The Miracle of Flight (part 1)

By Kevin

Rule Number One for flying with China Eastern: everybody on the plane must have a ticket. Including infants.

We knew the rule. In fact, when we bought our tickets, we asked both Expedia and the airline – China Eastern – whether or not we could purchase Juliana's ticket in advance. They both said that we could simply wait and buy the ticket at the airport when we arrived. This made sense, because we'd already done it several times in Juliana's young life. Typically, we plop down a fee amounting to 10% of the typical airfare and we're good to go, she gets to fly on our laps. Not today.

Rule Number Two for flying with China Eastern: At the Kunming airport, you can only buy domestic tickets. You cannot buy an infant ticket for an international flight at the Kunming Airport.

This was news to us. Every other airline we've been on with Juliana allowed us to purchase her tickets at the airport (at this point she'd been on five planes – LA to Guangzhou to Xi'an, Xi'an to Beijing, Xi'an to Kunming). So when we got to the Kunming airport just before it opened at 6 a.m. – about two hours before our flight, we didn't anticipate any trouble. But soon, we entered a maze of regulations and pleas for rule-bending in a desperate attempt to board our flight.

When we arrived at the airport on Jan. 27, we noticed that China Eastern only had a domestic ticketing counter, so we casually walked up to the check-in counter for our flight to ask where we should buy her a ticket. We figured we'd simply be directed to some place we'd overlooked and we'd be on our way. We got an unanticipated response. “No, you must go to the China Eastern ticket office in downtown Kunming to buy any international ticket.”

“What? Even to carry a baby on our lap?”

“Yes. For any international ticket. It is impossible to buy the ticket at the airport.”

This posed a problem. At this point there were about 90 minutes left until check-in for our flight would end and two hours until takeoff.

While bemoaning the absurdity that an airline offering an international flight doesn't sell international tickets at the airport, I briefly considered jumping into a cab and going to the downtown office. A round-trip journey into downtown Kumning and back would probably take most, if, not all that time with morning traffic, but . Not to mention that the office probably doesn't open at 6 or 7 a.m.

A foreigner behind us in line, who spoke better Chinese, tried to explain our situation to the ticket agents. This time, the agent said, “Wait a minute, we will see what we can do.” She made a phone call, then returned to her task of checking the other passengers into the flight. We waited several minutes, but since the clock was ticking, we decided to try our luck at China Eastern's domestic ticket counter. We hurried back through the customs gate and found the counter.

We explained our situation – that we needed to buy a ticket so we could carry the baby onto our flight to Bangkok.

Again, no luck. “I am sorry. We can only sell domestic tickets here. To buy an infant ticket, you must go to our office downtown.”

“We only have 90 minutes until our flight leaves,” I replied. “That is not enough time.”

“Why didn't you buy the baby ticket at the same time as the other tickets?”

“Actually, we tried to, but both Expedia and China Eastern told us that we could buy the baby ticket at the airport.”

“We cannot sell international tickets here at the airport,” he repeated. “Only at our office in downtown Kunming.”

“I understand,” I replied. “Surely there is a way for us to buy a baby ticket at the airport. I'm sure we're not the first people to try.”

“Perhaps you could try the international check-in counter,” the man offered. “Maybe they can help you.”

“We were just there. They said the same thing you said.” I tried to gain some composure.

“Surely people fly all the time with babies, so you have a way we can buy an infant ticket,” I repeated. “We can't be the first people to have a problem like this.”

The agent talked to a colleague. As they talked I watched as another ticket agent unplugged a telephone from the cord. Then, he moved the phone a few feet to the left and plugged the phone into a different phone line and began to dial. It was now 7:05 a.m. “Just a moment.”

Finally, they reached an agreement on how to proceed. Perhaps, I could call the China Eastern ticket sales office hotline. They unplugged the phone and moved it back in front of me. Fighting the loud echoes that filled the cavernous, glass-and-steel covered airport, I reached an agent and hastily explained our situation.

