Occupy Central: The Well-Mannered Fight

In case you haven’t noticed, Hong Kong is going through an historic moment. Crowds of mostly students have managed to shut down the main part of downtown, camping out along the road that serves as the major artery through the city.

Friends have asked how we’re affected, and I’ll say quite simply: We’re not. We live in a tower of mostly Western ex-pats, complete with a pool and an indoor playground. Transportation has been haywire, so Joe had to walk all the way home from work on Monday evening, when things were really crazy. Since the main street is shut down, the normally quiet winding road in front of our building is buzzing with cars. The playroom is overrun with too-rowdy older kids home since schools were closed, which, you know, is mildly annoying because it isn’t fun for Luca.

But that’s it. We’re fine. We’re safe. We’re just watching with interest to see what will come of this protest.

The students want full universal suffrage, what they say they were promised in the 1997 handover from the UK, but Beijing would rather pre-approve any candidates for chief executive, the top job in the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region.

We’re here in Hong Kong as guests. I have no stake in Hong Kong’s future other than as a resident of this world. But… come on, it’s a fight for freedom and democracy.

The journalist in me has been itching to visit the protests at night, hear the peaceful chanting with my own ears, see the waving cell phone screens lighting the night, and talk to students about what they hope will change with this giant sit-in.

Could this be the biggest nonviolent demonstration since Martin Luther King, Jr.? I just want to see it.

But consulates and embassies will always send out warnings to us, whichever country we’re posted: Even protests intended to be nonviolent can turn. Better to stay away from such crowds.

And I’m pregnant, so I would not want to risk exposing myself to tear gas.

Oh, did I bury the lead there? Yes, I’m pregnant. Expecting in spring. More on that later.

So I’ve been following the events on the news and Facebook, praying the Chinese army doesn’t decide to respond in violence. Praying that no violent-minded person or group darkens the tone.

On the news, the protests look pretty crazy, but from what I’ve seen and heard, these are just kids, students sitting under floodlights and doing their homework behind the barricades between chants and speeches. I’ve heard some news reports have referred to them as “riots,” which, wow—they are not, to my understanding. No broken windows, no looting, no violence. Perhaps it's the influence of years as part of the stereotypically proper Britain, but the protest is mainly polite, Hong Kong-British-accented kids blocking the road.

And while I won’t go down there at night to risk tear gas and rubber bullets (or an international incident), Joe and I decided to wander over this morning to see a piece of history.

Ok, before anyone freaks out (Mom, I’m looking at you), we visited the protests during the safest possible time: The morning. Night is where the action is, and this morning there were several little clusters of families checking out the scene. I saw a couple that looked like they were walking the normally-busy road for exercise.

One Western dad was taking a photo of his two little blonde daughters in sundresses, one barely older than Luca. He paused when we walked behind—Joe and me pushing an orange stroller doesn’t make for a good protest background. I heard later in the morning, bunches of little kids were down there riding scooters.

We saw another young ex-pat girl pointing to signs hung on the overpass, translating the Cantonese to English for her parents and two younger sisters.

The scene was fascinating. We walked from our neighborhood right through the center of downtown on the main thoroughfare, which was neatly lined with groups of protestors. It was surreal, and an interesting view of the city at a standstill.

At first, it felt like a university quad, young people sprawled on cement barriers texting, others sitting around chatting. Some napping.

Except the mood was too muted. Too exhausted. These students have been living on the street for days. Groups of protestors sat under tent shelters manning stations of donated water bottles, snacks, and donated umbrellas.

Some manned stations to recycle cans and water bottles.

Others, wearing masks over their noses and mouths, collected trash in big black bags they organized in piles for removal to dumpsters down some alleys.

“Have you ever seen a protest like this?” A trash collector asked me after I snapped a picture of him and his friends throwing bags into the dumpster. He was clearly educated, with a pristine Hong Kong-British accent behind his face mask.

“I haven’t,” I said. “You guys are cleaning up trash—that’s pretty awesome.”

“Thanks,” he said.

It’s a conscientious crowd that clearly cares deeply for the city and hopes their civil disobedience will move the giant that is Beijing.

I saw one photo on Facebook of a police bus with an anarchy sign spray-painted in the front window. A strip of cardboard sat under the windshield wiper, a polite apology written in marker. “This doesn’t represent us,” the note read.

Another picture showed a few protestors trying to scrub clean a wall that someone else had sprayed with a red line, in anger over the police using tear gas.

