Up until I left, I was fairly certain I knew why I was leaving. There's an indefinable desire for adventure that builds inside some people,* and I was under the impression that I had that. I felt a passion for the unknown. To go into the world without a clear sense of what to expect was a thrilling idea. But instead of grasping the adventure like Walter Mitty, I was instantly struck with a sense of homesickness like Bilbo Baggins. My biggest criticism of The Hobbit was Bilbo's never ending thoughts of home. Like, get over yourself, am I right? And here I am, sitting on a couch in China thinking about home. Except that I'm even worse than Bilbo, because I live in a world where I am connected to home over the internet, and I know I will be back in the States in ten months. So what even am I complaining about? Is it the "waste bucket" where you throw your poop rags instead of flushing them? Is it the undrinkable tap water? Is it the lack of an oven and dryer? These are all trivial matters, but they're foreign. It's like using a bathroom at a strangers house, uncomfortable and wrong (doubly so if they have different hand soap).
Once I finish my game of sudoku, I walk out into the living
room of my apartment and turn on my computer. Then I smother a piece of bread
with peanut butter and call it breakfast. A flick of the switch and the kettle
starts boiling water for my instant coffee. Eventually I will start my job at
the Changle No. 2 Middle School, but until that time I have all morning to do
whatever it is I do while waiting for my job to start. This mostly consists of
perusing webcomics.
Probably the best thing that has come out of moving to China
is its use as the ultimate 1up in a conversation. Yeah, you went on a camping trip this summer?
Cool. I'm moving to China. Every conversation dead. I win (assuming I don't
talk to someone moving to Kenya). This
is great because nobody really knows how to respond, so they stumble around
with, "That's crazy! Why are you moving? I knew someone who moved to China.
I am Chinese. I don't speak English." All excuses to hide their jealousy.
It even works when you return from China. Just throw out that you lived in
China for (in my case) a year. The unfortunate side to this is that awkward
period when you actually have to live in China. Before, you can say, "I'm
moving to China," and after, "I lived in China." But it's the
actual living there that makes this 1up work.
Probably the worst thing about this is knowing that everyone
you 1uped can return the favor now that you live in a different country. You
say, "I live in China," and they say, "Cool. I have all the
American accommodations that you miss." Anytime I see a post on facebook
about someone chilling in a coffee shop, I take offense. Stop gloating.
I feel I should mention that there IS coffee in China.
Coffee shops are placed around Changle like a health-conscious mother counting
the sprinkles on her child's whole-wheat, birthday cupcake. But I'm getting off
topic.
The point is, that I am currently at that awkward point of
living in a situation that I bragged about and want to brag about later. I'm totally
driven by my pride here. So what is one to do when faced with this sort of
situation? Write a blog. Drink tea. Exist in China. (*cough* work on your pride
issues).
Really, China is a great place. The people are kind and
generous, the food is delicious, and the school is beautiful. I've just traded
cloudy skies with smog, and traffic laws for... less traffic laws. The real
issue isn't China, but my love for America, specifically Seattle. I mean, even
Frodo missed the Shire while he was in Rivendell. Seattle is my Shire, my
Anatevka, my home.
When I crawl into bed at night, I laugh at my worries. I
know I've made the right decision in coming to China. I play a game of sudoku
and imagine the coming adventures before drifting off to sleep. It's stressful,
but it's exciting. I'm looking forward to my year in China, and I'm looking
forward to coming home in June. In the meantime, I'll take each day as it comes.
* Actually, this is defined as "A desire for
adventure."
