The morning-after, del día después, za dan poslje: Same shit, different languages.

It's got the same name in every language. The pill you need the morning after. I will not even get into the details of why or who I am buying this pill for. I get to the pharmacy and immediately learn that being almost 42 does not prevent you from feeling quite self conscious when asking for the morning-after pill. Even the detachment of saying it in Croatian (using impeccable accusative case, mind you!) doesn't help. Let alone at the judgmental stare that the chemist offers me. She says they don't have it. I ask if I can order it. She says I should try another pharmacy. It is raining and quite cold for October. This woman, I know it in my bones, is refusing to sell me the pill. My awesome wing-woman almost gets me killed by jaywalking to cross to another ljekarna. But we get there in one piece, and I ask for the pill again. I am told that I can buy it, but I need to answer a few questions in a form first. More than 10, including my year of birth. Only one is related to health issues such as allergies. When the form is done, and handed in, I am asked for my name and surname, and that of my gynecologist. I lie not. The pill is 190 kuna. 25.5 euro. In Zagreb, a qualified intern works 10.5 hours to make this amount. A mid-range meal for two is 190 kuna. Three bottles of good wine in the market. The monthly pass for the tram when you're a student. With 190 kunas, you can treat 5 people to McDonald's and get some change. So I got to thinking about what I've always thought to be the average woman in need of this "emergency contraceptive", as the box describes it in Croatian. Hitna kontracepcija. My guess is that in average she is young and really wants to avoid both a pregnancy and an abortion. Her condom may have broken. She may have had unprotected sex. She could have been raped. She may be regretting a sexual encounter. She wants and needs that pill, and all she gets is judgement, obstacles and a freaking high price tag.
I cannot think of a more fucked-up way of designing a system in order to to tell someone "I told you so", while waving a nagging finger at them, rejoicing that you have not helped avoid what I can only think of as disaster.

Q is for Questions

Questions such as "what was I thinking when I committed to 26 blog posts during the month of April?"

I am really busy with other questions at the moment. Like...

- What strategies can I come up with that will be easy to implement by parents and teachers (all adults, in fact) to help develop their kids' character strengths?
- Has anyone ever classified folktales according to character strengths they portray or teach?
- What three collaborative creation activities am I going to do with the Grade 8 class I was invited to teach next Wednesday?

Just a few examples.

And then the question everybody is asking me these days: after your conference in the US in July...are you going back to Buenos Aires or to Zagreb?

I am ever so glad that at a given point in the past decade I became comfortable with replying "I don't know". The complete answer to all of these, now that I have been studying Growth Mindset and such marvels, is "I don't know YET!"

P is for Pana Wakke

www.panawakke.com

Founding a start-up and then making it work, and later grow is a constant learning experience. What you want to do professionally and who you are as an individual blend completely. For good and for bad.

Eventually, you realise that the company has become a living organism, and as such, it morphs and adapts. Hopefully, it will never lose its essence. And ideally, I will manage to pour into Pana Wakke my best traits, and in avoiding to pass on my worst, both the company and myself will become better.

Our name, Pana Wakke, is inspired in the words Sister Brother in Quechua, an aboriginal language from South America.

In its most literal interpretation, Pana Wakke describes our corporate structure, as my brother Marko and his wife Belén are co-founders and business partners. Pana Wakke would not exist without them.

When we join forces with storytellers, project leaders, sales reps and such, we aim to build life-long relationships, and for that, we source people who want to know about the soul of what we do before the practical aspects. And they become part of the family as well.

In a more subtle way, though, our name describes our mission. We believe in the "brotherhood of man". Brazenly.

We hope that we are making a contribution to make the world a bit kinder, a bit more inclusive and a bit more humane. As I wrote in an abstract not long ago: "It is to be hoped that as they recognize its  invaluable benefits, schools and parents will engage more in storytelling and reclaim the essence of human relationships."

I never meant to start my own company. As so many of the crucial things that happen in life, it was a series of seemingly random events that led to it. And thus, the amount of people and forces of nature I am grateful to today is colossal.

