Monday, July 23, 2007
Ha Long Bay and back
We just returned yesterday afternoon from a glorious overnight aboard the Emerauda, a replica of a 1920s paddle wheel boat. Apparently, during that time there was a fleet of such boats cruising around the bay.
Now there is only one and we are so grateful to have spent an overnight on it. We left Hanoi at 8:30 a.m. Saturday morning and embarked on a hair-raising crazy 3-hour journey east to Ha Long Bay. The driver spoke not a word of English - didn't even try - and drove like a kamikaze on a bad, bad acid trip. It was like being the focus of a driving video game with God at the controls. It was by his grace that we are still alive today because the number of times my stomach was in my mouth were too many to count.
Oncoming buses, passing motorbikes, water buffalo, people on the side of the road selling pineapples and baguettes, overtaking tourist buses - the list goes on. They all drive like mad. Last one there is a rotten egg, type of thing. Doesn't matter if you die along the way or crash. Having our babies onboard didn't help matters either! No seatbelts, no car seats. Just us and the road.
Anyway, three hours later, we barely arrived alive at the dock to board the Emeraude with just a few minutes to spare. Did I mention we were late because the driver got lost?
From the moment we stepped foot on the pier, we knew we were in for a treat. Oh, and when I say we, I mean our nuclear family plus our new friends the Shaws and their daughter Mia and our new friend Clay who traveled solo for the adventure. (We're all a part of the same adopting families.)
When we boarded the beautiful boat, the head purser asked us if we wanted to upgrate to a suite at a price we couldn't afford to decline. "More room, more room for your family," she promised. Traveling in a quarter, I'm always happy to opt for more space. So up to the Emeraude Suite we went. Our bags quickly followed as did a small baby crib for Molly that would have been outlawed in the states 50 years ago. It was all rather plush if I do say so myself. The linens had a high thread count and were clean and the a/c was cranked up nice and cold. I particularly loved the replicas of the old postcards of Ha Long Bay 100 years ago. Very French colonial. C'est tres Indochine.
Speaking of French, I got to use my French quite a bit which is always wonderful even though it's rustier than ever. There were a lot of French people onboard as well as Spanish and Japanese. We were among the few Americans which I always like. I get so bored with the U.S. centric view point of the world.
After we got somewhat settled into our cabin, we went down to the first deck to have participate in a sumptuous lunch buffet. I chowed on the fresh spring rolls, among other yummy things. The Vietnamese are hugely into seafood and the funkier the better. Squid is on every menu everywhere, not to mention sea urchin, octopus, sea wolf and sea cucumbers. Within minutes of leaving our mooring near the town docks, we were crusing through some of the most amazing scenery I've ever seen in my life. Really.
Hundreds of massive island formations covered in lush green foliage made out of limestone pierce the surface of the water creating a spectacular view. I just wanted to soak it up as we gently glided though the passageways and karsts humming with insects. It didn't take Max long to befriend most of the crew, especially the captain. They compared compasses and directions on the bridge several times. After lunch, Max and Tom hiked into a cave that has recently been discovered. It's filled with all sorts of stalagmites etc. not to mention kitschy lighting within. While they did that, Molly and I napped in the cabin.
Max and Tom jumped into the Gulf of Tonkin for a before dinner dip. Tom said the water was so salty it was effortless to float. I had a massage and then it was time to eat dinner. Something upset my tummy BAD so I just went to dinner without eating. Not even a ginger ale. I could hardly move I was so weak but thankfully took a homepathy remedy and it cleared up by the next day. So much so that I enjoyed a lovely breakfast in the morning. (More squid on the menu.)
It was a wonderful excursion from Hanoi. I didn't realize how out of connection I felt with nature til we left the smoggy city. The water was mellow and kind, extremely relaxing and healing at the same time. We saw lots of tourist boats (apparently there are 200 plus) but managed to ecsape them for most of the time.
You know what. It's late and I'm falling asleep at the keyboard. I'm going to have to write more in the morning b/c I'm so pooped. More later. I love you, I love you all, especially those of you who have stayed in touch via email and the blog. Thanks! Your missives mean so much to us.
Now there is only one and we are so grateful to have spent an overnight on it. We left Hanoi at 8:30 a.m. Saturday morning and embarked on a hair-raising crazy 3-hour journey east to Ha Long Bay. The driver spoke not a word of English - didn't even try - and drove like a kamikaze on a bad, bad acid trip. It was like being the focus of a driving video game with God at the controls. It was by his grace that we are still alive today because the number of times my stomach was in my mouth were too many to count.
Oncoming buses, passing motorbikes, water buffalo, people on the side of the road selling pineapples and baguettes, overtaking tourist buses - the list goes on. They all drive like mad. Last one there is a rotten egg, type of thing. Doesn't matter if you die along the way or crash. Having our babies onboard didn't help matters either! No seatbelts, no car seats. Just us and the road.
Anyway, three hours later, we barely arrived alive at the dock to board the Emeraude with just a few minutes to spare. Did I mention we were late because the driver got lost?
From the moment we stepped foot on the pier, we knew we were in for a treat. Oh, and when I say we, I mean our nuclear family plus our new friends the Shaws and their daughter Mia and our new friend Clay who traveled solo for the adventure. (We're all a part of the same adopting families.)
When we boarded the beautiful boat, the head purser asked us if we wanted to upgrate to a suite at a price we couldn't afford to decline. "More room, more room for your family," she promised. Traveling in a quarter, I'm always happy to opt for more space. So up to the Emeraude Suite we went. Our bags quickly followed as did a small baby crib for Molly that would have been outlawed in the states 50 years ago. It was all rather plush if I do say so myself. The linens had a high thread count and were clean and the a/c was cranked up nice and cold. I particularly loved the replicas of the old postcards of Ha Long Bay 100 years ago. Very French colonial. C'est tres Indochine.
Speaking of French, I got to use my French quite a bit which is always wonderful even though it's rustier than ever. There were a lot of French people onboard as well as Spanish and Japanese. We were among the few Americans which I always like. I get so bored with the U.S. centric view point of the world.
After we got somewhat settled into our cabin, we went down to the first deck to have participate in a sumptuous lunch buffet. I chowed on the fresh spring rolls, among other yummy things. The Vietnamese are hugely into seafood and the funkier the better. Squid is on every menu everywhere, not to mention sea urchin, octopus, sea wolf and sea cucumbers. Within minutes of leaving our mooring near the town docks, we were crusing through some of the most amazing scenery I've ever seen in my life. Really.
Hundreds of massive island formations covered in lush green foliage made out of limestone pierce the surface of the water creating a spectacular view. I just wanted to soak it up as we gently glided though the passageways and karsts humming with insects. It didn't take Max long to befriend most of the crew, especially the captain. They compared compasses and directions on the bridge several times. After lunch, Max and Tom hiked into a cave that has recently been discovered. It's filled with all sorts of stalagmites etc. not to mention kitschy lighting within. While they did that, Molly and I napped in the cabin.
Max and Tom jumped into the Gulf of Tonkin for a before dinner dip. Tom said the water was so salty it was effortless to float. I had a massage and then it was time to eat dinner. Something upset my tummy BAD so I just went to dinner without eating. Not even a ginger ale. I could hardly move I was so weak but thankfully took a homepathy remedy and it cleared up by the next day. So much so that I enjoyed a lovely breakfast in the morning. (More squid on the menu.)
It was a wonderful excursion from Hanoi. I didn't realize how out of connection I felt with nature til we left the smoggy city. The water was mellow and kind, extremely relaxing and healing at the same time. We saw lots of tourist boats (apparently there are 200 plus) but managed to ecsape them for most of the time.
