Hadas

Let me tell you about Hadas.

Hadas is my oldest grandchild.

Hadas was born on a sunny Friday morning, 12 years ago, at Hadassah Hospital in Ein Kerem, Jerusalem, Israel. As her mother, my daughter, gazed into the eyes of her firstborn, I began to experience the world in a totally new way. I saw in my daughter’s eyes a deep, encompassing maternal love. I heard in the way she spoke to her little baby, warmth and kindness. I saw in the way she held Hadas, her gentle touch. I knew Hadas was in good hands. I could trust this young mother who, it seemed, had only recently been my baby.

As the years have gone by, Hadas has given her family great deal of pleasure. We appreciate the fact that she is quick witted, intelligent, clever, and has a great sense of humor. When we spoke recently, I told her that I remembered her having devised a PowerPoint presentation when she was very young. She told me that at one point she was hired to teach her older cousin to use PowerPoint. I asked her how old she was then. She said that it was the year she was in kindergarten!

Only a few years ago did we recognize her talent at dancing as she danced both folk and jazz with a local troupe. Then, we were wowed by her singing—listening to her sing solos at school commemorations with a voice as clear as a bell and a poise that was impressive.

In less than two weeks, Hadas will celebrate her Bat Mitzvah. She has lived a Jewish life from the day of her birth. She has come to love the land of Israel and the study of Torah. She takes on her responsibility as a Jewish woman with devotion.

Yesterday Hadas and I went to Jerusalem. The streets and parks were filled with people as families spent chol hamoed together. In the Ben Yehuda walking area, sidewalk stands were selling tablecloths and Simchat Torah flags. Street musicians played keyboards and trumpets and violins and balalaikas. Off to the side of the walking area, there was a tent with a puppet show. Stores were crammed with merchandise and there was a festive atmosphere all around. We walked together and talked and ran some errands and had lunch and finally, late in the afternoon, after a very gentle, sweet day, we returned home.

I spoke to Hadas about the fact that she was about to become the next link in a chain of Jewish women through the ages. I referred to her great grandmothers and great-greats, and all of the women in the family who had come before her and spoke to her about how the gift I was giving her also was meant to be passed through the generations. And just as I had felt secure that she was in good hands with her young mother, I feel secure that our tradition is in good hands with this lovely child as she becomes a Jewish woman.

Ode to an Iron

This is a piece I wrote in 1995, just after I moved to Israel. It is written in loving memory of Mamie T. Lindsay.
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I have just moved into my new house and I am ironing. It is not the first time I have ironed. Permanent press is not always permanent, and my daughters’ hair ribbons crease where they tie. But this time there is no TV to watch and no radio to listen to, and the items I am ironing are linen placemats and napkins.

They are ecru with blue edges. The placemats each have an appliquéd flower attached to them about two inches from the left side. They are sewn to the placemat on two sides so that a properly folded napkin will fit between the sewn areas and be held to the placemat by the flower. They are of a bygone era when women stood at ironing boards and spent time ironing such dainty items.

But today, as I iron the first napkin I begin to think about my childhood and how I watched with fascination as Mamie ironed. I would watch her strong yet graceful hands take a wrinkled pillowcase and make it lie flat and perfect. The steam would rise from the iron and the fresh scent coupled with the straightness and smoothness of the fabric touched my senses in a way that seemed to symbolize purity. I envied the power that lay in her hands which tamed the wild cloth and made it do as she bid. I wondered how it would feel when I would finally be able to iron.

Then I grew up and got married. The first week after our honeymoon I ironed my new husband’s shirts. Actually, I ironed only one shirt because I feared I would also burn the second and all subsequent shirts. His gentle comment was, “I’ll just take my shirts to the laundry.” The age of polyester dawned and women were liberated from ironing except for “touch-ups.”

As the years passed and I raised my children, moved around the country with my husband, and pursued my own study and career, I began to notice that I do my best thinking under two circumstances: when I am washing dishes and when I am in the shower. I thought water had something to do with it- a return to the womb or something, but today I know that is not true. In both cases I was fully involved in doing something which was automatic. Since the activity in which I was engaged required no higher thinking processes and my body was able to move without conscious thought, I was freed from external stimuli and able to think in a meditative way.