After a few minutes, she gave a slightly new response: “I am sorry, but there are no economy tickets left for your flight. However, you can buy a business class ticket.”

Flustered, I tried to explain the absurdity of this proposal. “But we don't need a seat. We will carry the baby with us in our arms. She is very small. She is only four months old. She weighs less than most carry-ons. Surely there is a way for us to buy an infant lap ticket. She won't fill up any seats. Can we just carry her onto the plane with no ticket?”

Briefly, my mind flashed to an image of security guards peering at an x-ray of a backpack, asking one another in Chinese, “Did you see that. I think it moved.”

“You are right. What is it, a little cat?”

“Was that a meow?”

“No I think it just giggled. Is it a baby?”

Then my mind snapped back to reality. “We can't sell you an infant ticket. There are no economy seats left.” She just wasn't understanding my argument. Unfortunately, she said there was no way to buy a baby ticket at the airport or over the phone. “Surely there has to be a way.”

But there was still a glimmer of hope: she asked if she could talk with the airport ticket agent, so I passed him the phone. It was now 7:15 a.m. Time was running short. After a few more minutes, he asked for our ticket number. About this time, they rolled a swivel chair out from behind the counter so Ruth and Juliana could sit down, right behind the ticket lines, in the middle of the airport. Ok, so maybe they're trying to imply that this might take awhile.

It was at this time that I began to pray in earnest that God would give us favor. Ashamed at my lack of faith, I asked forgiveness for attempting to do this all in my own and for not leaning upon the One who can do the impossible. I then pleaded that he would connect the airport officials with the right people and that He would make a way for the impossible to be done. This was the turning point. “Give them a desire to help us for the baby's sake, Lord.”

After a few minutes, they asked for Juliana's passport. Progress.

Again, they unplugged the phone, plugged it in again, and dialed another number. Apparently, there are several phone lines at the China Eastern ticketing window, but only two phones. Minutes passed. My heart went heavenward: “Please God, soften their hearts.”

They asked for my passport. Soon, the original agent who helped me, pulled out his cellphone and dialed, putting the phone up to his left ear. “Connect them with the right people, Lord.” Then, another agent held the land-line up to his right ear as he wrote numbers onto a paper. Then, after the calls, they unplugged and replugged the land-line yet again at another spot on the counter.

7:30 a.m. - 10 minutes before check-in for our flight would close, an agent sheepishly asked, “Do you have renmenbi (Chinese money)?”

“Does this mean they're going to sell us a ticket?” I asked God as the woman scurried back across the ticket booth. I flipped through my wallet to find out how much money I had. Thankfully, I had 700 left. Surely her ticket would cost less than $100, I thought. Xi'an to Kunming was only 110 RMB ($16).

Again, we waited. Then she came back at 7:33 – “It will cost 590 RMB ($90). We will issue a paper ticket for Kunming to Bangkok and for Chiang Mai to Kunming.”

I pulled out the bills and put them into her hand, grinning. “Is there still time for us to catch the flight?”

“Yes, but hurry.”

I thanked them profusely and we scurried off.

We shuffled back to the check-in desk. Since we'd already begun the process earlier, our boarding passes were already printed and our bags were already weighed. “Who told you to leave here and go to the ticket counter earlier?” The agent asked, sternly.

“Nobody. We just thought it might help to try the ticket window.”

She shook her head and handed us the boarding passes. “Ok, but next time, you should wait.”

“OK, we will.”

“You need to hurry.”

We rushed through security: 7:37. Then the Chinese border police: 7:42. Quickly we ran to the gate: 7:45.

We showed our boarding passes and entered the glass-covered ramp to the pane. We were last to board, but we still had several minutes before takeoff. We paused and took a deep breath, gasping at the brilliant sunrise that greeted us. I took out the camera and snapped a quick photo. 

We found our seats, surprised to notice several other empty seats on the flight. “So much for no seats being left on the flight.”

