I speak Chinese well enough to get around. I can talk to shop clerks and taxi drivers, and they very often compliment me on the quality of my language ability. But I can’t have real conversations of any depth at all. I am still optimistic that I will be able to improve so I continue to study spoken Chinese.

When it comes to the written language, I have completely given up. That makes me illiterate in the country where I live.

I have learned to deal with illiteracy. I can’t read menus in restaurants, so I bring a list of my favorite dishes and I order from that. I ask Chinese friends to write things down for me. I take an extra long time in the grocery store, and sometimes I buy the wrong thing by mistake. I can’t read, but I’ve learned to deal with it.

The consequences of illiteracy reached a new level yesterday when I brought the wrong document to register my daughter.

Chinese birth certificates are not issued at the hospital. At least my hospital didn’t give us one. The hospital gave us a certified record of live birth and told us that we needed to take it to a government office in order to get a birth certificate. We’ll need to take this Chinese birth certificate to the American consulate when we get Artemis an American birth certificate and passport.

Yesterday I put Artemis in her BabyBjorn baby carrier, took what I thought was the certified record of live birth, and set out to get her birth certificate. Luckily Erin came along, too, and she translated for us. We went to the government office that issues birth certificates (located, strangely enough, in a pediatrician’s office) only to learn that I had the wrong paper. The document I had was a notice of discharge.

We went to the hospital and got a new copy of the document we needed. An extra hour was added to our trip, but I am happy to report that Artemis now has her official Chinese birth certificate.

And it’s bilingual.