard pics for Chinese passports printed, not the US 2x2 inch) ... we needed photo copies of existing passports (information not included on their site or in any of the literature we had pulled down), and it seemed everyone who had made the trek out the airport was feeling equally frustrated. All of our queries were met with crisp responses. It felt like we were wasting their time (and not the other way around).

We were face to face with American red tape. Ma fan, if you will. And we combated it China style.

Sean went off the business center to make copies, and I went to the concierge to check out available photos shops. The super accommodating concierge actually hopped in our van with me, and off we dashed to a random photo shop several blocks behind the hotel. I pulled out my thumb drive, pointed to the two by two square on the application form, and the lady went to work, photo shopping the kids shoulders to make them wider for the larger format, measuring with her Chinese ruler against the US dimensions. We discovered Bei Bei's photo somehow didn't make it onto the thumb drive at the last photo shop, so our ever faithful driver dashed off to fetch her, and she had her second photo shoot for the passports. Thirty minutes later I was back at the hotel just in time to have our name called.

We sat opposite the Consulate Rep in the hotel lobby, the autumn sun warm on our backs, the with the familiar, acrid smell of cigarette smoke curling in our direction. We laid out our paper work, our 2 inch by 2 inch photos, and cold, hard RMB. We raised our right hands and swore that these were our children and that to the best of our knowledge everything on the forms was true.

We went back out to the van, and wondered how we'll cope in America. The photocopies were 14 cents each in a 3 star hotel business center. The photos (including having Bei Bei's re-taken) all of them re-sized, and printed (2 sets each) was $10 and took less than an hour. Everyone we asked for help was helpful and courteous. No one expected a tip, but were incredibly grateful when they got one.

But, its not just about the money. Its also the attitude. No questions, or stalling, no come back tomorrow... just doing what needs to be done without any ma fan. I've asked lots of Chinese people over the course of our time here how they feel about their jobs. Its a country of over 1 billion, so of course there will be exceptions, but most have a simple approach. Its my job. I do it. What's to wonder about? They value their time differently and today they saved the day! Which brings to mind another great Chinese phrase Bu cuo! (Not bad... not bad at all!)

The girlies original passport photos from October 2005

More Picnik fun with MGJ

Cutest Award

And really... what other award could you give three little girlies who brazenly auditioned for a multi-school talent show of children ranging in age from seven to 17, who sang Do Re Mi, and coordinated their own costumes and choreography (despite offers, which they declined, from one of their mommas-- who happens to be a choreographer--not me-- Tai Tai Johnson is not known for her dancing abilities!)

Way to go EHJ! You are one of my Favorite Things!

*After she and her besties won at their school level, we sat down that weekend and watched the full, nearly-three-hour movie of my favorite musical of all time. (Rogers and Hammerstein... I love those guys! and its fun to see my own girlies do to!!) Thanks to Mr. Johnson, we watched the movie in HD, and for the first time I could see why the captain thought the Baroness was beautiful... my whole growing up years we watched this movie on TV, and later on grainy VHS tapes... the musical being so long that there were two bulky VHS cassettes in the sleeve! and the Baroness didn't seem remotely sexy.)

Check, Check, Check

• Kids Bathed. Check.
• Bedtime call into Mr. Johnson in Beijing. Check.
• Kids in Bed. Check.
• Lunches Packed. Check.
• Extra items (Swim suit and towel for EHJ's swimming in PE, sleeping bag for Bei Bei who will stay all day for her twin classmates' birthday party, party gift, extra "just-in-case" clothes for her cubby since last week she didn't have any and extended her canvas beyond the easel and onto her dress, the laundered "just-in-case"clothes the school lent us; Thank goodness MGJ can capably pack her own bag) ready. Check.

Check. Check. Check.

I'm finding these little marks on scraps of paper all over the house. Bei Bei is on a "check mark" kick.

"It means you got it right, Mom! It means all your letters are right!" she explained to me at my editorial meeting today as I sat outside a coffee shop with my colleagues from the Qingdao Expat at our monthly meeting. Bei Bei proceeded to make tiny check marks in ink all over my notes.

