I had been SO looking forward to the Colorado Dragon Boat Festival. I had this idea in my head that it would be a way of experiencing Chinese culture again, for Eleanor to realize that she didn't have to choose between cultures, that both could be intertwined in a beautifully compatible way. Surely I would find Asian treasures in the shopping area that would remind me of Eleanor's hometown. Maybe I'd even find some silk or brocade to make some dresses and tablecloths and pillow covers. There would be Chinese cultural activities and performances and we'd be surrounded by Mandarin-speaking folks enjoying the dragon boat races. It would be Chinese heaven in good ol' Denver.

Um, it wasn't.

We parked for free at Invesco field and took the shuttle to Sloan's Lake, where we were greeted by tents sponsored by Qwest and State Farm and Sprint. There were a few vendors that actually had Asian products, but most of it was schlock. There were some sweet painted silk parasols, and each of the girls picked one for their rooms. Sarah still wished that we would have bought her a plastic samurai sword, but since the only thing that plastic samurai swords are good for is poking at one's little sisters, I decided to pass on that. Generally, it was an overpriced trap for the thousands of Denverites who milled about looking for some sesame chicken and a cheap Buddha figurine.

The dragon boat races themselves were fun, although the announcing was too loud, and the view was too crowded by everyone trying to get a look. We did get to watch Bohua Chinese School beat Great Wall Chinese School by a mile - GO Bohua! (Eleanor is going to Bohua this fall for Mandarin language and Chinese traditional dance lessons).

We wandered around looking for the Bohua booth, didn't find it, and ended up by the Brown Cow frozen yogurt stand with my two youngest daughters hugging Lily the Brown Cow and having a free polaroid taken with the famous bovine. And hey - we got a free magnet picture frame to remember the moment FOREVER on our refrigerator. Everyone should go to the Dragon Boat festival if only for THAT! Sigh.

I was feeling depressed by the total lack of anything reminiscent of the China I remembered visiting. It was so Americanized and crowded and fake feeling. There were Boulder hippie-types selling their versions of Asian lifestyles to promote healing and health (like, feel the Chi, man...), and the only Asian food available involved deep-fat frying and a lot of white rice. If it had been the dragon boat races, and only the dragon boat races, that were going on, I would have liked it much better.

So we left, found a Baskin Robbins, and let the kids color their free paper fans from the State Farm booth. I then remembered an Asian market I had heard of in Broomfield, and we decided to take a look on our way home.

And there, I DID find Chinese heaven in Colorado. All the aisles were marked in English and in Chinese characters, and the smell upon entering was CHINA. Even Sarah remarked on it - "Mom, THIS is what a Chinese market smells like!" Eleanor squealed, "CHINESE!" as we walked up and down the aisles, picking up frozen dumplings and dim sum and rice cookies and hawthorne candy and jasmine tea. They had live fish and fresh meat and strange produce and dried herbs. They had incense and porcelain and hardly a dairy product in sight. I saw very few non-Asian shoppers, as well, which I figured was a very good sign for the quality of what was being sold. I wanted more time to browse; perhaps just with Eleanor in tow, and not right before bedtime. Eleanor hugged me in the checkout line, flashed me the "I love you" ASL sign I had taught her, and smilingly said, "Thank you, Mommy!" Sarah and Gennie were equally thrilled with the rice cookies and hawthorne candies, and asked for a little bit before we even got to the car.

So, the day wasn't completely wasted, and I found my little piece of China, which I hope to visit again soon, even just for the smell. They didn't have silk, but I bet somebody there could tell me where to find some. Of course, I may not find the jackpot experience of posing with a giant cow again, but I guess that's how it goes.

I haven't blogged in a while, partially because we've been driving. And driving. And driving. Mostly through "scenic" southern Wyoming and southeastern Idaho on our way to Oregon and back. ("Mom? Is this STILL Wyoming?") And singing "skinamarinky dinky dink" 89 scrillion times, with subsituted lyrics becoming more and more common as we went along. (Upon googling for the song, I came across this guy doing a Star Trekky version of it on You Tube. Picture this song being sung about 5 octaves higher, and you'll get the idea.) "I love you" became "I smell you" (giggles) and then degenerated into "I smell poo" (which, with Gen in the car, was sometimes an accurate description of the situation). My attempt to have "quiet contests" didn't work. There was plenty of "Mom? She won't stop breathing at me," and "Mom? She called me bumpyhead." I had to stifle a giggle on that one.

We then shoehorned ourselves in at my Mom and Dad's house on the Oregon coast (ooh, ahh... Oregon coast...) with my sisters and their families, and great-grandpa too, making a total of 17 people sleeping in closets and bathtubs and who-knows-where. But you know - we really had a good time. There were WAY too many people trying to do WAY too many things at a time. Mealtimes were a real undertaking. Outings were more like Expotitions (to quote Winnie the Pooh).

But for three days, you kind of want to cram in as much as you can. And I felt really glad that folks love us enough to want to be with us the whole time, even if they ended up sleeping behind the couch instead of on it. Grandma took Sarah out to look for sand dollars during early-morning low tide. They found a hundred and thirty intact ones. We showed Eleanor the ocean for the first time. Everybody got pink around the edges in the sun, even after sunblock. We got lots of sand in our shoes, and liked it. We went to a parade and picked up the salt water taffy they threw. We sat around a bonfire on the beach on the evening of July 4th, and watched all the crazy people setting off what were probably illegal fireworks (I was always panicking that they were too close to us, and that the next one would bean somebody in the head. We were fine.) We finally dragged the exhausted kids up to bed with the smell of the ocean and campfire smoke in their hair. It was really good.

We got to have lunch with the Clark family (with whom we traveled in China) on our way to the beach, and Vicki Paulson of Heritage Adoption Services to give her a personal thank you for her help in bringing home our newest blessing. We saw most of the Nashes, including Grandma Barb and Aunt Courtney (who was busying herself with coaching her fellow brave women mountain bikers in Park City).

The kids had a great time, Dave and I are exhausted but happy, and our own beds feel SOO good. I honestly like being at home, and would rather be at home than anywhere else most of the time. Hopefully we can lure my Oregonian relatives out to Colorado next time. (Maybe one family group at a time? We only have one closet big enough to sleep in, after all).

Here's the photo fun:

Eleanor on the beach for the first time, ever. Fourth of July girls
At the Cannon Beach parade with the whole crew.
Yep, that's us.
And here's the whole fam damily.
Genevieve on the coast
Sarah gathering shells
Gennie and Eleanor take a ride
On the Seaside carousel
Why we love Uncle Dustin and Aunt Meg (and silly cousins, too)!

Anyway, I'd better go to bed now. There's that whole reality thing I need to get back to ASAP, and some sleep would help!