Where the Air Is Clear

The first thing that hits you when you step out of the airport after a prolonged sojourn in China, is the blessed blueness of the sky and the sweet, fresh air. I'm still marveling about it two weeks later.

We're grandma-sitting in Palo Alto right now, giving my bf's aunt a vacation. During the day I field the many questions of a wandering mind, dole out reassurances, and think up clever distractions to calm anxiety. But grandma goes to bed at 8:30, and then I take my laptop out under the stars to write. We're here for two more weeks and then it's back to our little 1886 farmhouse in the Pacific Northwest. Our renters say there's a bountiful crop of luscious raspberries and plump blueberries in our yard this year--yum. Cherry trees and fresh rosemary will be so wonderful after six months living in a hotel.

My favorite baby was in the hospital getting a cleft lip operation on my last day at the orphanage, so I couldn't say goodbye. But I knew his life was improving, and I have high hopes for his eventual adoption. I'm staying in contact with the other volunteers, and they will keep me updated. For some obscure reason, the Chinese government makes it impossible to adopt from a facility where you were a volunteer, and they recently tightened their adoption restrictions, so that my bf and I would have to be married for two years before we could adopt. I sobbed and sobbed when I had to leave. I wanted to take pictures of the babies but it was forbidden. I'll never forget their dazzling smiles and pleading eyes.

I'll post reflections about my time in China as they come to me, as well as the long-promised post on men reading romance. I've been a very inconstant blogger lately, and for that I apologize. I've never been good about sticking to routines during times of change. My writing suffered as well, but now I'm back on track and sinking my teeth into a dark and sexy gothic featuring a brilliant, obsessive hero named Rodric. More on that later. And check back next week for information about my very first contest. The prize will be a treasure I bought in China.

Oh, and speaking of contests, I am dying to win a coveted single-maven critique from one of the fabulous Manuscript Mavens. Read all about this priceless prize here. I haven't won a blog contest yet. Maybe this will be my lucky link.

I'll leave you with some photos. Thanks for reading, and sorry for the long dry spell.

No, I do not play the pipa (more's the pity), but the gentleman sitting next to me is a zither master. He was teaching me a traditional pingtan aria for voice.

Scene from the opera we saw in Beijing, The Marriage Between the Dragon and the Phoenix.

Azumeth on top of the Beijing Ancient Observatory.


Shadow puppet play in Wu Zhen.

Rice wine distillery in Wu Zhen.

Good News

Thank you all for being so supportive! I went to the orphanage again today, and it is so emotionally draining. I was the only volunteer this afternoon, and when I walked into the baby room there were at least ten babies balling their eyes out and no one in the room at all. It made me soooo sad. But I have really good news. There will be a team of surgeons visiting Suzhou in October to perform cleft lip and palate surgeries! They are from Alliance for Smiles, a wonderful organization out of San Francisco.

If you would like more information about the orphanage, you can pm me (link on my website). Thanks, again, for all your kind words and thoughts.

Two Tigers

Today I began a volunteer job at an orphanage. Somehow I just didn't picture all the babies with disabilities. Cleft lips and palates, Down's syndrome, preemies, they were all strapped into cribs, tearing my heart out with their bright eyes and big smiles. The orphanage was as clean and cheerful as it could be, and I was happy to hear them playing Mozart's Twinkle Twinkle variations, but there just aren't enough arms to hold them, let alone families to love them. The adoption rate from this particular orphanage is abysmally low, and I have yet to determine why. Perhaps because of the high percentage of children with special needs.

One tiny sweetie with a shock of fuzzy hair and the spindliest little legs I ever saw, fell asleep in my arms after cooing along to the tune of Frere Jacque. They have their own words to this song in Mandarin, here is the literal translation:

Two tigers, two tigers
Running fast, running fast
One has no ears, one has no tail
Truly strange, truly strange

There were over fifty little tigers in those two small rooms, and over half of them were there because of their "strangeness." It it made me feel so helpless when I saw their legs curling up from disuse, their eyes hungry for affection.

All I could do was sing them a song, and tell them they were not strange, but beautiful.