You know what. It's late and I'm falling asleep at the keyboard. I'm going to have to write more in the morning b/c I'm so pooped. More later. I love you, I love you all, especially those of you who have stayed in touch via email and the blog. Thanks! Your missives mean so much to us.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Hot Date in Hanoi
Tom and I did something tonight we haven't done once since we've been on this trip.
We went out on a date. It was so wonderful to connect with my husband, who has been my constant companion and teammate since we started this trip. But I didn't realize until we were having dinner this evening, that it's the first ALONE time we've had in weeks.
We've found a wonderful babysitter at the hotel. Miss Vanh. Rather stern, speaks understandable English which is different than speaking English. Insists that Max says "please," loves Molly and also takes Max of the Melia around the hotel to secret places that most guests don't even know exist, let alone see.
This afternoon, while I was feeding Molly (who, by the way, is now sucking down 4 to 5 ounces of formula like there's no tomorrow! - big shift from the 2 ounce "sips" she was taking last week), Max and Miss Vanh went on an adventure. They returned with a huge bouquet of Gerber daisies in a rainbow sherbert assortment of colors. When I asked where he got them, Max replied "from the flower room." There are always fresh arrangements around the hotel (something I take notice of daily and photograph occasionally) and darn if Max didn't get into what would perhaps be my favorite room in the building.
After Max presented the flowers to me, he did his amusing Max "thing" by jumping up and down with excitement as he showed me the different colors of the flowers. Words could not come out of his mouth fast enough.
Anyway, back to our hot date. We went to the new trendy restaurant in town called Verticale. It's a restored 3-storey merchant house that has a spice shop on the first floor (selling cinnamon bark the size of logs we would put in our fireplaces, I kid you not!!), a restaurant on the 2nd floor and a bar on the third.
Navigating the menu was close to trying to figure out what to eat at the Inn at Easton - but even gamier and muskier if that's possible. Verticale is the brainchild of French Master Chef Didier Corlue, who was the chef at the Sofitel Metropole's "Spices" restaurant for many years before branching out on his own. So here we are at this trendy new restaurant, and the menu was almost scary. It seemed everything had squid, sea urchin, sweetbreads, duck, foie gras or other hard core funkiness in it. Hence, the fusion between French and Vietnamese cooking. Nothing was simple. Like, my Mom wouldn't be able to find anything on the menu to eat.
Mind you, just before ordering - as in committing to an actual order - and after already indulging in the little "amuse" that they gave us (mango slivers to be dipped in chili powder infused salt AND chopped up bits of scallop in a dried banana slice to be dipped in the ubiquitous fish sauce, we nearly bolted. We thought of 3 or 4 other restaurants that were known entities nearby and almost gave up the game. We could just settle up, pay for our Pellegrino and beat a hasty, albeit somewhat embarrassing, retreat. But we didn't. Even though there were more hovering waitstaff than customers, we stayed and are glad in hindsight for the culinary adventure.
After four or five attempts at trying to figure out what I could possibly eat that's low fat (talk about major Lost in Translation moments!), I ordered Red Tuna which was more like tuna on a stick. A beautiful and perfumed stick, but still a stick. The juicy chunk of grilled tuna had been pierced with a long stalk of lemongrass and served on a bed of some unidentifiable but tasty Vietnamese greens. I was also served rice, that was scented with bits of star anise, in a small clay pot that reminded me of the little dishes my sister Suzy likes to serve.
Tom ordered Beef Yin Yang. Sounds rather inocuous. Presentation was fabulous but judging by the amount of food left on his plate, it wasn't a smashing success. On a white rectangular shaped plate, there was an Australian beef tenderloin, leeks and some other kind of mystery meat. Next to that was a black plate the same size and shape which had beef satays in a little clay pot, huge flakes of dried beef and then one beef springroll on top of a shot glass of sauce to accompany it. I nearly ordered this dish and am so glad I didn't. I thought it would just be a simple steak - not an array of artsy beef interpretations. The tenderloin was a huge disappointment. Really gamey and musky funky. Like, I'm not sure it was Australian beef at all. More like water buffalo from the nearby rice paddies. And the dried beef was nothing like our Beef Jerkey in the states. These dried shreds were infused with ginger and chili powder. Sort of like eating a piece of Big Red gum - that first bite where there's a flavor infusion but the flavor here only gets stronger. It was a brave effort on Tom's part.
Dessert was really what was amazing though. Mine was probably the best dessert I've ever had, anywhere. On a plain white plate, there was a tower of perfectly ripened mango rounds layered with perfectly plump raspberries and a mint, cilantro and passion fruit sauce. To die for. That in an of itself. Then, on the other side of the plate was a scoop of citronella sorbet decorated with a huge abstract design of spun sugar. Only Vietnamese influences would come up with such a delicate and fragrant combination.
Tom had some kind of fried banana pastry - sort of like a French mille feuilles but Asian - along with a martini glass full of cubed lemon cake soaked in passion fruit sauce. Very inventive and very bold. My apologies for the long meal description but it was just so unusual that if I don't record it, I will forget about it. Hence, the daily blog.
Aside from the culinary aspects of our date, it was just really nice to connect with my husband. No kids interrupting, no phone calls, no TV, no distractions. Of course, we spent most of the time talking about the kids (as in plural which is still an awkward thing for me to say), our trip, how this adoption is so different than Max's, and how we are looking forward to heading home. It's been a long, hot slog of hotel living. My son hasn't played on green grass (or any other color for that matter) in about three weeks. I enjoy visiting cities but long term city living just isn't for this girl.
It was nice to be adults. Samantha and Tom. Enjoying a meal without passing a baby back and forth or wooing Max to eat while we're at a meal (not the endless snacking he is accustommed to at home). Adult conversation. No interruptions. It was a glorious treat and something we need to remind ourselves to do more often.
I was trying to describe to Tom why this adoption feels so different to me than our first one. There are probably a host of reasons why, obvious and not so obvious, but what strikes me the most I suppose is an analogy to buying chicken. Bear with me a moment, dear reader, as I think you will be able to relate. Adopting Max was like going to the Acme and buying boneless, skinless chicken breasts. It's easy, clean, healthy, sanitary and predictable. You don't have to touch the skin or bones. No blood. No funky cuts or weird tendons. And covered in plastic. Nice and neat. Just like greeting him for the first time at the Dulles Airport after he was escorted overseas at the tender age of four months. He was a wonderful, tidy little package.
But with Molly, it's like going to the butcher where he prepares, de-feathers and skins the chicken right in front of you. Not hidden behind walls of a grocery store. But right there - visible for the whole world to see. In a way, it's very Asian - very Third World. It's also tremendously Vietnamese in which things are very out in the open for all to see. With Molly, we really got an opportunity to see where she came from and have watched her grow like wildfire in 10 days. We're more in tune with her situation as a needy wee one - so raw without family, friends or even a foster mother. She didn't get the best medical care, love or stimulation that all children deserve. There was no plastic wrapping. No neat package all wrapped up on a shelf. Rather, this is closer to the truth, more raw and more heart tugging.
For years people would say how great Tom and I are for adopting Max. Giving him opportunities to grow and thrive that he wouldn't have had had he stayed in Korea. He didn't have a family and needed one. People make it sound so altruistic and unselfish on our parts but the truth of the matter is, it was entirely selfish. Tom and I wouldn't have had a family without Max. We wouldn't be parents. We're different pieces of a puzzle that come together to make a whole picture. One wouldn't be whole without the other.
So I've always sort of shunned those comments and confessed that we wanted children. We wanted to be parents. We're not trying to save the world or aim for zero population. I mean it's great that it's helping on a global scale but that is not the driving force behind adopting for us. For some, it is and I bow to them. And I'm glad that our actions have a positive effect and benefit others. That's great. But the driving force was we wanted to be parents.
