From the Orphanage Hallway

    At the orphanage there’s a long hallway, from which all the other rooms—the bathroom, the storage room, the baby room, the kitchen, the office, and our bedroom—stem. There’s something a little tempting about such a long hallway, something that makes you want to run from one end to the other. One night when I was feeling particularly energetic, or perhaps just particularly mischievous, I stole speedily and sneakily down the hallway in my blue plastic slippers. Whether it was due to the thrill of getting away with something behind everyone else’s back or simply to the length and emptiness of that hallway, by the time I was done I was grinning. I remember once, too, that I ran down the hallway with a plastic bag like I did at the supermarket that time when Dianne [my twin sister] and I were little.

      But the hallway also saw stranger, sadder times. 

      One day, a little baby girl was brought from the government-run orphanage downstairs to our Children’s Home on the fourth floor. She was so, so sick, but neither the nurses and doctors downstairs, nor Rony and the A-yis upstairs knew what was wrong with her. Because the baby was too frail to make the train ride, Rony couldn’t send the baby to the Beijing Children’s Home, which has more experienced A-yis and which is nearer to better hospitals; and chose not to send her to the Baoji Hospital, which during the weekends is understaffed and could do little for the tiny girl. So the little girl stayed in the baby’s room in her own crib, with Rony almost constantly by her side.

      What I remember most clearly about the girl was how gray her skin was, and how her eyelids didn’t fully close when she was sleeping. Instead of sleeping peacefully with her eyes closed, she displayed a little half circle of blackness of pupil, framed by white underneath, like a ghoul.

      The second night she was here was unbearably hot. I woke up in the middle of the night, sweating in my mosquito net, unable to sleep. The light outside turned on, and I heard voices and footsteps going up to the roof. I got up from bed, and sat in the kitchen for a while. I started to get that absentminded headache I always get when I sleep too late or don’t get enough to eat. It wasn’t until Joan sat across from me with her Bible that I realized that the girl had already died.

      At night the A-yis wash the mats that cover the floor where the babies play. The mats are shaped like colorful puzzle pieces—in blue, red, and yellow—and they were lined along the hallway to dry. And as I walked down the hallway, I thought—how surreal this is, to see this hallway decorated so brightly and bizarrely. The A-yis had also washed the babies’ diapers, and hung them on the stairway railings. The rows and rows of pink diapers looked like a plain of pink flowers, spiraling upwards; looking at them, I felt like both crying and laughing.

      But not all my memories of the kids were sad. There was a girl, named Wang Kaihui, who was a year and 7 months old. Older than the other kids, she was bored just staying in the playroom, and loved attention. Joan, a fellow volunteer, named her Andy, and the name suited her so well. She looked like a boy, with punkish rock star hair and two rows of sharp, pointy teeth, which she revealed frequently in a full-face grin. From the beginning, I spent the most time with her, picking her up and walking along the hallways, pointing at the pictures on the walls. She had absolutely no fear, so as we got more familiar with each other, I would begin twirling her around as we walked together. One time, I put her on my shoulders, so that she could peek through the high window looking into the babies’ room. All the Aiyi’s stared! And Andy laughed so much!

      I remember I took her to the little park next to the orphanage, and she wanted to touch every tree and every bush. And when the wind blew against her face, every time, she would grin and look at me. And then, when we went under the willow tree, she looked up and smiled so wide that I looked up too—and it was really beautiful, because you could see bits of blue sky glinting between the swaying branches. It’s funny, how things seem new when you’re with a baby. I felt like being with Andy made me see things as she saw it; when she laughed, I wanted to know what it was that making her laugh. And then I realized how new everything was to her; and it felt new to me to. There were many times Andy was a pain in the butt—like when she fussed about not getting enough attention—but I miss even those parts about her now!

--- Daphne Xiao, 2008 Summer Intern

Peking Opera to Snow White

Days in Luoyang are hot and humid, but almost never over 100 degrees Fahrenheit.  That's because, ironically, the smog blots out the sun, preventing it from ever really cooking but keeping it hot enough to be uncomfortable.  The locals have adjusted--nobody talks about the Chinese siesta, but it is practiced in full force, at least in Luoyang where the world seems to go on vacation from 1-3:30 PM.  That's just one of the many different rhythms of life that an American living in China, however briefly, has to adjust to--that and the squatters, the smells, the street sellers, the low-hanging trees, the lamb kebobs, the old women sitting on their stools to watch you as you pass on the sidewalk, the egg seller with his bizarre little wangling horn, or the way that the kids loved to watch Peking/Beijing Opera.   

