Shanghai Air Quality Index (AQI) Apps and Links

China is notorious for poor air quality. About two years ago world newspapers wrote about political fireworks (Get it? Fireworks and China? No? Okay, blog on that later.) set off by State Department Mission to China into the smog filled Chinese skies. China, too, had a system to determine air quality, but the readings differed in substances monitored, and frequency. Air quality rumors still abound, but the political differences were worked out long before the Maguires arrived in Shanghai.

The State AQI is located somewhere on the US Consulate compound. This is public knowledge, but I have no idea where the monitor is and don’t really care. On ground level, after I have stopped, dropped, and rolled, I find the air to be fresh and clean there as it is filtered by a park-like abundance of trees, plants and flowers. Still, the shafts of sunlight highlight millions of particles floating in air and the air I breathe tastes gritty.

The air in the outlying neighborhoods appears to be worse than at the Consulate. This is not proven true, but completely antidotal. I don’t electronically check the air quality every day. When I walk the children to school in the morning we observe the buildings in the distance. How distinct are the outlines? What color is the sky? We can usually guess within 30 PPM. This may seem like a wide margin of error, but we are really talking about the difference between unhealthy and unhealthy. See below.

2014 Holiday Card

To all of our family, friends, and dear readers:

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from the Maguires. 

Press and Roll

There are bicycles everywhere in China. In Hong Kong, there were more gas powered motorbikes. In Shanghai there are more electric scooters. The scooters are fast, energy efficient, and quiet. All two wheeled vehicles will henceforth in this post be referred to as bikes.

There are different kinds of scooters. They can be purchased from Carrefour, local shops, and the classifieds. The sizes range from large, heavy, fast bikes, to the small light-weight frames that can be pedaled or powered. In the States we call the pedal/engine combo ones whizzers, I am not sure what they are called here.

The first week we arrived I bought a used bike from a Foreign Service Officer departing Post. It is bigger than I want, with a more powerful engine. The thing is so heavy that I can’t lift it up onto the more supportive stand, so it always rests on the side kickstand. It plugs into any outlet and charges in about four hours. The charge lasts long enough for about four or five trips around town. The price and situation were right, so what could go wrong?

This bike maxes out at 50 km/hr. No gears, it is fairly mindless. The bike is sensitive to even the smallest shifts in balance and weight. When the kids get into a fight on the back we swerve all over the road and I start shouting at them to knock it off. Not that you can ever imagine me shouting at my darling children. It is big enough to carry the three of us, but small enough to maneuver to school and local errands.

I am still not used to traffic here, but I am starting to understand the patterns of behavior. There is a hierarchy: buses- taxis- cars- diesel/gas bikes- electric scooters- whizzers- bicycles- pedestrians- rickshaws. Like any

Hey! That's My Kid!

You know pictures of your kids are on the internet, but what you don’t know is that those photos are used world wide without your permission. I found a photo of my son being used in Shanghai. Read this post and then immediately change all of your Picasa, iCloud, Facebook, etc. settings to private, and then accept that you have done all you can do. Nothing is private.

The wee one loves face painting. She will stand in any length of line, patient and sweet. No tantrums, no fuss. This is her thing. It was no different at a recent Consulate event. She stood in line, watching the other children for quite a long time. An enclosed area, I was socializing and introducing myself to our new community. She patiently waited.

I walked over, patted her on the head, and told her how sweet and patient she was being, blah, blah, blah. Then I did what all parents do, shifted my attention to the poster of designs. Looked again. Familiar eyes were looking out of the bottom photo. No, I am seeing things. It can’t be. Could it? I looked again. Yes, it really was my little man. 2 years ago, 3 years ago, 4 years ago! Yes, 4 years ago almost exactly. Happy memory mixed with concern, fear, and confusion at seeing unexpected familiarity. I bombed the volleyball game to show Spencer. I pulled Ted out of the bounce house. I ran excitedly up to all my new colleagues. "Look at this!" I yelled with hysterical laughter. "It is Ted!" And I proceeded to tell the story from four years ago.

Early October of 2010 the family went to visit friends in Kansas City. On a day not unlike

A Little Consistency Goes a Long Way- Gymnastics in Shanghai

I took the wee one to gymnastics. We had used and loved the same company in DC and New England. I found a franchize here and though it would offer familiarity. One month into Shanghai and we both needed a regular routine, not just the start of one, but one that made us feel like we are home.

The adventure started in the taxi, as it always does. I wrote the directions in English, pinyin, and in characters. Explained everything to the guard at the compound gate and then he hailed the taxi. Getting in we thought that we may or may not end up at the right place.