With Molly, though, it's been different. While initially this was all about having the baby girl of my dreams (the one whom I've been shopping for for 10 years now), what I'm getting in touch with here in Vietnam is that we're also offering this kid an amazing shot at life. I'm more aware of that this round than the first time. We saw what the other alternatives are for her if she didn't get adopted and it's not pretty. Don't get me wrong, the underlying force here is again to be parents but I'm more aware of also doing something good for humanity in this adoption that I didn't feel with Max. Just different. No right or wrong way. Just a different way. Both beautiful children who we love and who loves us. Families come together in so many different ways and this is just the story of how our little family came together.
Molly has thrived since we've had her. I can't believe how much she has grown into herself in the past 10 days. Every day that passes she gets stronger, shows more muscle control, eats more, laughs more and feels more relaxed with us. I think she knows that we are hers and she is ours now. She looks to us for comfort and for getting her needs met. Except she doesn't like taking Amoxicillin which she promptly spits out. (This morning was her medical at the SOS clinic and it turns out she has an ear infection in addition to a nasty case of heat rash on her face.)
Oh dear. It's almost 11:30 p.m. and we've got an early morning tomorrow. We're making the 3 hour drive to Halong Bay where we will step aboard the Emeraude, a 1920 replica of a French paddlewheel boat, for a decadent overnight and cruise. Then back to Hanoi on Sunday. We're going with our new friends who also adopted a baby girl with our group. We've gotten very friendly with them and it's been so nice to have each other as support and touchpoints. No word yet from the embassy. We're hoping for good news on Monday. If we don't get it, we'll have to change our plane ticket return, among other things.
Here are just a few random observations I wanted to make before signing off:
Funniest thing I saw today: the toilet man. Whizzing down the grand leafy boulevard next to my taxi was a man on a motorbike carrying not one, but FIVE brand new toilets. He had four balanced behind him in a tower on the seat and then another one between his legs and the handlebar.
Most curious thing I've observed recently: It's taken several taxi rides to finally figure out why people are driving around with pineapples in their car. Instead of having a cup of coffee or similar beverage in the cup holder between seats, the Vietnamese put small, unbelievably fragrant pineapples. Air freshener, I finally realized. Forget the scented pine cardboard thingies that dangle from American rearview mirrors.
Most amusing menu misspelling today: Instead of lemon meringue pie, the downstairs restaurant was serving Lemon Merring Pie. Better than porched eggs and torst.
We are becoming itchy to leave this polluted city. While it is a colonial French gem with fabulous lakes, great restaurants, a vibrant art scene, good shopping and grand boulevards, the pollution on the streets is becoming a big issue. It's like Bangkok in the 80s and 90s. There are way more motorbikes than cars and all are fueled with a very low grade of fuel. So while petrol might be affordable for the average Vietnamese, the emissions are quickly making Hanio the most polluted city in Asia.
There's a very distinct possibility that we may be able to leave early next week. All we wait for now is approval from the embassy and a visa for Molly. We're getting there, slowly but surely. Our ticket has us set to depart on Tues. night at midnight but I have a feeling we're going to have to change it to a later date. We will be so glad to get home and look forward to the cool waters and cooler temperatures of Fishers Island in August. When we do leave though, we leave with regret for not having seen more of this wonderful country. Sapa, Hue, HCMC, and the Mekong delta are just some of the places we'd like to visit on our next trip here. That and then a dash over the border to Laos to go to Luang Prabang. And maybe, just maybe, back to Cambodia which still tugs at our heart strings.
More later. Next stop: Halong Bay
We went out on a date. It was so wonderful to connect with my husband, who has been my constant companion and teammate since we started this trip. But I didn't realize until we were having dinner this evening, that it's the first ALONE time we've had in weeks.
We've found a wonderful babysitter at the hotel. Miss Vanh. Rather stern, speaks understandable English which is different than speaking English. Insists that Max says "please," loves Molly and also takes Max of the Melia around the hotel to secret places that most guests don't even know exist, let alone see.
This afternoon, while I was feeding Molly (who, by the way, is now sucking down 4 to 5 ounces of formula like there's no tomorrow! - big shift from the 2 ounce "sips" she was taking last week), Max and Miss Vanh went on an adventure. They returned with a huge bouquet of Gerber daisies in a rainbow sherbert assortment of colors. When I asked where he got them, Max replied "from the flower room." There are always fresh arrangements around the hotel (something I take notice of daily and photograph occasionally) and darn if Max didn't get into what would perhaps be my favorite room in the building.
After Max presented the flowers to me, he did his amusing Max "thing" by jumping up and down with excitement as he showed me the different colors of the flowers. Words could not come out of his mouth fast enough.
Anyway, back to our hot date. We went to the new trendy restaurant in town called Verticale. It's a restored 3-storey merchant house that has a spice shop on the first floor (selling cinnamon bark the size of logs we would put in our fireplaces, I kid you not!!), a restaurant on the 2nd floor and a bar on the third.
Navigating the menu was close to trying to figure out what to eat at the Inn at Easton - but even gamier and muskier if that's possible. Verticale is the brainchild of French Master Chef Didier Corlue, who was the chef at the Sofitel Metropole's "Spices" restaurant for many years before branching out on his own. So here we are at this trendy new restaurant, and the menu was almost scary. It seemed everything had squid, sea urchin, sweetbreads, duck, foie gras or other hard core funkiness in it. Hence, the fusion between French and Vietnamese cooking. Nothing was simple. Like, my Mom wouldn't be able to find anything on the menu to eat.
Mind you, just before ordering - as in committing to an actual order - and after already indulging in the little "amuse" that they gave us (mango slivers to be dipped in chili powder infused salt AND chopped up bits of scallop in a dried banana slice to be dipped in the ubiquitous fish sauce, we nearly bolted. We thought of 3 or 4 other restaurants that were known entities nearby and almost gave up the game. We could just settle up, pay for our Pellegrino and beat a hasty, albeit somewhat embarrassing, retreat. But we didn't. Even though there were more hovering waitstaff than customers, we stayed and are glad in hindsight for the culinary adventure.
After four or five attempts at trying to figure out what I could possibly eat that's low fat (talk about major Lost in Translation moments!), I ordered Red Tuna which was more like tuna on a stick. A beautiful and perfumed stick, but still a stick. The juicy chunk of grilled tuna had been pierced with a long stalk of lemongrass and served on a bed of some unidentifiable but tasty Vietnamese greens. I was also served rice, that was scented with bits of star anise, in a small clay pot that reminded me of the little dishes my sister Suzy likes to serve.
Tom ordered Beef Yin Yang. Sounds rather inocuous. Presentation was fabulous but judging by the amount of food left on his plate, it wasn't a smashing success. On a white rectangular shaped plate, there was an Australian beef tenderloin, leeks and some other kind of mystery meat. Next to that was a black plate the same size and shape which had beef satays in a little clay pot, huge flakes of dried beef and then one beef springroll on top of a shot glass of sauce to accompany it. I nearly ordered this dish and am so glad I didn't. I thought it would just be a simple steak - not an array of artsy beef interpretations. The tenderloin was a huge disappointment. Really gamey and musky funky. Like, I'm not sure it was Australian beef at all. More like water buffalo from the nearby rice paddies. And the dried beef was nothing like our Beef Jerkey in the states. These dried shreds were infused with ginger and chili powder. Sort of like eating a piece of Big Red gum - that first bite where there's a flavor infusion but the flavor here only gets stronger. It was a brave effort on Tom's part.