As I stand this evening, iron in hand, I think about all of the time for meditation and thinking I have missed by not ironing. I also think about all of the time that I was fortunate to have because I was for so many years, raising babies. I think of sitting and softly rocking my babies, holding them and being fully aware of their softness and their vulnerability and their potential and the amount of love it is possible to have for another person. It was at those times that the world became understandable. And now, as I iron, I meditate again.

Rona Michelson 1995

It’s painful to be a good parent

Helping families to solve their problems sometimes involves doing detective work. How did the problem arise? Why this problem? Why are they handling it the way they are?

One way of answering some of these questions is by taking a complete family history. One aspect of that history involves becoming acquainted, through my clients’ memories and stories, with the people in their families. This helps me to see patterns of behavior that tend to recur from generation to generation. It helps me to understand what my clients consider normal and functional behavior and what they see as problematic.

Once, a very long time ago in a place very far from here I had a family come to me with a problem. As they began to tell me about the people in their family, each description was the same: “s/he’s a wonderful person; s/he’ll do anything for you.” I began to wonder about their grasp on reality, but that’s a story for another time…

What did strike me was that they equated “wonderful person” with “will do anything for you.” Indeed, when we have friends, we know that we can count on them to help us out if we are in trouble. But is that true of a wonderful parent?

Well, many people will tell you that it is true also of a wonderful parent. This is the parents who meets all of the child’s needs, cleans the child’s messy room, brushes the child’s hair, helps the child with homework, picks up the child from school if it is raining, and puts the child’s needs before his/her needs.

Hmmm… I’m not so sure. What happens when the child is building with blocks and the tower gets wobbly? If mom or dad intervene, does the child ever figure out how to balance things better? Oh, the mother and father can teach him, but is that the same as his learning it by trial and error and strengthening his neural pathways and achieving a feeling of mastery? OK, I have clearly loaded the answer, because to me, a mother or father who does everything for their child is a mother or father who allows the child to miss the thrill of discovery and the sense of accomplishment that solving a problem can bring.

It is hard to see one’s child struggle with a problem. It is so much easier to go and solve it for him or help him to solve it, but the mother and father are not always going to be present. The child needs to have the confidence and the experience to solve problems in his life. He cannot carry mom and dad with him, but he can carry his ingenuity and creativity wherever he goes.

This is not to say that parents shouldn’t teach their child. Of course they should. They can teach problem solving by talking through how they themselves solve problems and to give the child examples of situations and help the child generate ideas about what could be done. However when a child is confronted with a challenge , often the best thing to do is to encourage him or her to think of solutions, to talk them out, perhaps to try them out. Trial and error at young ages are so much less painful and embarrassing than later in life when the child becomes aware of peers. Sending a child into the world with the ability to solve his/her problems and to think for him/herself is a gift that only a parent who learns to sit by and do nothing can give.

Yom Kippur

For years I conceptualized Yom Kippur in a fairly traditional way. It was the day on which I went to the synagogue and prayed as honestly, as reverently, and as fervently as I could to be granted another year—a year in which I would become a better person and avoid all of the negative actions that I had either knowingly or unknowingly performed in the previous years of my life.

But this year is different. This year I lived through an illness that had me thinking that I might just be meeting my maker sooner than planned. Once healthy, I went off to adventures in China. And then, last week, Rosh Hashana, I once again became ill. This time, it was much less serious, but this time I was unable to attend services the second day of Rosh Hashana. The meaning for me was clear: I was not welcome at services. I had too much to account for. I needed to take a very long, hard look at myself.

Since then, I have been thinking about the way I treat people in a much more conscious, self-conscious way. And then yesterday… We were in Jerusalem to run some errands. I walked into one of my favorite stores. The tape or CD playing in the store was one that was presumably humorous, but the first song that I noticed made me cringe: “dead puppies aren’t much fun” or something like that. As I listened, I couldn’t imagine why anyone would think that joking about dead dogs would be funny. The next song, “they’re coming to take me away” was worse. It made fun of human beings in pain. After only a few bars, I quickly left the store. I had to leave. All I could make of the experience was that the songs were injuring my soul. How could I allow my soul, which I strive to purify in anticipation of the holiest day of the year, be polluted by such crass and callous satire?

When I got out of the store, it was as if I could finally breathe again. I felt as if I had rescued a child from a fire. I had brought my soul away from something that would injure it and make it less sensitive and caring and perfect before G-d.

I thought a lot about that yesterday and today. And today I will approach Yom Kippur with a new commitment to those things which are good and kind and benevolent and ennobling. I have a new appreciation of the fragility of the soul and our need to protect it. Today I will pray to be worthy of increasing goodness in the world and truly becoming a servant of G-d.