We were extremely grateful to catch the flight, yet perplexed about the spiderweb of misinformation that led to our near-miss . We were bathed in the presence of God's provision for us, yet unsure what our next couple flights might entail. I wish I could say that was the end of the story – and we flew happily ever after. But we were only halfway into our trip.

Chinese Car Culture

By Kevin

She owns a car, but she has no driver's license.

“It is a little bit strange, isn't it?” our colleague asked sheepishly.

What's even more unusual is that she's owned the car for six years and only now is she considering going through the long process of getting a driver's license. It's not an easy process, which is somewhat surprising given the hair-raising experiences we've had in taxis over the years here. Naturally, given the high emphasis the Chinese put on exams, she has to pass four written exams about driving regulations and a behind-the wheel test in order to get her license. But Chinese drivers don't need much actual behind-the-wheel practice to be licensed (Peter Hessler's excellent book “Country Driving” gives an interesting account of his experience of getting a Chinese license).

“Every week, I open the door of the car, put in the key and start the engine to keep it running,” she said, smiling.

I discovered that she had a car because she said that her parents were going to take the train up from Chengdu to visit during the holiday. Then, their plan is to drive back home together, likely stopping off in Hanzhong and another city. Her father is the only one in the family with a license.

I was particularly surprised because, although there are some inexpensive Chinese-made cars, the relative expense of buying a car is much higher than in the U.S. And most people seem to save up and pay cash for cars, rather than taking out loans. When you consider that the average teacher's salary is between $200-400 a month, it takes awhile to save up.

One of Ruth's students bragged that he earned his driver's license over the summer. But he rarely drives. After all, he doesn't have a car. That's the more common way of doing things – get the license to prepare for the future. But he's one of only two or three students I know of who has his license. Everyone else seems to be in awe of anyone with a license.

Another former student mentioned, when talking about buying an apartment with her fiance, that they would be sure to buy one with a garage. Did they have a car? Nope. Just planning for the future.

It's a sign of the times, though. Owning a car in China has become a definite status symbol. Recently, some same article quotes a candidate on a popular TV dating show, describing her ideal husband: have called it the “second most important status symbol” in China (after buying an apartment). The "I would rather weep in a BMW than smile on a bicycle.”

Car buying is such a status symbol in China that Beijing recently capped the number of cars it will license in a year. http://news.xinhuanet.com/english2010/china/2010-12/23/c_13661672.htm

When I first moved to China in 2005, there were two privately owned cars on the entire campus in Tonghua. Two. None of the apartment buildings housing teachers had room for parking because it wasn't necessary. When Ruth and I moved to Weinan, we were surprised that not only did each teacher apartment building have a dozen parking spaces, but that many of them were full. Now, every spot is taken. In fact, school officials have had to paint parking space lines on most campus side streets to accommodate the overflow. And both curbs of street outside the school gate are now constantly filled with cars (both from school and the new apartment buildings across the street, which recently opened).

There are an assortment of car manufacturers filling the parking lot. While many are Chinese brands you wouldn't recognize outside of China, like BYD (which plans to sell an electric car in America soon), Cherry, Dongfeng, Chang'an, Changhe, and Geely, others are American, Japanese or Korean (Honda, Hyundai, Toyota, Ford, Chevrolet, Nissan, Suzuki, Mitsubishi) or European brands like Volkswagon, Audi, BMW, and Peugeot-Citroën. While the Chinese brands are relatively inexpensive, it's a bit surprising that so many teachers here are able to afford the foreign brands.

The Many Names of Juliana

Tiger Baby

by Ruth
I read that sometime in the next few months, Juliana should be able to start recognizing her name.  I realized this could be a problem, though, because I hardly ever call her by her name.  I like her name a lot, obviously, having picked it out.  But to be honest, I probably only call Juliana by name about once or twice a day. 

About half of the time I just call her "Baby."  It sounds pretty generic in general, but it doesn't feel that way when I say it to Juliana.  It seems fitting and sentimental, like nobody else (or at least not like everybody else) gets to use the same name.  The other half the time, I use one of a couple dozen different nicknames. 