Dessert was really what was amazing though. Mine was probably the best dessert I've ever had, anywhere. On a plain white plate, there was a tower of perfectly ripened mango rounds layered with perfectly plump raspberries and a mint, cilantro and passion fruit sauce. To die for. That in an of itself. Then, on the other side of the plate was a scoop of citronella sorbet decorated with a huge abstract design of spun sugar. Only Vietnamese influences would come up with such a delicate and fragrant combination.
Tom had some kind of fried banana pastry - sort of like a French mille feuilles but Asian - along with a martini glass full of cubed lemon cake soaked in passion fruit sauce. Very inventive and very bold. My apologies for the long meal description but it was just so unusual that if I don't record it, I will forget about it. Hence, the daily blog.
Aside from the culinary aspects of our date, it was just really nice to connect with my husband. No kids interrupting, no phone calls, no TV, no distractions. Of course, we spent most of the time talking about the kids (as in plural which is still an awkward thing for me to say), our trip, how this adoption is so different than Max's, and how we are looking forward to heading home. It's been a long, hot slog of hotel living. My son hasn't played on green grass (or any other color for that matter) in about three weeks. I enjoy visiting cities but long term city living just isn't for this girl.
It was nice to be adults. Samantha and Tom. Enjoying a meal without passing a baby back and forth or wooing Max to eat while we're at a meal (not the endless snacking he is accustommed to at home). Adult conversation. No interruptions. It was a glorious treat and something we need to remind ourselves to do more often.
I was trying to describe to Tom why this adoption feels so different to me than our first one. There are probably a host of reasons why, obvious and not so obvious, but what strikes me the most I suppose is an analogy to buying chicken. Bear with me a moment, dear reader, as I think you will be able to relate. Adopting Max was like going to the Acme and buying boneless, skinless chicken breasts. It's easy, clean, healthy, sanitary and predictable. You don't have to touch the skin or bones. No blood. No funky cuts or weird tendons. And covered in plastic. Nice and neat. Just like greeting him for the first time at the Dulles Airport after he was escorted overseas at the tender age of four months. He was a wonderful, tidy little package.
But with Molly, it's like going to the butcher where he prepares, de-feathers and skins the chicken right in front of you. Not hidden behind walls of a grocery store. But right there - visible for the whole world to see. In a way, it's very Asian - very Third World. It's also tremendously Vietnamese in which things are very out in the open for all to see. With Molly, we really got an opportunity to see where she came from and have watched her grow like wildfire in 10 days. We're more in tune with her situation as a needy wee one - so raw without family, friends or even a foster mother. She didn't get the best medical care, love or stimulation that all children deserve. There was no plastic wrapping. No neat package all wrapped up on a shelf. Rather, this is closer to the truth, more raw and more heart tugging.
For years people would say how great Tom and I are for adopting Max. Giving him opportunities to grow and thrive that he wouldn't have had had he stayed in Korea. He didn't have a family and needed one. People make it sound so altruistic and unselfish on our parts but the truth of the matter is, it was entirely selfish. Tom and I wouldn't have had a family without Max. We wouldn't be parents. We're different pieces of a puzzle that come together to make a whole picture. One wouldn't be whole without the other.
So I've always sort of shunned those comments and confessed that we wanted children. We wanted to be parents. We're not trying to save the world or aim for zero population. I mean it's great that it's helping on a global scale but that is not the driving force behind adopting for us. For some, it is and I bow to them. And I'm glad that our actions have a positive effect and benefit others. That's great. But the driving force was we wanted to be parents.
With Molly, though, it's been different. While initially this was all about having the baby girl of my dreams (the one whom I've been shopping for for 10 years now), what I'm getting in touch with here in Vietnam is that we're also offering this kid an amazing shot at life. I'm more aware of that this round than the first time. We saw what the other alternatives are for her if she didn't get adopted and it's not pretty. Don't get me wrong, the underlying force here is again to be parents but I'm more aware of also doing something good for humanity in this adoption that I didn't feel with Max. Just different. No right or wrong way. Just a different way. Both beautiful children who we love and who loves us. Families come together in so many different ways and this is just the story of how our little family came together.
Molly has thrived since we've had her. I can't believe how much she has grown into herself in the past 10 days. Every day that passes she gets stronger, shows more muscle control, eats more, laughs more and feels more relaxed with us. I think she knows that we are hers and she is ours now. She looks to us for comfort and for getting her needs met. Except she doesn't like taking Amoxicillin which she promptly spits out. (This morning was her medical at the SOS clinic and it turns out she has an ear infection in addition to a nasty case of heat rash on her face.)
Oh dear. It's almost 11:30 p.m. and we've got an early morning tomorrow. We're making the 3 hour drive to Halong Bay where we will step aboard the Emeraude, a 1920 replica of a French paddlewheel boat, for a decadent overnight and cruise. Then back to Hanoi on Sunday. We're going with our new friends who also adopted a baby girl with our group. We've gotten very friendly with them and it's been so nice to have each other as support and touchpoints. No word yet from the embassy. We're hoping for good news on Monday. If we don't get it, we'll have to change our plane ticket return, among other things.
Here are just a few random observations I wanted to make before signing off:
Funniest thing I saw today: the toilet man. Whizzing down the grand leafy boulevard next to my taxi was a man on a motorbike carrying not one, but FIVE brand new toilets. He had four balanced behind him in a tower on the seat and then another one between his legs and the handlebar.
Most curious thing I've observed recently: It's taken several taxi rides to finally figure out why people are driving around with pineapples in their car. Instead of having a cup of coffee or similar beverage in the cup holder between seats, the Vietnamese put small, unbelievably fragrant pineapples. Air freshener, I finally realized. Forget the scented pine cardboard thingies that dangle from American rearview mirrors.
Most amusing menu misspelling today: Instead of lemon meringue pie, the downstairs restaurant was serving Lemon Merring Pie. Better than porched eggs and torst.
We are becoming itchy to leave this polluted city. While it is a colonial French gem with fabulous lakes, great restaurants, a vibrant art scene, good shopping and grand boulevards, the pollution on the streets is becoming a big issue. It's like Bangkok in the 80s and 90s. There are way more motorbikes than cars and all are fueled with a very low grade of fuel. So while petrol might be affordable for the average Vietnamese, the emissions are quickly making Hanio the most polluted city in Asia.
There's a very distinct possibility that we may be able to leave early next week. All we wait for now is approval from the embassy and a visa for Molly. We're getting there, slowly but surely. Our ticket has us set to depart on Tues. night at midnight but I have a feeling we're going to have to change it to a later date. We will be so glad to get home and look forward to the cool waters and cooler temperatures of Fishers Island in August. When we do leave though, we leave with regret for not having seen more of this wonderful country. Sapa, Hue, HCMC, and the Mekong delta are just some of the places we'd like to visit on our next trip here. That and then a dash over the border to Laos to go to Luang Prabang. And maybe, just maybe, back to Cambodia which still tugs at our heart strings.
More later. Next stop: Halong Bay
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Brush with Greatness
Before we went out to dinner tonight, we noticed that there was a red carpet flowing through the downstairs lobby of the hotel which Max had to run up and down. When we went outside to get a taxi, the woman who always helps us said we had to go down the street to get a taxi tonight. Usually they pull right up to the hotel entrance. But instead of the entranceway being surrounded by waiting taxis, there were numerous black official cars. Some of the only Mercedes I've seen in Vietnam.
Turns out the President of Vietnam and the President of Laos were in the hotel ballroom for dinner, celebrating several decades of good relations between the two countries. We thought nothing of it, found a taxi and asked him to take us to an Indian restaurant on Tong Don road.