Yet another showed protestors sharing umbrellas with police officers during last night’s thunderstorm.

Part of me felt strange for acting as the tourist in such a protest. As a friend of mine pointed out: It’s not a show.

But actually, it is a show. It is a show to prove a point and to make a difference. They want people like me to go down there and see how orderly they are being. To snap pictures and to share them with people like you. To witness.

I have no idea what will come in the next few days—or rather, nights—but for now, what I see is a group of young people fighting for the future of their city, with probably the most well-mannered protest the world has ever seen.

The End of Transience, For Now

Luca, ready to get moving.

I feel like I’m about to cross a finish line. Summit a mountain.

Like any marathon or climb, our past several months without a home of our own have been a lot of fun. We spent a lot of time with family, we went on vacations, we enjoyed DC, and we caught up with dear friends.

I spent a good chunk of time in my tiny, adorable California hometown, and a good chunk of time in my wonderful new hometown, the nation’s capital.

Boat day with the Brewers and Gleasons

Cousin love in Lake Tahoe

I adore both places, and both are rich with memories and people I care about. I got to make new, blissful memories in both places, some pictured here. In short, it was fantastic.

DC Fun with Halmonee & Harabogee

But, like any marathon or climb, our past few months have been a challenge.

Some dear friends asked us recently if it feels like we’ve been on a vacation that’s just gone on far too long. That’s close, but not quite it. While we’ve been enjoying life within the transience, and we've been valuing people and places, there has been a looming sense that our lives are on hold.

Luca loves when Nana reads to him.

The most tangible reminder of this is our current housing: Our hotel room is nice, but it is still a hotel room.

Any hotel staff member can enter if they have reason: housekeeping, maintenance, Internet engineers. We’ve lived here, but it is not our home.

Of course I’m grateful for a roof over our heads and safe beds at nighttime, but there is an intangible longing for home I just can’t shake.

Train Museums!!

I don’t mean our old place in Seoul. I don’t mean our old condo in Arlington. I don’t mean Oakdale, California.

Enjoying Tahoe with Appa

I mean a place where Joe, Luca and I will stay for more than a few months. Where only we have keys to enter. Where our taste in décor and our photographs fill the rooms. Where all my cookware is at my disposal as I adapt to Luca’s dietary requirements and shifting toddler tastes.

It’s strange, but this summer while I've been marveling over DC's charms, I’ve felt homesick for a place I’ve never been: Hong Kong.

The new setting won’t solve life’s problems and it probably won’t even make life easier, but the new setting is a place we can belong for a bit.

My parents with all the grandkids

Somewhere we won’t be semi-short-term guests in people’s daily lives.

Luca kissing bye to his buddy Sage

We can build a new community, learn new things, and explore new places. We can settle in to a home.

Hong Kong, in my mind, is bursting at the seams with the thrill of unknown friends, experiences and challenges that wait for me and my little family. It seems filled with blessings both wonderful and difficult, gifts from God that I’ll open day by day and month by month.

I know, especially on hard or lonely days, I’ll look back to this time in DC fondly, as I already do with my time in Oakdale. I’ve appreciated this life phase every step of the way, and as I suspected in a blog last spring, God gave me the emotional strength to remain joyful in this in-between period.

But still, I’m thrilled to move on, to settle down.

That is, at least for the next two years, when we'll move again.

Luca had a world of fun with cousins Gavin and Avery

Five Years. Five!

“If he brings you flowers, he’s a keeper,” my sister, Brandy, told me over the phone that first-date day.

“Ok,” I laughed as I slipped on a teal sundress I’d borrowed from my housemate, Kate. “I’ll let you know.”

He brought me flowers.

Eight months after that day, we were engaged. A year after that day, we were married.

Five years ago, May 24, 2009, I committed my life to my best friend, Joseph Kim, and I’ve never regretted it for an instant. I look forward to 60 or so more years of getting to know one another better and making one another better as we adventure through this life as a team.

This year, he surprised me with cheery pink flowers and a box of dark chocolate See’s. And a card with a handwritten note that made me laugh.

Truly, he is a keeper.

Fun in San Francisco (oh, and Luca is still allergic)

Luca has been so healthy, I started to think I was overdoing it.

Maybe I was too particular about his bathing and moisturizing routine, too protective over what he puts in his mouth.

I thought maybe—just maybe I’d get to introduce wheat, maybe soy, maybe sesame. A few things to make eating out and traveling that much easier.

