Meeting Granddad

Four generations, three countries, two continents, one family

Before we had children, I might have thought of the following as drawbacks to living in Beijing in an international marriage with a Chinese girl: being mutually incomprehensible in an argument, never being able to win an argument, protracted lunches with the extended family on frequent feast days, not being able to have Sunday lunch with the European relatives, and being bankrupted by the cost of sharing Christmas dinner and a pint with the folks back home. For sentimental reasons, living half a world away from my son's Anglo-Saxon grandparents now tops the list, while practical reasons place the cost of bridging the distance to our far-flung family at second.

With that said, we don't regret a penny spent taking Daniel to see the big-nosed branch of the family in Europe this summer. Though the month-long family reunion may, perhaps, have been a bit extravagant, it yielded many priceless moments. One of the highlights was introducing Daniel to my irrepressible granddad, who, at 94, is one of the sprightliest among those in the retirement community in London where he lives. The old fella was so excited, in fact, that as soon as he clapped eyes on Daniel he rushed next door, returning moments later to wheel his neighbor in for a viewing session ñ after all, it's not only the Chinese elderly who like to show off their newest family members.

I suspect Great-granddad Jim was also quite self-satisfied at living long enough – through two world wars, mind you – to see his great grandson. It may have been the best part of 30 years since he had held a baby, but it didn't take long before the dapper old gent was cradling Daniel like a pro. "That's alright, Danny boy," he murmured soothingly, over and again. "That's alright." Daniel, oblivious that he had arrived at his other home, was indeed alright.

We are a global family. My brother recently moved from Indonesia to Korea. In London, besides the Ancient One, "aunties" Julie and Joan eagerly await Daniel's next visit - which is just as well, for without their hospitality, Daniel's mum and dad would be broke from family reunions. But we felt the distance most poignantly in Spain, where my parents finally got to meet Daniel in the flesh almost three months after their Chinese counterparts first saw him. Indeed, anyone considering an international marriage is likely to be put off by a frank consideration of options which will always seem cruel to either one set of grandparents or the other: to live near her parents and disappoint his, to live near his parents and disappoint hers, or disappoint everybody by living somewhere a long way from anyone. The catch-22 becomes more intractable when "mum" becomes "grandma" and "grandpa" loves kids, too. And though my parents would never put pressure on us to move westwards, they wouldn't be grandparents if they weren't secretly wishing for it.

"It could be the last time we see each other - you never know," warned Daniel's great-granddad when we made our farewells. After all, he is getting on a bit, as he pointed out. It's a measure of just how full of beans he is that the first time I ever heard him say such a thing was when he was 94. And he was indeed literally full of beans, freshly picked from amongst the vegetables he grows in his garden. Perhaps his gardening days will go on well past a hundred, but saying goodbye to him and the rest of the European relatives brought home once again what a bittersweet fruit an international marriage can be. Washed down by a pint and a chat, on the other hand, Granddad's beans were nothing if not hao chi.