Jack

Jack is our driver. Every morning the garage door creaks open at eight o'clock and he comes in to help get Natlie ready for the day. He is devoted to Portia and Natlie and stays all day every day with them and their car. He leaves at 7:30 pm every night after Natlie goes to bed.

Jack knows everything about Shanghai. He knows where to find the cheapest phones and movies and clothes. He knows the streets like the back of his hand. He knows he knows everything.

Here are some things I have noticed about Jack: He wears red socks because according to the zodiac calendar he needs to wear something special in order to have good luck. On rainy days he wears a black corduroy jacket. Jack also has really well-manicured fingernails. His thumb and little finger nails are all really long. I think he uses them as tools, but they're scary-looking. There's also a jade stone Buddha face on Jack's belt strap. He wears it every day.

Jack doesn't talk that much. We have one inside-joke. One time I woke him up when I opened the car door to go somewhere. He yawned. I wanted to show off my new vocabulary. "Jiou shun hiao." That's "Good Morning". Now he uses it all the time. It's not that funny but I'm glad we have a joke. Most of the time he reads the paper in his down time. He listens to talk radio too. Sometimes he comes inside and sits at the dining room table focused hard on Natlie's rubix cube or he plays with Natlie and me as the Big Bad Wolf.

I love watching the driver because he's just so different. And I wanted you all to meet one of the people who has become part of my everyday life.

Changing the Day

I made butterhorns today with Natlie who stayed home from school sick. The nanny and maid craned their heads over my work, observing each measurement and each movement carefully. They continually offered their hands as we stirred, kneaded, watched, cut, rolled, baked. This bread-making and the use of the oven that idles in our home was the most intriguing activity of the day - of the week- in the house.

While my grandma's specialty didn't turn out spectacularly the scent of warm buttery bread filled the house for a few precious hours and that cheered up the place.

cold again

I felt ill this morning so I didn't go to the orphanage as I normally do on Mondays. I didn't want to pass the sickness on to the little ones. I did not want one of the caretakers roughly grabbing my hand and leading me out of the room as if her pastel purple uniform entitled her to do such things. But my friends, Kristen and Suzie, like to go out for lunch afterwards. So we did. I met them a few blocks from my house at a little restaurant.

I rode my bike to meet them at the little diner. Does anyone who is reading this know me? I follow traffic rules very carefully. I wait for the green man, run when my time is running out, and stop - halt - when he becomes red. I walk on the white-striped lines. I am very paranoid about pedestrian accidents I think.

Biking in my neighborhood is changing me though. I cut more corners and I watch for other cyclists most carefully. Today I rode fast and squeezed between a police man and a cement post. I am not a dare devil yet, but this is some serious progress for an uptight law-abider.

I still have a bad cough. The maid who's cleaning in my room right now told me I shouldn't have eaten "bing-chi-lene" or ice cream if my throat is sore. I'm sure that's what she was explaining with her hand gestures. Sometimes we don't communicate that easily though. She just left. I yell, "Thank you."

She cheerfully retorts, "Uh, NO sank yoo." And she snickers. I laugh in my hoarse laugh.

I'm past the adventure of living here in some ways, but I have to realize that my situation will never be just as I wish it to be. I have to be happy in my Lord and not be so easily swayed. At any rate, he has put me back on an even keel.

Everything is not perfect. I am past the adventure of this. Being here is hard. I am growing, I realize. I learn new things all the time now and most of these things are not flowery truths.

I'm exhausted...

Two Gems

For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. - Don't stress the little things. Don't get weighed down with wondering whether or not you are honoring Him. His yoke is easy and his burden is light. We are free.

Therefore let us be grateful for a kingdom that cannot be shaken and thus let us offer him acceptable worship, with reverance and awe, for he is a consuming fire. - I forget that he is over this. Some girls sit on my bed as I type this wanting to learn a few English words, and I am happy to help them. He is over us. Do I sound melodramatic? I hope not. Am I making sense? I hope. I must remember that he is watching me and all my actions are in the palm of his hand.

What a comfort and a call!

Sunday break

Today was my first official day off. After Natlie fell asleep last night, I rode over to Emma's apartment. Emma is Brae Howard's friend and Brae is my brothers' friend. Eden and Katrina, two other girls Brae knows, came over as well.

I spent the night at Emma's. It was cold. No one but the upper class turns on heaters unless they are absolutely frozen.

This morning I attempted making American pancakes for the girls and failed miserably. I tried to excuse myself by saying the kitchen utensils weren't good for making American food. They saw past that though. I'm not a "skilled" cook. At the end of my experiment, a few nubs of charred pancake batter and a smoky kitchen were all that I had produced. We were still hungry.

So we skipped outside this sunny morning and onto the metro headed to People's Square (like Times Square in NYC). In the food court, I looked around. Everyone I saw was dressed well, eating well, and consuming so much. What did we want to eat? We wondered to ourselves. We went around the whole circle that made up the food shops. Japanese rice pastries, ice cream, kabobs, dumplings, noodles, donuts, shakes, mango smoothies. There was every good junk food in that food court, I'm convinced.

