Friday, May 27

Today is the first day of waiting. I suspect going forward it will be a repeating cycle of eating in or out, visiting, being visited, walking or driving or taxiing about, or lounging about. This is also the point where the other blogs we've followed, of families before us, go dark or spotty for posts. We're kind of techno and Internet junkies, so we're likely to check-in and make remarks every day, but they're possibly going to wane in entertaining value.

Also, before I recount today's events, more than a few people have commented or e-mailed about our lack of pictures. Some of this is due to the frenzy (in relative anticipation of events to follow) as well as our mental hang-up with being measured for Internet access. We've already used 200 minutes (2 “cards” as they say), for the love of silly things! In reality we pay way too much for the Internet at home; about $100 a month for our cable-based access (which gives us 25Mb/s of always-on, theoretically unmeasured, and at-home wireless), and like $50 a month for the data plans on our phones (not as fast, but also theoretically unmeasured and always-on). The difference is that there isn't that little ticker alerting you of the passing of time and credit.

Finally, I'll try to put a lot more observations, an not so much cataloging of events. It is our intent, after all, to try to use these posts to recall things cultural as well as events. So far, while hopefully interesting, it's just been a linking of “what we did” and not so much of “this is how it's different.” Maybe a little of the latter, but I'm pledging to do more.

“Finally” was probably the wrong thing to put there, as I haven't even really started.

I started the day with an hour spent trying to connect to my client's web-based e-mail, while instant-messaging with my counterparts there (and a few others). Their authentication system seems to annoy all who use it, leading me to believe that it was configured by a fan of the sysadmin from hell. Google it...it's funny, especially if you're tech-savvy or sabotaged by someone who thinks they are. I've been using the same password there for a while, and it worked yesterday. I allow for ocasional typos, so if I'm rejected the first time, I carefully try again. If that fails, I very carefully try a third thime, because if that fails, you're locked-out. I'm locked-out now.

I was still able to get the skinny, provide some input and feedback, and even gave a shout out to the boss. He teased me for my banker's hours, even though I'd started my check-in at 5AM.

I started checking-in right after someone tried a little too hard to get into the wrong door. It was the second morning that it'd happened; card in, handle jiggled, repeat...four or five times. Yesterday I missed him in the peek-hole, but today I saw it was just a guy, and he checked his key and then looked at the door, and had that recognizable “whoops” look on his face as he grabbed his bag and went next door. I heard the door open and close there, with expected ease.

Anyway, after a little chatting and project talk, I bid my farewells and went to collect Grace as she'd started her wake-up coughing fit. Claire had bee getting up all night with her, so I took her out of that room and let her sleep while I tended to Grace.

When Grace wakes up, quite often she's become congested and has a small, but now recognizable coughing fit. She sneezes once or twice, and then coughs little “ack-ack” coughs, but then settles into a little bigger effort coughing, with one big exhale and a couple or three bigger hacks, and finally another exhale and final “ack” cough. During this fit, we try to help by getting her upright, so the phlegm can move around easier, and provide a little verbal and visual comfort. She works through it and is then fine, and depending on her fatigue, will either settle back in or be awake for a while. After all of that, she settled back in for some more sleep.

She seems to wake up more congested when she's sleeping in air conditioned rooms. I think, more specifically, humidity-reduced rooms. I'm sure I mentioned that our air conditioner is set to about 28C degrees, which I think is a little over 80F. This does cut the humidity a bit, but keeps her from getting chilly. Also, before turning in, we open the patio doors to let some of the outside humidity in, and then turn the air conditioner from “cool” to “fan” mode, which stops cutting the humidity, but keeps the air moving a little bit.

Still she snorfles a little bit when she wakes up, and it does sometimes happen when she wakes in the heat, too. I'm trying to be aware if there are occasions when she passes through humidity-reduced conditions while she's sleeping; I'm sure it doesn't have to be while she's waking up to give her the hassle.

I don't think you're supposed to let infants sleep on their stomachs, but she also seems to wake less congested that way. Of course, overnight we've got her wrapped tight (but arms free or she fusses) and laying on her back. On the sofa, though, we figure it's workable as she's literally an arm's length away. Plus she needs a little tummy-time, Claire says...although I suspect she means when Grace is awake.

Claire came out around 7AM, after catching up on her missed sleep. She hit the Mac and checked things on-line. We prepared for the day and decided breakfast in the restaurant was preferred to Cheerios, as much as we like them. I had the island breakfast again with the Portuguese sausage, and Claire had the fried-egg sandwich.