With only a few circles and a little confusion we found the gym inside a mall. This location was a little different as all are, but all the same colors and branding. The people did speak some English- good start. I hoped she would jump in, but history suggested she will need a couple of sessions to adjust.

There are four coaches in the room, already better odds than DC. Everything was in Chinese, but one coach always sat next to her translating

Hashing in Country Number Three (Updated)

In an effort to find something enjoyable in Shanghai, I again pursued the H3. I miss Lesotho. There are a lot of features to miss, but mostly I miss the expat community. They usually found themselves at one time or regularly hiking with the local chapter of the Hash House Harriers. We attended most every weekend.

This one runs a little differently. I found myself in the circle on the second hike reminding both of my children that "what is said on the hash, stays at the hash." The double entendres are singularly risqué. And oh boy, the vocabulary is more than earmuffs can handle. It is a good thing that the kind soul corresponding with me via email pointed me towards the most family friendly chapter of the six in town. Note to self: I have to remember to fine my son at the next meeting for interrupting dinner with, "time to grease the beer ayi!"(translation: time for the beer bitches or booze master to take a drink)

You Need It. We Got It, Right Here in Shanghai

There are markets and stores everywhere in Shanghai. Very little needs to be brought in from the States. There are plenty of things I want to bring in from the states. Grocery stores have so much food, only problem is that I do not recognize the pictures or the words.

There is a wet market across the street from our neighborhood. It looked a little scary the first time we went by. Looked scary to me, ted wanted to go right in. Someone had warned me that it wasn’t a place I should go, so we avoided it for a while. Someone else later told me that it has some of the best produce in the city. Not sure who to believe, but the market is an experience. They sell produce, textiles, and even one sign proclaims “Foreign Children”. When Josie’s Elsa dress ripped we found someone there to replace the torn portion for 20RMB. It was perfect!

There is a Costco-like Metro. I haven’t been there yet, but I have a peanut butter supplier who gets me giant jars of Skippy there. One day I will go myself and it will be awesome!

Our social sponsors took us to Carrefour  our first Saturday in Shanghai and BAM! The store blew our minds.  A French grocery store, they have fabulous bread and pastries, or at least to those of us desperate for such things.  Like Walmart, but Wamart with two floors. This place has everything you could want, imagine, and not even imagine. Hours later we left the store exhausted, overwhelmed, and dehydrated.

They have a pretty good rotating hard alcohol selection and mini kegs of beer. We had a little dinner party to test out our purchase, our table here is smaller than in Maseru, and the keg lasted all night. Maybe I should not compare the number of attendees, but their thirst. We would have needed two in Maseru, maybe three.  They have it all in Carrefour. Prices are a bit steep on fancy stuff like coffee.

They carry lots of stationery,

Hunting Zebra in South Africa

The story of the zebra often comes up in conversation. Hunting is not considered one of the three deadly conversations, but is more controversial. Everyone kind of wants to know about hunting in southern Africa, but very few people want the details. You won't get the Henry Morton Stanley version here. It is just not something I can explain, I am not an adequate writer. In truth, the depth of the story changes on my relationship with the person listening, though I never exaggerate the shooting distance. No hunter ever would. 

For those who are looking to hunt African game, there are many venues. Whether you are looking for the colonial African experience, bragging rights, or your own room decor, there is a place for you in South Africa. A bit embarrassing to declare, that I myself upon entering Africa had a bit of the colonialist view. This view came from the limited history taught in school and books that I had read. Though my view changed during my two years there, there were still some boxes deep in my brain that needed to be checked to complete the experience. 

Friends had developed a relationship with a hunter near Kimberly, Roelof Foerie. Roelof patiently put up with the constant changes to the hunting party, billing issues, and other nonsense from us Americans. He provided the equipment, location, and accommodation for the trip. It was a memorable experience made better with his expert knowledge. 

Over two days the group walked or trucked the grasslands tracking animals on the list: zebra, blesbock, and impala. Our group of three was broken apart, paired with expert hunters and trackers. The hours of wandering the tall grasses in the hot sun provided intimate teaching sessions on the behavior and environment of these and other animals. 

We chased the massive herd of zebra for a while. The herd heard or maybe smelled us coming and charged away. Only those that have experience with herds of animals can appreciate the feeling of their pounding hooves vibrating up through your feet. Or if you have seen The Lion King, you may get the idea. 

Why not brag if you have the right? I was the first to get my prize that weekend and also a big, celebratory kiss from Roelof as the first woman ever to successfully hunt.  Roelof was as proud as I was. See his site for more information. http://www.roeloffouriesafaris.com/gallery_discription.php?id=216. 

