Alan Paul
Alan Paul chases his kids Jacob (10), Eli (6) and Anna (4) in between writing his column, "The Expat Life," for the Wall Street Journal Online and playing gigs with his band, Woodie Alan.
Are We There Yet, Dad?
How expat life made our kids great travelers
My kids trudged through the passport control line sleepily but without whining or stumbling, and I realized I was giving myself way too much credit.
I sat in the dark room, rubbed my eyes and tried to psyche myself up for the monumental task in front of me. It was 12.30 at night and I was in New Dehli, propped up in the guest bed of dear friends who had recently relocated from Beijing.
My kids were sleeping all around me but in 15 minutes I would be rousing them and carrying them to a waiting car to drive to the airport and board a plane with the ridiculous departure time of 3.15am. And I would be doing it on my own, as my wife was staying in India for a few more days.
Time to Go
Back to “reality”
Early this summer, we were caught up in a flurry of going-away parties. We were planning some, attending others and pulling together endless pages in good-bye books bidding dear friends farewell. Each of my three kids was losing a good friend and we were also helping them deal with their impending separations. In the midst of all that, a thunderclap struck our world when my wife Rebecca received a tremendous job offer back in New York.
It was for virtually the precise position that I had said just days before would be her ideal post-China landing place, but they wanted her back ASAP. Two things were immediately obvious to me: leaving was inevitable and I didn’t want to leave. Just months before, we had agreed to extend our initial three-year commitment for a fourth year.
Changing Tides
The ebb and flow of expat friendships
This June, each of my three kids is waving goodbye to at least one of their best pals
When we were deciding whether or not to move to China from New Jersey, the requested three-year commitment was the last great hurdle to clear. It just seemed like such a long time to agree to be away from home. That was a little more than three years ago. As the time to make a final decision about extending our stay drew close last winter, it was painfully obvious that those three years which once loomed so large weren’t nearly long enough. We signed on for another year.
Had we stuck to our original plan, we’d be packing up to head home to the U.S. right now. We clearly weren’t ready to make that move – it was an easy decision that I haven’t looked back on. It became clear, however, that when moving trucks started filling the lanes of our villa compound once again, our neighbors who had also faced the same decision had decided otherwise.
Homeward Bound
But which way is “home”? With each visit back to the States, it is becoming more and more difficult for my kids to accept the fact that they live in China and won’t be moving back anytime soon. During our first two years here, it wasn’t an issue – we had nice, extended visits back to the US and were able to return, drama-free. It never really occurred to me that this would suddenly shift. But coming back last summer proved tough on them, and our most recent trip last December only served to reinforce their feelings. It is, I suppose, our new paradigm.
Last August, it was immediately after my nephew’s bar mitzvah that we left, and with all the families still gathered together, my kids really wanted to stay. For the first time, Jacob cried the night before our departure. His slightly older cousins Sarah and Emma tried to comfort him with reassuring words and encouragement about his present life. It was very sweet.
“It’s so cool you live in China.”
Immersion By Degrees
When we were looking into moving to Beijing almost three years ago, it never occurred to me to search out a school beyond the main international options. As a newbie expat, I didn’t really even know there were other choices, and we gladly signed up at the school where colleagues sent their kids.
I don’t have any major regrets and I’m glad that we ended up in a British school rather than a more American institution, because at least my kids know they are somewhere distinctly different from New Jersey. But I cringe whenever I hear my kids speak Chinese - or more to the point, not speak Chinese. Their lack of language skills is really a sore spot for me.
Lifestyles of the Young and Blasé
Beijing today, but what next?
Four-year-old Anna is crammed into the back seat of a cab next to her two older brothers and myself. “This. Is. Boring!” she screams, and to make sure I get her point, she leaps into the air and lands hard on my lap. Apparently, cruising through Shanghai’s fetching French concession is not enough stimulation for my pint-sized adrenaline junkie.
Her mom (my wife) hears the outburst from the passenger seat and looks back to reciprocate my glance. After two and a half years in China, we are still far from jaded with our surroundings, and it would be near impossible for either of us to combine the words “Shanghai,” “French concession” and “boring” in a meaningful sentence.
But this life is normal for our kids: Beijing is where they live, and Shanghai is just another place to visit. Their expectations are often quite high, due to a lifestyle a far cry from my own upbringing in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, or Rebecca’s in Bay City, Michigan.
Saying Goodbye ... and Hello
Transient expat life can be hard on kids
Eli and Jacob first met Hugo Ohlsson while his family and our family were visiting Thailand from Beijing. Playing on the beach, Hugo asked my boys if they could be friends forever.
“Sorry, no,” Jacob replied, acting as the spokesman.
“We actually live in New Jersey and we’re just in China for three years.”
“Oh,” Hugo replied. “Can we be friends for three years then?”
“Sure.”
Hugo smiled; three years is forever to a 5-year-old.
A Rough Stretch
Traveling in China’s interior is tough for families
There are countless motivations for traveling, and countless travel methods, but these often seem to fall away once you start a family. When kids arrive on the scene, many people largely abandon the whole “throw yourself into the deep end and see if you can swim” approach. The risks simply feel too heavy – it’s much easier to just hit a beach in Thailand or stick to Hong Kong Disney.
My family has certainly done our share of safe and comfortable travel, but sometimes we like to reach for something more. It’s not just for mom and dad’s sake – we’ve discovered that our kids can also tap into something deep within themselves when forced to stretch their comfort zones. However, on a recent trip to Sichuan’s Wild West, we realized that it’s possible to reach too far, and that there’s a limit to the elasticity of every comfort zone.
Two Sick Kids, Just One Dad
When do you call for Mom?
I had a host of ideas for my first Beijing Baba column, and most of them would have been quite good. I’m certain of that. Really, I am. But nailing any of them down proved virtually impossible once I was forced to turn into Doctor Dad and my brain shut down with the pressure. The deadline for this story, you see, coincided with a brutal week when my wife’s business took her to Taiwan, and my two sons both fell ill and had to stay home from school and be looked after, one of them for days on end.
6-year-old Eli had a fever but not much else and I knew he’d be better soon, so that was a little tiring but not really scary. 9-year-old Jacob’s situation was a different story, however. His stomach was as turbulent as the North Atlantic and he required constant nursing, which was exhausting, frustrating, maddening and occasionally quite frightening. He was going to the bathroom three times an hour and was so weak he could barely manage to watch a movie.