There is no doubt I am a lucky girl. Thanks. Thanks. Thanks.

O is for OMG!

OMG! What is this in my hotel room? How do I read the instructions?

OMG! Who thought of this snack?

OMG! The sense of fashion!

OMG! Perplexity inspiring design

OMG! The signs

OMG! Powerful magnets

OMG! Really? 

 OMG! Let's celebrate spring!

N is for Noise

http://static.dnaindia.com/sites/default/files/2016/01/05/411253-noise.jpg

I have a few ideas of where my intolerance for noise comes from. I won't bore you with those theories. Suffice it to say that noise bothers me immensely.

I cannot shut out background noise, which becomes as prominent to me as the ongoing conversation I am having. They call this attention deficit. I call it unavoidable attention. If I had a choice, I wouldn't hear background noise.

China is definitely the wrong geography for  someone who cannot stand noise. Noise thrives in Chinese cities.

The language is tonal and loud.
Ringtones are intense and the shriller the better, it seems.
Headphones...not required to play media in public transport. No one frowns upon anyone for playing videos on a train. Unless I happen to be there, of course.
Radio on taxis is played loud.
Honking while driving is mandatory.
The cacophony of music playing form two or three sources at the same time doesn't seem to bother anyone but me.
Kids are encouraged to be seen and heard.
The cleaning staff of a hotel will stand at your door and scream at one another at 5.30 am, and be genuinely surprised when you open your door to ask them to be quiet. The quiet doesn't ever last long.
There seems to be no place or time when being noisy is discouraged, I believe.

I used to think of those bulky headphones as a fashion item that I would never have any use for. Until recently, when while bored at an airport, I discovered they have noise-cancellation devices. One of my best purchases ever. A dream come true. Headphones with a little switch that muff unwanted noise out. If I play quiet music, the noise disappears completely.

Who said that happiness cannot be purchased?

--
Dying to read what Robin has to say about Noise and China! http://startingfromzed.blogspot.com

M is for Mandarin

Hello

I hate it when people assume I can speak Chinese. I can't. I have lots of non-Chinese friends who speak it well. And read it too! So saying that I speak Mandarin would be a lie and quite unfair to those who have studied it seriously.

What I can do in Mandarin is get by. And get the stuff I need. I call it "functional" Chinese, and although I am occasionally embarrassed that I am not a bit more proficient, I confess that I know almost all the Mandarin I want to know.

L is for Lodgings

I like this type of shower/bathroom because glass gives me a sense of "cleaner".

L is for lodgings. And "lottery" too. And in China, picking lodgings is a lottery of sorts. So I spend quite some time picking our hotels or apartments when we go somewhere for the first time.

There are 3 cities in China where we arrive at hotels and I am welcome as an old friend. To me, that is almost enough to become a repeat client. It is very rare to be acknowledged as a return client in China. So a "Welcome back Sonia" goes a long way with me. That, and a place that is consistent in its strengths and tries to improve on its flaws.

Without a doubt, the lowest points in the lodgings lottery were shared with David Novak. In some cases upon checkin in in the middle of the night. So here's a warning: don't EVER stay in Beijing Capital Airport hotel. Or in that fancy-looking place in Guangzhou where they don't have rooms with windows but don't feel the need to specify it during the booking process.

K is for Kids

The only time I went to an astrologer, she said something along the lines of my life being touched by huge amounts of kids. She emphasised the amount, clarifying that this went beyond offspring or nieces and nephews.  And she said that kids would transform my life, or maybe already had.

So what am I going to say about kids in just one blog post? Kids are my life! But not in the doting, drooling, pampering kids of way. What educators do is all about kids and thinking constantly of what kind of world we need to build for them, and who they need to be in this world.

On Friday I did a workshop for teachers and during my intro, I confessed to being someone who gets very excited about curriculum design. (Croatia is introducing a new National Curriculum). For me, curriculum is the ultimate form of applied philosophy. The WHY of the what and how we are going to teach is such a deep philosophical debate.

Anyhoo. I thought I'd just lighten it up with offering George Carlin talking about devotion of children. Most of it is really profound, as excellent stand up can be. (It's not for the faint of heart!)

