And...Action!

No matter where we go in Suzhou, we always see a camera crew snapping shots, whether it be of brides, new store openings, or commercials.

Photography and filmography are big business. We even got into the swing of things last May and had a family portrait. So, I shouldn't have been surprised when one of S.'s daughters came bounding into our house, asking if Sarah could come over to their street because a film crew needed some 'white children'. Hmmm...better go investigate.

Sure enough, there was a group of chinese men with a camera. Between them all, they knew about a half dozen english words, so trying to find out why they needed 'white children' was a bit tricky. Over and over, they pointed down the street, so Sarah and Claire would ride their scooter and skateboard up and down the street. Soon, people started coming out of their homes. An older chinese woman got the scoop for us. The management company that owns Royal Peninsula and several other compounds was making a commercial promoting their properties as 'western-friendly'...hence the need for white children merrily playing. The director said the commercial would play on all of the neighborhood centers' big screen billboards in a month or so and he'd send a copy to us. I should have demanded payment instead.

"They're Giving Away WHAT?!?"

One of Larry's dreams is to live on a farm; own some cows, have a large garden, and maybe even a couple of chickens. I try not to squelch too many of his dreams, but I told him early in our marriage there are some things I am not wired to do and farming is one of those things. Driving by the huge chicken farms back in SC during an August heat wave will bring tears to anyone's eyes. And I don't mean in a sentimental way. The smell, my God, the smell. Just remembering it makes my stomach churn.

As luck would have it, I no longer have to rely on my memories. Thanks to Intercontinental Hotel's Easter Brunch, the lovely parting gifts they gave the girls, and my inability to say, "No!", I can simply open the patio door and be greeted by the lovely odor anytime I want.
All of us were eagerly anticipating the rescheduled brunch. Even more since there was an egg hunt for the kids and free flowing champagne for adults. We'd eaten light dinners the previous evening, and were raring to go when Mr. Liu showed up at eleven. The girls even held off eating chocolates found during their six a.m. egg hunt. We weren't the first ones there, but close to it. We decided to check out the selection. SO much food. They were even grilling outside, and that's when we spotted the little cages. Certainly, they weren't going to grill chicks and bunnies. Larry said, "I bet they're giving them away." I scoffed, "This is a five star hotel. They wouldn't hand out livestock."
Two hours later, I'm finishing off yet another glass of champagne as ten little chicks and one bunny serenade me...right at the table. Our favorite phrase "Only in China!" was never more apropos. Kids are running around the restaurant with their new pets. Parents are casting terrified glances to one another and dagger-like death stares to the staff. I probably would have been angrier if I wasn't so blissfully stuffed from the delicious food.

Two days later, the honeymoon was over. We put the fuzzballs in the 'grill room'; the roofless patio room in the center of our townhouse that serves no other purpose except to collect dust and house our grill. Two chicks died the first night, and two more were given to the S.'s (their mom hasn't forgiven me yet). Wednesday morning around one a.m. the bright flash of lightening woke me. "Ugh, a thunderstorm. The girls will wake up scared" was my first thought. Then "Oh no, the chicks will drown!", popped in there. By the time I'd herded them into a box, having to get down on all fours to reach the bunny that was hiding under the grill, we were all soaked. I transported them to our third floor bathroom, turned on the heatlamp, proceeded to dry each chick and place the darlings into our shower stall. Larry had left for Anshan that morning so I had twenty four hours to come up with a more suitable solution. I spent the remaining three hours of the night dozing on and off, fearful the cats were going to somehow be able to unlatch two doors and slide open the shower door.

Another thunderstorm came through the next afternoon. The brood would have been quite content to stay in our shower, but Larry was going to be home and I had some major cleaning to do. Armed with lined cardboard boxes, I moved them to the second floor shower stall. I put the bunny in one, the chicks in another, locked the door and headed up to scrub chick and bunny poo from my shower. Who knew those little poopers could produce so much in such a short time? Only in China.