First we have the general animal variety - Froggie, Tiger (her Chinese birth year), Little Bear, Bunny.  Then there are the seasonal ones - Pumpkin, Sweet Potato, Little Elf...  We have the descriptive genre - Squeaky, Farty-pants, Chub-chub, Grumpy-Gus, and (maybe not exactly a name) "Spit-uping-est Baby Ever."  I even indulge those mushy "pet names," the kind that make you gag when used on anyone other than a miniature person in footie pajamas.  Lovey-dove.  Munchkin.  Cutie.  Snuggly.  Probably the ones I use most often are just random.  Little Bub, or Bub-bub.  No idea why, but it just seems to fit.

Grumpy-Gus

So I am afraid that when it comes time for Juliana to start recognizing her name, she will have no idea what it is!  Despite that problem, and the fact that she already has about 20 different nicknames, I have been considering whether we should give her an *official* nickname.  Juliana has several different possibilities - Julia, Julie, Jules...  I personally like Julia best, and I could picture calling Juliana that.  It seems like a happy, active, pretty kind of name, and Juliana is all those things.  It is kind of cool to have a somewhat common name (Julia) that you go by but then be able to tell people,

"But actually my name is Juliana." 
To which they will respond, "Oooh, how beautiful and graceful."
And Juliana will say, "Speaking of which, my middle name is Grace."
To which they will respond, "You have the most amazing name ever.  We can't believe we are so lucky as to know you."

Besides that, Julia is a little bit easier for a 4 year old to handle.  Does Juliana seem like too much name for a baby?  We have to think of the short-term and the long-term here.  If we did go with a nickname, she might be stuck with it for life, or at least until adolescence when she decides to change her name into something really 'cool' that we really hate.

But then, Juliana is really nice too and we could just stick with that.  Sometimes nicknames are overrated.  Hmm.  And I thought the naming dilemma was over when we chose her name before she was born.  Next up: finding a Chinese name!

Little Elf

Baby Swimming in China (with better music)

My first attempt at music for Juliana's swimming video was so-so. I found some better songs:



Or, if you're seeing this imported to Facebook rather than at http://ruvin2007.blogspot.com, here's a link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CXUCfLy92C0

Baby Exercises

Juliana enjoyed the exercises from swimming so much we decided to keep them up!

Swimming video

by Kevin

Here is video of Juliana's swimming debut. Enjoy...

Bobbing baby goes for a swim

By Kevin

Today we did the unthinkable. We took Juliana swimming. As we noted a few weeks ago, a student was telling us about the latest rage among parents in China – baby swimming. Since Juliana loves taking baths, we decided to give it a try, so we gave the student a call and asked her to come with us.

As we waited 20-30 minutes for the waist-high infant pool to fill with warm water, we watched one baby boy bobbling up and down in the water, supported only by a specially-designed innertube. In spite of warnings that you should wait 12 minutes after a bath before feeding a baby (I don't know why they were so precise), the boy sucked down an entire bottle of formula as he bobbed in the pool. Several more babies screamed at the top of their lungs during their after-swimming baths. Several of the parents whose children were bathing stopped to take a peek at the foreign baby. As we waited for Juliana's tub to fill, she napped.

Once we got into the pool room, they began by giving Juliana a personal exercise routine. The helper served as personal trainer, rotating her arms and legs in circles, stretching them back and forth, and moving them in a swimming motion. They said that we could have this personal trainer service every time as well if we liked (for an additional fee).

When her time came, we put Juliana's head into a specially designed infant inner-tube that wraps around her neck to hold her head above water. Then, we gently lowered her into the warm tub. She was a bit perplexed at first, but soon, she was wiggling her way in tiny circles, supported only by the head floatation device. Really it was more like wading in with a life preserver around her neck, but they still called it swimming. Thankfully, her head never even came close to getting wet. Eyes wide, Juliana slowly spun in circles. Before you knew it, her 12 minutes were up, so the helpers scooped her out and whisked her off to her bath. They scrubbed her and cleaned her and she smiled, seemingly unaware of the sensation she was causing. Undoubtedly, her photos will soon appear on billboards for baby swimming.