It was a gorgeous day to be out, gratuitously enjoying an incredible October day. I work with a great international team, and with all the hectic parts of putting a publication together, the hour or so we spend together at our team meeting, at the end of the month once all the articles have been submitted and proofed, is one of the most satisfying aspects.

I pulled Bei Bei into my lap and traced her hand, I traced the accountant's son's hand. Then he wanted me to trace his head. But we still got things accomplished. Bless the hearts of my team members who put up with these kinds of distractions. And, yet, Bei Bei and Sammy where of course much more lovely distractions than the sewer pipe that randomly began gurgling just beside our outdoor meeting spot, the same pipe that moments spewed dirty water with a splash... a virtual sewer geyser.

And you know the most amazing part? We just picked up our things, rolled the glass top table over a few meters, and continued our meeting.

Flexible?

Check. Check. Check.

Soccer

*Soccer, or is it football, or even footie? Regardless of its nomenclature, its where we've been spending many a fall morning or late afternoon watching all three of the Johnson Girlies in China kick around the ball.

Its a sport that grows expenentially more skilled as the ages progress... watching first the three to six year olds battle it out in the baggy uniforms of the European professional leagues, then the seven, eight and nine-year-olds, followed on Monday nights by the secondary girls. They began the season like a swarm of busy bees... all buzzing around the ball in a frenzied pack, and have progress beautifully into something akin to a proper playing stategy.

We, like so many parents, where teaming with pride, but also bursting with the wonder of doing something so "normal" in a country where most everything else is outside our usual comfort zone. It was a fabulous six weeks, with fall weather that was gorgeous for all but one blustery Saturday morning. MGJ's team will continue to play on later into the season, but the little ones will be putting away their cleats and shin guards for a while, and finding a spot on the shelf for their mini trophies, and a space on the wall for their team photos!

*for the record, I prefer "footie"

Hello from Planet China

Yes.. we're still here... I haven't blogged lately, but here's what I have been doing:

• attending girls soccer games @ a field tucked up into a mountain
• plumbing (yes, you read that correctly)
• attending a talent contest my child auditioned for without my knowledge (Spoiler warning... she took the "Cutest" prize... like I needed a judge to tell me that!)
• Arguing with my landlord about the need to have our toliets replaced. Her vote: NO, My vote: YES
• Doing the single parent thing for a day or two, while my husband who never travels, traveled
• Finishing up the November issue of the QEM with my editor who now resides across the pond and several time zones away (Thanks for sticking it out with us Carla)

Positively Pre-historic

Three Reasons

Three of many reasons it would not actually be feasible to live on a private island (ala the Swiss Family Robinson) for a year or three:

1.2.
3.

Our Own Private Island

Our Long Tail Boat Trip

There was the spray of salt water, the whir of the propeller hitting the water, the soft thud as we skipped over waves. (It was rough the day we ventured out from the hotel to the neighboring islands.) The snorkeling when we arrived at the bigger island, Hong, was a little disappointing. The water was still churned up from the recent winds. The typhoon that pummeled The Philippines and Vietnam did not pound the Thai coast in the same way, but it spawned some strong winds that made our air travel turbulent and our sea trip choppy.

There we were our family of five, a gourmet picnic lunch packed by the kitchen, with a wind weathered barefoot captain who expertly navigated rough waters. He stood, sure footed and stocky, with wise eyes gazing into the horizon, gentling ferrying our family.

We've made a similar trek on previous Thai trips, but those were with groups, and in speedboats: where the fiberglass frame slammed against each wave and the trip was anything but pristine. When we reached our destination the islands were crowded. And loud. The shouts of one tour leader calling his group to hurry back to the speed boat so they could hurry back across the water, would be drowned out by another leader reminding people not to forget their snorkels. And, there were Chinese tourists, in World Vision life jackets left over from the 2004 Tsunami, attempting to snare fish in plastic bags.