It is my hope that through Pana Wakke we are making a good contribution. Rather than being "out-of-the-box", we're trying to get rid of the box completely.

J is for Jet Lag

Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/175218241727379957/

I confess that there are barely any people whose advice on fighting jet lag I would consider listening to, let alone heeding. And the bastard -jet lag, I mean,- is so random that even I have given up on magic recipes and I just play it by ear.

Before becoming so zen about it, I think I tried it all: adjusting to local time immediately, sticking to the previous biorhythm, melatonin, homeopathic pills from New Zealand, sleeping pills, sleep induction tablets, herbs, tea, meditation, counting sheep, exercise, massage, Malbec, you name it.

And now I stick to just two rules. Walk a lot and spend as much time as possible in daylight. Ideally, you do both at once. For food, sleep, thirst and other bodily functions, just listen to your body and go with the flow.  Bitching moderately about it also helps, but it's not essential.

What I hate about jet lag is that tiredness to the point of nausea; tossing in bed endlessly.  when you finally fall asleep,  waking up with the urge to pee. Five times, at least. Not being able to make up your mind if it is cold or warm. Ordering lunch and not being able to eat.

But jet lag has its ups, I must admit.  I love arriving places, so where there is jet lag, there is excitement. About seeing new places or meeting old friends, or being back home. I also love the ridiculously early mornings, when I feel like the only awake person on earth. And jet-lagged is the only state in which I am freakishly productive between 4 and 9 am. I do heaps of things, I feel awesome, and then by 9 am I can be super lazy with no guilt!

I is for Internet (or lack of)

I is for Internet, and certainly for "irony", as I am posting this from a long-distance* bus that has free wi-fi available. So I have internet to blog on the road, somewhere between Sibenik and Zagreb, but I did not have internet to work from a hotel room in Beijing. Or Shanghai. Or Shenzhen, just name it.

And then, to be fair, I have to remind myself that we actually did have internet. Pretty much everywhere. Irrelevant internet, but internet indeed.

Our tour happened to coincide in time and place with one of the Party's parties. I forget what they call it. Basically, the delegates of all provinces of the People's Republic of China gather to make decisions about the future of their country. They pick presidential candidates and make policy. I cannot imagine something more boring. It is quite likely that there is more heated argument and debate in any meeting of cardinals at the Vatican, than can happen at one of these conventions.

So what any normal being would consider "relevant" internet is shut down to all of us inhabiting Chinese soil. Now matter how temporarily. What's the use of a computer, tablet or smartphone without Google, Google maps, Wikipedia, foreign newspapers, Facebook, Blogs or access to all Pana Wakke email and even our own website?

The truth is that the Chinese government don't give two hoots about what people like Robin or myself do on social media, or what papers we read, or even what we blog about. They are obviously well aware of the existence of VPNs**, which in very lay terms is software you install on your computer (before getting to China)  to fool "the internet" by faking your location.

This time they turned the main switch off. On everything. Stricter and for longer than I can remember. It was incredibly frustrating, and affected my work and my mood. Big time.

But now I note that the very best device installed on human beings is the inability to recreate frustration, regardless of how badly you felt it at the time of the events that provoked it. Or at least, I have that software installed in its most upgraded version.

I am trying to remember my grievances with China, how mad I was, how incommunicado I felt...and it's just not happening.

All I can remember is that I had friends who welcomed me in their fancy VPNed offices, lent me passwords to the stuff that did work, or poured a glass of wine to accompany me in the rants. My sister opened a temporary email account and set my main email to forward automatically to the new one. Clients were patient and I read more in the evenings.

While I write from my reclined seat, on a bus whose driver is not trying to get us killed, with great music playing on my noise-reduction headphones...I am satisfied. And generally happy.

My VPN troubles are behind and I can post a silly Facebook status complaining that my bus has wifi but what I really want is to pee, and there is no toilet.

We just cannot have it all.