Every afternoon, the kids of our little orphanage in Luoyang's Old City would crowd around the TV to watch the CCTV's high-pitched, jangling Peking Opera productions.  When I asked them if they liked it, they would nod and make a small noise in the back of the throat (the Chinese affirmative reply)--after all, some of them were even learning how to sing opera themselves or play the instruments.  I suppose it's a culturally acqured taste--in the two months that I spent in China, I never was able to get used to the sound of Peking Opera.  Our role in the orphanage was relatively simple, though loosely defined.  We were buddies, role models, teachers, counselors, visitors, friends, ambassadors, and most importantly to me, older brothers and sisters.  Everyday, we spent the morning with the younger ones, aged 8 and below before resting the afternoon (it's that Chinese heat and humidity) and rising again in the early evening to teach English to the older ones, aged 9 to 18.  Eventually, though, the lines demarcating us as teachers and adults versus older siblings (and therefore fun) faded, meaning we were soon playing wall-ball, basketball, and football with the kids.  Sometimes we would go up to them, sometimes they would come down to the first floor to us.  In particular, the kids liked watching clips of Yao Ming on Youtube from our computers, proving that Chinese kids are not necessarily all that different from American kids afterall... 

At some point in the trip, our experience began to revolve around our orphanage's little play production of Snow White.  Masterminded by one of my fellow interns, it was our job to write, direct, produce, design, and run a production of one of Walt Disney's best stories, starring the kids--all in English, of course.  There are so many memories from China, including late-night lamb kebob runs, strange taxi rides, awkward restaurant ordering, and shopping pilgrimages, but Snow White is the capping masterpiece, the culmination of, at least, my time there.  We spent over a month prepping, from grueling practice sessions ("No, Sleepy, a yawn is more of an eeyhhhhhh sound") to set-painting marathons (56 square meters, no problem).  Everyone got invovled, from the 3 year olds who played the kindly animals in the forest, to the orphanage's resident "Playa" who we recruited to play--who else--Prince Charming, to the orphanage plummer who manned the light board.  There were two shows, a genuine fog machine, and, of course, a kick-butt afterparty for cast, crew, and directors.   

In retrospect, it's hard to believe I spent so much time there.  Two months?  Everything now seems to blur into a kaleidascope of whirling colors, smells, laughs, and bad English accents.  Like my friend says, sitting here back in my "normal" life in the U.S. worrying about midterms and college dating, it's almost as though China were only a dream or a passing fancy which played in the back of my mind as I procrastinated while making my study guide.  Did we really eat scallion pancakes fresh off the street vendor's pan?  Did we really bargain vociferously with grumpy vendors in back alleys over mere pennies?  Or was that all a reverie?  Most of China you can never take back with you; I have some cheap shirts and trinkets, but the real stuff--the heat, the bustle, and of course, the kids--are only memories now.  Except one thing...that Peking-Opera-style excessively-high, piercing wailing still reverberating in my ears...well, unfortunately I may be stuck with that one forever.

--- Dexter Louie, 2008 Summer Intern

Reflection on Summer in Baoji

Living and working in Baoji was a wonderful and challenging experience. Being housed in the orphanage, and sleeping a few rooms down from the baby room, allowed me and the interns to fully immerse ourselves in our volunteer role, and experience a real taste of the everyday life of the children and workers of the orphanage. Everyday we were lucky enough to see the babies as soon as we woke up, right before bed, and anytime in between. Our typical daily schedule went something like this: breakfast, shower, play with babies, lunch, nap, play with babies, take a few babies outside to the playground or for a stroll, dinner, explore the city (which often meant trips to the grocery store), more baby-time (around night time that often meant putting the babies to sleep and tucking them in), sleep. I was very pleasantly surprised by the conditions of our orphanage- a nice, well kept, new building with great facilities- and with the cleanliness of our 4th floor. The baby room was always kept very clean. Only indoor shoes could be worn inside, and the babies were kept off the floor and on a playmat for the majority of the time. I say majority because towards the end of our stay several of the babies had learned to crawl and had become very rambunctious. Some of the funniest moments happened when I would be walking down the hallway and suddenly see a little head poking outside the door of the baby room- a slowly emerging baby, followed by one of the nannies running after him or her. The nannies were so wonderful and motherly with the babies. There were normally about 7 nannies per shift for about 13 babies, so our help was always a relief, since 2 babies per person is a lot of work.