We found a good restaurant which was crowded, unsurprisingly. Instead of coming back when a table would be free, we accosted the present customers, peering over those still slurping down their noodles. We impatiently nudged each one out of his seat until each of us had replaced another. That's the way to get things done here. Nudging, pushing, taking initiative, not beating around the bush.

Afterwards we rode to Century Park and bought a pineapple for a dollar. The vendor cut it into quarters for us and slid a wooden stick through each creating a wonderful treat.

The park was full. These past two days have been the first sunny and warm weekend after many weeks of rain and clouds. We sat on the green grass among Shanghainese couples, teenagers loudly hassling each other and their colorful kites, and mothers and fathers toting one little child around - each cuter than the one before.

It's been a nice break.

pain

The Disabled Asylum is on the other side of town in Puxi. Lee, a Canadian expat from the local church, took Kristen, Suz, and me to the three-story stowaway of an orphanage. On the top floor, at the end of the hall when the stench gets most potent, we enter the nursery section of the home. Little ones sit in wooden chairs, strapped in by fabric rope. Each has a different bulky fleece on and looks away from us as we enter. We sit, play, sing and clap with the kids. Some are blind, others are crippled, some have Downs Syndrome, and others have seriously malformed bodies.

There's one little girl that has sat on the third going left both times I've come to the home. She tilts her head to the right all the time and continually drools out of her mouth. I hold her left hand because her right one is always tightly clenched shut into a fist. She smiles when I sing and talk and clap. Her whole face lightens and her brown eyes flicker. Her stiff legs twitch.

I am not the most compassionate person in the world and I am enamored by some of this three-year-olds. I cannot explain this home and the affect it has had on me.

angels

I had 46 yuan in my purse. I had to go home and I had hopped in a taxi without thinking about how much cash I needed. Soon the numbers were racking up and I knew we were still in the wrong part of the town. I asked to driver to please take me to a metro station. He did. I climbed out and dumped all my cash into his hands plus an American $20 bill. I felt bad and blubbered, "Sorry," in Chinese. He stared at the American bill for a long time, turning it over and over in his hand. He had no idea how big of a tip I just gave him. Who know what he'll do with it.

He drove off and I stood on a road. I didn't know where to go. In a bright internet café a man explained where the train underground was.

Down the escalator of the metro, I dug into my purse for my subway card. Thank goodness I had that. The lights of the subway were too strong and I felt tired. And people always stare at me, but I've gotten used to that. I try to ignore it. Tonight it was easy.

I wondered how I was going to get home from the closest station. I had no money. My bank card doesn't work here. The woman at the service desk of the subway looked forebearing but I was desperate. "Could I take money off my subway card?"

No response.

No English I guess.

The man behind me said he could help me. I explained how I needed cash - twenty kuai - to get home (that's about $3). He handed me 20 yuan. I sighed. "Thank you."

He helped me and then he left my life. I'll never see him again. But he helped me.

Manicures

Today I got my first manicure ever. The small Chinese woman led me through a dark tunnel. I sniffed the lavendar air and immediately felt relaxed as I made my way through the candlelit hallway. "Nihaou. Welcome to the Dragonfly," another beautiful Chinese woman whispered as she bowed. Once in my seat the little woman flicked on her "study" lamp. She snapped on a blue mouth cover. Am I diseased? Is this supposed to keep me cleaner? I was confused.

I saw the girls' eyes glance up at me every few minutes as she masterfully filed each nail, examining my previous amateur nail-cutting job. She probably wondered how such a forlorn and disheveled-looking white girl ended up in her customer's chair. My nails are beautiful now though.

mornings

My mornings at la Casa de Portia start out bright and early. I hear the patter of little feet and then boom, my door swings open and Natlie charges in and flips open my covers. Groggily I throw on some clothes and trip down the stairs. Soon though, Natlie is tugging at my shirt to come down to the play room. "You the monster," she directs. I give her a head start and she is off running down the spiralling staircase.

Natlie tosses some Barbie dolls and stuffed animals on to my lap. We have Silly, Matthew, Nana, and Sessy. These are our regulars. We play and play until Nanny calls us up for breakfast. Portia's already eating. She has been up a while, I bet. She's always having heavy discussions with big cheeses in New York and California. This afternoon she flies to Hong Kong. But Portia is fantastic. She is a serious lawyer but a relaxed conversationalist. We can sit at the table and talk and laugh for a while.

Nanny (more commonly called "I-eee") sets a bowl of rice mush and vegetables with a boiled egg on top in front of me. I eat slowly because it's not my favorite dish. Natlie scarfs hers down and begs for me to come back downstairs. "No, we have to brush our teeth. I'll chase you upstairs." We leave for school in ten minutes.

In the car on the way to school, we play the same games over again or Natlie watches Tom and Jerry. The driver is quiet and IE is brushes Natlie's hair. It's raining just like every other day and the sky is grey like every other day. Soon it will clear up. Hopefully it will clear up.

Now I sit on my bed trying to decide what I'll do with the rest of my day before Natlie comes home. Shopping, exploring, sleeping, reading.

I have so little reason to want to complain.