After 6 weeks of living out of a suitcase, I was really looking forward to moving into the place that would be our home. I was focused primarily on receiving our sea shipment, which meant finally having all the things that helped define our daily life back in Scituate. The morning of the move, I sat in the echoing apartment daydreaming about all the things I would find in the shipment: our own pillows, more shoes, Crest toothpaste, favorite books, comfy chairs, some lovely blue glass vases, ponytail holders, the kids toys. As the movers arrived, bringing with them box after box, reality set in. We brought a lot of stuff. Even the movers thought we brought a lot of stuff.

The initial delight at finding familiarity quickly degenerated into feeling completely overwhelmed. I think Jed summed it up best, when, surrounded by piles of his own precious items, he said “this is just so, so stressful.” Reviewing all the “necessities” we brought made me realize that we were doing fine without any of our stuff from back at home. Each box seemed to disgorge more of those bits and pieces that seem to multiply as life happens. A few books here, some craft supplies there, those extra containers you might need to store that extra stuff you might have . . . .  We didn’t need these precious items for more than six weeks, and didn’t miss most of them. The things I really missed – scotch tape, a nonstick pan, a butter dish – were easily and quickly replaced.

Clearly I am not the only one with this problem. Clutter is such a hot button O Magazine dedicated the most recent issue to teaching us strategies about how to tame our clutter, get rid of emotionally loaded items, and manage our closets.  Is accumulation a new American cultural norm? Is the fact that there are enough Hoarders out there to support an entire TV season an indication that our culture has reached some sort of tipping point?  As I ponder these questions, I also have that niggling question in the back of my mind:  which came first, my electric labeler or all my stuff?

In many places outside of the United States, kitchen fixtures are moveable. You buy cabinets, appliances, etc. and you take them with you when you move. Craziness, I used to think. But maybe the crazy is all the distinctly unnecessary things I have shipped halfway around the world to define home. When I think of Jed sitting there, surrounded by things, but so clearly stressed and unhappy with the weight and memory of it all, I am resolved to set an example and shed some (all?) of the extra. If this were a magazine article, I would end with a description of how I triumphantly purged the extra pancake turners and scissors. I didn’t. I really like having extra scissors around. I did, however, put together a sizable bag of books to donate to the school library, and I have a big bag of clothes ready to drop off at a local charity bin.  Like water on a stone, I’ll wear down this hoard. It’s just going to take time. Oh, and the next time we move? Way less. Way, way, way less.

It looked like last Saturday was going to be “cold” and rainy, so we woke the boys up early and headed to Hong Kong Disneyland. The boys were excited by the destination, and Tommy felt the need to be out of the apartment, doing something. Last Saturday Tommy’s grandfather’s wake was held in New Hampshire, and we couldn’t travel home to be there. Great Grampy was an amazing man, with a gift for enjoying the company of others and experiencing life with joy. Luke’s memories of Grampy are few, but Jed and Ty both remember him as quick with a pun, and eager to teach them a trick or three.  It seemed fitting to spend the day of his wake in a place suffused with cheer, laughter and fun.

The trip didn’t take long – about 30 minutes on the MTR and we were there. The boys were delighted with the MTR Disneyland Resort Line. Even though it appears to be part of the regular train system, the MTR Disneyland line train is done up in full Disney style. Luke thought it was “like riding in a giant limousine.” I particularly appreciated the Mickey-shaped windows, and the bronze sculptures of various disney characters were a nice touch. However, I was most impressed with the cleanliness, spaciousness and speed of the regular MTR. Granted, we were riding at 8.45 AM on a Saturday (very early here), but still! The stations are spacious and spotless, with plexiglass enclosing and dimming the actual track. Signage is clear and in English. When a train arrives, doors slide open and you step into a clean, spacious, quiet car. The whole experience casts a new light on the loud, sweaty, packed journeys I’ve had on both the Tube in London and the T in Boston.

Hong Kong Disneyland was pleasantly uncrowded. The park in general is smaller than other Disneys, but it was a scale that we enjoyed. The exit from the MTR, the actual entrance, MainStreet USA, the rides, the layout – they all replicate the Orlando model. In fact, it is so much the same that the smaller, less majestic “Sleeping Beauty’s Castle” is more disconcerting than it should be.

We were first to Autotopia, HK Disney’s very civilized electric version of the noisy gas driven Tomorrowland Speedway ride in Orlando. We much preferred the HK Disney version, although the steering wheels were on the right instead of the left. Luke was excited to try Space Mountain, and was just as excited for it to end. The Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters were a hit, as were the Mad Hatter Tea Cups (a fave of mine as a kid that I can no longer tolerate) and the Slinky Dog Spin (like the Matterhorn).

At Jed’s request, we had lunch at The Main Street Corner Cafe, which advertised a “premium American menu”, including “Cream of Wild Mushroom Latte” and “Napolitano Farmers Tomato Soup.” Very warm water (not iced) was offered before our meal, which the boys found enormously entertaining, if not very refreshing. Jed was a bit disappointed; I think we would have had better luck at one of the many places serving local fare. Expectation has a lot to do with how a meal goes for our family. But Jed took it in stride, comforted by the fact that the Small World Ice Cream stand was not far away. As we sat down to lunch, we told the boys about Great Grampy’s death and discussed his joyful approach to life, his love of music and his cheerful nature. As if in celebration, a marching band emerged from around the corner and played its way down the street.