The experience provided a deep freeze packed full of meat: ribs, sausage, loins, steaks, legs, everything you can imagine and a lot you don’t want to. I surely could not imagine what was inside those three coolers the first time I opened them. My ambitious, but ultimately failed attempts at butchering and curing were laughable. Picture me in my apron, wrapped in plastic holding my best kitchen knife while surrounded by three animals worth of meat in the garage. Oh yeah, this is not going to happen.

Good thing I am a better cook. The zebra steak, braised, was lovely served with a deep, chocolaty wine. I made it a couple of ways, but don’t remember them all. I should have taken more pictures.

The rug was a challenge. Getting it done in time for the move was an issue. Paying for it was another. The exchange of money was an issue in South Africa and Lesotho. I had to time my deposits with trips to OR Tambo because there were no branch offices for his bank in Ladybrand and the Lesotho branches do no talk to their South African counterparts. Ultimately, everything worked out the week before packout.

Only a few people thought I would be able to pull the trigger and I wasn't so sure myself. The still unnamed zebra mare lies on the floor by my desk. A little conversation piece for when parties are slow. She provides a topic when I need to crow about my cooking or prowess with a gun and a good laugh when I think of my hunting mates that weekend. "Oh, it is on!"

Pretty big rug. Not sure if the face mask was a good idea, but I like the mane.  Now where to put her?  Don't want a lot of foot traffic or wine spills damaging the hair. 

Home Leave Before Moving Abroad, Going to School, and Starting Normal Life All Over Again

Traveling and living abroad, I tend to idealize American childhood. I know that my summers were terribly boring, but my memories are full of fishing with sticks and cold cuts, climbing trees, and walking in the woods. Maybe some of those memories have been polished with time, but they are confidence building. I want to give the kids the same thing.

My goals for the summer were never written, but included camping, fishing, and hiking. We only tramped around the backyard woods twice and never made permanent trails. They did fish, though I tried to avoid the worms, fish, hooks, dock, and everything associated with it. We did camp once in the backyard.

Hiking through undergrowth takes concentration, but camping is a bit slow and my mind wanders. I start to think of all the trips that came before. My first camping trips were with the girl scouts. Will the kids experience scouts? There must be troops all over the world. They need to experience that distinctive scent of the green plastic platform tents and the sound of girls trapped inside that large A-frame being catty and mean.

Ah, the memories. The gates are open and the memories rush through too fast to collect: hash campouts (which my phone autocorrected to vampires), Marceline and Toon-Fest, kayak and canoe trips- remember kids people go in the kayaks and the beer and gear go in the canoe! Glimpses into the torrent reveal funny memories and inside jokes. The kind of stuff that is mine to hold onto and at times not hold in, like marshmallows. One of life great mysteries explained.

These are the thoughts that helped me smile as I laid on the cold ground, because someone didn’t want to use the air mattress; at the bottom of a downhill slope, because that is where the tent was pegged; and being kicked by three pairs of feet, because four people don’t fit into a 2-man tent no matter what size those people are, and living in fear because pee flows downhill.

The mosquitoes were terrible, so we all ran and jumped in the tent. The inside of the tent glowed red with light from the star watching app. Star Walk was my frequent companion in Africa, but rarely used during the bright city nights in DC.  Ted turned it into a game, blinding us with close-ups of stars and the moon. He played with the app and we never would know what stars were above us. It was a full moon, so maybe we would not have seen much anyway.

Lightning bugs are great to watch from the porch, but nearly invisible through the white, synthetic walls of the tent. The other bugs mobilized, ignoring the bug spray soaking our skin and attacked looking for blood. The bombardment continued as they tested the tent fabric for weaknesses. Lying quietly trying to ignore the discomfort and inevitable flood, I heard creaking. Did the mosquitoes join forces with a ground insect in order to tunnel in? Creak. Creak. I felt around the bottom of the tent. Nothing was moving. Listening carefully I found the spot. Slowly I put my finger down and pushed until, crack! Creaking stopped and I was a little freaked out by the size of the something that cracked under the tent.

At around 11pm I snuck out of the tent to use the bathroom, modern conveniences just steps away. There was something odd about the air. On the way back to the tent it hit me- nothing hit me. There were no bugs biting, wings and legs humming. No bats above. The air was perfectly still. Do I wake the kids and look at the stars? Nope, tell them tomorrow. I tried to sleep. At 2am I bailed on my loving family and went to sleep on the couch downstairs rather than the bed, just in case a coyote attacked them.