Hard Head, Soft Heart

Last year, Larry won a 'Champagne Brunch for Two' gift certificate at one of his golf events to the Intercontinental Hotel, which just opened here in Suzhou. We'd heard from friends that the brunch was quite good. I made reservations to go the Sunday before Easter. We woke up early and were getting ready when I heard a thud, then a wimper. When I called Sarah's name and I didn't get a strong response, I went downstairs to investigate. I discovered a naked, wet, shaking, crying and dazed little girl. Katie said she'd slipped on the wet floor and hit her head on the bathtub. Uh-oh. I scooped her up and carried her to Katie's bed. I asked Sarah where it hurt and she pointed to her forehead. I couldn't find any kind of bump or mark and was immediately reminded of my mother's remarks. Swelling bumps are good, no bumps are not good. Great! I sent Syd to the kitchen for a bag of ice. Sarah kept saying over and over, "I don't know what happened. Why does my head hurt". I started with some easy questions like her name and where she lived. When I asked her what the last thing was she remembered about the morning, I gauged roughly a ten minute gap. At this point, I knew brunch was not going to happen. I was debating whether a trip to the children's hospital was advantagous. We'd gone there in December and I was not impressed due to the communication difficulties and the not-so-sanitary facilities. Instead, I thought back on what my mom did with me after each concussion. Syd was in the bath by this point, so I carried Sarah over and set her in. The water was lukewarm and I thought it would feel good to her since she'd broken out in a sweat. While washing her, I checked her pupils and continued to ask her questions. She was so upset and just couldn't understand why her head hurt so bad.

I brought her up to my room while I got dressed. She immediately went to sleep, but woke with a shot, saying she was going to be sick. Uh-oh, that wasn't good. Time to break the news to Larry. He handles the girls being hurt about as well as I handle slimy critters. I suggested he take the other two out for lunch and I'd stay with Sarah. Nope.

For the next five hours, I laid with Sarah, watching her like a hawk. She got sick a half dozen more times, and I was ready to call Mr. Liu to bring us to the hospital. By three that afternoon, she seemed to have turned a corner. She woke from a short nap and exclaimed, "I hit my head on the bathtub" and then touched a spot above her right ear. I felt a large welt and actually breathed a small sigh. Ok, so we'd been icing the wrong spot all day, but at least now there was a visible spot. As I was getting her into bed later that night, she began to remember other things from the morning...another small sigh from me. Since she slept most of the day, waking her each hour that night was not difficult. Neither one of us slept well. She complained of a headache, and I was worried. I let her sleep the next morning as her sisters got ready for school. After they'd left, she crawled into my lap and started crying. "I'm sorry I made us miss the brunch" she sniffed. I lifted her chin and said, "There's always next weekend for brunch, but there's only one Sarah."

Almost Paradise Part 8

With almost two days wasted with me in the hospital, and only one day left of our vacation, I was worried we wouldn't get to go elephant trekking. My hands and feet were still a bit swollen and tingly, and I twitched every once and a while as if I suffered from Tourette's. Come hell or high water, though, I was getting on an elephant. While I lounged by the pool with Katie in a lingering drug-induced stupor Sunday evening, Larry and the twins went to town in search of an elephant-trekking trip. They came back with more sundresses and an early morning pachyderm ride.
The next morning, we loaded up at the breakfast buffet and headed up the hills. Even though Larry questioned his choice of the earliest tour,

we were all glad as the sun was out in full force. The facilities at the site were less than attractive, but the natural surroundings made up for them. The girls squealed when they saw the elephants. It's one thing to see them at the zoo, but quite another to see them roaming the hillside. At first, the elepants looked huge. I just imagined the poor little Thai boys trying to lift me onto one of them. Good thing there was a platform built especially for loading us all aboard the beasts. Sarah and Syd rode with Larry. Katie and I once again found ourselves together. The lumbering giants took us through the forest, past hundreds of rubber trees, and a lone little monkey, and up the side of the mountain to a clearing where we could see the west side of Phuket. The morning haze was burning off and the view was gorgeous. As with many things in Asian countries, some of the less than desirable aspects had to be overlooked. The scary hooked prod, the elephant guide used to keep the elephant moving, was atrociously inhumane looking. Our elephant got 'prodded' once. Katie and I thought we were going to get thrown from the guy. From then on, we called him our angry giant. The little monkey we'd seen, upon closer inspection, had a chain around his foot that was attached the tree. Feeding the baby elephant was an experience, which ended with him giving us a disgusting, slobbering, snotty 'kiss' right on the front of our shirts, which we were planning on wearing for the next eighteen hours (we'd already packed our bags back at the hotel). I must say, I am still thrilled we went. Rode an elephant. Check.

