Since my first post, several friends have checked in asking how my daughter’s trip was and wondered why I included a picture of a box of snack foods. I’ll answer these in order…

My daughter has safely landed in Taipei after an “amazing trip” aboard EVA Airlines. Shortly before departure, there were a lot of tears. We tried desperately to buoy her spirits by showing her the list of amenities she would be enjoying for the next 14 hours, including an encyclopedic list of movies (Star Wars! The Chipmunks! The Good Dinosaur!) and video games with which she could burn out her eyes. Between the tears and sniffles, we spotted an advertisement for the (hallelujah!) first-ever Hello Kitty Flight. A nose-to-tail confection of cuteness, this specially designed aircraft boasts oversized illustrations of the famous feline and her insipid sidekicks on the hull. Even the interior of the plane is pink. I silently thanked EVA Airlines for the distraction although sadly, it would not be the plane carrying my daughter and her 47 classmates across the Pacific. Luck was not on our side. So, turning to bribery, we made vague promises that if all goes well this trip, we could return to Taiwan someday on the Hello Kitty flight. It was anything I could do to get my child–now 20 minutes late to get the airport–into the (enter favorite expletive here) car.

But in all seriousness, it wasn’t just anticipated homesickness that delayed getting my daughter to the airport. We had some packing stress around the one carry-on she would be allowed. As the airline could not guarantee the safety of their meals for the five food allergic kids on the school trip, we were all instructed to pack food for the flight. Estimating that she would need enough food for two meals at least, plus snacks, I packed two containers of dried Cup-A-Noodles (not a peep out of any of you judgmental foodies…), Don’t Go Nuts granola bars, dried fruit and turkey jerky, Goldfish crackers and some fresh fruit that I told her to finish before deplaning in Taipei.

Cramming all of this into her backpack was nothing short of frustration. Finally after we managed to artfully wedge the two stuffed animals she insisted on flying with her around all of the food, and ditching the change of clothes the school recommended that she carry aboard, we got the carry-on zipped up and ready to go. And that’s when the real tears began. Unrelated to the trip, these were the tears of a kid sick and tired of having food allergies and having to make special accommodations all the time. All I could do was hug her, remind her that there would be more to this trip than food, that she could watch however many movies she wanted to on the plane, and that, oh yeah, I snuck in a few treats she wouldn’t have to share with anyone.

Flashback to two weeks beforehand…and I am on my hands and knees in the FedEx store arranging an enormous box of food (evidenced in the photo above) that would be shipped to my daughter’s host family. The very act of putting this box together went against my wanderlust soul that when one is in another country, you delight in the adventures of trying the local food. Raised by parents who enjoyed travel and food, and who thumbed their noses at family friends who packed peanut butter for trips to Spain for their spoiled daughter, I cringed at what I was about to do. But with a food allergic kid, as many of you know, you can’t always do as the Romans do when in Rome.

At the advice of some seasoned parents whose food-allergic children had gone on the program in prior years, I composed a box of food that would provide our Taiwanese host mom–angel that she is–with items she could use to pack lunches for my daughter or to substitute as treats when visiting local bakeries and street markets. In the only way I seem to know, I overbought. By about 25 pounds. I had more varieties of food than days that my daughter would be on solid ground. And how much did that cost to send? Let’s just say the nice guys at the FedEx store REALLY like me.

Four days later I received a terse email from one Ms. Jennie Chan in the central FedEx offices of Taiwan. The package had clearly arrived and was most likely the hot topic around the water cooler. I could picture it now: “Classic ugly American doesn’t trust the food in Asia, so she has to send a care package for her snotty kid. Did you see the crap she packed? What the hell is ‘pizza snack mix’ anyway?”

According to Ms. Chan, I had not provided sufficient information for the “commercial invoice” that would clear my box through Taiwanese customs. “What do you mean by ‘commercial’?” I fired back. “This food is for my daughter who has a SEVERE medical condition of food allergies and I wanted to provide safe food to the family she will be staying with! I am not selling these goods! Please explain ASAP!” In hindsight, the delivery of my message could have been more diplomatic.

Within an hour, she calmly replied that the term “commercial invoice” had just been lost in translation. Customs simply needed a more detailed itemization of the contents. And by details, they needed to know actual brand names, net weight (in grams, of course) and the price per unit. Couldn’t they just look through the box and read the labels themselves? Surely they had already opened it? Was I missing something? Was this the bureaucratic equivalent of a practical joke? The contents are right there, people. Unopened packages of clearly labeled, store-bought food. All the details are right in front of you. What more do you need?

I withheld the urge to state what seemed the obvious. Instead, I fumed my way through the head-banging exercise of Googling every single blessed snack I had packed, zooming in on images to quote the exact weight of each item, right down to the individual granola bars.  As I did, I began to feel a frustration I think is akin to what my daughter would feel two weeks later on the day of her departure. Tears welled and then sprang. It wasn’t the Taiwanese customs agents who were the straws to break this camel’s back–although they didn’t make life any easier. I was sick and tired of bending over backwards to accommodate a world that could not accommodate my child. That frustration, however childish or irrational it may be, is a very real emotion–just all too often it gets lost in translation.

The box cleared customs within a day, and the woman who is now taking care of my child for the next few weeks is truly a wonderful, caring mom. She is a saint who will get a taste of the painstaking efforts any of us take daily to keep our food allergic kids safe. I would not wish upon her any of this, and she is taking it on with grace and thoughtfulness. In just the last few days, she has posted pictures to FaceBook of the amazing foods she is sharing with and making for my child. I will be eternally grateful to her. For I know my child will be safe, have fun and learn about a new culture in so many ways.

Even if she can’t eat the sesame balls.