I sat in the dark room, rubbed my eyes and tried to psyche myself up for the monumental task in front of me. It was 12:30 at night and I was in New Delhi, propped up in the guest bed of friends from Beijing who had recently relocated.

 

My kids were sleeping all around me but in 15 minutes I would be carrying them to a waiting car to drive to the airport and board a plane with the ridiculous departure time of 3:15 a.m. to return to Beijing. And I would be doing it on my own, as Rebecca had to stay in India for a few more days.

 

This journey had been hanging over me all week, spooking me at times so much that it cast a pall over a fabulous week touring around wild, crazy Technicolor India.

 

Our vacation choices often involve a balancing act between making the most out of being Asia-based expats and not wanting to put our children in perilous, exhausting, confusing -- or just boring -- situations. In this case, we were in an absurd situation, as our travel agent had made an egregious error that canceled our flights, and we had to make a last-second decision whether to accept this itinerary or cancel the whole trip. We really wanted to visit our friends Nathan and Kristi, and I did not want to leave Asia without having visited India, so we pushed on.

 

Now the moment of truth was approaching and I was trying to buck up my nerves. We had aggravated an already intense situation by waking the kids up at 5 a.m. the previous morning to see the sunrise over the Taj Mahal and then having a long slog of a drive back to Delhi that stretched deep into the evening.

 

'This is the gold-medal decathlon match of the parenting Olympics,' I told myself. 'It's what you've been training for for 10 years.'

 

An hour later as I checked in to the Air China flight and my kids trudged through the passport control line sleepily but without whining, I realized that I was giving myself way too much credit. It was all out of my control anyhow; if this was an Olympics event, it was the kids who were competing. We have trained them to be good travelers with our nutty, on-the-go expat lifestyle. Hopefully, they would be good sports and respond to this situation. If they chose a different path, however, there wasn't a lot I could do.

 

We preboarded the plane and took our seats at about 2:30 in the morning. Ten-year-old Jacob almost immediately collapsed across two seats -- the ticket agent had mercifully honored my request to leave an empty seat next to him -- and went to sleep. No American airline would have let him sleep in that prone position through take-off, but the Air China stewardesses just looked at him and walked on by. My own standards may well have been compromised by a week driving through India, where the teeming roads, filled with animals and overloaded vehicles and lined with food vendors, make China's byways look like empty pastoral landscapes.

 

Eight-year-old Eli was happily playing a Nintendo DS while his little sister, Anna, cheerily watched. This astounded me, as I could barely keep my own eyes open. All around us people went to sleep while my kids chattered away. I finally gave them a time limit and 15 minutes later, they both curled up and went to sleep in their seats. I sat alone in the dark for a few minutes, looked around, counted my blessings and silently thanked my kids. I was proud of them.

 

Their behavior was also stellar throughout the weeklong jaunt through India, which was consistently fascinating but not always easy. Landing there from China is like dropping into Technicolor Munchkinland from black and white Kansas -- if Dorothy and Toto had to dodge cows and camels on the yellow brick road and the lollipop boys waved at them as they drove by packed amid a crowd on the roof of a day-glo painted bus.

 

Obviously, we only scratched the surface of this fascinating and ancient land in seven days, and I wouldn't try to analyze what's going on there, but it is an intoxicating, dizzying place. In the state of Rajasthan, where we spent most of our time, many men look like pirates, handsome and rakish, sporting earrings in both ears and often rings on every finger. The kids loved the monkeys crawling through the cities, the many traditional puppet shows we saw, the two elephant rides we took, and most of all, the snake charmers and their dancing cobras and pet baby pythons.

 

They had a harder time with the insistent hawkers, who made China's salesmen look timid, and the many begging children. I wanted to set a compassionate tone by giving money or, better, food and drink, to as many as possible, but even making eye contact could lead to uncomfortable situations. I handed chocolate milk boxes to a few kids in one small town, only to have an army of children chasing our car and hanging onto the doors as we slowly bumped down a rutted road. I was worried we would run one over, and my kids were wide eyed with a mix of fear, pity and confusion.

 

But they also took note of the crisply uniformed children attending school under trees in blistering heat outside of one-room schoolhouses on remote roads. And they noticed the families getting water at central-square pumps and hauling it home. 'The best thing about America,' Jacob said to me, at one point, 'is you can drink the water out of any tap anywhere.'

