Kino of the box

Things we have learned about Kino. He is very neat. We tend to spill noodles and rice on the table or his bib (thanks for that mom!) He will very carefully pick up each piece and deposit it back from whence it came or back to the spoon laden with the next deposit. He clearly likes order, which must have driven him a bit batty in a country where order is not a word I see in action. Or perhaps it’s that the definition is off kilter.

Kino likes to eat – noodles, meat, shrimp, and broth from his pho. Rice takes a lot of chewing. Likes the crunch of corn flakes, but thinks they could be fun to play around with. Gives us the head turn when he is not interested, but generally will try everything we offer. Wants nothing to do with the formula he was getting at Tam Binh. Sleeps like a champ – long afternoon naps and from 8 pm to 6 am.

Total trooper. At the zoo watched every animal with a careful studied appraisal – taking in the environment with flicks of his eyes – seemingly not missing a thing. Likes to walk and does so also with great enthusiasm – grabbing each of our hands (politely holding up “froggie” or his coaster for holding) and off we go.

Likes magazines and has discovered how to turn pages – can you imagine he didn’t know how to do this? At ay rate he is making up for lost time. When first given a National Geographic – we had looked at it with him showing him animals he had observed at the zoo and comparing colors with things in the room. When given the mag to check out on his own he spent time figuring out how to turn the pages, then the correct way the mag should be positioned to look at the pictures. Fascinating to watch the process of discovery.

We may be going to Hanoi today – it’s about a 2 hour flight we’re told. So this will be the long flight home pre test… :)

Reactions to two whites walking with Vietnamese child is mixed. We get stared at a lot. Often we get asked in various languages if he is from here, where we are from. They then will say something to him and he cocks his head and stares, but doesn’t speak back although he of course can. He is verbalizing a bit, but seems to understand it’s for himself, as we don’t know what he’s saying. There used to be a perception that Americans adopted Vietnamese to sell their organs – not sure if any of that idea still exists. But how does it feel to see one of your own going to another country away from his birthplace and culture? It certainly doesn’t go the other direction – Vietnamese adopting an American so we can’t even begin to understand the emotions such an exchange brings. Children are well loved in this country no matter the parents – people give him little gifts, fruit or big smiles all the time – it’s so sweet. But then the Vietnamese people are sweet, caring and giving.

Ing and Steve were having a discussion about fruit. She has since made special trips from her home to bring us some to try. Longan – a small fruit that must have the skin peeled to reveal flesh textured like a grape covering a large seed, star april which we haven’t tried yet, jackfrut and of course the “King of Fruits” the Durian. Now I’m guessing you’ve heard the reputation of this King – the flavor is supposed to be an out of this world combination, thus the title – if you can get to eating it as IT STINKS! Yes indeed it smells like s sewer that has backed up on a nice hot tropical day with overtones of decomposing flesh and every other nasty thing you can think of rolled into one neat package. I initially sniffed it and thought it wasn’t too bad and took a bite. I’m a texture gal and am driven many times to food choices by the need to not have things be slimy. This was slimy, when you bite; it’s like biting something way past it’s prime, lie maybe an apple that has rotted almost to the stage of liquid. You get the idea - I didn’t like it much. Steve being Steve finished it off ad we put the rest in the fridge. Later we had to find a way to get rid of it as every time we opened the fridge the blast from hell hit you. Garbage in Vietnam is not like the US and there are not cans everywhere to dispose of your junk – no you toss it in the street and it is cleaned up by women dressed in orange jumpsuits with long sleeves, masks and conical hats – they push along an orange cart with a long broom and work all day in the immense heat. Later the contents of the cart are separated I’m assuming for recycle?

At any rate – we did find a container to place it and felt bad for the person who would be picking it up!

Oh yes had our first almost issue – the elevators here don’t have the safety mechanisms we are used to – you know if it senses a body or something in between the doors it won’t close – weeeeeelllll not here. They will try and close on a full sized human being! Kino yesterday while getting off somehow stuck his little hand in the door and got it stuck as it tried to close on us, and the maid! No emergency stop bottoms, no phones nada. We got his hand out – he cried a bit – iced it and only one small cut on his thumb (which got a Diego Band-Aid – his first I know – thanks Susanna and Kellan) the favorite for thumb sucking….

Leslie
Saigon 6:18 am bathroom of Room 401, Y Thien Hotel.

day 2 or is it 3?

Borrowing some wifi while eating dinner and making a huge mess on the floor. Kino is learning quickly to be a 2.5 yr old!