Sunday in the Temple of Heaven

We awoke Sunday to another glorious day. After breakfast, we boarded our buses and drove through Beijing to the Temple of Heaven. The Chinese have many beliefs about what is fortuitous and some of them have to do with placement of buildings. The Temple of Heaven, to which the emperor would travel, was in a direct line six kilometers south of the Forbidden City where he resided. He would go to the Temple of Heaven every winter solstice to worship heaven and to solemnly pray for a good harvest. Since his rule was legitimized by a mandate from heaven, a bad harvest could be interpreted as his fall from heaven’s favor and threaten the stability of his reign. So, the emperor fervently prayed for a very good crop. When the emperor traveled to the Temple of Heaven to offer his prayers, citizens were not permitted to watch. Were they unlucky enough to be caught along the path when he was making his way, they had to lie prone and avoid looking up for the entire duration of his journey.

We arrived expecting to see buildings, but in fact, the most interesting sights at the Temple of Heaven were the people we saw. Each day hundreds of Chinese people, mostly over the age of sixty, come to exercise. They were doing Tai Chi individually, or in groups with fans or swords. They were playing hacky-sack. They danced, sometimes ballroom-type dancing. But the most amazing sight was the area that was most like a children’s playground. Instead of equipment geared for children were all sorts of devices designed for adults to chin, to do sit-ups, to climb, and to stretch. There were paths with rounded stones embedded in them over which they walked in thin-soled slipper-type shoes. One older woman held a pole behind her neck that stretched over her shoulders. She gently raised both of her legs and placed them behind the pole, effectively bending herself in half. Ouch! It hurt me to watch, but not enough to keep me from taking pictures.

As we walked through the gardens and structures, we heard beautiful music, either being played on instruments live in the garden or from mechanical devices people had brought with them. The people seemed very happy and content. It seemed such a wonderful way to start a day, out in nature with friends, doing healthy exercise. I asked what they do in winter and our Chinese guide told me that they are there in winter as well.

At the edge of the park there was a store that sold fresh-water pearls. We saw a demonstration where a man took an oyster and opened it up to show us the pearls inside. He had a charming sales pitch, but not charming enough to convince me to buy something that I didn’t need.

Outside we met some Malaysian women and they were so attractively adorned that I asked to take their picture. They then took mine!

When we got back onto the bus and headed straight to the airport for a flight to Xian (Shi-Yan). Xian was the capital of thirteen Chinese dynasties and is its only walled city whose walls have survived until today.

There we saw the Bell Tower and the Drum Tower. We took a walk through the Muslim Quarter and saw a Muslim Temple that is said to resemble quite closely the synagogue that used to exist in Kaifeng. It was of traditional Chinese architecture in that it consisted to entrances and gardens one after the other. It was very tranquil and very beautiful.

We then visited the Big Wild Goose Pagoda which is a Buddhist temple. You can read about it at http://www.travelchinaguide.com/attraction/shaanxi/xian/bigwildgoose.htm

Back at the hotel, we had dinner and when we left the dining room, we saw some very lovely young women in long purple taffeta gowns with nametags and little purses. We didn’t know if they were to be in a show or if they were at some sort of conference or what. One said something about dancing. I took a picture and one looked at me and motioned not to take pictures. Later I learned that these women dance with visiting gentlemen.

We then left the hotel and went to the Tang Dynasty Show which consisted of beautiful music and dancing. The costumes were exquisite. It was a feast for the senses. A tired crew, we returned to the hotel to catch a few hours of sleep before the next day’s adventures.

A Very Narrow Bridge

Last week my husband and I and a couple we are friendly with went for a hike in the Negev Desert. We had asked someone knowledgeable to recommend a trail. The person saw that we were not exactly teenagers and that in addition to us, our friends’ son and daughter-in-law and their three young children were present.

We set off into the desert passing a number of camels, climbing in our cars to the top of an overlook to the Great Machtesh (crater), and then continued on to the eucalyptus parking area that was beside the colored sands—sands that were naturally colored from the minerals in them.

Our friends’ son and wife decided not to come on the hike, but their having a car of their own enabled us to leave our own car at the finish of the hike.