But not here. This is the beauty of Krabi. It's unhurried. Pleasant. Quiet. The long tail captain was not hellbent on getting there as fast as we could. He was patient, and purposeful. He acted like we had all day. We did have all day.

The hum of the polluting outboard motor, which is elevated much higher in a long tail, since the propeller extends so far behind the boat, was loud, but lulling. We skipped over the waves, across them almost, he gently going left and then right to ride the waves rather than crash into or over them.

But let this be said: their is no delicate way to alight from a long tail. It involves jumping and splashing, or if your a child being lifted and hoisted. It involves wading through thigh high water.. which is then ankle deep if you return after a long relaxing afternoon on a private(ish) island; the tide having slowly receded as you lingered on the beach (no longer caring you are clad in a second hand swimsuit), and pondered the possibility of becoming a beach combing family that lives out of backpacks, survives on simple Thai dishes and relies only on long tail transport for a year or two.

Thai Transportation

Thailand is famous for two types of transport: Tuk Tuks and Long Tail Boats.

The Tuk Tuk is a motorized rickshaw named for the sound its little engine makes. Along with gay culture and great food, they are one of the first symbols one thinks of when considering with Bangkok.

Long tail boats are long slim boats used by fisherman and for ferrying tourists around coastal sea areas. Their original use, however was as a canal boat, when Bangkok was a city of canals. (The city was even sometimes know at the "Venice of the East", a moniker shared with Suzhou, a city outside of Shanghai which is perhaps even more famous for its waterways.) The Thai name for the Long tail is Rua Hang Yao. The boat is dubbed a "long tail" because a the long power take off rod extends several meters off the back of the boat. The simple twin blade propeller can be eased out of the water with a simple push on the level making it an ideal vessel in shallow waters.

Sources.

www.into-asia.com/bangkok/tuktuk/

http://library.thinkquest.org/04oct/00450/longtailboats.htm

Sans Something...

We arrived in Thailand with our passports, our children, our prescription medication, three checked suitcases and enough outfits to outfit us beyond what we needed for our eight day trip. We had sun cream and bug spray, underpants and favorite bedtime lovies. We had goggles and dive sticks, sun shirts and swim suits... that is swim suits for everyone but the tai tai. I was headed to a beach holiday sans swim suit and I could have cried. I remembered distinctly setting the pile down before pivoting and putting them into the case. There was something else the needed to be done, and a failed to return for my swim wear.

We wanted to take a long tail boat trip, to snorkel, to chill poolside and soak up the sun at our closer-to-the-equator-than-we-usually-are-in-October venue. What was I going to do?

At this point I think its important to interject this question... Have you ever seen a Thai person? I know a lot of Chinese people who are bigger than virtually everyone who offered me a smiley Sawatdee Kaa in Krabi!

Adding insult to injury, we had just overnighted in KL, a city of wonderful shopping with virtually everything available, and unlike other parts of Asia available in a variety of sizes.

However, it was not until we were in our airport transfer, with fresh cold juices and freezing cold, refreshing face cloths fashioned into cute flower shapes, that I made the discovery. With this knowledge I sat uncomfortably in my otherwise comfortable vantage point in a huge leather captain's chair and covered my face with a frozen cloth.

"Is there any shopping around here?" Mr. Johnson asked the driver hopefully.

He didn't speak English.

But, it didn't take a rocket scientist to discover that it was unlikely. We were passing open air fruit stands, Brahma bulls tied to stakes, free roaming chickens, entire families on motorbikes, taxi trucks laden with passengers installed on two simple planks in the bed of the truck.

We checked in the hotel. Were bowled over by the beauty. We appreciated the small scale of the complex that was boutique in style. Every detail seemed well attended. We learned their was an afternoon shuttle into a small town nearby that left at 4 pm.

"I'd like to make a shuttle reservation for five people." I said.