I was holding out hope that I wouldn’t have to worry about putting him in church nurseries, where goldfish and graham crackers are the snacks de rigueur.

But, no. It turns out his blood still reflects high numbers for the major allergens: nuts, egg, dairy, wheat, soy, sesame—meaning he is likely allergic. Way too likely to make it worth trying them with a child so young.

The bright side? We tested seafood for the first time, and thankfully, his numbers were low. That means an allergy is unlikely; that means we can try some fish.

I’m clinging to the bright side.

The other bright side? It could be much, much worse. Yes, I’ll stress over any preschool or nursery Luca attends. Yes, I won’t be able to relax at any party with food.

However, my son is healthy. His skin is gorgeous.

Let me say that again for the comfort of my year-ago self: Luca’s skin is gorgeous. He is healthy. I am so, so, so very thankful for this.

Now I know our hard work and diligence, every single day, has been for a purpose. But now I know our hard work will continue, at least until the next time we test.

Happily, I hardly had a chance to register the mixed emotions that came with our allergist appointment. The UCSF visit was sandwiched between classic Pier 39 escapades with my parents and time with a couple great friends.

Luca had a blast on our mini vacation with Nana and Papa. He particularly loved the hotel room, accented with his favorite color (orange). 

Here are some pictures from the weekend that make me smile:

"Pewie, sea lions!"

My sweet boy

I like Nana and Papa, but not so sure about sea lions... yet.

Warms my heart...

Ahoy!

"Ride it??"

The horsie.

The dragon.

"Ride it again? AGAIN??"

Luca, you WILL pose with me!!!

"Look! Sea lions!"

Who is pushing my stoller, Mom?!

Squatting, just like creepy Elmo man.

Julie!!!!!!

Feeding Allie his gluten-free pretzel

Tale of Two Homes: An Ode to DC and Oakdale (yes, Oakdale)

DC was gorgeous the week we arrived. The sun warmed each afternoon, the sky was clear, and the cherry blossom trees budded pink. The spring air was full of anticipation and welcome.

Joe and I truly felt we’d come home.

Home to the place we met, where we built a friendship and then decided to risk it on love. Where we built a community over four and a half years, a community that we were grateful to discover is still largely in tact.

Our friendships barely skipped a beat.

Each day, I spent time with a treasured friend I hadn’t seen in two years—as well as a couple good friends I made in Seoul. Fellow church members at Christ Our Shepherd welcomed us back on Sunday with smiles and hugs, and exclamations over Luca’s health and vitality. These are people who love us as part of the family, who prayed for us consistently while we were away. I could not be more grateful to call such a community my home.

Returning to this beloved place was fantastic. Refreshing. Comforting.

I had a full-on honeymoon with DC: the friends, the vibe, the restaurants, the Metro, the museums, and perhaps most of all, the pleasant memories. Oh, and it didn’t hurt that we made our first legitimate Target visit (Oh, how I love, love, love, love Target) and we stayed very close to a Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s.

Just, you know, strolling on the Mall.

Luca also had a ball.

The first time I took him on the Metro, he was fascinated by the doors opening and closing, by the people coming and going, and by all the announcements. He told me to hold on to the bar, like the other riders (even though I was sitting), and he repeated, “Step back! Doors closing.”

Later, wandering the American History Museum, we found an exhibit with a Chicago L train we could board. We spent about 15 minutes on the train, with Luca diligently holding that bar. On every subsequent Metro ride, he did the same.

Playing by the White House

I get it, the White House. Now let's go!

I had mixed feelings about leaving DC just as the cherry blossoms were about to open up full force and many friendships there were back in full swing, but Joe reminded me it is better to leave on a high note.

Regardless, any sadness was promptly dispatched at SFO, when I turned a corner to see my dad waiting for Luca and me.

Oakdale may not be a place I’ve chosen to reside as an adult, but it certainly feels like home. It is familiar, it is beautiful, the weather is fantastic, and it is where I can find some of my favorite people in the world: My family.

Luca and I definitely miss Joe, who is back in DC preparing for our next post, and we miss DC in general—Luca keeps suggesting we "Go on meh-ter-oh train?"—but we feel blessed to be surrounded by people who love us. Luca feels right at home and happy in “Nana Papa’s house." In fact, occasionally he wants me to go away so he can have his Nana or his Papa all to himself. What a relief to be with family.