            Most of the time we played with and entertained the babies, giving them a lot of individual attention and love- two things that a child growing up in an orphanage could lack. The orphanage had a whole array of toys and games for the kids, and we added to that collection by buying a blue bouncy ball and an inflatable pool for them! The ball was a big hit, especially with the older babies, and the pool was meant for a pool party so they could all splash around in it. Unfortunately, some of the troublemakers (who were normally the crawlers) deflated the pool as they were playing in it before we could ever fill it with water. On cooler days, a few of us would take some babies out to the playground that was right outside the building. We went down slides, picked leaves and flowers, and gave the babies a nice change of scenery even if just for a little bit. Our stay didn't always consist of fun and games, however. We went on quite a few hospital trips for blood tests and vaccines. Our presence there was especially appreciated since there had to be a one to one ratio with nannies/volunteers and babies, and there was always a lot of screaming and crying, followed by feeding bottles and carrying.

            Overall, this summer with China Care was a great learning and eye-opening experience. The China Care organization is making great strides in orphanage care in China. I'm happy to report that several of our babies (including my favorite one, Xiao Yan) have been adopted and placed in foster care since our departure. The babies were, of course, absolutely adorable and lovable and I will admit that I wanted to bring all of them back home with me. We all got very attached to them, but we were able to leave in peace knowing that they were under great care surrounded by people who love them, and that China Care is working hard on finding them all homes.

--- Gracia Angulo, 2008 Summer Intern

I went to China to find myself through the eyes of my countrymen and within the
heart of my family. However, the "Emily" I found through the love of my kids
was infinitely more special. My little sisters and brothers in Luoyang remain
with me still. They are my hope and inspiration. They are my friends and
companions. They represent the truest essence of my heart; I will never forget
them.

--- Emily Liu, 2008 Summer Intern

Cooking Playdough

Joan Lin, the first China Care intern who arrived at Beijing about the same time we did, was a student from University of Wisconsin Madison. Since she was the first intern there for the summer, she became the BCH volunteer coordinator. One of her ideas was for us to do some volunteer sessions with the foster home kids, who were living with families that took care of older, preschool-aged China Care children. Since many of them were disabled, we wanted to have activities that were stimulating to the senses. Playdough was one of the first ideas that we came up with.

The playdough supply that the China Care office had was small, and the majority of it dried out. So our first task was to make some more for our sessions with the kids. The ingredients were:

flour

salt

water

oil

food coloring

After all the ingredients were mixed together, you were supposed to put it in a skillet and basically fry it.

We used the kitchen that was on the top floor of one of the doors of apartment 15, which was used as a living area for other interns. Joan managed to gather enough of the supplies for us to make a few batches of playdough. I was in charge of mixing ingredients. Emily ran the actual cooking/frying of the dough, and Erica and Joan were to add the food coloring to make the finished product.

The first batch we made was blue and turned out pretty good - the dough was soft and warm. Okay, so not exactly like your typical playdough - it was a little too gooey, and greasy - but it served the purpose. The next batch was yellow, and the one after that was green. By the time we had finished making those three, however, the inside of the pan was starting to burn a little, and the kitchen definitely smelled a little off.

Since we had used up all the food coloring colors we had (blue, green, and yellow), we tried to decide what color to make the final batch. Fortunately, we didn't have to make a decision. The last hunk of playdough was already colored by the time Emily put it on the rolling surface - brown, from all the burnt scraps on the edge of the pan. By the time we had rolled it around a few times and molded it into a ball, it was the color of wet sand. It didn't smell too great either...

We laughed at how unappealing it looked, and thought about adding some food coloring to it - but decided that it would only make it worse. So as we packed up the chunks of self-cooked playdough into Joan's tupperware - baby blue, neon yellow, jungle green....and brown.

When we started our play session with the kids the next morning, the kids were excited about the new playdough that we had brought them. One of the parents even asked for the "recipe," so she could make it herself.

We left the brown playdough in the tupperware....