After a quick dinner, we headed back to the hotel. I asked the receptionist if the presidents were still here and she said yes, and that would be coming down in about five to 10 minutes. Tom and Max headed upstairs to our room, not the least bit interested in the political greatness surrounding us. But, with my journalist's instincts piqued, I decided to stick around for a few minutes with Molly even though it's about 50 degrees hotter in the lobby than in our hotel room.
If indeed, the presidents were there, I wanted Molly to be able to see the leaders of her country. Though she may not ever remember it, at least we will have the memory etched in cyberspace for eternity. I quickly befriended one of the security guards who was more than happy, proud even, to tell me who was upstairs and all the other big VIPs who have stayed at the Melia in the past, including, he noted, Fidel Castro.
It was definitely a Lost in Translation moment because I thought he meant Fidel Castro was upstairs in that very moment. Finally we realized that no, he wasn't there but he has been here in the past. You know, a fellow Communist country.
Anyway, he kept me apprised of each and every dignatary who walked by. There were only four other people on star-alert like myself. Most of the other people in the lobby and lounge either didn't know or didn't care. There was no press in sight and not a single photographer on the scene. It was so mellow and low-keyed it was almost as if it were a non-event. Of course, all the newspapers are controlled by the government so I'm sure speeches and press releases were already on the propaganda printing press before the night even ended.
So, as it turns out, walking only several feet in front of where Molly and I were standing - pretending not to be paying attention or the slightest bit interested - we saw the Head of the Communist Party of Vietnam (who ranks higher than the president), the president and vice president of Vietnam, the President of Laos and other dignataries. Some were high ranking generals - you could tell by the lines on their face and the medals on their chest - and then they were followed by their lackies.
I COULD HAVE SHAKEN THE PRESIDENT'S HAND if I wanted to as he shook two or three hands on his way out. He sort of looked up at me out of the corner of his eye but I would have had to make a less than graceful leap onto the red carpet with Molly in my arms and it just didn't really seem that important afterall. Plus, my buddy the security guard might have lost faith in me if I had done such an uncool thing.
As I told Tom after the excitement, it was the most un-American thing I've seen in Vietnam so far. Here were the heads of state and there was hardly any security whatsoever. No secret service, no bodyguards. People have said Vietnam is an exceedingly safe country but I didn't realize how so. And to think the security guards were giving me just the information my inquiring mind wanted to know. Surely, their counterparts in the U.S. would have been way tight-lipped and indifferent.
Also in the lobby tonight we bumped into one of the Irish couples who also adopted a baby girl the same time we did from Thai Nguyen last Wednesday. I've been saying how lucky the Irish are because as soon as they get their babies passports, they can leave and go home. Unlike us Americans who have to wait an extra week or so til the US Embassy processes our paperwork. But I certainly need to amend that now because we are the more fortunate in America. The Irish have been waiting 6 years to adopt their baby. Six years. They have heaps of classes to go to and lots of bureaucratic paperwork just like us but their process takes so much longer. I didn't want to tell them that ours started in earnest in January.
They said as soon as they get back to Dublin, they will put in another application to adopt another baby but this wait will only be three years. Yipes.
What else happened today? It was a free day for us - no adoption stuff to do. Tom took Max to the War Museum where they saw all sorts of things reminding us that indeed the Vietnam War did happen. I say that because just cruising around as happy go lucky tourists, without the occasional historical museum or jail here and there, one might never know there was a war here several decades ago. People are very nice to us - even old folks smile. For as far as they are concerned, the Vietnamese won "the American War" as it's called here. We are so blessed to be naive.
This afternoon, I treated myself to a massage which was about a B- or C if I were to give it a grade. Low marks compared to Barbara Haddaway. But for $23 for an hour here at the hotel, even an okay massage is a good one. Then I got my hair washed for $7.50. The woman doing my hair massaged my head for about 20 minutes while washing my hair and then gave me a head, neck and shoulder massage before blowing my hair dry. It was all too good to be true and you can be sure I will indulge in that ritual again before we leave.
Tonight, when I was putting Max to sleep, we were talking about all sorts of things, mostly airplanes and bridges but then the subject of adoption came up, as per usual with Max, completely out of the blue. First he said it would have been a lot easier if Molly had just flown to Dulles airport like he did rather than all of us traveling to Vietnam to get her. I replied that yes, it would have been easier but then we wouldn't have gotten a taste of her country like we have been since we arrived. I told him I regretted not going to get him in Korea for the same reason but promised to take him there one day if he wanted to go.
"I would just like to meet my birthmother," he told me. I was astonished!!! "I would like for her to see how big I am now. That I'm not a baby anymore." My heart sunk. Everything I've read on adoption these days says not to couch these conversations with "Well, you know the day we adopted you was the best day of my life" or other related sentiments to make the kid feel better. While that may well be true, it puts the focus on me and not on him and his feelings. So I listened and said I understood how he was feeling. I was ready to talk more (as I always am) but then I heard him snoring softly next to me and so I took my cue and just held him.
It's sobering moments like that that catch me off guard. Yes, we have adopted some beautiful children and now we - as parents - are feeling complete because we wouldn't have had a family without them. We are so blessed to have such happy and bright little people in our lives. But there may always be a hole in their hearts, a sense of wondering about identity, possible issues with abandonment, questions about loss and why they were placed for adoption, or in Molly's case, abandoned. When I allow myself to think about what our children have lost - or more precisely - what has been taken from them, my heart cries. There are questions that may never be answered for the rest of their lives and surrendering to that existential mystery is no easy task. I know for a fact because of my own story.
So how do we, as conscientious adoptive parents wanting to do the "right" thing, balance the instinctive need to want to protect our children from any more hurt or pain AND, at the same time, be honest and give them the what little we know about the stories of their lives that they are so entitled to know? There are no easy answers and I am bound to screw up so many times along the way. What comes to me now is that the best things I can do are a) be accountable for when I make mistakes, b) do the best that I can and c) ask for guidance when needed --- always coming from a loving, spacious place in my heart. So big that I can hold my little ones with love at the same time they might be feeling pain. I also try to keep things age appropriate as I've done with Max. He always surprises me, weeks, months later, with a question that takes his story to the next level of depth and understanding. Little bits of information that can be digested over a lifetime, on his cues, rather than living in denial or waiting to have "the talk" on my terms.
Then again, talking about adoption is nothing compared to talking about war and landmines with Max. Since Cambodia, he has been thinking about landmines and has a lot of questions about what they do, how they hurt people and why. And, then after his museum visit with Tom today to the war museum, he wanted to know about why the B-52 planes on exhibit were shot down and what that meant. They are new concepts I can see his bright mind trying to digest. Heavy ones at that. And they are so hard for me to talk about because I am such a peace-nik. My skin isn't nearly thick enough to go to the war museum as it's just a part of history I don't need to know about anymore.
We are Quaker. We are pacifists. Something that has been engrained in both the McCall and Moore families. I remember riding on top of my Dad's shoulders at anti-Vietnam war marches in the late 60s, early 70s. At the time, I just repeated everything my Dad said, being the able bodied parrot that I was. But something rubbed off on me, through osmosis? conscience? heart? Maybe all of the above. But I don't like it when people fight or hurt each other. I don't agree with war in any circumstance so how do I explain to my son the facts as I know them? I've consciously been trying to hide the concepts from him for four years now but we can't escape it. I don't want him to play with toy guns or even use sticks as guns but I know if he is meant to be doing this, he will figure something out. So, I let him do his thing (which thankfully is not about guns yet or hopefully, if we're lucky, ever!) But I do tell him about how Mommy and Daddy don't like guns and how they hurt people. He's smart enough to take that in.
On a lighter note, he suggested renaming his sister this evening. "I think we should call her Gopala Molly Williams Brewster McCall." I couldn't believe he got all the names right! He hasn't given up on Gopala yet and truthfully, neither have we. We call her both Molly and Gopala as well as other terms of endearment.