The room was like a sauna. Washcloths were spread over the radiators. Chinese people are terrified of the cold, so thankfully they made the room warm for the naked babies, but this was beyond warm. Unfortunately, Chinese people don't wear short sleeves ever in the winter, so the faces of most people in the room were glistening with sweat. Beads of sweat built on the nose of the helpers. Parents who insisted on leaving their coats on were wet. Ruth and I immediately whisked off our coats. I was wearing short sleeves underneath, to the astonishment of everyone in the room. A few minutes later, a 50-day old was unwrapped from two quilts, plus three layers of thick clothing, the helpers scolded us for allowing Juliana to come out in one thick layer of clothing plus a thick “baby bag.” “You should wrap her in a quilt too,” they insisted.

“It's good for their IQ and EQ,” our student interpreter said as she got into the water, weighing the benefits of weekly “swimming” sessions. I presume the latter is her equilibrium. Apparently a recent Norwegian study has linked infant swimming with improved balance. However, it seems that the infants in this study actually swam. Their heads weren't placed in flotation devices.

The helpers suggested that we'd nearly waited “too long” for Juliana's first trip to the pool. The babies who begin their weekly visits around seven days are better swimmers, according to the workers. Since Chinese babies aren't supposed to leave the house for the first couple months, I'd imagine that bringing your newborn to take a swim on a cold winter day might be frowned upon.

That said, apparently it's popular. In spite of a price tag of 50 RMB ($7.50) per session (you can also buy 6 sessions for 200 RMB or 13 for 400 RMB), a line of parents with tiny ones waited for their chance to take them swimming. It's a bit expensive for China. Granted, we did see one family pull up to the store in an Audi, so maybe this attracts a wealthier clientele. Our friend got them to knock 10 RMB off the price tag since it was our first time.

For more photos, go to www.flickr.com/kevsunblush. We hope to post a few videos soon as well.

Parenting

by Ruth

I was only partly joking when I told people my goal for the first year was just to keep the baby alive.  Before Juliana was born just the basics of baby care seemed daunting - nursing, sleeping, diaper changing, bathing.  Well...after a year of working with 2-year-olds I felt pretty confident about my diaper changing abilities, but the rest I had lots of questions about.  Toward the end of my pregnancy I realized that at some point I was actually going to have to raise this child too.  Discipline, get her to sleep on her own, teach her to share and not throw fits - you know, Parenting.  And I realized I really didn't know anything about that.

Two and a half months into things, I am glad to report that Juliana is not only alive, she seems to be doing well.  The basics are starting to become more natural.  She has gotten down the eating thing pretty well, evidenced by her nearly 5lb gain since birth.  I've gotten even faster at diaper changing...at least the times when she doesn't decide to poop all over me.  And I've decided if she doesn't get bathed quite as often as the books say, nobody's going to die.  I am surprised to realize that, while I still have no idea about things like discipline and sharing (and of course, she's too young for that anyway), I already have a little bit of a parenting style, which I decided it is characterized by several things.

1. Breastfeeding
 I always assumed I would breastfeed since that's what seemed "normal," but I never thought much about it.  But as of a few months ago, I have become a big proponent of breastfeeding.  Getting started certainly had its challenges, and I can't say it's completely been smooth sailing since then.  Sometimes it is difficult to schedule absolutely everything I do around, "When is the baby going to need to eat?"  It would be nice to not have to be the one getting up with the baby all night long.  But overall, I love the connection I feel to Juliana.  It helps me to feel like a good parent when I have a definite way to meet her needs and comfort her when she is upset.  And - the main reason I think it's so great - there are just so many benefits.

For example, I learned that a mother's milk changes to meet the baby's changing needs.  The consistency and fat content of the milk changes over the course of a feeding.  The milk also changes as the baby grows to meet its changing nutritional needs.  If your baby is born premature, your milk is even specially formulated for  them.  Pretty spectacular, huh? 