* Note that distances are not quite long in Croatia.
**Virtual Private Network

To learn how Robin felt about connectivity, check her blog! http://startingfromzed.blogspot.hr/

H is for Herbal Candy

I don't care much for herbal candy but I cannot resist a good tin box. So I buy them, empty the contents in friends' handbags or pockets, and keep the containers.

I wish I could post a photo of my collection. I keep all sorts of crap in these containers. They are so beautiful my friends love them, and I've been known to gift them as birthday presents. What's inside them is appreciated, but the little metal box even more so.

I only gift these boxes to people who will get as excited about them as me. And with time, they have become a favourite souvenir from China.

--
Afterthought: I realise the content of my post is quite unrelated to its content. But that's what herbal candy is for me: a gorgeous tin-box opportunity ;)

G is for Great Wall

When I was a child, my grandfather Dido used to express his amazement that the Great Wall of China was the only man-made structure that could be seen from the moon.

I have never bothered to check the veracity of that fact. And I think that the clouds of smog over China would make it impossible to see the ground even from a twin-engined plane.

This is fact: When I went to the Great Wall for the first time, I had already been in China for six months. However, it was when standing on those stones that it dawned on me that I was in China. And even though I seldom pose for photos, I had this one taken for my grandfather.

I sent him the photo by email (via my one of my brothers). The next time I visited Buenos Aires, I went to see my grandfather in a rehabilitation clinic. He was there to recover from a hip replacement at the age of 92. And everyone knew me as the grandchild who was in China. He had had the photo printed (A4) and it was there with him. I know he had gregariously travelled with me, which makes total sense, as he is one of the people I carry everywhere.

The Great Wall has always been one of his places to me.

F is for Friends

I love my friends so much, that if I blogged about them I could make you vomit. I started this post several times. And although I generally don't mind getting personal, it got a bit out of hand in length.

It seems that not content with having many friends, I know them in detail. 

Then I tried to think of my friends "in bulk". Inconvenient. Because what group of friends should I focus on?

Probably my friends in China. They open the doors to welcome me; they store my crap so I can travel light; they lend me books; they get me maps; they dine and wine with "my" storytellers; they recommend restaurants and cook me home-made meals; they let me tuck their kids in bed; they wake me up for early coffee;  they lend me extra clothes; they get me beauty products and salon discounts; they give me business advise and introduce me to awesome people. They are my home away from home and I love them. And I'm blogging about China this month.

But while I was in China, my school friends were also constantly with me. How so? We exchange a gazillion messages on a daily basis. While I am on the opposite end of the world, my good friend G. in BA, recovering from the removal of a tumor in her breast, and facing a year of intensive chemo and radiation. Our girls have become drivers, delivery women, company, personal shoppers, meditation coaches, logistics operators and such. If you must ever to go through hell in this life, make sure you count on a group of women like them to support you.

Or else those other friends that are present because they were part of my life in Shanghai and are now elsewhere in the world. So bits of my heart are scattered in a few parts of Australia, in Winnipeg, in Philippines, Amsterdam, Sao Paulo, Madrid, Thailand, London, Buenos Aires, Liverpool. Plus the ones who have nothing to do with China and are also far away.

And there are the new friends. And others I carry with me constantly.

So it is truly impossible to write about friends. Here or there or anywhere.

--

Robin is also blogging about Friends! http://startingfromzed.blogspot.hr/

E is for East meets West

"Oh, East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet"

by Rudyard Kipling

I thought this would be a long post, but I was wrong. East does meet West, and I know exactly where: it is in the hearts and minds of those who can sense beyond the senses.

East meets West in the hearts of the best people.

D is for Dumplings

Robin arrives in Shanghai saying that all she wanted to do in China is eat dumplings. This turns out to not be true in that this is really not all she wants to do. However, eat dumplings we do. Dumplings with a story.

On the first morning after her arrival, Robin and I go for morning coffee and divergent (oh so divergent!) conversation. A lazy Saturday. In between coffees, I leave her to dash to the ATM and buy her dumplings. The type that come in soup.