Note: playdough in the images was not the playdough we made.... :D

--- Jessica Wen, Summer 2008 Intern

Immunizations

There were several occasions during our volunteer sessions when the three of us would accompany a few of the babies to get their immunizations. One of the heads of the BaoJi Children's Home, who got relocated to Beijing after the earthquake, would ask for our help - so each of us would carry a baby on the trip over to the hospital, which was just down the road of BCH.

The place where they got their shots was similar to a small clinic. When you first walked in, you could smell that distinct hospital/medication smell. The tiles on the floor where bright white, as were the walls and tables. There was a small waiting/play area that had a small television, some rainbow colored benches, and a few blue cushioned chairs that were shaped like cupped hands.

After the BaoJi caretaker had us checked in at the frontdesk, we'd bring the babies into the next room, where they were actually given their shots. There were four cubicles in the center of the room, and each nurse there had a station with their supplies and paperwork. Usually there would be other families there, and we'd have to wait until the baby we were holding was called.

The babies were, of course, unaware of what they were there for. As the nurse called each of their names one by one, we would sit them down with them on a bench close to her cubicle. As she prepped the syringe and swabs, we would have to position the baby so that his or her upper arm was exposed and hold them so that they wouldn't fidget.

The first time I held one of the babies for her immunization, I think I was more nervous than she was. As I held the baby's arm tight for the nurse, I could feel her already trying to fight my grip. I was eyeing the syringe's every move, and I cringed to myself as it punctured her skin. Half a second later, there was be the signature wailing sound coming from the baby's mouth. The shot was over in a matter of seconds, and I swept her up across my chest and started rocking her to keep her quiet.

We did this several times during our stay at BCH; and each time, I braced myself for the shot that the baby was getting. I remember the second trip we made to the hospital, there were about 5 babies altogether that we brought. At one point, all of them must have been crying at the same time, and for some crazy reason, I really missed home.

To be honest, I really enjoyed those trips to the hospital with the babies. Not because I enjoyed watching them getting their shots, but because it made me feel a little bit closer to really caring for them. I felt like I had a responsibility for them as they got their shots; I was happy to be the one there to comfort and quiet them each time.

Mothers of the BCHs

It was rarely quiet in the BCHs. My first day in BCH1, all the feeding schedules of the babies happened to coincide, resulting in chaos. When the babies were quiet though, the caretakers took care to fill the silence. Each home had five caretakers at any given time, plenty for continuous chatter. Jessica, Emily, and I often laughed at the end of a day about the gossip we had overheard--more than one of them had children who were struggling in math, one of them had a son who was growing incredibly quickly, another had a son who was finally passing the 'rebellious' phase.

On the day more kids from Baoji were expected to arrive in Beijing, the condition of provinces still affected by aftershocks were brought up. As most conversations in the BCHs do, the conversation quickly turned toward children, and the number of babies orphaned because of the earthquake.

"Yesterday, a mother and a baby were discovered in the ruins," one of the caretakers said. "They thought the mother was breastfeeding the child, but it turned out she had already died hours ago."

"Is the baby still able to get milk that way?" asked another.

"No. But it is still better for the baby. The baby lived."

For the first time since I had been there, BCH1 was silent. I noticed one of the caretakers rock a baby in one arm while wiping her eyes with the other.

A few minutes later, a baby's cry finally broke the silence, and everyone was back to work.

Sometimes we joke about how the caretakers don't seem to notice babies crying as they get carried away with their own conversations. But we can only joke about it because it is evident they do care about and love the ChinaCare babies. Sometimes, I almost forget that they are orphans.

--- Erica Lin, 2008 Summer Intern

A Day In Beijing

The first weekend after we arrived, Erica, Emily and I wanted to go into Beijing for the day. We left early on a Saturday morning and the plans were to make our way to Tian An Men Square, the Forbidden city, and then do some shopping/walking around the city by WangFuJing DaJie.

We left early, around 7 AM, to catch the bus that would take us from where we were between the 5th and 6th ring roads to the 2nd ring road close to the heart of the city. The bus ride was, of course, packed, even on the weekend. I was impressed by how efficiently everything ran - there was smart card system that read your bus pass as you boarded and again when you got off, and deducted money according to how far you rode. We had to go all the way to the last stop, which was DongZhi Men. From there, the plan was to walk our way over to the north end of TianAnMen Square, close to the Forbidden City.

According to Brent, the walk was only about 30 minutes.