2. Co-sleeping
I didn't think I would want the baby sleeping with us.  After all, that's what the cute little bassinet and crib were for.  But after about the first week I started to notice a trend.  Cute little bassinet = 30 minutes sleep.  Snuggled up next to mommy = 1-2 hours sleep.  Baby sleeping = mommy sleeping.  Mommy sleeping = moderate sanity and functioning ability.  So cute little bassinet became a convenient storage for diaper supplies.

I was very concerned about safety, since co-sleeping seems so controversial.  Every time before I fell asleep I would think, "Is there anyway she could suffocate?  Is there anyway she could get smushed or fall of the bed?"  At first, I would wake up frantically looking around, trying to figure out where the baby was.  I would experience a few minutes of confused panic before realizing she was right beside me, still in my arms, just like when we fell into an exhausted sleep.  And I would do the typical new-parent "Is she breathing?" check.  With time, I discovered there was really no fear of rolling over on her or something, because I always woke up in exactly the same position as I fell asleep.  The baby was also swaddled tightly every night and couldn't really move if she wanted to.  I was also hyper aware of her.  I could be dead to the world but would wake up if she so much as squeaked.

We have now started working on getting her to sleep in her crib sometimes, realizing we won't always want her sleeping with us.  She now sleeps the first part of the night in the crib and then I bring her to bed with us for the rest of the night.  She would probably now be okay with sleeping more in her crib, but I still like sleeping with her.  When she is sleeping in her crib, I usually have a hard time going to sleep since I am listening to see if she will stir (and if she is too quiet, still sometimes wondering if she is breathing).   A sleeping baby cuddled up right next to me has a very sleep inducing affect, however.  I can see that she is right there and okay.  If she stirs I can just rock her gently, smooth her hair, or rub her nose (like a cat!) without having to move.

3. "Baby-wearing"
I think it's funny how all these age-old things have spiffy new terms now.  At least, I had never heard the term "baby wearing" until a few months ago.  Personally, I don't know how people get anything done without a sling or wrap.  Maybe they have babies who are actually okay with being set down once in a while.  Juliana has gotten better at being able to play on the floor or in her crib for a little bit, but she still loves to be held.  She will hardly ever take naps unless she is held - even if she appears to be sound asleep, she will wake up the moment you set her down.  So I find that a sling or wrap (or in my case, switching between the two) is very handy.  Two free hands, less stress on the back, and a happy baby.  The downside is feeling like you're still pregnant, but at least there's no heartburn.


4. The Happiest Baby on the Block
You already know that I love books, but I am usually pretty skeptical of anyone who claims to have the right method or the 7 steps to success in any area.  So I was a little surprised to find this book that I really love - the ideas in which have really worked for us!  The author believes that for the first few months, babies can't be spoiled and don't know how to manipulate yet.  You need to respond to their needs and let them know they can trust you.  They also find the outside world a little bit crazy and are comforted by things that remind them of the noise, movement, and confinement of being on the inside.  He talks about the "5 S's" - swaddling, swinging, sucking, shushing, and side/stomach lying - all things that help activate a baby's calming reflex.  The author has turned this idea into a method of sorts and is now making tons of money off of it, but it is basically all things that people have been doing for a long time.  Swaddling is the big thing now, but it's been around forever (think Jesus).  Nursing on demand.  Carrying your baby in a sling or wrap.  It is really nothing new just things that have been neglected or fallen out of popularity in recent generations. He also has a DVD, demonstrating his calming method. We watched a tiny clip during the class we took just before Juliana was born. Very impressive.



5. What Works Around the World
Having not lived in America for a few years, I think that a few things about our child raising ideas are a little over the top. Like trying to teach your 3 month old to be independent or putting your little baby on a strict schedule.  In some ways, thinking "globally" helps me to be a bit more relaxed about parenting too.  It's good to remember that babies are born and raised all over the world, and most of them even live.