We rode another tuk-tuk, the crazy open-air taxis, to find lunch. We stumbled into a seemingly cheesy tourist trap, but ended up having a marvelous meal. Larry had a fried seafood dish and the rest of us grilled our meats right at the table. Larry was also able to finally get his drink in a coconut. After having a couple of those, he was ready to take the girls miniature golfing. I soaked up the rays and a couple more cocktails, wishing I could get back those two lost days, but thankful I didn't miss any more.

With two hours before we had to leave for the airport, we all changed into our swimsuits for one last dip in the pool. We made the most of the time lounging, splashing, diving, and floating. Changing back in to our elephant-snotted shirts wasn't what we wanted to do, but our ride to the airport was nearing. Our hair was still wet when we left the resort and the girls were running out of steam. We all were fading. We'd done three days worth of activities in one day. I was sure we'd all be asleep before the plane was airborn. Wrong. Those girls stayed awake all night, after having gotten their second wind in Bangkok.

Thai Airways gave us each a beautiful orchid corsage, but even those couldn't keep the brisk cold winds of Shanghai from bringing us back to reality. The sun was just coming up as we drove through the city and as pretty as that was, I closed my eyes and dreamed of paradise...almost.

Almost Paradise Part 7

Besides the little shoreline fish, the only other aquatic creatures we saw during our tour of Phang Nga Bay were jellyfish. Oh, wait...Katie did spot a pair of porpoises, but they were quite a distance from us. We'd seen a half dozen or so jellyfish of varied size. One drifted by while we kayaked. "He looks so peaceful," I commented to the twins.

Our final spot was a small inlet with an even smaller beach. The boat anchored a hundred meters from shore. We were told we could either kayak around the island or swim and sunbath. A couple of guys jumped from the top deck into the water, followed by yours truly. Inexplicably, I was never afraid of ocean waters like I am lake waters. With very little coaxing Sarah jumped. With a lot of coaxing, Katie took the plunge. She swam as fast as she could for the nearest kayak. Larry had no intentions of getting into the water. "You never know what could be lurking in that cloudy water". He and Katie started paddling around the island. Syd jumped from a lower height, but she wanted to kayak. The three of us started swimming towards the empty kayaks. Syd reached hers and climbed in about the same time I felt something brush my leg. Sarah was almost to another kayak when I started screaming. An excrutiating pain enveloped my entire right leg. Trying to disentangle myself from what I assumed was a massively long-tentacled jellyfish, I feared for Sarah as she was still in the water and near me. The guides immediately rushed over, pulling Sarah aboard. One poor fellow, in his attempt to hoist me up, took a spill overboard. Once back on the main boat, the Thais prepared a paste made from Morning Glory vines and spit. With every second, the fire in my leg got hotter and soon spread to my feet, hands and chest. By the time they began rubbing said paste on the stings, I felt like the stings were all over my body. I didn't care that these guys were rubbing spit-infused weeds perilously close to my nether regions. I didn't even care when they then spit directly on to my leg. They said the Morning Glory would take the fire out and that it couldn't be mixed with water as plain water would cause the burning to intensify. Quite frankly, I didn't think anything could make the pain worse.

By now, the other tour members were returning and crowding around to see. Thankfully, a honeymooning couple rescued poor Syd, who she said I ditched and had been floating helplessly without a paddle for the past ten minutes. Katie and Larry appeared. Katie was mortified. Larry was smugly concerned. "I told you so" was written all over his face.

The thirty minute ride back to the dock was hellacious. I was sure I'd been stung across the chest because it was becoming increasingly more difficult to breath. My mouth even stung. The guides were increasingly nervous. One older man pulled out his own secret medicine stash and handed some cream to the one with whom I'd already become intimate. He rubbed some on the largest of the sting marks. No relief...none.

Talk of sending me to the hospital spread. I insisted I didn't need to go. Geez, I'd been stung before, I could handle this, couldn't I? Here we were in Thailand, enjoying a fabulous vacation. I sure as heck did not want to spend it in a hospital.

