I miss my routine.
I miss my students.
I miss the ridiculously over-crowded subway.
I miss walking everywhere.
I miss my tiny apartment room with the window that looked out into nothing but smog most days.
I miss the sweet ayi from the vegetable market.
I miss the lady from the French store who always laughed at me when I used my Chinese poorly.
I miss my friends like a son of a bitch.
I miss not understanding the surrounding chatter around me.
I'm surrounding myself in cigarette smoke-filled atmospheres because I guess the clean air is just too much to appreciate in America.
It's been one month since I left Beijing and it seems like five.
I rapidly found a few jobs to make ends meet. I've applied and been accepted into grad school. I've seen every friend and family member I missed while away. This is the time where I'd normally be heading elsewhere. Not this time, though. I'm here for eight months working, living and waiting.
The culture shock hasn't been too bad after the first visit to the grocery store and my first time pumping gas (Yes, I know there are instructions). It's all becoming routine again. I also haven't nailed down the whole "culture shock" thing yet. I have two feelings toward it. Sometimes the feeling is just a snap back to reality and my location. A sense of, "whoa. wait. what. how."
For example, I was stopped at a flashing red light the other day when my friend said, "you know it's not a red light and you can go if it's clear." Luckily she was with me cause I would've sat there 10 more minutes waiting on the light to turn green. Also, I was stopped by a train last week. I imagined everyone was annoyed it interfered with their scheduling, but me, I was just counting the carts remembering I was back home.
The second feeling I have in "culture shock" moments is feeling like a moron. Here's why.
When in China, I met an ABC (American born Chinese) from Texas. She said, "because I'm Chinese the locals talk to me and expect me to understand them so when I don't they just think I'm stupid." Her parents are from China and immigrated before her birth, but for whatever reason never taught her Mandarin so she's 20-something learning for the first time. Anyway, I feel like her sometimes when I have moments.
People think I'm deaf and stupid at least once a day. No, I heard you I'm just registering what the hell you're talking about. You talk funny and use a lot of slang that simply doesn't register with me. Which is ironic because when I first arrived in China my peers and students always told me I spoke too quickly and that I used too much slang they didn't understand. I now realize a lot of new phrases can be born in a short 18 months. Especially in Louisiana.
However, as often as I've felt like a moron, I've been really fortunate to fall into a great crew of new friends and acquaintances who make dealing with my awkward/weird moments easier. And my old pals just laugh and say, "Sorry, she's been gone a long time," or "she's not from here." :)
Along with that I'd like to give a special thanks to everyone who has let me sleep on their couch, bum a ride, catch a shower, borrow a pair of socks, et cetera over the last month. You are all true gems! :)
The next time someone asks me to describe myself in three words I'll say, "adaptive as fuck." Throughout the last two years, living in cities with public transportation and no car, you learn quickly to always have the necessities with you at all times. This means you probably have multiples of everything. One remains in the backpack and/or purse and the other stays at home. You always need deodorant, perfume, contact solution/case, toothbrush, mascara, bobby pins, lotion, phone charger in your purse/backpack. As a 20-something year old woman it's okay to crash on couches and at friends at random, but it's not okay to do so without proper hygiene. Come on now... :)
I've never been uncomfortable in my boots. I've also never been asked where I'm from so many times in my hometown because I've "lost my accent" a bit. I've always enjoyed the backroads with the windows rolled down and music blasting. I've always known my place. Nowadays, I find I'm unable to deter my conversation from China. Most people want to know things about my life in China, but they ask about the food, life in a Communist country, the bathroom situation and other things that had just become daily life to me. Whereas I want to tell stupid stories about drunk nights with my friends, something from a holiday or a story about one of my students. I'm keeping up well enough I've been told and at the end of the day I'm really not a foreigner anymore. I'm home. I've just returned with a different mindset.
There are many things I used to love that serve little interest to me now. Things said I mildly comprehend cause I've been gone so long. Stories my friends reminisce on that I wasn't a part of in the last two years. Stories that were once funny that no longer even register in my memory. The conclusion I've gathered is I'm juggling two lives with two separate pasts but the same present. Balancing the desires of both can be overwhelming from time-to-time but that's life, eh? At the end of the day, it's all about growing up. And that shit sucks. You want mom and dad's house to always be your only home, but eventually it can't be. You want them to call and check on you when the weather's bad or a few days of silence have gone by, even though you say you don't. You want to always live with dad cause he keeps a stash of junk food only he and you know about. You want to forever be little although you haven't been in at least a decade because just as the world around us grows, so do you. Especially when it seems the world grows more quickly than we'd like.
Adjusting has been easy for two reasons: detachment of material things and attachment to souls.
I've learned to live with very little material possessions, including clothing. I can make 10 outfits from three articles of clothing. I've learned what is essential, what isn't and how to dress for any situation that may occur. What you truly need when traveling, whether it's the mountains or a beach resort. This doesn't mean I don't go into a store and want to buy everything I see. Any object I brought back from China with me was a gift from a friend or student. Everything else without sentimental value was left. If it doesn't fit in the suitcase it doesn't come.
What I haven't learned to detach from is the people I meet along the way. Because I'm coming and going so often, I leech onto people. Not because I'm without friends or unable to be alone, but because I have this annoying characteristic of getting along with just about anyone. I'm fascinated with humans and their stories. So if I only have a month in a location I have to get all I can get of you. Plus, I always meet the good people in life and I want to hang onto them as long as possible.
So, all of that being said. Overall I'm doing well. I'll always have multiple apps for communicating throughout the world on my phone. I'll have people to talk to whether it's 2:00 a.m. or 2:00 p.m. Initially I thought I was settling when I chose St. Louis over The Netherlands for grad school, however, I am 100% satisfied with my decision to remain in the States for grad school. Although I love traveling the world, seeing incredible things, meeting fascinating people, learning bits and pieces of languages, love the effect it has on my writing, the openness it gives my mind and the peace it brings to my soul, it's time to inspire closer to home. You know, that buying a sofa and working toward a career thing, yet still trying to 'make a difference in the world.'
My fellow southern friends abroad said once people leave the South they don't return. I know why and it is hard as hell, but my skin is thick enough. The fact that I come from an area where people are so comfortable making stereotypical Asian jokes to my face knowing I just spent the past 18 months there and not even considering I'm offended as hell proves that I will get my master's and I'll bring it right back home where it's needed. So I'm moving forward and throwing out the desire for things that remind me of home in Beijing. I made the decision to leave there, and although it's difficult and they'l be many more future moments of heartache it was the right decision. No more submerging myself in stale cigarette stench.