We started along the trail. At first it was a gradual rise along a path that was quite beautiful. We passed some exquisitely colored sand formations and the rocks formed patterns in the sunlight. Soon the path turned upward and we climbed along the rocks. Then we saw a wall in front of us and a trail marking pointing up. We found metal handholds and scaled that wall and came to the top—or so we thought, but we found out that at the top of the mountain, the trail led to the top of another mountain and at the top of that mountain, there was yet another. The path became steeper and steeper. Finally, we reached the top. The view was magnificent.

We were walking in the heat of the day. We had sufficient water and food, but the heat and the very persistent flies made it less than pleasant. However, having gotten to the mountaintop, we hoped that the second part of the hike would be easier.

It wasn’t. The way down was along a path that ranged between 8 and 20 inches, was covered with dry pebbles, so there was not a decent foothold, and had only pointy rocks to hold onto. The mountain was called “the Big Fin” but I refer to it as “Stegosaurus Mountain.” My husband and one of our friends chose to propel themselves down the mountain in a sitting position, however I was wearing a skirt and there was no way that would work, so I watched every step (as did they) and continued on. We had noticed at the beginning of the climb that there was no cell phone reception and so I had shut off my cell phone thinking that I didn’t want to use up the battery in case we would need it later. My husband worried that if I fell, he would have no access to the cell phone! We began talking about the fact that the only rescue would be via helicopter. There was no way to carry a person down the mountain. I never worried about dying, but the thought of serious injury did enter my mind when I slipped and heard the pebbles continuing to fall down to the desert floor. But we continued, mainly because there was nothing else that we could do.

When we finally got to the bottom of the steepest descent, we rested and then the rest of the descent seemed easy. Just as we were feeling confident once again, we noticed that there was a railroad track directly in front of us that was at the top of a very steep rise. Only a few minutes later did we discover that there was a pedestrian tunnel underneath. That was the good news. The bad news is that it was built for pygmies. The tunnel was probably five feet high, but after the descent, I literally ran through it bent in half.

When finally we reached the parking lot where the car was located, I believe I rhapsodized about my car in a completely insane manner. But by then I was totally spent.

We stopped in the next town to buy cold drinks.

When finally I caught my breath, I realized that this whole adventure was very much like life. You start out happy and confident. Things are beautiful and easy. You experience some difficulty, but it’s still lovely. And then you get to a point where it gets hard, very hard, and just when you think it can’t get any harder, it does. Then it gets harder yet. You can stop and look around and then you decide you need to go on. You walk along the path, danger on either side. You can be with friends and they are there to share the experience with you. They provide support and protection and comfort, but the journey is still rough. Sometimes the up-hills are the hardest, and sometimes when it seems that things should be easy, that is when they are the most difficult. But when the hard times are over, you feel relieved, grateful, and maybe even proud that you hung in there and made it through.

Throughout the descent, I kept thinking of something that Rav Nachman of Bratslav said: “The whole world is a very narrow bridge and the main thing is not to be at all afraid.”

Healing in China

It has taken me some time to begin to process our trip to China. One of the women on the trip said that for her, the trip was a vacation from a very stressful and hectic life which had been particularly difficult over the past summer. She thought that the trip would renew her.

I immediately understood what she was saying, for although my life was less stressed than hers, for me too the common annoyances of life were for this brief moment being replaced with new places and new people and new experiences beyond our imaginations.

My difficult summer had begun with becoming ill almost exactly when my sister arrived to visit me for two weeks. The relatively benign virus affected me so strongly that I was not able to function for weeks. My doctor had informed me that I would take months to recover. We wondered whether I would be able to go on the trip, but my lab values began to improve and I was determined to go.

When we got to the Great Wall on the first full day in China, there was a climb of what turned out to be 1200 uneven steps. Since this was likely to be my only time at the Great Wall, I made a decision to climb it. Something about that climb amid the beauty of the countryside, the bright colors of the tourists’ clothing, the optimism of people having a good time, the wonder of being in an exotic setting, gave me the energy and determination to go on and I did it! I accomplished my goal. But from that day on, I no longer felt weak or sick. Without noticing it, I had recovered my strength faster than I would have predicted.

It was not that long afterwards that we had our first walk in a Chinese garden. They are places of enormous delight. They are verdant with flowing water and rough hewn rocks and are filled with sounds of flute and other Chinese instruments. They are a place of quiet and contemplation. As we experienced these gardens and temples and as we made our way on quiet rivers and lakes, I felt a sense of peace and well-being. In the exquisite Stone Forest, I was overwhelmed with the beauty of nature in a misty rain. As we cruised along the Li River, the beauty was breathtaking. Our hotel in Guilin was along the side of a lake that provided calm and beauty to a bustling city as people walked along its paths and crossed its bridges and walkways.

