Mere Mortality

All aboard!

If you've looked at the photograph immediately above, you will probably have noted the presence of a lot more facial hair than usual. The reason for the growth had less to do with the onset of winter and more to do with the immediate aftermath of surgery performed on my neck, the scar of which you can see below in a photo taken after I returned home following an overnight stay in a local hospital. Not wanting to risk cutting open the suture, I decided a more prudent course of action would be to forgo shaving until after a follow-up visit with my vascular surgeon early next year. Unfortunately, after only 11 days of looking around 15 years older (according to my wife), my inexperience with beards resulted in a botched attempt at trimming the facial hair, with the end result being clean-shaven and looking my relatively youthful self again, albeit one who appears to have a neck tumor due to the post-op swelling:

Other than the aforementioned swelling, a sore throat and the aging hipster look, I feel fine following the operation. However, changes will have to be made when it comes to diet, according to the booklet I was given after being discharged from the hospital. As my daughter pointed out, the booklet assumes stroke patients are elderly folks, an impression confirmed by some of the tips given within - I should exercise by "rak(ing) leaves or work(ing) in the garden" and "walking to the mailbox"!:

I should point out here that the surgery I underwent was done in order to prevent a stroke, not because I had one...yet:

And so, as a brave new world opens up, here's a brief round-up of what else has been going on (other than studying Mandarin and taking retirement seminars) since the last time. Like the time I came across a pair of deer while going for a walk in the local cemetery:

Our Christmas tree, purchased from a supermarket. It only goes up to my waist, but at least it's a real living organism. Charlie Brown would've approved, I'm sure:

My daughter the flutist. She "flauted" (get it?) her skills at her school's winter concert earlier this month:

After months of relying on Uber and public transport, our car has finally been inspected, registered and tuned up, and is now plying the highways and byways of northern Virginia. Having been sitting idle on a dock for several months earlier this year, the vehicle initially failed the required emissions test, so the mechanic advised us to drive it on a highway for at least 30 minutes at speeds over 50 mph (80 kph) before bringing it in again. This we did one Sunday by visiting Warrenton, a scenic town of 9000 souls 40 miles (65 kilometers) by freeway from Falls Church. Incorporated in 1810, the downtown area has a number of old buildings:

Because I was advised not to drive for at least a week following the surgery, meaning Shu-E had to do all the driving, I was able to enjoy some of the beers on tap at the Wort Hog Brewery. The girls suggested I pose hiding the scar...:

…and by showing it off, for which I was happy to oblige. As a friend suggested, if anyone inquires as to what happened, I should say "You should see the bear":

As a kid, while waiting in the car at railroad crossings for the freight trains to slowly pass by, I would count all the cars, and then get excited when the red caboose came along. Modern technology has made the caboose obsolete, but Warrenton has a restored 1969 Norfolk and Western model on display:

The old Warrenton Branch spur line has been converted into a bicycle/walking trail:

The Warren Green Hotel was where Union General George McClellan said farewell to his officers on November 11, 1862 after being relieved of his command of the Army of the Potomac by President Abraham Lincoln. The current building was erected in 1875 following the destruction of the hotel in a fire:

Built in 1808, the old county jail is now a local history museum:

A statue of Supreme Court Justice John Marshall stands outside the 1890 courthouse building:

For a town with a pronounced Confederate background (see below), Warrenton has a surprising number of hipster outlets such as the Deja Brew Cafe on Main Street, where I stopped for a salted caramel latte:

A rare public sighting of my wife on Main Street, USA:

We ended our time in Warrenton by visiting the local cemetery. I was looking for the grave of John S. Mosby, a Confederate colonel who led Mosby's Raiders, a cavalry battalion that harassed Union forces and eluded capture right up to the end of the Civil War. While I couldn't find his resting place, it was impossible to ignore the Confederate soldiers memorial in the center of the grounds:

The cemetery is also notorious for its role in the lynching of an African-American man in January 1880. The poor soul was hung from a locust tree in the cemetery, after being accused of bigamy and miscegenation for eloping with a white woman, an event the local tourist authorities neglect to mention:

Our venerated 2013 Honda Accord. The drive to Warrenton and back was apparently successful in that it passed the emissions inspection on its second attempt:

