Girls gone docile

I met a woman about a year ago that ran specialty tours through the inner countryside of China—boat trips down the Yangtze River; camping trips in inner-Mongolia; mountain climbing in Tibet. Her organization was called Wild China, and I loved the authentic adventures that she offered. There’s something very alluring about the word “wild,” don’t you think?

I am not Anthony Bourdain. I don’t seek out the craziest foods in the darkest alleys of the strangest cities just for kicks. I do not eat cat tongue. (I do not knowingly eat cat tongue.) And I know enough not to put myself in dangerous positions or in shady places. I’ve traveled enough, am cautious enough, to know what’s safe and what isn’t.

All of that said, I do like a good adventure. When I visit a new city, I like to wander around a bit—try the local flavors, visit places that aren’t just on the tourist map, and see things like parks and homes and discover how people really live.

This time last year, Shanghai was a bit like Wild China to me—not the inner-China boat trips or Anthony Bourdain types of wild China—but my own version. I wandered. I saw things. I ate things. I met locals. I sat in parks. I took artsy photos. I did very China-esque things like tea-tastings ceremonies and bartering for pearls and silk in the marketplace. And it was a lovely, lovely trip.

Fast-forward a year to China version 2.0.

I’m very happy that this was my second trip to Shanghai and not my first. Because hear me now, believe me later: Shanghai pregnant is a whole different adventure.

I use the term “adventure” loosely, to say the least. Because the most adventurous thing I did was to brave the 14 hour flight (twice) which isn’t to be laughed at, by the way, because even though I drank water constantly and walked around the airplane every thirty minutes as my bladder dictated, I still ended up with legs and ankles so swollen that I looked like someone’s great grandmother after a salt bender.

Upon arriving here in Shanghai, I was reminded that the air quality is significantly poorer than that of the US, both from the smog of industry and general pollution, and from the fact that the 23 million people who live in Shanghai haven’t gotten the memo that the US put out about that whole smoking thing being bad for you and those around you. And given the fact that right now, I get winded basically walking across the street, I found that outside walking adventures weren’t particularly appealing to me and presented more of a challenge that I would have thought.

Which is ok since the temperature was about 40 degrees, windy, and with rain seven of the ten days I was there. Not what one would call outside hanging-out weather. Which again is ok since I couldn’t breathe anyway.

Strange fact about my pregnancy: I have had very very little morning sickness. And the queasiness that I have had has never actually been in the morning, but rather hits me just after I get off of work as I approach dinnertime.

One of the highlights of my trip last year was that the hotel where we stayed (and would be staying again this year) had an enormous (like, overwhelmingly enormous) buffet breakfast. Even if you don’t eat anything else all day long, you could stuff yourself full of delicious breakfast and be set for the day. I’ve never seen anything like this place. Seriously, sometimes I dream about this breakfast, the best part of which being that you can have sushi, or traditional Chinese, or salad bar, or the Noodle bar, or Western Breakfast, or fruit bar, or pastry bar, or…wait for it…ice cream sundaes during the *breakfast* hour. (I will not admit to having had ice cream for breakfast. J is shaking his head at me disapprovingly right now. I can feel it.)

So imagine my surprise when, on the first day, I excitedly bounded downstairs to said delicious breakfast and almost threw up from nausea. I couldn’t understand it. I was so completely distraught. When explaining my disappointment to J later in the day, he basically just laughed at me. “Um, over there breakfast is during your normal dinnertime, dear. So your evening sickness at home has actually turned into legit morning sickness when you’re on the other side of the world.”

(Son of a…) The first time I have morning sickness is while I’m sitting in front of the most incredible breakfast ever?

Sigh.

(P.S. In case you were curious…spicy Hunan fried flat noodles, while delicious, are not the answer to morning sickness.)

The jet lag was also much more intense this time as well. Which makes some sense since last year, I think I combated it with a long, relaxing deep-tissue massage, a sleep aid and/or a glass of wine before bedtime, and cups of coffee to keep me awake during the daytime hours until I got on a schedule. Pregnant? No massage, sleep-aid, wine or coffee. Nope. Nope. Nope. Annnnnd nope.

Hmph.

And try a China visit while tea and MSG is off limits, too. Seriously—give that one a go and let me know how you do.

I found myself struggling with common sense and practicality; following pregnancy lore and doctor’s advice to the letter of the law and trying to reconcile all these things while I was there. Because I get that I was probably being crazy militant about it all and that I can’t be pregnancy perfect all the time.

Millions of children (literally, millions) are born in China every year amid the smog and pollution and cigarette smoke while mothers drink the hell out of some green tea. And they seem to be doing ok.

I’m sure I didn’t have to actually skip extended outside time in order to not contract lung cancer.

And it probably wasn’t completely necessary for me to sleep 9 undisturbed hours every single night lest something horrible happen to me.

And it was probably ok to walk around outside in winter weather a little bit without the fear of contracting pneumonia.

Hell, most doctors say I could even have had coffee in the morning and a glass of wine at night if I really wanted to do it.

And yet, for now, my first time mom fears win out. And I was back to my room, out of the cold polluted winter air each night by 6, ordering room service to regulate salt and nutrition, staying warm and dry, and trying to fall asleep by 9 p.m. to get a solid night’s sleep, all the while drinking bottled water like a fiend and sucking on vitamin C drops (and hoarding fruit from the crazy buffet) to try to stay in front of the cold that I am certain is inevitable. Better safe and non-adventurous than sorry, I suppose. (And I’m pretty sure J was amped I took this stance on the matter.)

And so, China 2.0 (Pregnant China) was a wee bit more, um, docile (boring?) than my first trip here. So much for Wild China, eh? Anthony Bourdain would be so disappointed.