NOT TRUE. We ended up walking for almost TWO HOURS. On the map it didn't look so bad, but around 10:30, it started to hit us that maybe we should have taken the subway. The walk there was fun though, we got to see a lot of city close up. It had been a while since I last visited Beijing. The streets were really spread out and wide, pretty much the opposite of places like New York and Chicago, things were a lot less packed together.

When we finally got there, we went straight to the Forbidden City and spent a little less than 2 hours walking around. The inside was huge - everytime we thought we had walked all the way across, there would be another layer of buildings to pass. Unfortunately, I wasn't really able to appreciate the history of the place as much as I would have liked, and I found myself reading the English version of the tourist plaques that were posted in front of important buildings throughout the city.

After we left the Forbidden City, we walked toward WangFuJing DaJie for lunch and just wandering around for the rest of the afternoon. The street contained a long stretch of sores and shopping centers. The nicest one was this huge mall that was about 6 floors to it. We were too tired from all the walking to do any shopping, so we ended up sitting in the food court. We didn't buy any clothes or anything, but I remember from the last time I visited that when you purchase something in a large shopping center, they first write you a slip that you take to a paying station, and once you've paid for everything you want, you go back to the small sections/boutiques in the store and pick up what you bought. It was a similar thing for the foodcourt - you have to put money on a card first, and then you but something to eat with the card and return the card when you're finished. The three of us shared a Shaved Ice - it was the real deal: this huge mountain of ice covered in condensed milk, jelly, read bean and corn (?).

We eventually made our way to a small kite shop that wasn't too far from the mall - the shop sold handmade kites that were of all different shapes and animals. After more walking around, my cousin, who currently works in Beijing, called us and wanted to take us out to dinner.

We ate at this really nice Roast Duck restaurant right along WangFuJing DaJie. My cousin, who obviously knew what he was doing, just said a bunch of things to the waiter, and about 20 minutes later, we had the whole ensemble in front of us, including duck liver, duck intestines, duck HEARTS, and even the head. They even gave us this card that had the registration number or something of the duck that had been cooked for us :D

One of the coolest things about the meal was the way the waiters served the tea. It was apparently the way it was done in the past, where there's this bronze teapot with an extremely long and thin spout, it must have been at least 2 or 3 feet long and a centimeter in diameter at the tip. Everytime the waitress poured the water, she would have to stand a bit aways from the table, and it always looked like she wouldn't actually be able to pour the water into the teapot, like she was aiming to far. But it never spilled.

After dinner, my cousin helped to direct us to a subway stop so that we wouldn't have to walk another two hours to get back. We got back to our apartment extremely exhausted but also very full, haha. Our original plan to go into Beijing again the next day didn't end up happening, but we were satisfied with our first trip into the city.

The Star of BCH3

His name is Wang KangPing, and he's probably around 2, almost 3, though I never asked the ladies there specifically how old he was. The first day, when we were being taken around by Brent to tour the China Care facilities, we came into BCH2, and Kang Ping was the first to greet us. He immediately walked over, not having seen any of us before, with his arms held up. The only thing I could think of to do was stoop down and pick him up. When I stood back up again, with him sitting in the crook of my arm, he proceeded to play with the light switches, laughing and pointing as he pushed them on and off.

This little boy was the reason I went back to BCH2 for our first volunteering session that morning. I was hoping to get a chance to play with him again, but unfortunately he was outside with another A-Yi at the time. But I did get more time later in the week and throughout our stay in Beijing. Kang Ping was actually from BaoJi, which is why his last name was designated as Wang (all the kids from the same childrens home all have the same last name). He was very active - he walked easily and quickly - and always animated. When other kids fought with him for toys, he would fight back, but when they wanted to play together with him, he would play.

He was really smart too. All the ladies there encouraged me to teach him English words, because he would learn them quickly. One morning, he was eating an apple, and I taught him to say apple in English; the next afternoon, when Erica went to volunteer in BCH2, he impressed her with this new word. It made me extremely happy to hear that he had remembered what I taught him.

It wasn't until the second week that I learned exactly what his disability was. He had a heart condition that caused cyanosis - a blue tinge in his outerextremities like his hands and feet and lips. KangPing was small and skinny, and his body always felt a little cold, and now I realized why. But you would never be able to tell that he was a sick child just by his personality - you would have guessed that he was the happiest and healthiest little boy there.