On the weekend before Christmas, our daughter could barely contain her excitement at being outdoors by closing her eyes at Lake Audubon, after confessing that she had never heard of the famed American ornithologist and painter:

Our purpose for going out to the lake was to walk the 4.7-mile (7.6 kilometers) Turquoise Trail at Glade Stream Valley Park:

A series of expensive homes lined the trail:

At one point we came across a pair of black vultures. Due to the overcast sky and poor lighting, I had to do some tinkering to make the birds easier to see in the pic:

I thought shaving off the beard would've restored my youthful appearance. Apparently the surgery has taken more of a toll than I realized:

Speaking of transient ischemic attacks and carotid endarterectomies, I undid whatever dietary progress I'd been making by indulging in a greasy cheeseburger with fries at the Big Buns Damn Good Burgers in Reston following our "hike". Amber, though not yet 16, ordered a much healthier grilled chicken burger, proving once again she's far wiser than her old man. I should make her my dietician. In my defense, it was a damn good burger. The chocolate milkshake with which I washed it down was also pretty fucking good:

In addition to red meat, I'm also supposed to avoid whole milk, so I may not have done myself any favors by indulging in a 奶茶 at Sharetea. Unless powdered milk was used, as my daughter pointed out is often the case at bubble tea outlets:

As it would've been difficult to wrap an acoustic guitar and place it under a tiny tree, Christmas came a little early for Amber this year (also, I wanted her to pick out for herself an instrument that she was comfortable with). This could be the cover shot for her debut album, Interstate 66 Revisited:

Speaking of Christmas, my daughter asked me how the day is celebrated in Taiwan, as she only remembers what we did as a family while we were living in Shengang 神岡. To which I had to reply I really had no idea how non-Christians in Taiwan observe the day, if they do anything at all. As it turns out (courtesy of my friend Steve, a long-time expat in Taichung 台中), the 25th of December essentially is just another day, although in recent years English kindergartens and cram schools 補習班 (one of the latter of which is owned and operated by Steve) have influenced some younger adults to exchange gifts among friends. Hypermarkets also stock Christmas-related merchandise, but it's a far cry from Japan, where department stores are decked out in seasonal decorations, and families celebrate the occasion with a dinner from KFC. And in a country where the day is not a national holiday and only about 1% of the population are Christians (one of the things I like best about Japan), many young couples celebrate Christmas Eve with a night of copulation in a love hotel, a fact of which I was reminded by this sign in a local bubble tea store:

Speaking of fowl, on the day before Christmas Shu-E and I drove to Gaithersburg, Maryland on another one of those furtive Taiwanese shopping excursions that would suggest to the unknowing that some sort of disreputable exchange was taking place. What actually occurs is that my wife will order some Taiwanese dishes online, then arrange to meet in a supermarket parking lot to pay the person and bring home the 餐 - it only looks shady, honest. On this occasion we actually went to a private residence, with a sign in Chinese instructing food buyers to park in the back. While I waited in the car, Shu-E met her dealer, forked over the dough and returned to the car with the goods:

The contraband, which included duck meat (on the far right), a favorite of the missus. Among the other dishes are málàdòufu 麻辣豆腐 - "bean curd flavored with hot spices"; and sǔngān típáng 筍干蹄膀 - "dried bamboo shoots". It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas (though in the end we had steak for Christmas dinner):

As I finish up this entry, it's Christmas Day. As you've already seen, Amber received her main present early, so the gift-giving this morning was low-key. Santa thoughtfully brought all three of us winter beanies with buttons to hold face masks (my daughter also got an Otamatone オタマトーン with which to broaden her musical horizons, and annoy her parents):

It was a relatively balmy 68°F (20°C) in the afternoon when I left the apartment to get some exercise. I ended up taking around 14,000 steps in 2+ hours along the W&OD and Four Mile Run trails, all the while listening to a psychedelia playlist, a good workout for keeping those arteries unclogged, but not quite as beneficial when it comes to beating hearts - according to my Fitbit, my organ was doing 127 bpm at the time I returned home. This could be the start of a Yuletide tradition, except that if all goes according to schedule, the chances are good that I'll be either freezing my ass off or choking on smog (or both) this time next year in Beijing 北京:

Just after taking this selfie a jogger stopped to warn me of a possibly rabid raccoon up ahead. I didn't see the critter, but I wasn't particularly concerned - one of the benefits (?) of my profession is that I've been vaccinated for many contingencies, rabies included. Bring it on procyonid!:

And so another Christmas is upon us. Happy holidays to all in Christendom, and to my family and friends in Japan and Taiwan, メリークリスマス and 聖誕快樂, respectively!

