Settling is as settling does. A few days shy of an entire month in the Chinese capital of Beijing and the settling is undoubtedly threatening to move from subplot to central theme. We’re told, at some point the whole exercise becomes an afterthought, an exercise from a bygone era of transition. I’ll believe it when I see it.

Our first shipment of possessions will arrive on July 4th–a great way to celebrate America’s birthday and bask in the afterglow of celebrating the first birthday of our second mini. The oldest will start daycare in two weeks, going half-days from the 17th through the end of the month. She’ll be out in August and then start full-time in September. Papa Bear, this writer, will definitely enjoy the increase in free time to do a bit more exploration of the city.

My tennis racket and basketball arrived last week. I was told the building offered tennis lessons/coaching (that information now seems inaccurate) to accompany their tennis court. It also has a court where I can shoot hoops after each session. I’m pretty excited to get some exercise that doesn’t include lifting rugrats or wrestling the youngest during a diaper change.

WePay finally approved my request to use the service. If you’re new to this game, everything in China runs off your phone and the apps you upload. This includes your messaging or chat apps and, most importantly, how you pay for your goods and services. But to do so, you must be officially verified by the parent platform–WeChat. After my fifth request and help from local staff, I was finally granted access. It was an enormous weight lifted. And, no, I’m not being overdramatic or using hyperbole. This is literally a game-changer.

And now, for my week 4 observations. These are a bit longer, so I’ve limited them to two.

• Scooters are everywhere. Not in the sense that you see on shows visiting Vietnam or Thailand. Instead, in almost a more maniacal sense. Look. You’ve seen my pictures. The place is relatively calm and no crazier in rush hour than DC–looking at you, Maryland drivers. But just under the surface, lurking, waiting for you to drop your guard, are the legions of scooters–scooters of every shape, size, and type–delivering goods, transporting folks to and from work, and just putting along. You can find them on any surface wide enough for a scooter fit. They’re in the back alleys, on the sidewalks, and on the open road. They zip and zap with reckless abandon between the various surfaces, weaving in and out of traffic, between pedestrians, and through little gates in place to prevent them from entering a back alley or walkway. Of course, these are mostly delivery drivers on a time crunch, trying to clear as many deliveries as possible in the shortest amount of time—all the more reason to keep your head on a swivel and your ears open.

• It is interesting to note that when confronted with a linguistic issue, where something is being said in Mandarin and I don’t quite understand, or they don’t quite understand me in English, instead of, say, using my language app (a mini app embedded in WeChat that translates voice recordings) to sort it out, my first instinct is to try Spanish or German. The mini-app has been a godsend in many situations–like trying to order noodles from the hole-in-the-wall restaurant just around the corner from our complex. But even while I know that consciously, I still find myself resorting to the other languages first. Of course, hand gestures and non-verbal cues are likely to garner more success than what the initial instinct leads me to do. It’s all a bit of a weird exercise and I wonder if other folks have done the same. And if folks who study linguistics or sociology or whatever have a name for this behavior.

Weekly Photos

This week’s photo collection is actually two. They come from several walks in familiar places. But on those walks, I took in more of the Liangma Riverwalk and scoped out a new portion of Chaoyang Park. And even got some more street shots of places I visit often.

What I’m Reading

A Stranger’s Journey: Race, Identity, and Narrative Craft in Writing by David Mura.

Mura’s book was a bit of a no-brainer for me. But, if I’m honest, it took me two years to eventually crack it open. I’m in the first few chapters, and it’s making out to be a tour de force handing out morsels of advice and worthy challenges in nearly every paragraph. I would encourage every writer–wannabe or not–from every race and identity to give this a go.

The author pointed to a quote from Czeslaw Milosz about writers and what they do to families. And I thought it was a poignant reminder of what telling the truth, seeking an honest reckoning of narratives, and something deeply personal to my own journey as a writer. Milosz said, “When a writer is born into a family, that family is finished.”

I have a lot to say on this matter, but will reserve that for a later date. What I can say, though, is that distance hasn’t hampered the fire burning inside of me. And that if Mura’s exhortations in his book are to be heeded, if my growth as a writer is to continue, I’m not certain that will change.