The saddest part of the story was the day we found out that Kang Ping was actually scheduled to leave BCH. It was the second Wednesday of our time there, and one of the ladies in BCH2 told me that he was getting ready to leave that day. They kept saying to him in Chinese, "are you ready to go see your grandfather?" The news was that his grandfather was coming to get him. I was actually volunteering when they came to get him. Brent was taking us out to lunch that day, and while we were waiting for everybody to arrive, we saw his grandfather come walk into Building 15 where the office was located.

The story, we later learned at lunch, was that Kang Ping's grandparents had abandoned him at BaoJi earlier in the year. They brought Kang Ping to Beijing and were hoping to give him surgery for his heart condition. However, before that surgery could take place, his grandfather contacted China Care and asked to have Kang Ping back. So China Care flew him into Beijing to pick up his grandson. The next step was to inform the grandfather that China Care would also pay for Kang Ping's operation - it would be completely free of charge for his grandparents, and it was something that his grandparents, in their entire lifetime, would probably never be able to afford. All he would have to do was consent. Though I was sad to see Kang Ping go, I was glad that he was being reunited with his family, and hopeful that he would be able to live a healthy rest of his life.

Two days later, while I was volunteering in BCH1, I heard the ladies talking about Kang Ping and discovered that the grandfather had not consented to the surgery. I was completely suprised. It would significantly help Kang Ping's health, and China Care was willing to pay for the whole procedure. The ladies said that it was mostly likely out of fear that Kang Ping's grandfather said no. They guessed that he was probably afraid that China Care wouldn't actually give the boy back to him. It was a choice that I didn't expect him to make, knowing the things that China Care worked and stood for.

Wang Kang Ping was definitely one of the little ones who made my time in Beijing Children's Home worthwhile, though I only got to spend a little bit of time with him. His story is sad, like those of many of the children there, and it made me realize the tragedy that really goes on in these orphanages. But it also makes the volunteer work we do that much more valuable.

Being Three

A few months ago, I watched with amusement as my 18 year old friend threw an orange peel out the window of our moving car and clapped with joy when it zipped behind us. "I wish I were three again!" he had exclaimed, "Then every physical experience would be so exciting."

Being at the Beijing Children's Home was probably the closest I've felt to being three again. My favorite kid, Huei-huei, was a 'toddler' in BCH3 (she couldn't quite toddle yet). The first time I sat down next to her, she handed me the little picture book she had been holding almost immediately. I was flattered for a few seconds before she reached out her hands and claimed it back. For the next fifteen minutes or so, we engaged in this simple ritual of passing the book back and forth. I have never seen anyone so overjoyed over something so simple. Every few passes, she would stop, look up at me, and beam.

Over the next few days, she discovered new sources of amusement. She absolutely loved the sound of clipboards, containing all details of the babies' conditions, against the wooden shelf. (The supervisor was not so amused.) She loved the sound of her own hand pounding against the wooden shelf. She loved smiling into the mirror and would always giggle when I helped her lean forward and touch the mirror. She loved watching a next-door neighbor ride a bike past the window. I loved that she loved these things, and I loved that she could do all of these things over and over again. The best part was how she would smile ridiculously, absolutely ridiculously, every single time.

A Blog Tour of Beijing Children's Home

Beijing Children's Home is located within a huge apartment complex called YuXiang Garden in the ShunYi Province of Beijing. (The name always reminded me of the chinese dish YuXiang Eggplant. But the tones are definitely NOT not the same. At least it helped me remember what the place was called :D). There are lots of senior citizens who live in the complex, and lots of kids.

There must have been around 30 large separate apartment buildings within the complex. Each building was given a number, and there were a certain number of "doors" within each building. (The doors basically divided the building up into sections.) Each door was an entrance to one section of the building, and went up 5 flights of stairs, with two apartments per floor. I'm not exactly sure exactly how many apartments China Care was using, but they were spread out all over the place as opposed to all in one door of one building.

The main office, which we went to immediately when we arrived to YuXiang Garden, was located in building 15, on the first floor of door 1. This is where they had all the administrative things going on. There was a large whiteboard that was split up into the different children's homes that China Care oversees. On the board were laminated cards with the babies' names on them, and these cards helped keep track of where each child was. For example, when the BaoJi kids were moved to Beijing, their names were moved respectively on the white board to reflect where they were at the moment. It's a pretty clever system, though relatively recently organized. The office also took care of donations, which we promptly gave to them when we arrived. Several staff members had their offices in this apartment, and it was interesting to see how a normally residential area was turned into a work environment.