In America I would never stand with my baby in the middle of a busy street while cars passed on either side.  But in China, it's really hard to cross a street without doing so, and usually you have plenty of company from other pedestrians hanging out on the double yellow line.  From the other side, despite the disapproval a billion Chinese people, I still think my baby can be warm enough without six inches of padding all around.


You may have noticed this global idea weaving its way through the other areas too. There are lots of places all over the world where the whole family sleeps together and certainly not many places where the baby has its own separate room.  In many cultures babies are routinely carried around on the back or in a sling.  Many people breastfeed just because it's natural and there isn't another good option (and they probably aren't looking at the clock all the time to figure out when is the 'right' time).

Despite all this, I am still American.  I won't want Juliana sleeping with us forever.  I'll even move her to her own room, if for no other reason than those cute curtains I bought.  I will put her on more of a schedule as she gets older because that's how we operate.  And I won't nurse her 'til she is 3 because that would just feel too weird.  But hopefully I can remember to be flexible.  Like in two months from now when half of my cleverly constructed methods don't work any more and I have to figure out this parenting thing all over again.

Baby Update

It's amazing how fast they grow.  Juliana has only been out in the world for a little over two months, and she's already gained mad skills.  Every week, she is doing something new.  For example, in the past couple of weeks she has been perfecting the hand-to-mouth action.  She hasn't quite mastered stuffing the entire hand in her mouth, but she sure works hard at it.  In recent weeks she has also learned to:
- Make little bubbles on her lips
- Make the cutest little cooing sounds
- Track well with her eyes - (she will follow me all around the room)
- Hold up her head
- Laughing (well, it's still a little more like a cough/squeal, but the intention is clear)
- Display her emotions with new volume...which is much cuter when she's laughing than when she's screaming-mad
- Sleep in her crib occasionally
- Spit up like crazy (Is this a skill?  Because she sure seems like an expert.)

Most of the time she is a very happy baby, which is nice.  She loves to 'talk' to us and so far has been content with meeting a ton of new people.  In the right mood, she enjoys looking at books and will really follow along with the pictures as I read.  She still loves to be held about 22hrs a day, but now we can also put her down on a blanket on our nice warm floors and she enjoys kicking around.  She is definitely a night owl and usually won't go to sleep before 11 or midnight, but she has been doing better with sleeping for 3 or even 4 hours at a time.  Except for the times when she wakes up every 1.5 hours.  And she has been doing better with falling back asleep after nighttime feedings.  Except for the times when she wants a 3am playtime.  There are some days when I think she is working herself onto a semblance of a schedule, but the next day she usually seems out to prove me wrong.  I have already discovered that babies like to keep you on your toes, making sure you never know what to expect.

This weekend we will travel to Beijing for Juliana's 2 month checkup.  It's really a pain to have to go so far, but a few of the immunizations she needs can only be gotten at an international clinic.  So with all the travel and lots of shots, it's looking to be a long weekend.


That's all of the baby update for now.  I'll just leave you with a few more photos to remind you how cute she is. :)

When central heat becomes central leak

Nov. 17, 2010

by Kevin

Generally “heat day” is a highly-anticipated day in China. At least for those of us living north of the “heat line” an imaginary line (following the Huai River and the Qinling Mountains) that divides Northern China from Southern China and thus divides the country into “buildings with central heat” and “buildings where people freeze for several months unless they can afford to buy some other form of heating.” Some Southerners have even begun to clamor for central heat.

Thankfully, we live just north of the heat line. Ruth spent two years south of the heat line when she was in Yangzhou. I think she was colder than me most of the winter even though the ice was always frozen in Tonghua by early November at the latest and didn't thaw till March at the latest. Why? I had central heating. She just had a small AC/heat unit, space heaters and blankets. They were so inefficient that doctors in Yangzhou sometimes told people to just keep their windows open all winter. Nevermind the frostbite.