The old stories of people sleeping under the stars are romanticized. Cowboys sleeping with a saddle for a pillow, elves and men sleeping in abandoned watchtowers. Are there not Tolkien-size bugs out there? Snakes? Other creepy crawlies that slither, wiggle, and fly during the night? Romantic? In my younger, tentless days I tried it once and would never again. Sleeping under the stars is cold, rocky, and buggy. 

A week after tenting, when the family was caught up on sleep, we took down the tent. The large, crushed, critter was not found. The tent, now on its way to Shanghai, has been retired for the season. We have hit everything on the list and the kids had a good, memorable summer. Ted's only disappointment, still no pocket knife. 

Making trails in the backyard.

Swimming at Grandma's.

Fishing with cousins and the aunts who bravely face hooks and worms.

Embedded deer tick.

Climbing trees.

Berries from the backyard.

Running with no purpose and no direction.

More cakes

I found a picture of Ted's cake. It was gross, but he was happy.

Rhino River Lodge

The Rhino River Lodge is located in the Hluhluwe Game Reserve in Kwazi-Natal Zululand. Friends suggested we go, they said the food was great and the people really nice. There are game parks everywhere in South Africa, so a recommendation goes a long way in narrowing down the options. Rhino River is far from Lesotho, I think it took us about 8 hours, less time for most people.

Our first introduction to the reserve was a little scary.

The view as soon as the gate closed was phenomenal. 

People always ask me if we see animals out in the open. There is no open land in South Africa, just like in the States. Land is either owned and developed or farmed, or set aside as a reserve. You don't have to worry about a lion running across the road, but you don't have that same Out of Africa experience.

We had a great time and recommend you make the drive. The food was great. The guided tour informative. The people were very nice. See http://www.rhinoriverlodge.co.za/ for more information.

Big Sky

One of the truly amazing things in Lesotho is its big sky.  If you've ever spent any time in Montana, or anywhere else in the Rockies or the upper great planes, you understand what the term big sky means.  Lesotho reminds me a lot of Montana.  A few weeks ago, we saw the biggest, fullest rainbow any of us could remember.  It was amazing.

Penguins for Lunch

Josie sees a bird. Do you?

Teddy was the first to spot this penguin at lunch. Do you see him?

And then there was the fight over who got to ride the penguin first.

Horsing around

After 20 some years, I have started riding seriously. It has taken a lot of effort to remember the technical stuff. After all these years of flipping displines, trail riding, and just messing around when the opportunity arose, I have a lot of bad habits.

One of my goals moving to Lesotho was to learn how to play polo. One time out in the polo saddle and I found out just how poor my skills were, how hard the ground was, and how old my body was. So I started training again. I am learning a new skill afterall, one less dangerous than polo, cross country/evening. 

This is a shot of me coming in from behind. Actually, I was trying to follow the other rider, not take over. My horse, a former race horse, was much more interested in charging ahead. I only did one round. But that is okay, it was my first time out. We then did a single round of show jumping. I would have really liked to do more, and higher, rounds, but had to take two very sleepy kids home for naps. 37 cross country jumps and 10 in the ring and I am feeling good. Guess I am not as old as I thought I was. 

Cape Town Beaches

I have never liked sandy beaches. I love rocky ones. New England was a natural fit, even though I spent most of my summers growing up going down to the Jersey shore. Cape Town us full of lovely beaches. Here are two. The first is in the heart of Cape Town. The other is a train ride east, away from the Cape. This is the point on the African Continent where the Atlantic and Indian Oceans come together. It might be sandy, but the beach bums are awesome. They wear tuxedo's and stand about 2 feet high.

Giant African Cricket

We think this is the Giant African Cricket. It is huge. The bottom one was found in the cat food bowl and photographed in a baking dish. He, I think it is a he because of the shape and the relatively small size, has a body about 2 inches long. The female, photo taken in the garage, was the length of a credit card.

Another hopped out from under Josie's pillow one night as I was laying her down. I didn't get a good look at that one, but grabbed a hold of it, ran downstairs, and threw it in the driveway for the guards to kill. I have never seen insects so big.

Samples of Local Flora- UPDATED

Peacocks!

Did you know that peacocks fly? Or that they make a huge racket in the morning?  I don't care about the noise, I want a flock of them. Josie wants a flock, too. She will catch them with her bare hands if she has to.

Can you find the peacock way up in the tree?

Peahen

Josie loves birds and will follow them anywhere.

Peafamily. This poor guy is molting.

Not one single tear when she fell.

Still going.

This peacock still has all of his feathers, but can't seem to impress a single hen. 

So close to being an awesome picture.