We talked more about it the first time I had the breakfast, but it struck me as what may be a common head-slapper when casually thinking of things worldwide. I was expecting something a little more spicy, more like chorizo. I realized I thought this because of some mental shortcut putting Portuguese-speaking Brazil near Spanish-speaking countries, a chain which includes Mexico, which is where one would expect to find chorizo. My mental short-circuit was probably made because Spain is next to Portugal, but, of course, they're European countries.

It made more sense, after I thought it out some, that the sausage from the country of Portugal, instead of a Portuguese-speaking country, would be a little bit more like its neighbors. Sausage in the U.S. has both of these factors blended into it, as much of our diet came with the settlers and immigrants from Europe, and then blended with the influence and settlers from countries south, again, like Mexico. I would say a breakfast sausage, such as a Jimmy Dean, has a lot more in common with chorizo than a Polish sausage or kielbasa.

I'm trying to be mindful of such brain lapses as we experience the Marshall Islands. We've been to similar-looking places, with similar-looking people, and likewise different languages spoken (just putting us in the “what'd they say?” category). This is close to, but totally different than Fiji. It isn't close to, but is just as different from Belize and Bermuda, too. Although we've experienced those places, we have to keep remembering that this place is the same, only in that it's as different from the U.S. as those places are, but in different ways.

Of course, language is a huge difference. Fiji is probably closest in its difference linguistically, as primarily Spanish is spoken in Belize, and everyone there (except some of the older people, according to our guide that one time) speaks English. Everyone speaks English in Bermuda, too. A lot of people don't speak English in the Marshall Islands. Some that do, are modest about it, and rather than be embarrassed by speaking English poorly, they'll feign a lack of the language.

While at breakfast, we ran into another expatriate who introduced himself as, Uncle Sam. He's a retired U.S. Marine, who chooses to live tropically because life on the U.S. mainland is too rigid and fast-paced for him now. Originally from Texas, he lives now with his wife and family in Manilla. He's in the process of relocating his family to the RMI to live for a while to gain enough resident status to then emigrate the whole family to Hawaii, where he already owns a home. He's had trouble with the Philippines, and what he calls the most corrupt system in the world. One of the forms in their visa application was evidently incorrect, so the rejection requires them to wait too long to try again. By relocating to the RMI, they can try in about the same time, but with a less corrupt embassy, he hopes.

We chatted a while, and said we'd chat more when we ran into him in the future. We will, I'm sure, 'cause while he's a little cynical, he seems not unjustly so, and is otherwise a fun chat-to.

We left the restaurant and were going to scope the lagoon side of the island. The island is a big C-shape, with the opening of the C more or less northeast of the center, so a C on its back, if you follow. On the ocean side, all around the outside of the C, the waves come in the expected rush of too-small-to-surf but still roaring waves.

The lagoon side is like a big lake. Big enough to sport pretty big ships in it. We understand the island to be about 26 miles from end-to-end (I sense a good spot for a marathon), which if you round a little for the spots of islands and openings, gives a rough circumference of 30 miles, which, allowing for further rounding, puts the diameter of the lagoon around 10 miles. It's more oval than circular, but conversationally, I'll say that's probably pretty close. That' be a pretty big lake. Yeah, we have greater lakes (pun intended), but typically a big lake is only a mile or so across in our neck of the planet.

On the lagoon side of the hotel, there's a pool where the kids come and splash and play, and we can see from our balcony a rocky outcropping. It's really coral, not rock, but it looks rocky from a distance. Obscured by trees, when looking from our rooms, is a little sandy beach area beyond the pool. I'd been there before with the other adopting father when we were killing time with his daughter while the moms did one last pass through the rooms with the little kids before we went somewhere earlier this week. Claire hadn't been, so we were going so she could see.

Before we got past the pool, we noticed their school girl on their balcony, which is right beneath ours. We made our hellos, and she waved back. She turned and said something to someone inside their room, and her mom came out. They were going to take their boy to the hospital as he'd developed a serious rash on his feet. He'd been diagnosed with scabies, and given a cream to eradicate them, and either as a reaction to the cream or some other side effect to its actions. We offered to watch their girl while they went, as she probably wouldn't enjoy (or really benefit) a visit to the local hospital. They accepted with almost visible relief.

She's a funny little girl. I mean in that she's full of humor. Of course, it's the humor of a six-year old, but humor nonetheless. She came equipped with a bag of entertainments and snacks, and was prepared for the drudgery of a visit with boring people. Claire turned her into instantly amused by helping her make a pair of earrings and matching bracelet with the bead set she'd brought with. Claire brought it, not the little girl...too many feminine pronouns in that sentence. After a little bit we played a card game she'd brought with her (the little girl, not Claire), as she made up rules on the fly. Fairly, we ended the game in a tie.