Encountering the Buddha...and leaves, and turkeys and life during and after the Foreign Service...

View of the Christina River and downtown Wilmington

This past Veterans Day an article appeared online at CNN's website. Entitled "Uncertainty, expense and recurring goodbyes: The life of a US Foreign Service family", it was enthusiastically received and shared by many of my colleagues on social media sites such as Facebook, with some describing it as an "accurate" depiction of what it's like working for the State Department. This particular FSO, though, isn't quite feeling the good vibrations.

The piece presents an overly rosy description of the positives of life in the Foreign Service while seemingly deliberately sidestepping the many negatives. If your idea of an American diplomat is that of a privileged white person trotting around the globe at taxpayers' expense, this article will do little to change that perception. Yes, you get to experience life overseas in government-provided housing, while your children attend decent private schools, and the travel opportunities are there (or were, pre-COVID-19) for those willing to seize them. But for every Shanghai or Vilnius (our first two tours), there is also an Addis Ababa (our last posting), where we lived behind barbed wire and with 24-hour guards on a street that (for the first part of our tour) was unpaved and potholed, relying on a generator and a tank to keep the electricity on and the water flowing, in a city where the crime situation was rapidly deteriorating (and where political upheaval has now led to the ordered evacuation of all family members from Ethiopia as rebel forces threaten the capital). It can be a comfortable bubble that we wrap ourselves in while overseas, but like the affluent visitors who stay in upscale hotels or Club Med when traveling overseas, we're largely cut off from the often harsh realities of our host countries. 

The article also makes the work of an FSO sound very glamorous, as we supposedly spend our time meeting "war criminals" and "revered humanitarian leaders", or discussing peace negotiations with governments and rebels. Actually, most of us spend the majority of our time dealing with petty bureaucracy from within the State Department; or trying to make sure shipments are delivered on time and in one piece (and facing the wrath of those colleagues whose things arrive late and/or damaged, or worse, missing); or being treated like retail sales staff at a mall store by American citizens who can't (or won't) understand the limits to what the their government can do in sovereign states (no, we can't send the Marines to get your nephew out of a local jail, and no, American laws and rights don't apply in foreign countries). The work is very often a grind, as a friend and fellow FSO aptly describes it, yet that isn't the picture being painted in the CNN story.

So, yes, while there are indeed a lot of positives to working in the Foreign Service, there are also quite a few downsides in working for an organization that still operates as an old boy network when it comes to assignments and promotions (and which is why the department largely remains stubbornly and overwhelmingly white and male), and one that seemingly gives short shrift to the experiences, skills and talents one could bring in from the outside world. So it shouldn't come as a surprise that I chose not to share the CNN article on Facebook. Perhaps I would have if I were currently studying, say,  Japanese, Korean or Thai in preparation for an upcoming  Consular assignment in Osaka, Seoul or Chiang Mai, but certainly not after my last couple of bidding experiences. Kids, if you're thinking of embarking on a career serving the diplomatic interests of the United States, do the research and weigh all the options, and don't only rely on PR pieces appearing on the likes of CNN. 

And with that out of the way, Happy Thanksgiving! That time of year to give thanks for...well, this year I'm not too sure of what. Usually, I'm grateful that my family and I are in good health, but while my wife and daughter seem to be doing fine, I'm scheduled to undergo surgery early next month, and hoping the 30% chance of what the operation is meant to prevent doesn't occur between now and then. So I'll hold off on the physical gratitude, and instead appreciate the fact that here in northern Virginia one can take in the stunning colors that autumn provides for our enjoyment, whether that be in the apartment complex...:

…or in the nearby cemetery, where I go for walks each morning in the increasingly chilly air, and an appropriate locale to muse on the impermanence of life:

This idea of rebirth and re-death was reinforced the weekend before last when I took Amber on a visit to the recently reopened Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, part of the National Museum of Asian Art. Only a few rooms of the gallery were open, and the exhibits within haven't changed from before the coronavirus, but I still relished taking in the Tibetan Shrine Room once again (see here and here). Perhaps it was only my imagination, but the room seemed brighter than before. That, or maybe I've become a little bit more enlightened:

It was all so magnificent that I told Amber she and Shu-E could give me the contents of the shrine room as a Christmas gift next month, a momentary lapse of materialistic desire that immediately negated whatever progress I've made spiritually since my medevac back in the spring. 

On our way out of the room we paused to admire this gilt bronze depiction of the infant Buddha, dating from the 7th century and Japan's Asuka period 飛鳥時代. One of these days, when borders have reopened, I'd like to make a day trip to Asuka (from either Kyōto 京都 or Ōsaka 大阪), rent a bike and spend several hours riding among the ancient burial mounds, ruins of old buildings and Japan's first Buddhist temple, Asuka-dera 飛鳥寺:

Back in July, soon after our return to Washington from Ethiopia, I visited the Freer Gallery to see the Hokusai: Mad About Painting exhibit. My daughter being somewhat familiar with the ukiyo-e 浮世絵 artist (or "the wave guy", as she puts it), I took her upstairs to broaden her Japanese art appreciation. To my pleasant surprise, there was another room as part of the exhibition that wasn't open at the time of my earlier visit:

Lute and White Snake of Benten, an 1847 hanging scroll

A page from 富嶽百景 (One Hundred Views of Mount Fuji), part of a set of three books of sketches previously owned by none other than Frank Lloyd Wright.

From the 絵本彩色通 (Illustrated Guide to Coloring)

This hanging scroll of a woodcutter from 1849 was one of the last works produced by Hokusai in his long life (he was 90 according to the traditional way of determining a person's age at the time of his death).

With future exhibits on topics such as Zen in medieval Japan, I'm sure to go again early next year, most likely with Amber in tow (provided she's willing), even though she didn't seem too interested in the Chinese art rooms, wondering aloud why there wasn't anything to be seen from Taiwan:

Thanksgiving Day, and still awaiting our car, though I could give thanks for its long-awaited delivery this morning (a little dirty, but in one piece and now awaiting registration). Once again, in order to take advantage of the long holiday weekend (the day after Thanksgiving is one of the few days for which students in language training can request leave, and I, of course, had done just that), we resorted to renting an automobile. With the temperature being a relatively balmy 57°F (14°C), the girl and I made the short drive to Bethesda, Maryland for an equally short walk (roughly one hour and 3 miles/4.8 kilometers) through the woods at Cabin John Regional Park:

Lining the path during the first section were signs relaying a children's story about dinosaurs, though some of the illustrations were more than a little disturbing:

The Cabin John Creek ran alongside the trail for most of the route:

A 200-year-old sycamore tree approximately 144 inches (366 centimeters) wide at the trunk, and 85 feet (26 meters) tall:

Though hardly far from civilization (Cabin John Regional Park includes both indoor and outdoor tennis courts, as well as baseball diamonds and an ice rink), we still encountered some deer, as well as woodpecker furiously pecking away high up in a tree:

Our Thanksgiving Day dinner. Rather than cook ourselves, we ordered two dinners from Ireland's Four Provinces, a local favorite. In this land of obscene portions, two servings proved to be more than enough for three people:

On the following day, and the initial reason for renting the car, we drove to Wilmington, Delaware (my wife being unaware that there was another state to the east of Virginia). It was late in the afternoon when we pulled into the parking lot of the Homewood Suites by Hilton Wilmington Downtown, and checked in. Our room was on the top floor (the 6th), and overlooked the Christina River:

Downtown Wilmington was off to the north:

For dinner we walked in the chillier-than-usual (according to the local news) night air to the Iron Hill Brewery, where I enjoyed a Philly Phavorite New England IPA while dining on Irish Bangers and Mash:

Saturday would prove to be another cold day, as we took a stroll along the riverfront following breakfast. At this point, the reason for traveling to Wilmington should probably be addressed, except that I don't remember why I chose this particular place to spend most of the extended Thanksgiving weekend. As best as I recall, seeing as we'd already visited many of the large cities close to the D.C. area (prior Thanksgivings had been celebrated in New York and Philadelphia, for example), I must've looked at a map or a guidebook, happened upon Wilmington (the one in Delaware, not the city in North Carolina), and seeing that it was relatively close to where we live (just over three hours by car, if you choose to avoid the tolls, as we always do), said "Aha! Let's go there!" (or something to that effect). As it turned out, except for the area around our hotel, most of our time would be spent outside the city limits:

A marsh at the southern end of the riverfront trail:

Lunch on Saturday was for the dogs at a local institution: 

We sat at the counter and munched on foot longs for a truly American experience, the significance of which I'm sure eluded Shu-E:

We ended up spending all of Saturday afternoon in New Castle, a colonial-era town of cobblestoned streets and 18th-century buildings. My camera-shy wife took in the last vestiges of the fall foliage:

The Immanuel Episcopal Church on the Green, built in 1703:

Trying to make out the writing on some of the old grave markers (many from the early 19th century):

The New Castle Court House Museum, dating from 1732. It was Amber who noticed the Dutch flag was flying upside down:

The Old Court House was the site where in 1776 a resolution was passed declaring Delaware's independence from Great Britain...and Pennsylvania. We had a look inside as part of a free guided tour:

In addition to learning how Delaware had broken free from the Keystone State, I also discovered that Sweden had established colonies in the Americas in the mid-17th century (which explained why the Swedish flag was flying outside the museum, right side up):

Originally built between 1809 and 1811 as a storage site for ordinance supplies, the Arsenal now serves as a visitor center and gift shop:

New Castle Battery Park is on the Delaware River, with New Jersey on the opposite side:

The Delaware Memorial Bridge in the background. Its opening in 1951 ended the ferry services to New Jersey that operated from Battery Park in New Castle:

We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the streets and browsing among some of the many antique shops that serve as the economic lifeblood of many old American towns and villages:

I spent our downtime in the hotel this past weekend watching the fantastic Peter Jackson Get Back documentary on Disney+:

Taking a cheesecake break in one of the old buildings (with Shu-E doing her best to avoid being captured on film:

William Penn, the founder of the colony of Pennsylvania, and from which the state of Delaware would eventually emerge:

Sunday morning sunrise:

I talk another walk along the riverfront after breakfast while the girls were stayed in the room, prepping for departure. Wilmington has a reputation for being one of more dangerous cities in the U.S., but its Riverwalk has been hailed as an exemplar of urban redevelopment:

After checking out of the Hilton, we drove to Winterthur, the opulent former estate and mansion of Henry Francis du Pont:

The du Ponts have been one of the richest families in this country since the mid-19th century, and Winterthur, situated on 979 acres (396 hectares) in the Delaware countryside (down from its peak of 2500 acres/1012 hectaress) showed that the family lived very well:

Jackie Kennedy visited the mansion in 1961 and went away with ideas on how to redecorate the White House:

The "Chinese parlor" is decorated with images of life in Qing China, which was apparently in fashion among the upper set in the 1920's:

After touring the house, we spent time in the galleries, admiring the art collected over the decades by the du Ponts:

The view from one of the windows:

A quilted palampore (a type of bed cover made in India for the export market), dating from the second half of the 18th century:

Some of the most interesting items in the galleries were porcelain pieces created in China in the 17-1800's for export to the West:

These depictions of a European man and woman were created in Jingdezhen 景德镇, China in around 1740:

Taking in the grandeur of the American version of Downton Abbey while the inner socialist decries the inequality of it all. 

We finished at Winterthur before noon, and managed to beat the worst of the U-turn rush to return to Falls Church before 1600 hours on Sunday (again thanks to taking longer but less crowded routes that avoided turnpike tolls). The work week has returned, but for the first four days I'm taking a retirement seminar that's bringing home two facts: 1.) age is an irreversible process; and 2.) while I'm in no hurry to reach the mandatory retirement age, at the same time I'm looking forward to the day when I can bid farewell to the "uncertainty, expense and recurring goodbyes". 

But, like I said, I'll take my time getting to that point...