A mere 15 minutes later, I come back to Costa Coffee to find Robin sitting with a young dude. They have struck an instant friendship, despite the fact that he has approached her with something in the lines of "you-smell-awesome-what-shampoo-do-you-use". Far from freaking her out, they acknowledge each other as kindred spirits and sit for coffee together. (Robin drinks tea, actually, so I use "coffee" as a concept).

And I find them engaged in intent conversation. Hunter is his name. So in the time it has taken me to get some cash and dumplings, Robin has already learnt that Hunter's been educated in an international school in China; that he speaks perfect Chinese; that he is a consultant of sorts; that his dream is to become a workshop facilitator; that in consequence he is passionate about storytelling; that he is originally from somewhere weird in the States, considering his cosmopolitan background; and that he knows the BEST place for dumplings in our area.

I'll skip to the part when we actually go to Hunter's dumpling place. The type of dumpling they make here is not the small one that comes in soup, but the big (HUGE) dumpling that is steamed and then fried. Or only fried, I forget.

They are big. They are allegedly stuffed with shrimp, or pork and veggies, or whatever else. The bottom is crusty from the frying. You bite off the top and slurp the "juice" inside. Noisily, if you can manage that. Then you eat it. In a few bites, because it is a huge dumpling. Trying to balance the thing in your chopsticks. (I later noticed that those who are more savvy also take a spoon to help in the process!) That juice inside is superb.

We have dumplings every time we get a chance. All types, in fact. At a given moment I take a few days' break, but for Robin's last meal, right before going to the airport, we go back to Hunter's place.

About a week later, I go to another branch of Yang's Dumpling. (Not YAN  G'S DUMP  LING, as the sign reads!) I order my favourite. I cannot eat them. They are so greasy and disgusting.

Upon telling my friends about my disappointment, they say that all of them are greasy. Big time. In fact, they had been bewildered that Robin and I had not noticed in our first two visits. I'm not surprised, food junkies that we are.

--
For what Robin has to say about dumplings check http://startingfromzed.blogspot

C is for Cats

When I was a child, cats used to be responsible for breaking into the garbage and making a mess, thus earning everybody's antipathy. Specially my brothers', whose job it was to clean up the mess. I was extremely allergic to them, so I kept as far from them as possible.

So although I typically have a lot to say on any topic, "cats" only came to be in this blog because Robin is an enthusiast, to say the least. She has two in her family and then will pour her love on any stray cat that crosses her way. The title for this blog was decided way before we first hugged at Pudong airport.

Cats love me though! Wherever there is a cat around, it will come to auntie Sonia. If they belong with someone, I let them leap onto my lap and pet them. (I know a lost battle when I see one.) Then my eyes get swollen, my nose is runny and I need to take a pill.

I thought my friends Eva and Solomon were completely nuts when they got their first cat, Paco. He got depressed and wouldn't come down from his nook on top of the AC. Not even for food. Eventually, he was prescribed Prozac and a girlfriend. True story.  Paco is still not very social, but when I visit, he comes out. We notice because...my eyes swell, my nose starts acting funny and I need to take a pill.

In Shanghai, cats earned my respect because cats equals no rats. So they are welcome around restaurants. Why they are considered lucky in the whole of China is a puzzle to me. I have managed to spend heaps of time there without ever buying one of those cats that attract fortune. Not even for a lark. Although technically, they are the safest form of cat for me.

To me, the person who's nailed the whole mystery about felines, their allure and their distant cool, is David Novak. Hear all about it in The Snakes' Disguise. I don't want to ruin it for you, so hear it from the man himself.

Check out Robin Bady's blog! We agreed on the theme (China) and titles before starting, and now we blog as a duet. http://startingfromzed.blogspot

B is for Beijing

B is for Beijing and Beijing is for contradictions.

It is the capital city of modern China and yet the most backward one in looks and logistics. Beijing is the city where you will have to pass three security check points in order to see Tiananmen Square from the opposite pavement, and then bump into a Tibetan Art Centre that boasts a not-too-subtle sculpture at the entrance. Beijing is flat and spread out, yet walking-unfriendly. Taxi-unfriendly too, for that matter. Its dialect is the most aggressive-sounding, yet its people are kind. Except when they're not. Beijing is the intellectual centre of China, and the place where it will be most difficult to find people who speak English, even working in very western restaurants.