Scariest thing I saw today: A family going for a ride on the family motorbike - daddy driving with young son (maybe 2? 3?) sitting on his shoulder (!) and momma holding on to husband and kid, with another smooshed in between them. No one wearing helmets. There are way more motorbikes on the roads than cars and buses but this is ridiculous. So much for the family van. So much for car seats, let alone seat belts.
Funniest thing I saw today: a woman, wearing the omnipresent conical hat, bicycling down the road with her bike covered with brown feather dusters for sale. They were hanging out of the basket in front of her, on her lap, coming out of baskets on the sides of her and behind her. In fact, she looked like a brown version of big bird on a bike. Next to her, the cyclist peddling toys and balloons cracks me up. They look like at any moment they might float into the sky.
Tomorrow's nefarious agenda includes allegedly picking up passports at the police station and we are told, one of the seven families will have their medical tomorrow but their name wasn't disclosed this evening which means everyone has to wait by their hotels. Ugh. It's hard to believe that communication here couldn't be a little bit cleaner and clearer.
Turns out the President of Vietnam and the President of Laos were in the hotel ballroom for dinner, celebrating several decades of good relations between the two countries. We thought nothing of it, found a taxi and asked him to take us to an Indian restaurant on Tong Don road.
After a quick dinner, we headed back to the hotel. I asked the receptionist if the presidents were still here and she said yes, and that would be coming down in about five to 10 minutes. Tom and Max headed upstairs to our room, not the least bit interested in the political greatness surrounding us. But, with my journalist's instincts piqued, I decided to stick around for a few minutes with Molly even though it's about 50 degrees hotter in the lobby than in our hotel room.
If indeed, the presidents were there, I wanted Molly to be able to see the leaders of her country. Though she may not ever remember it, at least we will have the memory etched in cyberspace for eternity. I quickly befriended one of the security guards who was more than happy, proud even, to tell me who was upstairs and all the other big VIPs who have stayed at the Melia in the past, including, he noted, Fidel Castro.
It was definitely a Lost in Translation moment because I thought he meant Fidel Castro was upstairs in that very moment. Finally we realized that no, he wasn't there but he has been here in the past. You know, a fellow Communist country.
Anyway, he kept me apprised of each and every dignatary who walked by. There were only four other people on star-alert like myself. Most of the other people in the lobby and lounge either didn't know or didn't care. There was no press in sight and not a single photographer on the scene. It was so mellow and low-keyed it was almost as if it were a non-event. Of course, all the newspapers are controlled by the government so I'm sure speeches and press releases were already on the propaganda printing press before the night even ended.
So, as it turns out, walking only several feet in front of where Molly and I were standing - pretending not to be paying attention or the slightest bit interested - we saw the Head of the Communist Party of Vietnam (who ranks higher than the president), the president and vice president of Vietnam, the President of Laos and other dignataries. Some were high ranking generals - you could tell by the lines on their face and the medals on their chest - and then they were followed by their lackies.
I COULD HAVE SHAKEN THE PRESIDENT'S HAND if I wanted to as he shook two or three hands on his way out. He sort of looked up at me out of the corner of his eye but I would have had to make a less than graceful leap onto the red carpet with Molly in my arms and it just didn't really seem that important afterall. Plus, my buddy the security guard might have lost faith in me if I had done such an uncool thing.
As I told Tom after the excitement, it was the most un-American thing I've seen in Vietnam so far. Here were the heads of state and there was hardly any security whatsoever. No secret service, no bodyguards. People have said Vietnam is an exceedingly safe country but I didn't realize how so. And to think the security guards were giving me just the information my inquiring mind wanted to know. Surely, their counterparts in the U.S. would have been way tight-lipped and indifferent.
Also in the lobby tonight we bumped into one of the Irish couples who also adopted a baby girl the same time we did from Thai Nguyen last Wednesday. I've been saying how lucky the Irish are because as soon as they get their babies passports, they can leave and go home. Unlike us Americans who have to wait an extra week or so til the US Embassy processes our paperwork. But I certainly need to amend that now because we are the more fortunate in America. The Irish have been waiting 6 years to adopt their baby. Six years. They have heaps of classes to go to and lots of bureaucratic paperwork just like us but their process takes so much longer. I didn't want to tell them that ours started in earnest in January.
They said as soon as they get back to Dublin, they will put in another application to adopt another baby but this wait will only be three years. Yipes.
What else happened today? It was a free day for us - no adoption stuff to do. Tom took Max to the War Museum where they saw all sorts of things reminding us that indeed the Vietnam War did happen. I say that because just cruising around as happy go lucky tourists, without the occasional historical museum or jail here and there, one might never know there was a war here several decades ago. People are very nice to us - even old folks smile. For as far as they are concerned, the Vietnamese won "the American War" as it's called here. We are so blessed to be naive.
This afternoon, I treated myself to a massage which was about a B- or C if I were to give it a grade. Low marks compared to Barbara Haddaway. But for $23 for an hour here at the hotel, even an okay massage is a good one. Then I got my hair washed for $7.50. The woman doing my hair massaged my head for about 20 minutes while washing my hair and then gave me a head, neck and shoulder massage before blowing my hair dry. It was all too good to be true and you can be sure I will indulge in that ritual again before we leave.
Tonight, when I was putting Max to sleep, we were talking about all sorts of things, mostly airplanes and bridges but then the subject of adoption came up, as per usual with Max, completely out of the blue. First he said it would have been a lot easier if Molly had just flown to Dulles airport like he did rather than all of us traveling to Vietnam to get her. I replied that yes, it would have been easier but then we wouldn't have gotten a taste of her country like we have been since we arrived. I told him I regretted not going to get him in Korea for the same reason but promised to take him there one day if he wanted to go.
"I would just like to meet my birthmother," he told me. I was astonished!!! "I would like for her to see how big I am now. That I'm not a baby anymore." My heart sunk. Everything I've read on adoption these days says not to couch these conversations with "Well, you know the day we adopted you was the best day of my life" or other related sentiments to make the kid feel better. While that may well be true, it puts the focus on me and not on him and his feelings. So I listened and said I understood how he was feeling. I was ready to talk more (as I always am) but then I heard him snoring softly next to me and so I took my cue and just held him.
It's sobering moments like that that catch me off guard. Yes, we have adopted some beautiful children and now we - as parents - are feeling complete because we wouldn't have had a family without them. We are so blessed to have such happy and bright little people in our lives. But there may always be a hole in their hearts, a sense of wondering about identity, possible issues with abandonment, questions about loss and why they were placed for adoption, or in Molly's case, abandoned. When I allow myself to think about what our children have lost - or more precisely - what has been taken from them, my heart cries. There are questions that may never be answered for the rest of their lives and surrendering to that existential mystery is no easy task. I know for a fact because of my own story.
So how do we, as conscientious adoptive parents wanting to do the "right" thing, balance the instinctive need to want to protect our children from any more hurt or pain AND, at the same time, be honest and give them the what little we know about the stories of their lives that they are so entitled to know? There are no easy answers and I am bound to screw up so many times along the way. What comes to me now is that the best things I can do are a) be accountable for when I make mistakes, b) do the best that I can and c) ask for guidance when needed --- always coming from a loving, spacious place in my heart. So big that I can hold my little ones with love at the same time they might be feeling pain. I also try to keep things age appropriate as I've done with Max. He always surprises me, weeks, months later, with a question that takes his story to the next level of depth and understanding. Little bits of information that can be digested over a lifetime, on his cues, rather than living in denial or waiting to have "the talk" on my terms.
