Mini Mao

The movers have come and taken everything, all the touchstones of pleasant memories, connections and past adventures that created a home, packed away. Homeless now in the US, I’m carrying what I can to continue building a new life in China, but I’m especially worried about a single item. In the taxi on the seat beside me, my pet of 16yrs meows forlornly. We arrive at the airport on a grey cool morning in October, unsure of exactly where we are going.

At this hour, few souls roam the cargo area. The large warehouse, yellow taped areas, industrial shelving and equipment all hint at bustle but lie quietly now. Its three hours before the early return flight to Shanghai, and I’m carrying precious cargo. Cargo that requires special check-in. The woman behind the counter looks at my forms and frowns. “There’s a mark on the form, she says.. The date appears to have been changed. There’s a good chance the form will not be accepted and your pet will be turned back at the connection in New York. Do you want to continue or would you like to take her home now?”

Bringing a pet to China is not easy. One pet moving company would charge $3000 and one airline had a policy of limiting pet travel to 12hrs at a time. Making the trip … Boston to LA to Tokyo to Shanghai very expensive and over 24hrs of travel time. Isn’t extra time in kennel and extra take offs and landings harder on the pet? Paperwork also needs to be done.: a health certificate done within 10 days of arrival, a rabies certificate done between 6mos and 30days prior to arrival. One week of quarantine, paid for by the owner, awaits the cat once landing. Both forms subsequently certified by the US government. Forms that now are being called into question.

The only option is to press forward.. I’m hopeful that the subsequent paper handlers will favor approval as the easier, less fuss filled, option for their job. They take the cat, put her on the shelf and I pay the $700 cargo fee. I pet her and exit to the terminal area. I wonder if she will survive the stress of flight, the stress of quarantine and the scrutiny of the customs officials

China Castaway

Piles of clothes appear to be growing from the floor in clusters...shirts, pants, unmentionables. Several old suitcases are opened and placed sporadically around the room. It's a race to see if I can get the clothes into the suitcase before the cat pees in it. It's a race I end up winning for a change.

The planned one week in the US has stretched to six weeks. Now, only dozens of hours left before leaving home, and the ‘to do’ list remains long. Laundry, packing, shopping, errands…saying goodbye. So many action items - loose ends to tie up...but, I’m thinking of a tropical island prison.

Being back in the US long enough to re-establish a routine, comfort and familiarity makes returning to China as foreign as leaving the first time. Leaving a home here, and no home there to land in. Stressful. TV provides a temporary escape from stress of moving preparation. With much to do, I lose myself in sitcoms and movies, crossing off ‘to do’ items during commercials. I’m moved more than usual by Castaway.

If you are unfamiliar with this 2000 film, here’s the part I focus on…trapped on the island for four years, until by pure chance, the tide brings him flotsam usable as a ‘sail’. The marooned FedEx hero makes a desperate move to escape his tropical imprisonment. Fashioning a make-shift raft equipped with the newly encountered sail, he shoves off. At a critical juncture, he passes perilously breaking waves, thanks to the new found sail, and heads out to sea. Looking back as his island disappears, he is momentarily nostalgic.

Remarkable. This island was his prison, and yet he looks back on it, at least for the moment, fondly, as he heads into the unknown. Here is an example of the powerful pull of the familiar…that an island prison, remains in some ways, more appealing than setting off into uncertainty.

It’s a touching moment, and I can’t help but think of looking back at my home for the last four years as it begins to fade into the distance. I look back with more than a moments nostalgia…much more. If an island prison evokes a mere moment of sentimentality, how many more such moments will a home full of happy memories provide? Indeed, how are all those moments to be dealt with? I’m moving forward with some trepidation, remembering to breath, because tomorrow the sun will rise…and who knows what the tides in China will bring.