Grace was awake and watching the girls the whole time. She sputtered and cooed and made cute baby faces. Pictures were taken, to be sure. The girls thought perhaps today, being our first really relaxed day, would be a good day to give Grace a bath. We hadn't done it yet 'cause were a little out of sorts, and in a hotel room, and have been running around (at island speeds) doing stuff almost all of the time. Claire put some warm water in one of the sinks, and surrounded it with the soaps and washcloths and towels and other baby washing tools and necessities. Grace took it with a smile. She seemed to dig bath time, even getting her Elvis hair shampooed. After drying and redressing, Claire spent some time combing her hair into different dos, and pictures were taken. In the end, her spiky-looking but soft-feeling hair returned.

Before anything resembling trouble or boredom could set in, her parents were back. Their little boy did have a little infection, probably caused by the scabies cream, and the scabies themselves. A little antibiotic ointment and some fever-controlling medicine and he should be fine in a day or two. No real harm done.

They had had a little bit of a runaround at the hospital trying to find his vaccination records. It's a yellow form we were introduced to on Monday at Dr. Pinano's office, but because of this realized neither of us had received in all of the papers we'd gathered so far. Item added back to check-list: gather yellow record form.

The hospital, they said, is not impressive. Fast and inexpensive, as one might expect in a poor place, but not clean or hospital-like at all, from an American's perspective at least. I have to admit, that except for the visit to the doctor's office for the physical this week, we've been blessed in that we've not had to seek medical attention in any of our travels. Usually the worst we've dealt with is some stomach discomfort or sunburn, and usually me suffering both, and sometimes at the same time.

They left to retire to their place for a cool-down and medicine-up, leaving us to prepare for our planned visit with Emi and Claudia this afternoon. We were expecting them at 3PM I.T. (island time), so we weren't worried or put out when around 3:30 we got a call saying they might be late, and that they expected to be there in ten more minutes. We were just sitting on the patio watching the older kids jump in the pool. Grace had finally dozed off after our earlier visitor, and I hoped she'd catch enough snooze time to be awake when her mom was visiting. Around 4PM they arrived.

Emi, with her giant smile, paused shyly in front of me and gestured, asking to hold Grace. I'd been expecting nothing less, so of course turned her over. They sat on the sofa and Emi began snuggling and sniffing Grace, and tried to coo her awake. After a short time it worked, and they spent a while making baby noises at each other, as Emi played with Grace's hair.

The gals had been to the “international family day forum” on the other end of “town,” or by the RRE hotel. We'd heard of it just before as the other family had encountered it when they were at the hospital. We never did get out of Claudia what the deal was with the forum; when we asked she said she had a pamphlet in her bag, which she didn't find, and conversation drifted to other things.

We tried to find where Marshallese children's books might be found. We were hoping to find something akin to the alphabet or counting or simple word books that we have at home, except in Marshallese, to take back with us for Grace to have later. We'd probably use them in the meantime to learn a few more Marshallese words, too. Evidently, the only books like that they have are the same ones we have, in English. I sense another opportunity here, and not just for a little business making cartoony books, but to help in other ways, too. Marshallese, we learned, is spoken much more than written, and while there are signs in Marshallese, and often also English, it seems to be more of an attempt to phonetically match the words, than necessarily a correctly spelled and learned vocabulary. Claudia had pointed out before that there aren't words for everything, like it seems we have in English, and that they reuse a lot of words for things and take the context to be more valued than a more rich vocabulary.

Claire and Emi exchanged jewelry each had made. Claire shared that she does a little beading for fun, and we learned that Emi does it for an income. She commented how expensive the bits and pieces were, and as Claire showed her kit and tools, we discovered that Emi had none of that, so Claire's made a mental list of things to gather and probably send back for Emi's birthday (or just because) after we get home, where some of the bits and pieces are comparatively inexpensive.

We talked a little bit about Emi's family. Her father has passed and her mother remarried, and there are kids from both marriages, and many of those kids have kids, so it's a rich and potentially confusing family tree. For example, I think perhaps in that spirit of vocabulary reuse, Emi has a brother and half-brother both named Steven; likewise, in that phonetic-based idea, the spelling isn't different, because Steven or Stephen or even Stephan would sound enough the same. Claire tried jotting it down, backed a little by the adoption paperwork we'd received. We've got a long time here yet and a lifetime after that to get it right.

Before they left Claudia asked if we'd be interested in seeing the Marshallese movie that's just come out. We've seen the posters (and will try to get a snapshot of it), and understand it to be a bit of a horror flick about demonic possession. We paused for just a moment at the mention of bringing the girls, but realized we're not parenting them. Claudia must have sensed this and said that Marshallese children are more accepting of this as they evidently understand the art of it, and that they're actors not real actions. This conflicted a little with when she said Emi had never been to a movie before (there is one theater we've seen on the island, but it's closed). I'm taking that to mean in a theater setting, as there are televisions everywhere, and even if they don't have one, certainly she's seen them around.