Then again, talking about adoption is nothing compared to talking about war and landmines with Max. Since Cambodia, he has been thinking about landmines and has a lot of questions about what they do, how they hurt people and why. And, then after his museum visit with Tom today to the war museum, he wanted to know about why the B-52 planes on exhibit were shot down and what that meant. They are new concepts I can see his bright mind trying to digest. Heavy ones at that. And they are so hard for me to talk about because I am such a peace-nik. My skin isn't nearly thick enough to go to the war museum as it's just a part of history I don't need to know about anymore.
We are Quaker. We are pacifists. Something that has been engrained in both the McCall and Moore families. I remember riding on top of my Dad's shoulders at anti-Vietnam war marches in the late 60s, early 70s. At the time, I just repeated everything my Dad said, being the able bodied parrot that I was. But something rubbed off on me, through osmosis? conscience? heart? Maybe all of the above. But I don't like it when people fight or hurt each other. I don't agree with war in any circumstance so how do I explain to my son the facts as I know them? I've consciously been trying to hide the concepts from him for four years now but we can't escape it. I don't want him to play with toy guns or even use sticks as guns but I know if he is meant to be doing this, he will figure something out. So, I let him do his thing (which thankfully is not about guns yet or hopefully, if we're lucky, ever!) But I do tell him about how Mommy and Daddy don't like guns and how they hurt people. He's smart enough to take that in.
On a lighter note, he suggested renaming his sister this evening. "I think we should call her Gopala Molly Williams Brewster McCall." I couldn't believe he got all the names right! He hasn't given up on Gopala yet and truthfully, neither have we. We call her both Molly and Gopala as well as other terms of endearment.
Scariest thing I saw today: A family going for a ride on the family motorbike - daddy driving with young son (maybe 2? 3?) sitting on his shoulder (!) and momma holding on to husband and kid, with another smooshed in between them. No one wearing helmets. There are way more motorbikes on the roads than cars and buses but this is ridiculous. So much for the family van. So much for car seats, let alone seat belts.
Funniest thing I saw today: a woman, wearing the omnipresent conical hat, bicycling down the road with her bike covered with brown feather dusters for sale. They were hanging out of the basket in front of her, on her lap, coming out of baskets on the sides of her and behind her. In fact, she looked like a brown version of big bird on a bike. Next to her, the cyclist peddling toys and balloons cracks me up. They look like at any moment they might float into the sky.
Tomorrow's nefarious agenda includes allegedly picking up passports at the police station and we are told, one of the seven families will have their medical tomorrow but their name wasn't disclosed this evening which means everyone has to wait by their hotels. Ugh. It's hard to believe that communication here couldn't be a little bit cleaner and clearer.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Sinchow
That's the Vietnamese greeting for hello. So far, Max and I have mastered sinchow and ca' mon (thank you). He keeps reminding me that it's different than Cambodian.
Today was a big day along the journey of our small adoption. We had our first interview with the U.S. Embassy regarding our application to bring Molly home with us. The entire group of us (7 families) from World Child went to the embassy at the same time this afternoon and had our appointments one right after the other.
Diaper bags, babies broken out into heat rash and nervous parents filled the waiting room at the embassy. I did a major bribe to Max who started to exhibit signs of acting up. I promised, pinkie swears, that if he behaved during the interview, I would take him in a taxi again over the Chuong Duong bridge again. (His passion for cars has been replaced with bridges...) He agreed, and true to his word, he honored our pinkie swear. He also was very patient when we went to get visa photos for the babies (again, en masse) and then again when we had a late lunch at Bobby Chinn's - a famous restaurant here in Hanoi.
Bobby Chinn's has the best macaroni and cheese we've ever tasted! I had a fabulous shrimp curry dish with coconut infused sticky rice and Tom had pad thai which, we think is the what has caused the food poisoning that he now has. (Thank you arsenicum - one of the best homeopathic remedies out there for food poisoning.) The atmosphere was fabulous. Red satiny silks draped from the ceilings as well as creamy white rose buds strung together with fishing line. In the back of the restaurant, there's a big opium den-like room where you can enjoy cancer sticks (I kid you not, that's what it says on the menu!) or enjoy fruit flavored tobaccos for $5 a pop in the water pipes in what they call a "Kenny G, Abba and Gypsy Kings-free zone." For those of us staying at the Melia Hotel, that's most amusing b/c I think we've all been brainwashed with Kenny G at breakfast and dinner in the restaurant. They play the same tunes over and over again and it's just awful! I finally asked them to change the music and they did for at least one meal. Tom interviewed the omelet maker this morning who said she hates the music.
Anyway, back to the more important part of the day. I'm not going to write much about the content of the interview or proceedings because I in no way want to jeopardize or jinx our application. Suffice it to say a very nice young woman interviewed us and the interview lasted about 15 to 20 minutes. After the interview, she reminded us of what her colleague said about processing time and added that they have a heavy caseload at the moment - our seven applications PLUS other families who are also adopting. We are all itching to get home and hope that the sooner it gets done, the better. We've all extended our hotel stays and are somewhat anxious about whether or not we need to change our plane tix too. Only time will tell and there's zero we can do about it now.
Prior to the individual family interviews, an officer spoke to us as a group to say that typically, if all goes well, it takes about 4 to 6 business days to get a recommendation from the CIS office in Ho Chi Minh City. That is, if all goes well. He went on to warn us that some cases do take longer to process (if paperwork doesn't match up etc.) and if need be, there are options if we have to stay longer in Hanoi.
If it takes longer, he explained that we could either go back to America and leave the baby with a guardian in Hanoi or possibly one parent goes home and another stays. Everyone's heart did a collective thud, each parent hoping it wouldn't be one of them, each one hoping that are paperwork is without flaws.
Little Miss Molly has grown on us so much already I couldn't imagine leaving her with anyone or leaving Hanoi without her. She's ours and we're hers. That's already been established as tomorrow marks a week of us being together. Tom and I don't even want to go there - to the "what if" place - and we're trying to stay positive though it all feels rather intimidating and way out of our control.
So, we keep our fingers crossed and our prayers sweet that the paperwork gets processed with ease and without a hitch. The good old expression Let Go and Let God comes to mind and I bow to it. Feel free to send positive energy our way! And for all the other families in the group too, some of whom we've gotten quite intimate with in the past week and hope to stay connected with in the future because our girls are crib sisters.
The next step is to pick up Molly's Vietnamese passport on Thursday from the local police station and then perhaps we will have the obligatory medical appointments either Thursday afternoon or Friday morning. Then, when the embassy approval comes, we go to the embassy again to apply for Molly's visa which usually takes a day to process and then we can come home.
Max told me tonight he was ready to come home. He's eager to see our boat? Then he asked me if I was ready to come home too and I said yes. This conversation was held at dinner in the restaurant downstairs, just me and him. Molly went to bed early and Tom is not feeling red hot and is laying in bed. So off we went on a hot date - just Mommy and Max. We had pasta with tomato sauce for the umpteenth time since we've been here. That and fresh Vietnamese spring rolls have been my staple. I've also had pho, which is perhaps the Vietnamese national dish - rice noodles in chicken broth (or beef broth for beef), and then heaps of fresh herbs including cilantro, mint and lemongrass. It's unbelievably fragrant and eaten with chopsticks. We still have yet to really dive into the Vietnamese cuisine because there are so many restaurants offering western food, especially French.
Tomorrow is a day off as far as the adoption paperwork process goes. Tom wants to see Uncle Ho's mausoleum and I want to shop, maybe even get a massage. They're so cheap here! Or maybe my hair washed and massaged, which is I think only about $5. It's still unbelievably hot. Hot like you go outside for a half an hour and come back drenched in sweat, having to change clothes for the second or third time a day. Thank goodness we found a cheaper place to do laundry. $7 a kilo and it's a block from the hotel. The only problem is they have returned some clothes that don't belong to us. And I haven't a clue what is missing from our laundry.
