Family

In theory I should look forward to work offsites. It’s not what you think. We stay at great hotels. This being China, we travel to historical and interesting places I likely would not otherwise visit. It’s a chance to see work from another perspective and connect with colleagues and having been on the team since 2005, I know many and are fond of many. The food is amazing. There is plenty of time for sightseeing. There is alcohol during and after dinner. But in fact I can’t stand it. I should not be writing that on a public forum since I guess coworkers can read it but given my average article read rate is less than 10, I’ll take that chance. ...

Sabrina is standing inside of her childhood bedroom, one that she moved out of 20 years ago. Her clothes remain forever stored in crates above the bed as she’s long since discovered H&M. A favorite toy is tied to a door. A drawing she made remains on the wall. It’s a room she shared with her sister. There’s another room for her parents, a main room, a place to cook, and a place to poo. In the main room on one wall is an advertisement from 20 years ago. Some kind of whisky. I ask Sabrina why that’s there, she says because her father likes pretty girls. On the opposite wall is a calendar from 1991. A fairly ornate one as far as calendars go. The apartment was built in 1986 and Sabrina’s family moving into when she was 11 in 1989. It looks like it was built in 1946. Fifth floor, walk-up, which is hard for the mom. It’s in a good location, near the center of town if this town has a center. ...

I’m heading to the airport in an hour and packing my suitcase. Our dog, Kobe, starts pacing. Up to me, whining. Trying to get my attention. When I head out the door he’s getting frantic. Door shut, I hear him howling. Anxiety. That’s it. I show it when I try to bring a spoonful of soup to my mouth and then put the spoon back afraid I won’t make it. I show it when I need to grab the coffee cup from the coffee machine with two hands. I show it when I avoid offsites or hang out in my hotel room when I do go. I show it when I can’t sleep on business trips. I show it when I grab that second or third glass of wine. I show it when I find negative things to comment on. ...

I got married. We got married. This is not an experience I had expected to have. Again. I married for the usual reasons, love, life partner. The accelerant was a promise I made to Sabrina three years ago. That if I returned to the US, I would not leave her behind. I’m not returning to the US but recently this was a real possibility. It was time to make good on this promise. Besides, we have a dog together. ...

I wake up. Rather I get up for sleep did not come. I get up because I am bored waiting for sleep. And I have to pee. I check my phone. And pee. These are not necessarily distinct events. It is 6:30am. Crap. I thought it was later. When Starbucks would be open. I sit on the coach and look eastward out my 12 floor window. The view is unbroken for 500 meters or so. There is a 10 story building. On the rooftop I see a man squatting. But it can’t be a man for I saw the same man yesterday at 6:30am. ...

It is Wednesday morning and I’m not sure if I’m jet lagged or getting sick. No, I’m not hungover. Not this time. My mind isn’t as sharp as it normally is. Not that it’s normally a samurai sword or even a ginza. I bolster it with coffee and make it through the day. Back in my hotel room that night I have more work calls to a city that is entering mid morning. I’m now pretty sure it’s not jet lag. I’m more comfortable with the folks on the phone and I let my annoyance show. ...

I text an expat friend “Merry Christmas!” and he audios me back “Hey, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, it doesn’t feel like it but hey, Merry Christmas”. My childhood memories of Christmas start with leaving wine and cookies out for Santa on Christmas Eve until the wine stopped. Then on Christmas morning waiting on the basement stairs for my parents to give the all clear, open the door, and then rush to the gifts under the tree. When I was Elisa’s age, 10, it would be quite the scene as my father handed out gifts and we would open them one by one. My father’s delight hidden by his frustration with the mess from the wrappings and the unimaginable spoils of his children. My grandmother’s refrain to “try it on”. The excitement over gifts large and small especially. My imagination engaged as my older siblings were adults and had money to buy significant gifts. I wish I could remember who bought what. Pong, air hockey, Clue were awesome. Later, when I had kids of my own I would sit under our tree and hand out gifts. First to Aidan. Then to Aidan and Lydia. Then Aidan, Lydia, and Elisa. The excitement in their eyes as they tore open the gifts made a lifetime. It’s toned down in recent years. In part because they spend their play time on their IPads, never really needing a new toy. In part because if they need something, we get it for them. In part, because Christmas is celebrated in two homes. On Christmas Eve, Kobe (our beagle puppy) and I went to Hairun which is the apartment complex I used to live with their mom, some six years ago. We ate a fairly typical Chinese meal the nanny prepared. The kids grandmother was taking photos with her IPad, looking all ghetto without realizing it. When it came time for gifts the mom sat under the tree and handed them out. The kids were nice and got gifts for Kobe and Sabrina. I got athletic long johns which I appreciated. I’m pretty sure I will look anything but athletic with them on. Christmas day was my turn. I took the day off work which allowed me to sleep in to 7am when Kobe wanted me to take him outside. I live in a fairly large apartment complex and downstairs was bustling with kids going to school and adults going to work. I made my mom’s lasagna (actually just traditional lasagna from an internet recipe), deviled eggs, and chips and dip. I ordered salad. We had a pretty full house - seven adults and five kids. I gave my kids walkie talkies. “A Star is Born” played in the background. The lasagna was a hit. Christmas is not the same here, that is true. I’m pretty sure my parent’s Christmas wasn’t the same as their childhoods memories. My kid’s Christmas won’t be the same when they grow up. Yet we hang onto the traditions for they push us through the good times and bad times. They have the power to connect generations. And besides, the chips and dip are damn good. ...