And Oakdale welcomed us to town with the most Oakdale of experiences: The Rodeo Parade. The essence of small-town charm. Luca enjoyed watching the horses and trucks and classic cars and Shriner clowns with his cousins and grandparents (pictures below).

It was an excellent way to kick off our short season in California.

If things continue as Joe and I expect, we will keep making temporary homes abroad and building new communities every couple years. We will keep developing some temporary and some lasting friendships with people who will also move around the world. It is a fun and adventurous lifestyle, but of course a lifestyle with challenges. We miss being present for the people we love, for birthdays and celebrations and milestones and hard times and changes. We miss having those people present, in person, for us.

But this month reminds me that in all that transience, I am blessed with two homes, both filled with people I care about. When I feel lonely in a new country, which is bound to happen, I should remind myself that I can always treasure—and visit—two places rich with good memories and with love.

Truly, there is no place like home.

Home Leave, or Embracing Transience

LAST DAY IN SEOUL—March 6

“I made it,” I thought to myself as Luca’s breaths deepened into sleep, his head cuddled on my chest.

From his mattress on the floor, I waited to move him until he was completely out. I looked at his room’s bare walls above me. The sailboats are gone. The whales are gone. Just beige paint to comfort him during naps and nighttime.

Maybe that’s why he skipped a few naps this week.

Wait, what? My toys are going away?

The whole house is bare, really, and Luca hasn’t been quite himself since last week after the movers packed out the trappings of our past two years in Seoul: He clings to me more; he spills things more; he needs more attention; he skips more naps.

Those days—the skipped nap days—are the hardest for me. Between organizing our packout, attempting to eat through our pantry and give away food we won’t finish, purging cleaning supplies and clothes I never wear and humidifiers we won’t need and so on and so on, there’s plenty I’ve had to accomplish for our international move. Plus the emotional toll of preparing for my entire life to change, again.

"Big Lellow Truck!!"

I can’t really get much done if Luca doesn’t nap. Even in normal times, he needs a lot of my attention. But now, he is going through his own emotional crisis, watching his entire home transform into a bare beige blah. Looking for the basketball hoop, foam letters and favorite sippy cups we sent away.

He loved watching the men load everything into boxes when he dropped by during packout with the woman who was babysitting—he decided the mover’s scales were better suited as seats for him—and he adored the big “lellow truck” waiting outside. And, at first, he liked the new discoveries afforded by a near-empty house.

"Don't Pack me!!"

But then he realized everything was gone.

It’s hard to hang around after all the arrangements are made, after everything is packed. If I’d known how hard Luca would take life in our empty house post-packout, I might have tried to follow the movers out the door and leave Seoul early.

But then, I would have missed precious goodbyes. I would have missed that last trip for delicious dalkkalbi, that last kimchi jiggae. That last ladies’ night in with wine and chocolate and chatting. That final Bible study, when the women who had been a lifeline for me the past two years prayed for me and for my family.

With the ribbons of our Seoul tour tied neatly in bows, all I have left is the leaving.

I thanked God Luca fell asleep today, allowing me a little bit of a break to eat lunch, catch up on emails, and try to prepare as best as I can for tomorrow. Our departure.

I am so ready to go.

* * * *

LAST WEEK OF HOME LEAVE—March 25

“Phew,” I thought to myself as Luca finally drifted from sobs to sleep on the floor mattress in Joe’s parents’ spare room. I kissed my son's cheek and deftly slid the sippy cup from his arm’s grip, replacing it with his stuffed sock monkey, one of the few favorite toys we packed in our suitcases to help him transition.



He spent the morning blissfully playing with his grandparents while Joe and I had an errand-running-and-gyro-lunch date, but by the time we got home at naptime, Luca was toast.


It happens, or so I’m learning.

It’s been rare in Luca’s lifetime that I’ve gotten to go out on my own. Like now, I sit solo, sipping a caramel macchiato at a Long Island mall Starbucks while Luca naps under Halmonee’s care.

Four Generations of Kim Men

We’ve spent the past week at Joe’s parents’ house, catching up with relatives, celebrating Joe's grandfather’s 97th birthday, and easing back into normal American life.

For foreign service officers and their families, home leave is a required and valuable time to reconnect with family and culture after living abroad for a few years, and before taking any necessary courses for the next posting. The idea, in my understanding, is to keep diplomats American enough to represent the country well.

Peek-a-boo!

