USA, June 2014
Before I left for the US in June, Val asked me what other people were saying to me about my plan to go on an intercontinental business trip and bring a baby, and I said that I gathered that people thought both that it was a terrible idea and that it was fairly typical of me to attempt it.
It was touch and go committing to it. Just when I started to get excited about it, A went through a non-sleeping patch over Easter that nearly saw me walk away from the whole thing. So after that I mostly dealt with it by ignoring it as much as possible until the time was nearly upon me, much as I deal with the entire idea of long haul travel generally.
In fact the trip over started quite promisingly, sitting in Air New Zealand’s nearly deserted business lounge looking out onto the tarmac and feeling a kind of peace and happiness I very rarely feel. (So rarely that I can remember most other cases of it. The afternoon after I finished my final high school exams. Flying back from Honolulu last year finishing up my PhD revisions. I usually need to be alone, and finishing something very big, neither of which was true in this case.)
I like Air New Zealand’s schedule to the States compared to Qantas’s. To fly Qantas to the Bay Area, you fly to LA, which takes about 15 hours, and get off the plane at some point between midnight and about 3am Sydney time, ie, just when your body was finally about to fall asleep. Instead of sleeping, you must navigate LAX. I’ve had nightmares that are more fun than that, even though LAX has usually been rather kind to me if anything. However kind, last year I arrived in San Francisco without a moment of sleep (and pregnant, and ill). On Air NZ, the long flight is the second flight: Auckland to San Francisco, so it more nearly corresponds with my sleeping time.
The question was always whether the baby would sleep at all during the flight, and actually she did surprisingly well considering how ill-designed her location was. They had her staring straight up into a light! Nightie night! I did OK too, although the trip’s high point in the lounge was quickly followed by its low point when I subluxated my shoulder in the middle of the night shutting a window shade (yes really, I attempted it from a terrible angle, but yikes) while located something like 2000km from the nearest hospital (and 10km in the air). But I only had to spend a couple of moments imagining the horror of finding some doctor on the plane to attempt to reset it before it reset itself. The whole thing gave me a new appreciation of fear of flying, as the plane bumped along held up by thin, cold air with me stuck inside it with a busted shoulder. I don’t experience fear of flying, but I increasingly think I probably ought to.
The border official at San Francisco looked a bit skeptical that I was bringing the baby on a business trip, but duly admitted me for business and her as a tourist. And then it was déjà vu all the way out thought the ceiling height metal arrival doors and into and through the waiting groups. I’ve flown into San Francisco internationally only once in the past — my first big overseas trip in 2004 — and so I quite vividly remembered the entire experience. Luckily this time I didn’t have to head out to BART and try and work out SF’s bus system without any sleep (in 2004 I had never been in the northern hemisphere before and didn’t know that I would constantly confuse north and south, thus catching a bus for half an hour in the wrong direction). This time, too, I had a baby with me. Quite a change. I went outside and Suki met me with her car and we loaded A into the car seat and we were away.
It’s always summer in SF when I go there, and for once it really felt like it. Our first night, I went to a long dinner at Amelia’s house. Everyone was pleasingly impressed with my ability to stay awake, but I was playing on easy mode: it was only about 2pm in Sydney. The next day I had lunch at Sanraku at the Metreon because somehow my SF experiences seem to always involve the Metreon, visited Double Union, had coffee with K nearby and dinner with James at Mission Beach Cafe. All with A strapped to my front. (Actually, not strictly true, I put her on the floor at Double Union!) Too many appointments; I should never visit SF just for two nights, it needs to be a week or not at all.
The idea of getting back on a plane the next day was abhorrent, but I just gritted my teeth and did it. In any case, it was only to Portland. I am too used to thinking of Australia as a uniquely large country and therefore had been surprised that we weren’t driving to Portland. Aren’t all foreign cities an hour’s drive apart at most? No. Portland is about 9 hours, it seems, from SF, so much like Sydney and Melbourne or Brisbane. I was also disappointed that it was still about another 5 hours north to Canada, or I would have gone for a day trip.
I was in Portland for eight nights. It was good to settle into a routine there. A adapted really well to the new time and slept much better than she had been doing in Sydney, or has done since. I think it was due to the solstice, which occurred while we were there. Sleeping through the night is much more likely when someone lops four or more hours off the night for you. She sleeps from 6pm here, but in Portland she was staying up past 9.
I hadn’t remembered about Powell’s until Chally reminded me before I left, and in any event I didn’t really appreciate what Powell’s is. It’s a bookstore. A bookstore that occupies a couple of city blocks. It is a good thing that my 16 year old self never got anywhere near it or I might still be living in there. Sadly, it is not quite as magical with a grumpy 8kg human heater strapped to my chest, so I only mounted a couple of special purpose expeditions in, after books I’d been meaning to get for a while. A shame, considering I was only staying a couple of blocks away.
The trip was mostly work. I hope some time I can justify spending some time in the USA that isn’t work-related. (Right now, because V hates it when I travel, I don’t really feel good about travelling for leisure without him.) We arrived Portland on Thursday, had the AdaCamp reception Friday, the Camp itself Saturday and Sunday, Open Source Bridge Tuesday to Thursday, and then I left Portland Friday for Sydney.
I decided to keep things simple while I was there by not having A eating any food, or taking any bottles or pumping supplies, which did mean I was at her beck and call during AdaCamp (which she spent with a child carer) and otherwise I always had her with me. But she was in an exceptionally good mood for essentially the entire trip. Val pointed out that she has a particular trick for interacting with people, which is that she blankly stares at people before smiling at them, giving the impression that she chose to smile especially for them. She made lots and lots of friends. She seems quite outgoing, like her brother. I was sad she couldn’t stay at Open Source Bridge forever, but she couldn’t, what with it only going for a week. (And honestly, I had trouble with just that. I was very tired by that point.)
I liked Portland, but I didn’t feel I got to grips with it. Perhaps the closest was the bus ride out to Selena’s place and back in, looking at the big wooden houses and the massive bright green leafy trees. It’s not a very large city: suburbs full of detached houses can be found within 15 minutes bus ride of downtown. I’m sure they were all ludicrously expensive, but all the same, it had something of a distinct feel to it, so I felt I knew the city a little bit. Another moment of note was that on the bus back, which was exceptionally crowded, the bus driver insisted that someone give me a seat (because A was strapped to me) and didn’t move the bus until they did so. It didn’t at all remind me of SF’s Muni, nor Sydney Buses for that matter.
Val told me that this is the deceptive time of year in Portland, the time when it seems very very liveable. I can believe it, on the 45th parallel. Summertime is long dusks and companionship. Winter is… I’m not sure. I’ve never lived that far from the equator.
A’s one bad time of the trip was on the flight from Portland to SF. She screamed continuously for much of the flight. The man across the aisle from me stuffed his fingers in his ears. I think they may have even messed with the oxygen levels, because everyone around me went to sleep and I had tears pouring down my face from yawning. A did sleep, but it took a while. The wait in SF airport was also no fun — other than a very interesting exhibit of lace in the museum area — most things were closed, and I stabbed my finger hard on a safety pin (not safe enough, it seems). But A was a perfect angel from SF to Auckland; the crew came by to coo over the soundless baby several times. And at Sydney V was very excited to see us and begin the whole fortnight he was to have… before Andrew’s work trip to the US.