There are four children's homes altogether in Beijing. Everybody there called them B-C-Hs. BCH 2 was right across the hall from the office, and BCH1 was upstairs of that. BCH3 was on the first floor of building 5 of the complex, and BCH4 was upstairs of that. All of the BCHs housed babies except for BCH3, which was home to the toddlers.

We lived in building 27. To get to it, we had to go past an awkward white fence that just sort of cut through part of the complex. Our apartment was number 101 in door 1, and was actually the place where Brent housed his guests that came for his business purposes. Since our plans were changed, we were in search of a nice place to stay for not too much money, and Brent's place worked out perfectly. It was sort of like the style of a dorm, where there were just beds stacked on top of eachother and in the rooms (there must have been around 16 total or so), and there was a kitchen, two bathrooms, and a dining room area. It was right in the complex, so we didn't have to travel to volunteer. It had wireless, which was a huge plus. Overall, a very comfortable place to be - we lucked out, since there were no other interns there at the time, which meant there was space for us to stay. If we were going to be there past June 15th, we would have to find somewhere else to go.

The street that YuXiang Garden was located on was fairly busy, and there were lots of things going on closeby. The North gate had a hotel nearby, along with a restaurant, post office, and a beauty salon. Not too far from the complex were a supermarket (Rainbow: we ended up buying a lot of bananas from them :D), more apartments, a bank, another supermarket and small and older villages and streets where people lived. One of my favorite places was the "village," as the three of us called it. It was a five minute walk from where we lived, and it was like a whole complex of small shops, restaurants, and an outdoor market. It was very busy all throughout the day. There was also a park closeby that had an ampitheater and an exercise arena for senior citizens. The location was great.

Getting to Beijing Children's Home

Our first task in our China Care summer experience was actually getting there....it took us almost a whole TWO DAYS to arrive to Beijing.

The tickets we (Erica Lin, Emily Hsu, and I) booked brought us from Boston to Chicago to Shanghai, and from there we had planned to fly to BaoJi. But those plans were disrupted due to the aftershocks of the earthquake that were still in the area. What made things worse was that American Airlines decided to keep us in Chicago for a whole 12 hours after we were supposed to have taken off. The first leg of our trip was to get from Boston to Chicago, which went fine, but meant that we had to leave for the airport around 3 AM....I seriously slept from the moment I sat in my seat until we had to get off the plane. I had no recollection of take off, landing, the complimentary beverage service, or anything else, haha.

Once we got to Chicago, we were definitely tired and wanted to be on our way, but that of course couldn't be the case. The problem apparently was a part of the plane that they were waiting to get fixed. That later turned into finding a replacement for that part of the plane, which then became finding another plane altogether, a whole half a day later. We actually even boarded the plane, and then were asked to get off because the problem was not fixed. I guess I would have much preferred to fly later than stall 35,000 km in the air, but the 12 hour delay was still no fun.

So after 2 meal vouchers, free diet coke, lots of reading, and some sleeping in awkard positions in the gate-area seats, we finally boarded and finally got to Shanghai. At midnight their time....

Luckily my uncle came to the rescue and picked us up there. He had originally found and booked us tickets to BaoJi, but when that ended up getting cancelled, he returned them and waited for us to arrive in Shanghai to get tickets to Beijing. The ticket counters weren't open until 6 AM, so we did some more waiting/sleeping/reading. Fortunately, we got tickets that left for Beijing from Shanghai at 11AM, which gave us time to have breakfast....at KFC :D

The domestic Chinese airline was run so much better than American, haha. All the flight attendants were these tiny, young Chinese women wearing perfectly clean and purple uniforms and a red bow tied at their collars, and they were all hovering over you to make sure things were taken care of. I was very impressed...and comfortable, haha.

But we finally arrived!!! Thank goodness....when we got to where we were staying, I swear I slept for 12 hours straight.

Welcome to the Harvard China Care Summer Blog

Finally, the summer we all have been waiting and preparing for this whole spring is here.

 

No matter where we are right now, our hearts are in China, with the orphaned children and the Harvard interns, as we click open this blog.

 

All readers are probably as excited as the writers (who are, were, or about to be) in action. 

 

Dear writers, I believe you know what to do.

We eagerly await to hear from you!