My house has a secret passage, which almost makes up for the waxed wood and marble floors that are slick as glass and require that slidey slippers be worn indoors. Chase has banged his heel, Porter has fallen down the stairs three times, and Abby has fallen four times, taking an entire flight on her back. “I’m done with this house, Mom, I’m so done.” But even she admits the secret passage is pretty cool. Today my husband surprised her with a white baby bunny from a mobile pet store pulled by a bicycle and parked at an intersection. Baby bunnies are great healers of bruises.

I doubt most Chinese houses contain secret passages. In fact, this whole part of town which at first seemed so wondrous strange to my untutored eyes, is slowly beginning to look comparatively westernized the further I venture past the Cold Stone where one of the clerks speaks some English and we pay ruinous sums for three teaspoons of ice cream. Much is available here and the people are used to foreigners who are, in turn, used to high prices, so many westerners never leave this area. But my husband has spent has life on safari, hunting the two-headed beast known as Exotic and Cheap.

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