 

India definitely has an edge. Over 200 people died in a temple stampede not far from where we were visiting a similar venue at the same time. A market bomb detonated in New Delhi the day before our arrival, and I saw more rifle-toting security officials in a week than I have in the rest of my life.

 

The infrastructure in India also seems to be decades behind China. The 120-mile drive from the Taj Mahal to New Delhi took us over six hours, as we dodged all those camels and cows, inched our way through small towns, waited for buses to pick up and discharge people, had kids washing our windows with dirty rags and begging for payment, and, finally, inched our way through the capital city's dense traffic, which forced us onto a backroads shortcut that had us banging along almost until the very end.

 

I was shocked that this was the road link between India's capital and its largest tourist attraction. Luckily, we had a comfortable car with a DVD player and a great driver, the gentle, unflappable Ranesh.

 

When we finally made it back to Nathan and Kristi's house, we ordered some Domino's for the kids. They gobbled down the pizza, then ran into their friends' room and played hard, dressing up as cowboys, princesses and Star Wars characters -- a good reminder of their real idea of a fun week.

 

We have several other friends from Beijing in the process of moving to Delhi. I'm envious that they are all starting a new expat adventure as my own winds down, but at the same time I am concerned that day-to-day life in Delhi will surely be difficult and at times scary. When I mentioned my mixed feelings to my kids, they all looked at me cockeyed. 'It's a nice place to visit,' they seemed to be saying, 'but we're ready to go home.'

我坐在漆黑的房间里，揉着睡眼惺忪的眼睛，试图打起精神来，为即将来临的一场大战役做好准备。现在是凌晨12点半，而我身处新德里一个朋友家的客房里，他们是我在北京认识的朋友，前不久刚调来印度。

 

孩子们横七竖八地睡在我身边，再过一刻钟，我就得一个个把他们抱到在门口等候的汽车里，然后赶去机场，坐飞机回北京；而航班的起飞时间非常荒谬，居然是凌晨3点15分。这些事情都得我一个人来干，因为白佩琪(Rebecca)还要在印度多呆几天。

 

这次的回程安排就像一片乌云笼罩在我头上，让我整整一个星期忐忑不安，即使在开心游览野趣十足的印度时，也常常会心神不宁。

我们在安排度假时，往往会考虑周全，既要充分利用派驻在亚洲工作的机会，又要为孩子们考虑，不能选择那些路途危险、长途跋涉、令人困惑或非常无聊的游玩线路。但这次的情况非常特殊，旅行社犯了个大错，把原定的航班取消了，因此我们只能决定是否接受这个临时安排的线路，还是彻底取消整个假期。我们真的很想去印度看纳珊(Nathan)和克利斯蒂(Kristi)这两个朋友，而且我不想在亚洲工作期间错过去印度玩的机会，所以只能硬着头皮上了。

 

现在，一切就快要见分晓了，而我只能把内心的不安强压下来。昨天早上5点，我们就把孩子们叫起来过一次，目的是去泰姬陵(Taj Mahal)看日出；回程的路又长又难走，直到晚上才回到新德里。这无疑增加了今天凌晨赶飞机安排的难度。

 

“这次是为人父母奥运会的十项全能决赛。”我给自己打气说，“而你已经为此训练了整整10年时间。”

 

一个小时后，我在中国国际航空公司(Air China)检票柜台办完手续，带着昏昏欲睡但好在没什么抱怨的孩子们出关，此时我意识到，这场战役不是我一个人在打，掌握战局的根本不是我，即使这是一场奥运会赛事，也是孩子们在上场比赛。我们说走就走的外派生活方式已经把他们训练成素质过硬的旅行家，应该足以应付这种情况。当然，如果他们选择跟我唱对台戏的话，我也没太多的办法可想。

 

凌晨2点半时，我们提前上飞机安顿下来，10岁的雅各(Jacob)几乎立马就横躺在两个座位上－－售票公司很慷慨地答应我的请求，给雅各旁边留了一个空位－－不一会儿，就进入了梦乡。美国的航空公司肯定不会允许他在起飞时躺在座位上，但国航的空姐只是看了一眼，就走过去了。我自己的安全标准也因在印度开了一周车而变得大为放松。印度的道路极其拥堵，各种动物肆意穿行，超载车辆横行，路边的小吃摊随处可见；与此相比，中国的道路简直就是空空荡荡的大草原。

 