I have found a little patch of Beijing that I am comfortable in. It has my usual hotel, a fabulous range of food options, easy(ish) access to the highway, and a big bookstore across the road.

Invariably, the highlight of Beijing to me, is reuniting with my dear friend Quynh and her lovely family. It is catching up on life, common passions and musings, and being "auntie Sonia" as much as the kids will let me.

On my last visit, Beijing unveiled to me what I now know to be its strongest suit: passionate people who work to strengthen their ties to the community and live life with meaning. Leaders and staff of NGOs that are doing incredible work. Young dreamers who are making a life in China, neverminding the bad air, or the traffic, and instead betting on what the place has to offer and what they can offer back.

My general experience of expats in China - with wonderful exceptions that confirm the rule, was that people are there to get as much as they can out of it. Beijing being different in every way it can, has challenged that notion beautifully. And I am thankful for that.



--
For an overview of the people and projects I am most excited about:

Growing Home: 
http://chinadevelopmentbrief.cn/articles/growing-home-the-ngo-that-tells-bedtime-stories-to-rural-boarding-students/

Which was "handed" to me by

Roundabout China
http://www.roundaboutchina.com/

And Robin's blog, for same titles different takes on our experiences of China:
http://startingfromzed.blogspot.hr/

A is for Air Quality

The first time I went to Beijing I fell in love with the city. I had been in China for months, but it was on that weekend escapade that it dawned on me that I was actually in China. Beijing wowed me. We had three days of blue skies and cold, crisp air. Little did I know that my photos of that visit would become sort of a collector's item!

I avoid obsessing with checking pollution levels. Breathing is unavoidable, and I've spent enough on therapy to be able to let go of most things when there is nothing I can do about them. And I hate the feeling of second-hand air that you get when using a mask.

However, upon arriving in Beijing a few weeks ago, even I could notice that pollution was off the charts. And eventually, I did check. And the index was 414! The image above shows Guangzhou rated as VERY UNHEALTHY today, at a mere 296. Well...414 is considered HAZARDOUS. Yet, what to do?

We got out of the plane, walked into a foul fog, and had to wait for our luggage in a place that smelled like an indoor parking lot where all engines have been left running. Looking out of the window during our taxi ride was pointless. It was the middle of the night and all we could see were the street lights dimmed by the smog.

I am pretty sure that Robin was unimpressed. Beijing may boast the prettiest monuments in the whole of China, but their airport is certainly not one of them. So if that and the air are to be your first impressions of this wonderful city, it will most likely do the opposite of wowing you.

And at a certain level, I regret that because "A is for Air Quality" this will also be the readers' first impression of our wonderful adventure in China.  It seems unfair that the only ancient civilization that is still standing will be appraised by the most publicly known aspects of it. Ruthless "progress". Pollution. Work conditions. Spitting.

On Saturday morning the skies cleared for us. We had four gorgeous days. I would not go as far as to state that we had blue skies, but pollution went down to the hundreds and we could feel the boost of collective energy that happens with the beginning of spring after a long winter.

Despite the low point at which we started, Beijing was probably the highlight of this tour. But for more of that, stay tuned for B. B is for Beijing.

A to Z challenge

Challenge accepted. I've got Robin Bady to thank for that. Thanks.

She mentioned the Alphabet posting when we met in China. And said she was thinking about doing it all about her China tour. "Do you know what would be cool?" I asked. "We should both agree on the A-Z titles and then blog separately."

And a few weeks later, here I am. Committed to writing 26 blog posts about China in the next few weeks. Unlike Robin, whose first visit to China was this February/March, I have spent heaps of time there. Four + years living in Shanghai, and since 2012, two annual visits of an average 6 weeks and 5 cities.

I love China like I love my mother: profoundly, undisputedly, with immense gratitude yet the frank acknowledgment that she can push those buttons and often does! Both mum and China have the infinite capacity to awe me and exasperate me, all rolled in one.

So whatever may come from this, know that it comes from a place of genuine, unconditional love.