Uncle Bill's poem for Kino

FOR YOU


We
Have waited for you

Longed
For you

Prayed and cried

For you

Yes, even laughed
For you

For your arrival
For you!

To come home
To us

What does life hold for you Kino Thang Irving?
What does each new turn, adventure
hold
and
unfold

For you

You are a gift of promise
A gift, simply put
of love
That will
Awaken us
Fill us
With hope

Hope
That only
A New life
Can bring





We look forward
to
your Firsts

And your thirst for discovery
For absorbing all that living has for you

We receive you
Greet you
Welcome you

As you enter in
Into the doorways
of
our hearts



Written for Kino Thang Irving and his Dad and Mom, Steve and Leslie Irving

Uncle Bill Simpson
April 7, 2008

Saigon...

Breakfast in front of the Buddhist shrine of our motel lobby, a variation of Pho. Kino is proving himself a fairly adventurous eater, and also something of an organizer as he returns food droppings to his bowl. It must be difficult putting up with parents as unwell-versed in the skills of wrapping noodle in bite-size portions. Other ways he comes well geared to the rigors of the transitional step ahead and the clumsiness of parent wanna-bes include an endurance for waiting and travel. Today has been a marathon of office visits across the down town administrative district, affirming pretty much what we’ve come to imagine the reality of government bureaucracy to be through the lengths of our wait stateside; rooms choked with the traffic of bodies and reams of paper across a sea of desks. Kino has been a real trooper, weathering the waits and mill of the masses in tight spaces. Never a whimper or sour look but rather an easy readiness to pick up and go or occupy himself without fuss during extended sits. This is enormously relieving to us, of course as we contemplate the looming feat of our return flight to Seattle. It was a dark moment indeed in the latter stage of our trip here to witness the efforts of one parent to comfort a very distraught child about Kino’s age, trying to subdue the wails of a serious emotional breakdown by walking him up and down the aisle in his arms. A mix of the frayed edges of our own emotional state at that advanced stage of the flight with an acute sense aroused by that spectacle about our woeful lack of experience in the parent role had us both feeling a heavy weight of pre-game jitters, and I’ll admit about my own perspective a distinct longing for the company of my own mother.

Also on the side of big plusses to Kino’s disposition we find that he’s half potty trained, meaning that he knows how to handle the trough from the front side. Back side duty requires diaper support at night, the logistics of which involved some mess in the discovery stage. We need some guidance about the potty training process, that would no doubt benefit from a proportionally sized seat and a step.

Lots to report about, have to do it in bite sizes. S

Thoughts on saigon

Price of two round trip tickets to Saigon $2000.00

Price of one one way ticket to Seattle $ 900.00

Price of street vendor iced coffee – 35 dong (about 15 cents American)

Price of spring roll 28,000 dong (not much)

Price of medical exam for adoption – 65 dollars US

Price of being thrown up in van driving from orphanage – priceless


My stories are way behind now given the lack of Internet access and having only one computer. Oh well maybe we can catch up in Hanoi. It seems Henry has us on a crash course to get us on our way. Not sure why given the history others before us.

It was fascinating to see him in action yesterday. I felt like a rock star on a mission – whisked in and out of meetings with the officials signing our papers and on our way, while a room full of Vietnamese just watched and said or did nothing at the injustice of us not waiting our turn like they. I doubt that would fly well in the US.

Our final episode was the medical exam which I of course could have done myself – weight 15 kgs, height 98 cm, lungs and heart listened to – clear, sign more papers, shake our hands and done for the day – 3 pm started @ 8:30 with short nap break for Kino.
Steve wanted me to get an application at the hospital clinic – I declined – never have been one to wear the starched whites of the early 20th century and the hats! Oh my – yes nurse friends I have pics!

Saigon is a city that lives in its streets. And they are wild. A human beehive of frenzied activity as if the queen were about to arrive and everything is in disarray. Driving in the streets is not for the timid or even foolhardy. There are no rules except keep a steady pace, honk at everything- intersections, other scooters, vans, people, the moon or stars. Line of traffic to slow for your taste? – well cross the center line (a definition which is clearly loosely held) and drive straight into oncoming traffic. No worries they’ll move and hook cheerfully and with great zest as they weave around you.