Since my parents were on vacation at the beginning of our home leave, we decided to spend the first week and a half soaking up vitamin D under Southern California’s sun and visit my immediate family later. We got to spend the first few days at my Auntie Irene and Uncle Jimmie’s house, catching up with dear relatives and playing peakaboo with my cousin Mike.


I got to spend a morning with one of my best friends and college roommates—there’s something invigorating about friendships that span decades and life stages.

These last few weeks of home leave have been as wonderful and peaceful as those last two weeks in Seoul were stressful.

Luca settled quickly into life in Huntington Beach. It was only four days, but all three of us were delighted to decompress in such a comfortable and (for me) familiar place. Once he recovered from jet lag, Luca was ecstatic to see the boats and the tiny beach of Balboa Island.

One afternoon after a couple days at my aunt and uncle’s place, Luca looked at me. “Home? Home?” he said, his usual method of telling me he’s ready to head back to our house.

I sighed. How to explain it?

“Well, Luca, today, this is our home.”

The look on his face changed, curious. He took in the room as if seeing it for the first time. Oops. I quickly tried to correct myself.

“No, um,” I fumbled. “Right now we’re on vacation! We’ll go to San Diego next week, to the beach, and then we’ll take a plane to Halmonee and Harabogee’s house.”

How can I explain to a toddler that we won’t be at a home of our own for months?

But he seems to have settled into the rhythm of moving around, and he seems to grasp, to some extent, the concept of home for now. He was thrilled to arrive in our San Diego rental apartment, and quickly started to refer to it as “home.”

And boy did we all wish San Diego could be our new home.

The sand.

The waves.

The sunsets.

The tacos.

And, surprisingly, the friends.

Going into our home leave, I could barely think past luggage and carry-ons and Luca’s toys and snacks and allergen-free meals. I couldn’t get my mind around specific plans, other than housing and transportation. If I knew before arriving how many friends we’d see in San Diego, I would have been completely overwhelmed. But thanks to spontaneous friends—including a high school friend I hadn't seen in 14 years—we made plans on the fly, as we felt like it.

It was such a rich time catching up with people Joe and I care about, and we were over the moon watching Luca’s joy in chasing waves and digging sand with his construction toys.

There is something infinitely satisfying in watching my son’s elation. With all the drastic changes for our family, we could simply enjoy each other and the beauty of the sea.

Have you ever said you needed a vacation from your vacation?

Well, there’s not much rest in a vacation with a toddler: We played hard, and we slept hard, and like all good vacations, the end came far too soon. But at least we had more wonderful times to look forward to.

Luca was a champ on the five-and-a-half hour flight, and, after he got a solid meal in him, he was delighted to be with Halmonee, Harabogee, and Samchun (Uncle Albert)—and with all the awesome toys they thought to prepare for his visit.

"I like RIB!" Luca loving Halmonee's cooking.

This week, we’re trying to move at a slower pace and to take advantage of Joe’s parents’ generosity in helping us take breaks.

Seoul seems a world away. Our two years were full of fun, exploration, excellent Korean food, challenges, struggle, and growth.

We learned the subway system. I learned some Korean and Joe improved his. We made friends who were more like family. We became parents. We learned what it means to watch our child suffer. We learned what it means to watch our child heal. We had 5 emergency room visits, 4 hospitalizations (including birth), and one medical evacuation. We sold the car Joe bought the day of our first date.

So many things can change in two years.

In San Diego, we visited a church one Sunday. The sermon was about relying on God for our daily bread, and though most of the examples the speaker used were to do with money, I realized the message was fitting for my own heart in this transient phase of life.

After several days in the United States, the shiny newness of vacation wore off, and as the jet lag fog started to clear, I was thinking of the mountain we have to climb as a family in these next few months: The travel, the waiting, the separation from Joe when I go see my family. How could I help Luca with all the change and uncertainty? How could I deal with it myself? The questions pulled at the bottom of my stomach, telling me I couldn’t simply relax. It’s hard to focus on the current day when big changes are rolling in like the waves off Pacific Beach, one after another.

What, that's not how you put it on?

But God is faithful, the sermon reminded me. I know he will provide the emotional energy to get through tomorrow, for me and for my family of three. I can live freely in each day; I can be present. Tomorrow has enough worries of its own.

Seoul is in the past for us now, and though we have months before we are settled into our new post, this transition phase is a gift. If I blink, I’ll miss it. If I worry through it, I’ll forget to treasure it.

This life Joe and I chose is transient. We might as well enjoy it.