Among 1.3 billion people, there was peace and solitude and well-being. There were oases of calm and quiet. And there was beauty.

Our trip was not only an adventure, but a healing experience.

Saturday in the Forbidden City

On Saturday morning, after services, kiddush, and breakfast, we set out for the Forbidden City. With such an ominous name, it was a place that I was a bit reluctant to visit. We walked about two long blocks and arrived beside Tiananmen Square, the site of Mao’s Mausoleum and adjacent to the Great Hall of the People. We proceeded down a flight of steps and into a pedestrian tunnel so that we could cross the very wide street that separates Tiananmen Square from the Forbidden City.

We were not alone. Thousands of people converged on the Forbidden City, home of Emperors of China in the Ming and Qing dynasties. The area it occupies is vast and it is representative of the style of formal Chinese buildings with a formal entrance (in this case consisting of three doors, each of which had its unique use), a courtyard (or garden) and then another building behind which was another courtyard or garden and then another and another. Each change required stepping up and down as the buildings were several steps above ground level and with each doorway of each building having a board vertically set perhaps 12 inches high that one had to step over to enter. These boards at entrances were standard throughout all of the temples and old formal buildings that we visited.

We heard several explanations for the board. We heard that it will stop enemies from charging in. They have to stop in order to step over and this literally unbalances them. We heard that the bowed stature that climbing over something inevitably engenders is a forced sign of respect. We heard that they kept the building free of mice and we heard that in places where it floods, it kept the water out. Someone even suggested that it kept the chickens that were kept inside from escaping! After a while we came to expect them and I started to think it might be an idea that would slow down the grandchildren….

The imperial palace, consisting of a rumored 9,999 buildings ( a number I find somewhat exaggerated) is quite a complex. There is a wonderful online tour at http://www.chinavista.com/beijing/gugong/map.html

One of the items pointed out to us by our tour guides was a huge pot which had been put there for holding water. In early times, they were essential since there was no natural water source on the grounds. There were a large number of these huge pots. Many were coated in gold. When the Japanese invaded, they literally scraped the gold from the pots and we could see the remnants of the gold among the scratchings.

The vastness of the area and the style of the structures were nothing like what I had imagined. We listened with interest to the beliefs about what the emperor needed to do to ensure the well-being of the country. We heard about the symbolism of the colors that were used in the building and decorating.

It was a hot sunny day, but everyone remained interested in learning as much as we could, and when we returned to the hotel, we had plenty to talk about.

That evening we went to the Beijing Opera. Of course it was not at all what we expected. It was, instead, a performance put on in a very small auditorium that seated our group and no others. Two men enacted to music an encounter between good and evil that included a great deal of movement and dance with them using knives to threaten and slash at each other. The movement was graceful and the timing was superb. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

Some of the pictures I took in China are now available for viewing at:

http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=9AYs2rJi2cvhA

Friday in Beijing

My husband and I joined friends who were taking a 17 day tour of China with Shai Bar Ilan who runs tours to China and other locations for Jewish people who observe the dietary laws and the Sabbath. In general, a Jew who is ritually observant has to be very careful in planning a trip to a place where there is no established Jewish community, so Shai had solved those problems. There was a minyan of men, kosher food, and we did no traveling on the Sabbath. Instead, we spent late Sabbath mornings and early afternoons on walks that enabled us to see sights that were close to the hotel. He even arranged for us to be able to have a drink of cold water on our way.

Our tour was to have begun on Wednesday afternoon, August 31 with a flight to Istanbul from where we were to fly to Beijing, arriving in the afternoon. Our flight to Beijing, however, was delayed by 12 hours and so were we! We flew to Istanbul and stayed the few hours we had at a hotel near the airport. Since we arrived after dark and left before it got light in the morning, we didn’t actually see anything in Istanbul.

The flight on Turkish Airlines was pleasant and we arrived in Beijing safely.

Although I knew China was a big country, I was surprised to see how big and modern the airports were. Unlike experiences in Israel and New York and Dallas and Oklahoma City, the baggage arrived quickly and within about 15 minutes, we had gathered our belongings and were moving along.