We called the desk to try to find out what time the movie was, but they didn't know yet. We promised to find out tomorrow (which is pronounced ee-lee-tsu in Marshallese, by the way) and alert Claudia who would alert Emi. So far we haven't been given direct contact information for Emi, nor has she received ours, as we understand it. I think this is part of Claudia's plan to try to help control contact. Of course, she knows where we're staying, and she lives just down the block. Everything is just down the block, but she's literally in a house in the little neighborhood behind the store across the street.

The gals left after much cooing by Emi. We breathed a few sighs of relaxation, just shaking off that little bit of hosting. We're really trying to be ourselves, and doing a pretty good job of it. Whenever we're hosting, though, even with family and lifelong friends, there's that little bit of energy you put into making your guests comfortable, and trying to filter your clutter from their view.

We decided to wander downstairs to the restaurant for some soup and salad or something similar. On the way past, we stopped at the front desk to ask if they by chance had any of the patio screen doors perhaps in storage. We understand that the additional maintenance might make them excessive, but thought perhaps at least some had been saved somewhere, in case particular folk such as ourselves asked for one. For the most part, looking from the outside, either the people within are totally air conditioned, and leave the doors closed, or are totally one with nature, and don't mind dealing with whatever flies in.

We've already encountered a few large cockroaches (captured beneath cups and freed from the balcony, in our very Buddhist way), and noticed a wasp and flies and another “big bug” (I didn't see it, and that's the description I got) that we don't want to find crawling on our little one or nesting in our stuff. We have been fortunate that when we notice a fly entering or flying about inside, we'll eventually see it leave as well. We're being fastidious with keeping our little bit of stored food package and the area clean so we don't attract bugs, but expect we'll wane in that effort over time, too. They didn't have any, so we'll make a trip to the store and see if we can't fashion some kind of sheer curtain or framed screen so we can get the fresh air in without the massive bug-allowing opening.

Just outside the restaurant, at one of their outdoor tables, I recognized the judge, and he gave an acknowledging (and I hope inviting) wave. We stopped by to say hello. He introduced us to his wife and everyone else. One of the everyone else's noted that she was a follower of all of the adopting families' blogs, when she learned of them. She said she tried to get to know all of the families; were notified. We gave our “nice to meet yous” and went inside.

Inside, we saw Grace's boo-boo (Marshallese for grandmother), as she works there, and chatted with her a little bit. Among other topics, we learned that they already have a post office box (there is no door-to-door postal service here), and would be happy to have us send things to that rather than get another box that might go untended for long stretches. The restaurant staff took turns coming by to say hello and faun over Grace a little bit, and then we settled into a table. Claire still tends toward the two-tops, even though when Grace falls asleep we can just prop her on another chair at the table if we have one.

We had just ordered beverages when the cell phone rang. The other adopting family at our hotel wanted to invite us out with them and the family from the RRE. We were already at the restaurant, so we said we'd secure space and wait for them. About an hour later the more local other family came down, and told us the farther away family couldn't find an empty enough taxi. They ordered some beverages and we settled into table chatter.

After another half hour the other family arrived, finally catching a taxi. The parents and smaller children stayed at the table chatting while the older kids wandered and chased each other around the restaurant, occasionally joined by a couple other kids from other tables. The older by got a little energetic and loud, and had to be chided a few times. Kids will be kids, of course, and here they don't seem to mind when they run around in otherwise crowded restaurants. They do mind a little bit when you're double the decibels over the din of the rest of the noise.

Dinner was good. I had most of my grilled wahoo, and Claire enjoyed here seared tuna dish. Mine came with two salads, one cabbage and one kind of brown and wilting. It's a little not nice, and wasteful, to turn either or both away, I know, but I both had my hands full holding an awake and alert (for a change) Grace, but also got kind of full on the wahoo and most of the fried rice it came with. I pulled out a forkful of the lettuce salad and decided my delicate tastes didn't want more...heh...and I had a little bit more of the cabbage and carrot salad on my plate. The other father also got the wahoo, but he requested substitute sides, and had a better time with the potato and macaroni side.

Dinner with other families wound down and we split up and went back to our rooms. Along the way Claire screeched as she noticed a praying mantis atop the banister near our room. He was pretty good sized, an intrigued by our passing, turning to keep us in front of him and almost playfully reaching out with his big claws. Claire played it off as startled, not afraid, but she didn't waste any time getting back to the room. I returned with a camera and tried to take a snap of the mantis, which I think irked him as the flash went off as he started walking briskly away from me.

We tucked Grace in, I did a quick e-mail check and also turned in.