Molly is doing great and each day she blooms a little brighter. She looks to us like we're the center of her compass now and is surprisingly getting stronger by day! She can roll over with effort, is more adept at pulling herself on her arms for tummy time and is getting better control of her head and neck. Poor little thing has broken out into a horrible case of heat rash today. The a/c hasn't bothered her at all but the heat has, ironically. I gave her a bath tonight in calendula and hope that helps. She only seems to fuss when she is ready to go down for her nap and when she is hungry. Which, by the way, she has gone from 2 ounces in a bottle every two hours to chowing down on 5 to 6 ounces in a sitting. She's a happy little girl and has a smile to melt anyone's heart, especially ours.
Though we get 26 channels of satellite TV, only a handful are in English. BBC World News, CNN, HBO and the Disney Channel (Max has a thing for Kim Possible? I don't even know if it's age appropriate and at this point, don't really care.) Then the rest of the channels are in Thai, Japanese, Chinese, French and Vietnamese. Max was watching cartoons in French today and didn't seem to mind. Tom likes watching all the sports on TV from barefoot soccer to the Asian Cup to badminton by foot. He doesn't care. I'm not a big TV person but what I wouldn't do for some Seinfeld episodes right now...
Today was a big day along the journey of our small adoption. We had our first interview with the U.S. Embassy regarding our application to bring Molly home with us. The entire group of us (7 families) from World Child went to the embassy at the same time this afternoon and had our appointments one right after the other.
Diaper bags, babies broken out into heat rash and nervous parents filled the waiting room at the embassy. I did a major bribe to Max who started to exhibit signs of acting up. I promised, pinkie swears, that if he behaved during the interview, I would take him in a taxi again over the Chuong Duong bridge again. (His passion for cars has been replaced with bridges...) He agreed, and true to his word, he honored our pinkie swear. He also was very patient when we went to get visa photos for the babies (again, en masse) and then again when we had a late lunch at Bobby Chinn's - a famous restaurant here in Hanoi.
Bobby Chinn's has the best macaroni and cheese we've ever tasted! I had a fabulous shrimp curry dish with coconut infused sticky rice and Tom had pad thai which, we think is the what has caused the food poisoning that he now has. (Thank you arsenicum - one of the best homeopathic remedies out there for food poisoning.) The atmosphere was fabulous. Red satiny silks draped from the ceilings as well as creamy white rose buds strung together with fishing line. In the back of the restaurant, there's a big opium den-like room where you can enjoy cancer sticks (I kid you not, that's what it says on the menu!) or enjoy fruit flavored tobaccos for $5 a pop in the water pipes in what they call a "Kenny G, Abba and Gypsy Kings-free zone." For those of us staying at the Melia Hotel, that's most amusing b/c I think we've all been brainwashed with Kenny G at breakfast and dinner in the restaurant. They play the same tunes over and over again and it's just awful! I finally asked them to change the music and they did for at least one meal. Tom interviewed the omelet maker this morning who said she hates the music.
Anyway, back to the more important part of the day. I'm not going to write much about the content of the interview or proceedings because I in no way want to jeopardize or jinx our application. Suffice it to say a very nice young woman interviewed us and the interview lasted about 15 to 20 minutes. After the interview, she reminded us of what her colleague said about processing time and added that they have a heavy caseload at the moment - our seven applications PLUS other families who are also adopting. We are all itching to get home and hope that the sooner it gets done, the better. We've all extended our hotel stays and are somewhat anxious about whether or not we need to change our plane tix too. Only time will tell and there's zero we can do about it now.
Prior to the individual family interviews, an officer spoke to us as a group to say that typically, if all goes well, it takes about 4 to 6 business days to get a recommendation from the CIS office in Ho Chi Minh City. That is, if all goes well. He went on to warn us that some cases do take longer to process (if paperwork doesn't match up etc.) and if need be, there are options if we have to stay longer in Hanoi.
If it takes longer, he explained that we could either go back to America and leave the baby with a guardian in Hanoi or possibly one parent goes home and another stays. Everyone's heart did a collective thud, each parent hoping it wouldn't be one of them, each one hoping that are paperwork is without flaws.
Little Miss Molly has grown on us so much already I couldn't imagine leaving her with anyone or leaving Hanoi without her. She's ours and we're hers. That's already been established as tomorrow marks a week of us being together. Tom and I don't even want to go there - to the "what if" place - and we're trying to stay positive though it all feels rather intimidating and way out of our control.
So, we keep our fingers crossed and our prayers sweet that the paperwork gets processed with ease and without a hitch. The good old expression Let Go and Let God comes to mind and I bow to it. Feel free to send positive energy our way! And for all the other families in the group too, some of whom we've gotten quite intimate with in the past week and hope to stay connected with in the future because our girls are crib sisters.
The next step is to pick up Molly's Vietnamese passport on Thursday from the local police station and then perhaps we will have the obligatory medical appointments either Thursday afternoon or Friday morning. Then, when the embassy approval comes, we go to the embassy again to apply for Molly's visa which usually takes a day to process and then we can come home.
Max told me tonight he was ready to come home. He's eager to see our boat? Then he asked me if I was ready to come home too and I said yes. This conversation was held at dinner in the restaurant downstairs, just me and him. Molly went to bed early and Tom is not feeling red hot and is laying in bed. So off we went on a hot date - just Mommy and Max. We had pasta with tomato sauce for the umpteenth time since we've been here. That and fresh Vietnamese spring rolls have been my staple. I've also had pho, which is perhaps the Vietnamese national dish - rice noodles in chicken broth (or beef broth for beef), and then heaps of fresh herbs including cilantro, mint and lemongrass. It's unbelievably fragrant and eaten with chopsticks. We still have yet to really dive into the Vietnamese cuisine because there are so many restaurants offering western food, especially French.
Tomorrow is a day off as far as the adoption paperwork process goes. Tom wants to see Uncle Ho's mausoleum and I want to shop, maybe even get a massage. They're so cheap here! Or maybe my hair washed and massaged, which is I think only about $5. It's still unbelievably hot. Hot like you go outside for a half an hour and come back drenched in sweat, having to change clothes for the second or third time a day. Thank goodness we found a cheaper place to do laundry. $7 a kilo and it's a block from the hotel. The only problem is they have returned some clothes that don't belong to us. And I haven't a clue what is missing from our laundry.
Molly is doing great and each day she blooms a little brighter. She looks to us like we're the center of her compass now and is surprisingly getting stronger by day! She can roll over with effort, is more adept at pulling herself on her arms for tummy time and is getting better control of her head and neck. Poor little thing has broken out into a horrible case of heat rash today. The a/c hasn't bothered her at all but the heat has, ironically. I gave her a bath tonight in calendula and hope that helps. She only seems to fuss when she is ready to go down for her nap and when she is hungry. Which, by the way, she has gone from 2 ounces in a bottle every two hours to chowing down on 5 to 6 ounces in a sitting. She's a happy little girl and has a smile to melt anyone's heart, especially ours.
Though we get 26 channels of satellite TV, only a handful are in English. BBC World News, CNN, HBO and the Disney Channel (Max has a thing for Kim Possible? I don't even know if it's age appropriate and at this point, don't really care.) Then the rest of the channels are in Thai, Japanese, Chinese, French and Vietnamese. Max was watching cartoons in French today and didn't seem to mind. Tom likes watching all the sports on TV from barefoot soccer to the Asian Cup to badminton by foot. He doesn't care. I'm not a big TV person but what I wouldn't do for some Seinfeld episodes right now...
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