Anyway, as November 15 approached, our apartments were getting chilly. The baby's been bundled up in extra layers basically since her arrival in late October. The flipping of the switch that would send heat through the pipes in our floors (a wonderful innovation in a country that rarely uses insulation in it's concrete-walled buildings) eagerly anticipated.

But by the time we went to sleep that night, we hadn't heard the tell-tale trickles of water that indicated the onset of heat.

Then, the next day, again no heat. We began to worry – after all, the heat has ALWAYS been turned on Nov. 15, no matter how hot or cold it is outside. Thankfully, our fears were assuaged when I awoke to warm floors and set off for 8 a.m. class on the morning of the 17^th.

Throughout class, we heard the slithering sounds of water filling pipes, as well as loud clanking. Undoubtedly workers had to fix something, I figured. The shivering students, bundled up in their coats, smiled.

When I went to office hours at 10, my smile quickly faded. The side-effect of water trickling through the pipes was a leak from the radiator in the foreign teacher office/library. At this point, a growing puddle had formed near the desks and computer at one end of the room. So I got on the phone to the foreign affairs officials. They told me that there was some flooding on the second floor, but a worker would be coming soon. Office time came and went with no help. About four hours later, when Ruth was in the office, the workers arrived and proceeded to inspect the radiator and remove it from the wall.

Naturally, they didn't drain the water out first, so filthy, rusty, grimy coffee-grind looking water splattered onto the wall and poured across the entire floor. Thankfully China doesn't do carpet. They tried to shut off the incoming water, but a steady leak continued to drip onto the floor. They put a small basin underneath it, but it was full within a few minutes, so they opened the window and began bailing it out. Just before Ruth's office time ended, the workers left. The drip continued. They made no indication of whether or not they would return, so I wrapped up the baby and headed for the office so I could pass her off to Ruth and wait for them to return.

Again, I told the school about the situation. They assured me that the workers would return. I got to work cleaning the floor. Some of you may remember a post earlier this summer about the flooding of the basement in Georgia this summer. If I was superstitious, I'd think it had followed me. But in the process, I'd become quite adept at getting water off the floor. The mop didn't help much because it didn't absorb enough water. Instead, I grabbed brooms and began sweeping into the hallway. The workers returned, grabbed the radiator and carried it off. Again, with no indication of whether or not they would return. “The entire floor is wet. Do you know if the workers will return?”

The response: “They left to repair the radiator. After it is repaired they will return again.”

“When will that be?” I wondered.

“They will call me,” she replied.

Why did I even bother asking?

Soon, a trio of concerned students arrived and offered to help. Before I could turn them down, they had mops and brooms in hand and went to work. Unfortunately, by this time, my 4 p.m. class was about to start. Kelly had just finished teaching her third class of the day and was exhausted, but she hurriedly went back to her apartment, changed her clothes and returned to bail water for a couple hours. Again, I told the school officials. Naturally, the worker responsible for unlocking the door to a computer classroom didn't show up until 20 minutes late. It was just one of those days.

Since our school was going to be hosting a banquet at 6, again, I pestered the school officials. “Will they be back to fix it in time for the banquet? I have to go to teach, but now Kelly and some students are trying to clear the water so it doesn't damage the furniture or the books.”

“I am coming,” she replied. Finally.

I had to go teach my class. Naturally, since nothing was going right, the worker who is responsible for unlocking the door to my multimedia classroom didn't show up, so we waited in the hallway for 20 minutes. Meanwhile, Kelly and some students bailed water and cleared the floor.

After class, I went to check on the progress. The workers had just arrived. Our banquet was supposed to begin now (Sherri, our PA was in town and the school always throws us a banquet when she comes), but we waited while the workers attempted to install the repaired radiator. The drips continued until the workers realized that they might need to install a washer onto the pipe. I can't help but wonder if this would have solved the problem in the first place, but I tried to keep my mouth shut.

Flustered, we headed off to our banquet.

On the plus side: now we have so much heat that we can see Juliana's hands and have to crack the windows to keep from sweating.