By the time we arrived at our hotel, it was dark. The rooms were clean and attractive. Shai had prepared a “snack” for us which turned out to be a full meal. With a bit more area to move around in, we began to become acquainted with the other people who had come along on the trip.

Although most of the group consisted of Israelis, we had three women from Canada and one from New York join us. In addition, at least one of the Israelis who was formerly from the US had difficulty with Hebrew, and so we were divided into two groups: Hebrew and English. The Hebrew group was larger and filled their bus. We were a group of about 23 and so we were usually very comfortable in ours. Although we were excited, we were also very tired, having missed most of a night’s sleep in Istanbul, so we all went to our rooms and slept.

In the morning, we ate and then piled into the buses for our first outing. As we drove through the enormous city of Beijing, it was hard to believe how urban and modern it looked. We arrived at the cloisonné factory and watched the women who worked to create the beautiful objects by hand. There are no shortcuts and no assembly line. Every work they produce is handmade with intricate designs and brilliantly colored enamels. A showroom the size of a US department store displayed items large and small including vases and jewelry and bells and cups and just about every object one could imagine.

After the factory, we traveled to the Great Wall (or, as one of the Israelis sometimes said, “the Big Wall”). We were surprised by the height of it, the width, and the fact that in this area, one climbed it. The wall has a long long flight of steps—perhaps ending where it ends, but being that it is 4163 miles long, we settled for climbing only part of it. The steps were not easy to climb. They were not of uniform height and some were the equivalent height of two to three steps. I was breathing really hard by the time we got to the landmark we were aiming for. We were told that the area we traversed contained 1200 steps. Of course, once up, the next task was going down. The weather was beautiful and the views were magnificent and everyone was in a mood of elation, and so it was all a big adventure.

We were taken next for reflexology treatments at an institute for Chinese medicine. There they grow medicinal plants, and the reflexology students worked their art on us. Two doctors came to check us all. They claimed to be able to tell our state of health by feeling our pulses in both our left and right wrists. Since everyone had ailments that they had the cure for and since all of the cures were only going to require a one month supply of their rather expensive formulas, we imagined that our diagnoses were all essentially the same: fat wallet.

After the rest and relaxation, we went to the Summer Palace, a magnificent estate with many buildings and a huge lake. The buildings were all traditional Chinese buildings and the lake was large enough that there were boats to traverse it. We saw gigantic lotus plants growing in the water. We walked along the Long Corridor which was painted with hundreds of pictures on its beams and its ceiling. It is simply a covered walkway. The Long Corridor is 795 yards long and parallels the lake. To have an estate so large and so green and so pastoral in a city whose metropolitan area houses thirty million people is nothing less than amazing to me.

Late that afternoon, we took a walk to Tian’anmen Square, but in a move reminiscent (at least to me) of my impressions of the square with the tank headed for the young student, police prevented our proceeding to the square citing the need to clean the area for a ceremony that was to take place the next morning. A number of police marched toward us accompanied by a police car that headed straight for us, albeit slowly. I couldn’t help wishing that someone would take a picture of my standing there with my hands held up.

We walked back to the hotel to get ready for the Sabbath.

I’m back

No, I am not sick and I am not being held hostage…I returned on Friday from a two week trip to China. There is so much to tell that it is hard to know where to start.

China is a country with a far greater land mass than the US and with a population of 1.3+ billion people. So why is it that I had heard of about two Chinese cities before my trip: Beijing and Shanghai? It would be like someone thinking that the US consisted of New York and Los Angeles. As we traveled from city to city, we were told that the Beijing area has a population of 30 million people and that Shanghai has a population of 17 million. Small cities had “only” 3 or 4 or 7 million people.

We knew about the Great Wall, but were unaware of other cultural and historical treasures that China has. We knew little of the culture and folklore. The language was a mystery to us.

During our trip we took five internal flights in China on at least 4 different airlines. We were impressed with the modernity and efficiency of Chinese airports, airlines, and hotels.

We saw Buddhist and Taoist temples, beautifully landscaped parks and gardens, and people who enjoyed life. We learned how they made fabrics, processed silk, did fine embroidery, and hand-manufactured cloisonné items.

We saw a country running into modernity with its sleeves flapping. We saw modern multi-layered roadways, tens of skyscrapers, and vast urban development. We learned about their one-child policy and how it has become a huge social experiment.

The trip to China was a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, and action. I hope to share some of it with you in the days to come.