Crossing a street is a dedication in spirit and trust. We all remember holding our parent’s hands and being told to look both ways before crossing. Abandon that rule and toss out the book. In Saigon the imperative is to just dive into traffic – don’t look at the racing scooters, trucks, vans and bikes coming at you from both directions, no just plunge in head first and walk steadily and with purpose toward your goal. DO NOT LOOK AT THE DRIVERS – it will ruin the delicate balance. The drivers are to go around you and your rule is not to deviate, trip or slow down – in which case you will die. J I think. Cannot image how a blind person gets around in this city, oh maybe that’s why I haven’t noticed any…
We keep telling Kino – “don’t remember this” as we thrust ourselves into the danger of crossing the streets.

Balance is part of the chemistry that are the streets of Saigon. Our first morning here we of course were awake by 2 am and after pretending to try to sleep went out to find a wifi café (HA) and get a coffee – lots of wandering around later and after being kicked out of a fancy hotel lobby while trying to scam their wifi – we came back to our hood found a street vendor had our first Vietnamese coffee (on ice of course) The coffee is a part of the song and fabric that is this city. It is made slowly through a small filtration system perched over a glass. The drips come through 1 or 2 every 15-30 seconds. The vendors make many and line them up along the walls as they drip ever so slowly. Sugar cane is added to each cup as it is served. The taste – sweet, cold, strong with a sense of place that I suppose comes from resting on the a stool made for a preschooler with a tiny table to match, surrounded by taxi drivers waiting for customers. The dichotomy of a slow measured dance of drips while the world roars by isn’t lost on Vietnam as people take the time to “do” coffee all day long, balancing the rigors of a life in a city this amazingly alive, overcrowded, frenetic, HOT, graceful, friendly, charming, poor beyond American capacity to fathom, dirty, struggling, striving and our son’s birth place, so therefore special in all it’s positive or negative angles.

Here it is 6 am- I’ve been sitting o the bathroom floor for the last hour waiting for the boys to awake – sitting next yet another characteristic of Vietnam making do – a pipe sticking out of the wall with a downward angle draining the shower (?) with the same slow careful drip of that is the background music and song of this city.

Weird note – Steve’s cell phone rang in the middle of the night – some guy he left a message for before we left. I didn’t think our phones worked here- but guess what they do! I mumbled to this person – “uhhh we’re in Saigon right now” – he said “Vietnam?”

Steve forgot that detail when he left his message…
Saigon 6:05 am, bathroom floor of room 401 Y Thein Hotel
Leslie

flight to..

Blog notes

Rather a remarkable evening , wow, the abstraction and anticipation of several months of preparation culminating with our walk through check-aboard stations and finally the plane hatch. EVA Airlines to Taipei, a whole different breed of flight with a sterwardess service that out-competes any other I’ve experienced, and a largely Asian clientele underscoring this overnight flight to the other side of the globe. Actually we’re following the earth’s shadow so the transition to dawn is a lot longer in arriving than usual, which is suitable to the kind of psyching involved in the larger context of change ushered by the physical journey. An amazing night, with the plume of the jet engine discharge illuminated from our back-of-the-plane vantage against an ink blacksky and vivid sparkle of stars. About two thirds of our way in to this 12 1/2 hour leg of the flight to Saigon—HCMC—via Taipei the reaches of Japan came into view as a sprawling archipelago of lights—virtually uninterrupted for hours. Surreal. Otherworldly. An amazing backdrop for this step in to the unknown on so many levels.



Notes from Orphanage:

Name: Tran Thang

Date of Birth: October 17, 2005

6 – 7 a.m. breakfast
8 milk 150 ml.
10:30 lunch (rice)
11;30 fruit and yogurt
3:30 noodles, half bowl
7 p.m. milk 250 ml.

Personal Notes:

Friendly, talks a lot. Likes to wear new clothes. Loves toys.

leaving on a shuttle van...

Steve and I are both glued to our "puters", packing almost done, car sold, unshowered, still undecided on clothes for plane - how do you leave spring and end up in HEAT? I'll let you know if my choices worked out - Steve has a different approach "should I bring a sweater?"

So wondering about the car sold item? Our old Volvo wagon bit the dust yesterday and the AAA tow dude asked if we wanted to sell it - long story short we did and he did. But Steve forgot to give him the key when he went to sell it, purchase sandals (came home with running shoes) and buy stamps - so he had to get Ricardo to meet him tomorrow to transact the final issue. Irving family members, I call this "giving the cat a bath" and in past history was known as "gotta spray the broccoli" - as the 6 kid family sat in the van ready to go on vacation....

Ah well Kino will have some fine traditions to learn eh?

Off we go- wish us steady winds and an even keel....