Four o'clock found us back in the large Toyota van bouncing towards a little city about 20 minutes from the hotel. We glimpsed elephants trampling through the forest in an designed for tourist "Elephant Treks." We saw the amphitheater for the Venom and Snake show. It was like the Asian version of the Wisconsin Dells... kitsch entertainment for tourists not wise enough to remain in their comfy resorts and enjoy the natural beauty around them.

We arrived in town where Mr. Johnson quickly split in search of a reputable Dive Shop (he found one... endorsed by National Geographic and PADI certified.) Being a wise woman and knowing I was facing insurmountable odds, I sent the littlest girls with him and recruited our oldest daughter and resident fashionista to help me on my search.

The downtown strip featured restaurants, grocery stores, hair salons, massage parlors, bars and trinket shops selling stuff made in China. Sunglasses, fake brands of t-shirts (everything from Ed Hardy to Starbucks was being knocked off.)

They also sold swimsuits.

Bravely I went forth. Tiny pieces of Lycra hung on plastic hangers. Bikinis bearing labels that read sizes M - XXXL. Upon closer inspection I determined that the suits were all the same size, just different tags. I'm not entirely sure they would have fit my daughter.

Undaunted I checked the next shop, where to my surprise I found an obviously used swim suit in a double digit size I believed would work.

"Sawatdee Kaa." I tried, using the singular piece of Thai vocab in my repertoire and hoping to garner some brownie points.

"Is there somewhere I can try this on?"

There was.

In the back corner of the swim suit stall was a bed sheet hung on a shower rod. It served as the changing room. (I think it is additionally important to add that after having lived in Asia this portion of the experience was not daunting. I have had to change behind a sheet whilst two people hold it up, and Mr. Johnson has been asked to try on trousers without any sheet at all.) What added a certain sense of surrealness, however, was the fact that Thai royalty, both past and present were framed and hung high on the wall above the changing corner. I hoped the presence of King Bhumibol and his predecessors was a good omen. I looked at the swim suit, sized it up, tried it on, and to my delight (as in, what-are-the-odds) it fit. Or was at least an approximation of a fit.

Pictures of the long tail boat, the island hoping, and snorkeling to follow. Pictures of the suit... not so much.

The Honeymoon Suite

I wasn't prepared for the raw beauty of Krabi, Thailand. Karst mountains, lush, lush green landscapes, and private islands just minutes away from our boutique hotel.

Mr. Johnson chose well.

I also wasn't prepared for the snickers we would get. At breakfast I told the waitress our room number and she couldn't contain an uncustomary giggle. Staff at places like this are trained to be unfailingly discreet. This is of course was Thailand... land of the anything goes, and goes either way... if you know what I mean.

"Mrs. Johnson," she said to me, smiling kindly, "that is the honeymoon suite..."

"I know," I said. "And we brought the kids."

Just in case we forgot which room we were assigned the not-so-subtle mural above the king sized bed served as a frequent reminder that we were in the honeymoon suite.

And... it for the record it was lovely for all five of us!

We're Back!!

We were anxious to get out of China ahead of their big 60th Anniversary bash on October 1. We left the day before flying from Qingdao to Guangzhou and overnighting in in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia before catching an early flight out to Krabi, Thailand on the first.

South East Asia made the news a lot over the last week... the Earthquakes in American Samoa and the island of Sumatra in Indonesia (KL felt tremors in the following days), which triggered a baby tsunami, and the various typhoons that pounded Philippine archipelago, Taiwan and the coast of Vietnam. This is the story of season in these nations.

We were also anxious about our chances of getting back in to the Middle Kingdom after our Thai and Malay holiday. The United States Citizens Services had sent out a variety of panic inducing notices in September that explained that the Chinese government was using some strong measures to keep H1N1 @ bay.

But... not to worry. We cleared customs in Guangzhou with no trouble... though we had to leave contact numbers and location info, and our seat numbers on the international flight from KL, in case someone turns up with the swine flu. The girls participated in the mandatory three day self quarantine required before returning to school after an out-of-country trip. (We went for Korean BBQ Friday at lunch and then had a group appointment @ the Korean Clinic for our seasonal flu shots!)