Beijing Bound

So I guess Beijing it is.  Russell hired a driver.  Russell is enamored with the idea.  He described how the driver, who looks like an Asian baby Huey, picked him up from the airport, in the middle of the night, carried his luggage, and insisted on opening his door.  Russell thinks of himself as gentry now.  The driver speaks no English.  I’m not sure that’s not a good thing.

I asked if he wore a uniform.  Russell said no.  “Well that has got to change” I commented.  “When I come, I expect him to wear a uniform and cap, yes a cap,  AND,” I added with enthusiasm,  “address me as Madame.  No wait,” I countered excitedly, “Mylady.  Yes, mylady.  That will work.” 

“You’re kidding, right” He remarked dryly. 

“Of course I’m kidding.,,about the mylady part.”  I smiled innocently.

So after madly trying to see everyone I know back in LA and hike all my favorite trails, I packed up my worldly possessions except for my beloved Ranger, who can’t come over until Russell has his work Visa – a major undertaking, and flew back to Beijing.

I can only stay for 30 days.  Russell is not allowed to bring any of his “personal affects”, personal affects being me, Ranger and household goods, until he has been fully certified and approved by the People’s Republic of China.

This requires amazing feats of bureaucracy and herculean patience.  We went to the Chinese consulate four times in two weeks and we hadn’t even left the country yet.

Americans are not allowed to work in China without a bachelors degree or higher.  No dumb asses are allowed.  I guess I can never work there; I only have an AA degree, in Fashion Design, no less.  You are required to bring your original college diploma.  No kidding.  Russell’s original diploma is in deep stasis, otherwise known as storage.  That meant we had to order a certified copy.  Researching this turned out to be somewhat interesting.  UT’s website is actually quite helpful and efficient.  But they asked if we needed an apostille as well.  What the heck is an apostille? 

Apparently, an apostille is occasionally required by foreign countries.  Basically it’s a higher certification – it means the Secretary of State has signed it, therefore vouching for the document’s authenticity.  I asked Russell if he needed this.  He checked with his Chinese counterparts they said he did not.  They were wrong.

Friday afternoon, the last business day before Russell was to fly to China, (nothing like waiting until the very last minute) the consulate would not certify his newly acquired college diploma without an apostille.  We were redirected to an office in Downey (an hour away), and then back to another office in downtown LA, about ten minutes from where we were now, to acquire the proper Secretary of State stamps.  They had to be done in order.  The consulate office was closing in two hours.  It would take us four, fighting traffic every inch of the way, to accomplish just the stamps.  “No, your wife cannot process the documents for him. Of course not – are you stupid or something?” their tone seemed to imply when Russell explored this concept with the irritated Chinese woman behind the glass.

We would have to come back to the consulate office Monday morning when they opened at 9am to get the final accreditation.  Russell’s flight was at 11am.  Nothing like waiting until the last minute.  UGH.  I was not happy.  I still had to come back again to pick up my Chinese Visa later that week.  No they cannot check to see if it’s ready early.  Don’t be silly; are you stupid or something?  The Chinese are not nice.  But Russell boarded his flight with the appropriate documentation.  Thank goodness.

In addition to an apostille, (that words just makes me sound smart,) we both have to have full-on medical examinations.  No we cannot get a health certificate from our General Practitioner.  Don’t be stupid.  We both have to be fully examined, read: full body cavity search.  Well almost.  The exam includes a fully body MRI scan, and an EKG, in addition to the usual blood work, listening to your heart, taking your temperature, and sticking out your tongue.  Geez.  I am not looking forward to that.

They didn’t ask Russell to bend over and cough.  I hope that means they won’t require me to put my legs in stirrups and I don’t mean the equestrian kind.