On Monday morning our guide came by to round us up and get us and two other families back to the medical clinic for a reading of the TB test. The clinic used to be right here on Shamian*Island, but it was moved sometime between the last time we were here and now.
Now it's located in an office building in the business/financial section of *Guangzhou*. When the elevator door opens, there's that usual din that accompanies any of the official business we do here, with a lot of crying babies sprinkled on top. The guides do a great job of getting you through the small space packed with humanity and before long your back on the bus again.
On the way back to our current hotel, we went past the hotel we stayed in last time. Wait, let me grab a tissue and wipe a tear, not for the nostalgia but for the really sweet accomodations then: beautiful room, spacious restaurant with view, large pool with comfy lounge chairs and umbrellas, and a gym. Every night Tom and I would lay in the dark waiting for Maryn to fall asleep, and then I would sneak out and go down to this *$$ to do my blog posting. The internet connection was slow, but I enjoyed the international atmosphere of this spot, and the smell of coffee while I typed.
This morning we had our consulate appointment. That's the whole purpose of coming through this city, so it's a big deal when it's done. Those of us carrying blue passports with a big, gold eagle on the front get to go right past all the people waiting in line outside and inside the building for visa processing as we ascend to the fifth floor. There a nice woman speaks into a tiny microphone from behind the glass, gives you a few instructions, including DO NOT OPEN THE BROWN ENVELOPE, then makes you stand and swear or affirm that everything you have declared thus far, and it's a lot!!!, is true to the best of your knowledge. We opted for swearing, but it turns out we didn't have to because we were done in no time. It's a strange sensation when you reach this milestone. You're in a very nondescript, grayly colored and lit room, stripped of your camera, with a few children playing in the dirty, plastic playhouse behind you, yet you can't help but wipe a tear or two. It's the point at which you feel like you gave birth to a mountain of paperwork, and a lot, but not all the necessary paperwork, is behind you. Going forward from this point means you're no longer trying to get to this point, and it's a tremendous relief. The other part of it, as I mentioned above, is that you continuously move past line after line of people who want something that you already possess, the ability to enter the country you just so happened, and I'll add by the grace of God, to have been born in. It's an incredible feeling, and one we won't soon forget.
We were up early this morning to get to our appointment at 8:30. There we were in the restaurant at 7 a.m., and I was throwing down my jelly bread with cream cheese, one hard boiled egg, one yougurt (and as I typed that I just realized why Louise always calls it you-gurt) and the ubiquitous kai shui (ky shuway = boiled water, and for some strange reason it's always served in a regular drinking glass not in a mug with a handle so it won't actually remove the flesh from your fingers) when I had to take someone to the restroom, once again. I stood up from the table, looked at Tom and said, "Next time we'll be bringing home a boy!" As I walked away from the table I heard, "I want you to look deep into my eyes.....!"