The familiarity of the park was a strong counterpoint to how foreign it felt. Food carts that looked exactly the same as those at Disneyworld served caramel and chocolate popcorn, corn on a stick, “frozen lollipops” or “pizza cones”. Although we were not the only Westerners in the park (not by a long shot) or foreign appearance earned us searching stares from some of the mainland tourists. Tommy was easy to spot, because everywhere we went he was several inches taller than most everyone else. Even I could see over at least half of the crowd. I was physically reminded – more than once – of our cultures’ profound differences in personal space. As we lined up to take in the parade (remember this was an uncrowded day) we were jostled and shoved as those around us looked to compress our space even further – and we already felt squeezed. The other phenomenon that while not unexpected, is still remarkable in its pervasiveness is the desire to take jokey snapshots – even at the expense of everyone else. We seemed to be some of the park’s only “guests” not invested in recording every moment of our visit on video or in snapshots. That parade we lined up for? When the music began announcing the arrival of the floats, nearly every person raised some sort of recording device. Lucky for you, I have no video to share, but I can offer a picture or two – enjoy!

I just booked plane tickets for April break. It took me awhile to prioritize figuring out when (if!) the boys had spring break. Turns out they do, and it is a week and a half at the very beginning of April.  This would give us plenty of time to take in one of those exotic destinations that are now in the realm of possibility for spring break travel. Bali, New Zealand, Fiji and Australia are all close enough to consider.  But in the end, I booked flights back to the US.  I can already hear the howls from those who would love to have the proximity to these locales we have. But here’s the deal. We are all tired – not the kind of tired you get when you’re not sleeping well, or the tired after a long day of hiking or swimming, or even the tired after a 13 hour plane ride. This is a kind of exhaustion unique to those experiencing a new set of circumstances. It’s the tired you get when you are bombarded with “different” all day and then you fall asleep in a bed that feels unfamiliar.

This is not to say that I am not enjoying our journey.  There are things I really love, like the way the lights from the skycrapers provide a dim glow at night, like the whole city is a nightlight; or the delight of being able to walk to wherever I want in extraordinarily mild temperatures; or the surprisingly stealthy appearance of a window cleaner right in front of me, 13 stories up as I sit and write. It’s just that when it came to booking a vacation, the thought of enjoying a new place, new foods, new vistas, new rhythms just felt too much like what we are doing here everyday.  We needed a break from our adventure –   a vacation back to the familiar. I chickened out. Don’t judge me.

So we are headed back to Truckee, CA, where (knock wood) the biggest challenge will be the best route down the mountain and the choice between nachos and chicken fingers.  I am sure we will partake of the dizzying travel opportunities presented by living on this side of the world. Eventually. For now, a little bit of home feels right.

“Are we ever going to eat at home again?”

When Luke asked me this one night last week, it made me realize how much I had been avoiding cooking. It’s no secret that I have picky eaters. In fact, my parents will tell you that I was (and still am) a picky eater myself. I worked long and hard to get my oldest to accept something beyond Perdue chicken nuggets; ham was a big step, as were hot dogs, ramen noodles, homemade chicken strips and pizza with sauce. Pasta is still a no go (as it was with me through college and even while backpacking in Italy. I am sure my roommates could tell you how annoying that was).  After checking out a grocery store on our househunting trip in November, I felt I could breathe a sigh of relief: hotdogs could be bought; plain, uncooked boneless skinless chicken breasts were easy to find; ramen noodles were plentiful.  And they all are, but while hot dogs are readily available, buns aren’t.  The chicken tastes terrible and is tougher than any poultry I have ever eaten, and the ramen noodles are an ingredient you would only eat with something else to add flavor – which means they rank alongside jalapenos and spicy curry on the list of things the kids will eat.

It’s not like we eat every meal out or have take out for three meals a day.  We have breakfast at home all the time – cereal and milk isn’t hard to find and cornflakes taste about the same.  Lunches are not hard to put together either.  We have found packaged ham just like we use at home and the bread is good. The boys eagerly try new packaged goodies that I would not buy if I were grocery shopping at home. Ritz with cheese, chocolate goldfish, swiss wafers, small packs of mint milanos, yogurt raisins, cereal bars – they all have found their way into the boys lunches. But the packaged stuff is not where I want to expand the breadth of what they will eat. I needed to get creative about expanding our taste and texture tolerances. Creative and willing to spend some money. The Garden Cafe is a lovely restaurant just a few floors away. It costs a small fortune every time we eat there but it has been worth every penny.

The Garden Cafe is a hotel restaurant which serves an extensive buffet at breakfast, lunch and dinner. There is section devoted to Chinese dishes, an array of Japanese selections, a carving station with several choices of meat, fish and poultry (duck, anyone?), as well as all the choices we find “usual” at a buffet – eggs, bacon, sausage, bread, muffins, bagels, fruit and an omelette station. Each meal we eat at the Garden Cafe begins with the directive that everyone must try something new. With a western dessert buffet for consolation, attempting a new flavor isn’t that bad. Between us, we have tried sliced octopus, sushi, deep fried salmon with noodles, bean sprout salad with some sort of unidentifiable fruit, dumplings, delicious chunks of arctic char with mirin, fried noodle dishes, fruit smoothies that tasted weirdly of meat, tiny sardines (?), and a pepper mousse that I thought was tomato soup.

I credit the buffet with helping the boys’ tastebuds adapt to their new home. We are thrilled that Jed has decided salmon rolls are palatable, and while Luke is not pleased with the taste of the seaweed, he will happily eat cold sliced octopus. Ty remains an adventurous eater, gamely trying all sorts of new textures and flavors.  The boys all love calamari and are also willing to eat chicken or beef satay.

Since the boys are game for different tastes and textures, cooking might get fun again. Next step, more eating in, less eating out!