An hour later, back at the hotel as I'm vomiting in the shower after Larry tried to relieve the pain by peeing on the stings, it was decided professional medical attention was needed. After another brutal hour in a taxi, we entered the Phuket Bangkok Hospital's VIP wing. The attendants cleaned off the green, spit, urine slime that had caked to my leg and then soaked it in vinegar. An IV was started and the next thirty six hours were pretty much a wash beyond the pain. What I do remember was Katie. She stayed with me, stayed up with me as I cried all night, held my hand, held the trashcan when I got sick, called the nurse when I thrashed around like Linda Blair, and so much more than a ten year old should have to do. She said I was seeing and talking to things that weren't there, like the twins, my mother, and even the cats. She was so strong and brave. One nurse asked her Sunday afternoon if she wanted to be a nurse. Katie shook her head saying, "No way!"

Almost Paradise Part 6

The second of our planned tours started early Friday morning. The ride to the Phang Nga Bay port took about an hour. Again, we were split into groups and directed towards our respective vessels. We plopped ourselves right in front on the top deck. The weather was glorious, so we sat back and enjoyed the cruise across the bay. Over forty islands jut dramatically out of the water to form some incredible scenery. I've never seen anything like it and sat with my mouth agape. The first stop was Koh Pingkan, better known as "James Bond" island. 'The Man with the Golden Gun' was filmed there. The distinctive rock, that in the movie houses a laser gun, is Koh Tapoo. The Thai people once again know how to market what they can. Westerners are suckers for anything Hollywood-related. Trinket shacks and budding capitolists lined the entrance as our dinghy came to shore. We dodged the herd and made our way to the scenic spots. Sarah enjoyed crawling through the small passageways in the caves, while Syd and Katie wanted to know when we'd get to kayak.

Back on the boat, we enjoyed a traditional Thai buffet, plus some spaghetti and chicken wings for the less adventurous eaters. Katie was enthralled by one of the Thai guides as he was able to snap a straw by rubbing it in between his fingers. At first, all of us were trying. Katie followed this little guy around until he finally relented and showed her the trick. Even after learning the secret, she couldn't do it. To make matters worse, Syd was able to break it. He got back in Katie's good graces when he made a straw rose for her.

The next stop was Koh Panak. The island had a cave system that had collapsed and now formed what the the Thais call a 'hong' (room), an open air room, with a large lagoon. The guide told us the cave could only be accessed at low tide and we'd come at the right time. Coincidence? No, well-timed. We had to lay flat in the kayak in order to clear the protruding limestone, but when we emerged in the lagoon, it felt eerily prehistoric. I wouldn't have been surprised if we'd seen long-thought extinct creatures. As it was, we saw only one water critter....

Almost Paradise Part 5

One of the reasons we chose the Movenpick was because of its Kids' Club. The resort in Vietnam didn't offer a whole lot for kids beyond swimming. The staff pampered them though, and we all had a great time. We wanted something extra for the girls this trip and this resort delivered.

A couple of afternoons, Larry and I wanted to get out and explore. No complaints from the girls. We dropped them off after several hours of swimming. We told them they could order food and do one chargeable activity. Since the worker to kid ratio was in our favor I felt very comfortable leaving them.

Larry and I strolled along the streets. He'd stop and chat with the different store owners while I perused the goods. We daydreamed about moving there, owning a little restaurant and all of us working at it. I bought three samosas for twenty Baht (about seventy-five cents)from a street vendor. They were without a doubt the tastiest I've had. Those things are about eight to ten dollars at restaurants around here. We sipped margaritas and people-watched.

When we returned, the girls were just finishing up their dinner. The twins had a grand time. Katie thought it was ok. There weren't any kids her age, so she sulked a bit.

The second time we went exploring only the twins wanted to go to the Kids' Club. Katie came with us. We went to the 'Shoppers Market'. She tried to find a new bathing suit. I'd rather have a root canal than go shopping for bathing suits with her. Let's just say she didn't find one that day. She did find a flower clip for her hair to match the sundress previously purchased.

The twins were 'performing' when I arrived. They were surrounded by six or seven staff members. Once again, the Whitfield girls captured their audience with America's Next Top Model. I stood there shaking my head. Walking back to our villa, the girls looked so cute in their dresses. I told Larry we'd have to go to another tropical destination, so we could wear all of our tropical garb again. He raised his eyebrow.