So this is the story about a dog joining the family. A few weeks back Sabrina’s sister asked us to watch her dog while she went away for the weekend. I thought it would be a good idea, an enjoyable experience for the kids who have never had a dog. But this dog, some kind of Pembroke mix was uber hyper. barking, wanting to play bite hands and feet, and not house trained. The kids didn’t want anything to do with him and Elisa was afraid of it. By the end of it’s four days with us I could see the dogs behavior was improving. I didn’t want him, but i felt sad to see him go. It got me thinking about a dog which I’ve blocked from my mind as possible in Beijing. I blocked it for a few reasons. When the kids were younger and wanted one I knew I’d end up taking care of it and I just didn’t want to. It reminded me of a time when I had a dog before and I didn’t want to be reminded of that time. Yang was firmly against getting one because she didn’t want to deal with it dying in 10 years. Later when I got my own place I thought about getting a dog. Surely it would be better company than the places I was looking for company. But I travel a lot for work so getting a dog was not an option. It was out of mind until a week ago or so when it dawned on me that Sabrina could watch the dog when I’m travelling and should we both travel we could easily enough find a place. And I still wanted my kids to have a good experience with a dog especially after the time with Sabrina’s sister’s dog. So how to get a dog in Beijing? A rescue dog is the most moral choice. I searched online and found a couple places with English websites. Not well maintained. I’d actually have to speak with someone to find out, which I didn’t want to do. Truth was I didn’t want a rescue dog really, I wanted a puppy of my selfish choosing. I lightly researched different dog breeds online and settled between a Shiba Inu and a Beagle. I’ve always wanted a Beagle but never had one. Upon reading the profiles, a Beagle didn’t seem like a good choice. Great with kids, but noisy, hard to train, and not good in an apartment alone. The Shiba Inu seemed like a better choice. Yesterday, Sabrina and I walked to a couple pet stores. The first one was actually a “pet salon” where pets can come for a spa weekend. The should tell you something about the price. They had two completely adorable Inus and I probably would have taken one home on the spot except for the price. (I know from the rescue dog mafia that pet stores are supposed to be a horrible way to buy a dog. I would say the woman at this pet store was generally caring about the dogs in her care). We went to a second pet store, less a salon, and more commercial. Similar price. So we just went home. Sabrina shifted from supporting to interested. She pinged friends with dogs, how they got them and one who might have an extra newborn Inu. She checked out online shops and found breeders 25 miles away in the suburb of Tongzhou. She connected with one of them via Wechat and saw live feeds of the puppies. They all looked good. And the price was about 1/5th of the in-town price. So we got a car and headed out. On the 40 minute drive there it did cross my mind that I could be entering the territory of puppy factories which are even more evil according to the mafia than buying a pet at a pet store. As we drove through Tongzhou I noted how much more modern it seemed than the last time I was here when it seemed crowded and unfinished. Then we were past the urban area and driving along a country road with farms and small shops on either side. Our taxi left us out in front of a medical clinic where a someone from the breeder would be picking us up. He did, and we drove down a smaller country road until we arrived at 7pm. The dirt parking lot was noticeable for the quality of cars in it. The driver remarked to Sabrina that they sell puppies to Europe too. So I thinking it was a puppy factory and I’m going to hell (which had already been determined by this point anyway). Past the parking lot and inside the gate was a long one story building. A series or glass walled rooms really, with each room having either dogs or cats inside, in cages. It sounds awful, but it wasn’t. The rooms were big. The cages were large and mostly just had one dog per cage. The first room had a kind of Spaniel that looked interesting but I had not researched. Upon a quick search is did not seem like a good house dog. When then went to the room with the Shibu Inu in them. None were the black fur which the woman had previously sent over Wechat. Wasn’t a live video after all. They had six light fur Shibu Inu, two of which I thought were adorable. Sabrina exchanging words with the vendor in Chinese, something about the price which was much higher than when discussed over Wechat. Sabrina asks about the Beagles. We go out to the parking lot and there is a cage with five beagle pups in it. All different prices based on appearance. The runt of the litter with the worst color was the one for the price we were quoted on Wechat. We paid a bit more. After paying there’s and upsell for dog supplies and official show papers. We bought the minimum. I’m learning in my 50s to focus on the positive, to focus on what we want, and to let go of what other people want me to want. The same driver took us back out to the main road where we flagged down a taxi and headed back to town, pup in lap. Yes, a Beagle, which we named Kobe. ...