八岁的艾里(Eli)正兴高采烈地玩任天堂DS游戏机，他的小妹妹安娜(Anna)在旁边看得入神。这让我感到很惊奇，因为自己的上下眼皮直打架，都快撑不住了。两个孩子在交流游戏心得时，周围的人纷纷入睡了，于是我给了他们一个时间限制。15分钟后，两人蜷起身子，都在座位上睡着了。我一个人在黑暗中坐了几分钟，往四周看了看，暗自庆幸一番，同时在心里向孩子们致谢，他们真给我争气。

 

在印度游玩的一周时间里，孩子们的表现也可圈可点，因为旅途虽然有趣，但并不总是轻松自在。从中国来到印度，就像从黑白照片中的堪萨斯州荒原来到缤纷多彩的绿野仙踪世界。不过，绿野仙踪里的多萝茜(Dorothy)和托托(Toto)不必在黄砖路上躲避奶牛和骆驼，也不必和一大群人挤在遍布幻彩涂鸦的巴士车顶上赶路，看着路边另一大群卖棒棒糖的男孩子在挥手兜售。

 

当然，七天的印度之旅只能对这片神秘古老的土地有一个粗略的印象，我也没有去试图了解当地人的真正生活，但这是一个令人心旷神怡、乃至有点晕头转向的国家。我们大多数时间呆在拉贾斯坦邦(Rajasthan)，那里的很多男人看上去就像海盗，穿得时髦俏皮，两耳都有耳环，经常每根手指上都戴满戒指。孩子们喜欢一路上看到的猴子，看了很多场传统的木偶表演，骑了两次大象，最有意思的是蛇巫和会跳舞的眼镜蛇，还有被养作宠物的小蟒蛇。

 

让孩子们吃到苦头的是孜孜不倦兜售东西的小贩，他们的顽强作风会令中国的小贩甘拜下风，此外还有很多要饭的孩子。我试图表现出自己的同情心，尽可能多给那些要饭的孩子零钱、食物和饮料；然而，即使你跟他们的目光有所接触，都可能导致不愉快的事情发生。有一次我在一个小镇上给几个小孩几盒巧克力奶，结果引来一大群娃娃追着我们的汽车跑，当汽车在颠簸的道路上缓慢行驶时，他们甚至把手伸进车里要东西，让我很担心他们中的某一个会被汽车撞倒。我的孩子们眼睛睁得大大的，眼神里交织着恐惧、怜悯和困惑。

不过，他们也注意到偏远道路旁那些只有一间校舍的学校，穿着校服的孩子冒着酷热在屋外的大树下上课；他们也看到那些在小镇广场取水回家的一家老小。“美国最大的好处是，” 雅各有次对我说，“到处都有水龙头可以随意喝水。”

 

印度确实也有一定的危险。有一次我们去一座寺庙游玩时，附近一座类似的寺庙发生人群践踏事件，有200多人丧生。我们来到新德里的前一天，那里的集市刚刚发生了炸弹爆炸事件。在印度的一星期里，我看到的荷枪实弹的警员比我一辈子看到的都要多。

 

印度的基础建设看上去要比中国落后几十年，从泰姬陵到新德里的120英里让我们开了六个多小时，因为要躲避路上的骆驼和奶牛，穿过小镇时只能慢慢往前挪，等待前面的公共汽车上下乘客，还有拿着肮脏抹布的小孩子冲上来强擦玻璃，然后找你要钱；到了新德里，路却被堵得结结实实，最后只好找一条小巷子穿行，一路颠得要命。

 

连接印度首都和最大旅游景点的道路居然路况这么差，我感到非常震惊。幸好我们开的车很舒服，配备了DVD播放器，司机也不错，是个脾气好、做事不慌不忙的印度Ranesh人。

 

终于，我们回到纳珊和克利斯蒂的房子，给孩子们叫了达美乐披萨(Domino's)的外卖。他们狼吞虎咽地吃下匹萨，然后冲进房里大玩特玩，扮演牛仔、公主和星球大战的各种角色－－对他们来说，这才是一个快乐星期的真正含义。

 

我们还有几个北京的朋友正打算迁居到新德里来，一方面在我即将结束外派生活的时候，我很羡慕他们又能开始一次外派生涯的冒险，但另一方面也替他们担心，因为新德里的生活肯定会更艰苦，有时候甚至很可怕。当我把这种感想告诉孩子们时，他们都睁大眼睛直盯着我，彷佛在说：“来这里玩玩挺不错，但现在该回家了。”