We are taking the 30 minute taxi ride to Sanya bay. The kids are chatting with each other in the back seat and I am capturing notes and feelings into my phone via Quip. The taxi driver comments to me that my kids Chinese is really good. This occurred on every taxi ride, sans one, we took during our vacation in Sanya. The taxi drivers would invariably ask the kids how their Dad’s chinese was and Lydia or Aidan would respond, “he doesn’t know any”. But I know enough to know that. A few miles down the road I feel a hand brushing my forearm. It is the taxi driver. He likes the hair. He tells Aidan that I am very handsome.

It’s been long overdue but it’s the first time I took the kids on a vacation by myself. I splurged a bit and got a nice townhouse with a private pool at a nice resort. The guests were almost exclusively Chinese and the staff spoke little English. But that was fine, I had my three little translators. We went to monkey island one day, the beach another day, the hotel pools another day, and fuzzed around on our last day. The kids seemed happy. I was mostly relaxed but maybe too worried about them having a good time and how to fill our days. There was little adult time. I looked forward to meals.

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On each of the last two nights we took a taxi into town and had dinner across the street from the ocean.  Lydia would start an improv game with me and Aidan. I came to realize Lydia has a real gift for it. Elisa would bust up laughing at the crazy twists in turns of the story that started out “one day, in the taxi..”.

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On our final day we got to the airport early. The kids were eager to go home. We went to a Burger King, yes there is one,  and as I was trying to make sure the kids all ordered a man next to me in line commented on how good their Chinese was. He wanted to know where I was from. My normal smart ass response to these questions is “Yes, I taught them and I’m from Beijing” but I was in ancy order mode so I just said “Yes, they grew up in China so their Chinese is good.” I reflected that I never think someone’s English is good in the US unless it is bad.

Aidan is standing by my side as we queue up to board the plane. Jersey on, DJ cap on, headphones dangling. “Babi”, he says, “I don’t know why but I feel happy these days.”

Me too son, me to.

Four Days in Sanya