It’s been a long travel day and we finally reach our villa in Bali. (It feels weird to even write that; we’ve come a long ways in many ways) The hotel manager opens the gate to our villa and Sabrina, Lydia, and Elisa walk inside. I did not tell the kids what kind of hotel we were staying at and haven’t provided any details despite Elisa’s persistent questioning. As soon as they cross the gate, they are excited. Our villa is a courtyard, with a living room and bedrooms facing each other. In the middle, our own pool. Lydia says “I’m so happy” which is quite a thing for her to say. She loves the simple, modern, wood and concrete atmosphere. As soon as we are settled Sabrina and Elisa are using the pool. We snack on the appetizers the hotel provided. Later that night Lydia and I head out in search for an ATM which GPS tells me is about 750 meters away. As we walk we encounter unkempt dogs, off leash, some sleeping, some pacing in front of properties. I don’t think the dogs are a threat but it is unnerving. The roadside is a mix of small shops and fields with the only light provided by the small shops. As we walk alongside a field I turn to my right and a full grown cow is staring back at me. This quite startled Lydia. If you haven’t guessed already, we are city folk. Up past the cows are two dogs prowling the middle of the street at which point Lydia and I turned back. Cash wasn’t that important. There is always room service. I’ve been taking kids on vacations for a few years now as my photo memories remind me (thanks Google Photos, thanks Facebook). I’m not a great planner and I tend to stress over the logistic details and whether the kids are happy. It never exactly feels like a vacation for me although I’m not sure I know what that would feel like. As I write this, I am looking out at our pool. It is raining. I am taken back to Russian River and a cabin we stayed at. It was notable for a few reasons. We didn’t camp. It was during the period of years my mom also went on these summer vacations. My dad decided to quit smoking on this trip. And we swam in the river in the rain. I think the last two items were connected. Back to this vacation, it started on a bit of a downer. The week before the trip Aidan hurt his knee wakeboarding. A MFPL tear caused by a kneecap dislocation and a slight meniscus tear. The MFPL tear needed surgery which meant Aidan had to stay behind. Aidan was afraid before the surgery and in quite a bit of pain after. A six month recovery process is in front of him. With Aidan in the hospital bed overnight, we first flew to Singapore. For some reason I really like Singapore. Something about the moderness of it, some historical buildings and English being spoken. We spent three nights there and did some sightseeing and exploring. I even tried a taste of Sabrina’s Durian McFlurry which I must say was truly horrible. Actual highlights included the botanical garden, the man made gardens by the sea (and light show), and wondering around Chinatown. With both Bali and Singapore it’s obvious there are layers of richness which we can’t access. Can’t access because we are self (screen) involved. Can’t access because we are not connected with locals. For me, I like a mix of insular time and a mix of being pulled into the local scene. My proxy for local scene is walking and reading about the communities. In a few hours we will start our trek back to Beijing. We will say goodbye to this villa and the amazing in room catered breakfasts. We will say goodbye to the scooters zipping past on the wrong side of the road. We will say goodbye to the whisper of another kind of life and fall back into our own. Our own lives which would not be recognizable if we were not in them. ...

When we first lived in Beijing we would occasionally go as a family for a traditional American breakfast. A place called “Paul’s Steak and Eggs”. It was a place tucked behind the Friendship Store and felt comfortable, like a jet lagged Denny’s. I’d get a denver omelette and fret over the pile of hash browns that I’d eat. The kids, just Aidan and Lydia then, would get attention and we would feed on that too. The place was populated mostly by expats, none to rich and none to poor. Over the years the traditional American breakfast stopped being a regular family outing except for on Easter. We even kept the tradition going in the years after the nuclear family went nuclear. The other part of the Easter tradition we kept going was the easter egg hunt, where we’d hide candy in the bushes of the apartment common area and the kids would frantically race each other to collect the candy. This year on Easter, it was my week with the kids, and I thought Elisa as the main candy hunter and one nostalgic nine year old would want the hunt back at her mom’s apartment. But she surprised me, and wanted to do it at my place, so that’s what we did. But first was Easter breakfast. Paul’s Steak and Eggs is long gone so we went to a place in Sanlitun called The Rug , It is like the version of Denny’s that flew first class to Beijing. Thier brunch menu is vast, subtle, and well executed. It was a place that one would think would only appear to well to do expats instead it appealed to well to do locals with few foreigners to be found. It is a far cry from Paul’s. Yang joined, with hard boiled eggs she made for the kids to paint. In fact it was the first time she’s ever made hard boiled eggs and I had to send her the instructions. Sabrina was next to me and the kids scattered about. Did I also mention it was April Fool’s day? After breakfast came the gathering back at my complex. Kids upstairs while the adults hit the Candies. I assumed Lydia and Aidan would be too cool at 13 and 15 to run for candy. But no, never underestimate the power of a snickers in the grass to an Allio. The kids ran and excitedly collected their candy and the showed the spoils. It was a repeat of a scene we’ve played over the years. One that always hit my human bone. After dinner, I had the uncomfortable feeling. The need to move. So I went for a walk. Into the polluted Beijing night. ...