Soundtrack: “Sunday Morning” – Maroon 5
Sorry for already slacking on my posts -- I really didn't know how to start off the second post. I was questioning whether I should start off recounting the beginning of my experience here in China, or just pick up from where I am now. I guess I'll do a little of both. So here it is -- a glimpse of the past.
When I first arrived to Beijing, I relied on the help of strangers, friend of friends, and not so good facebook friends to help me with my first few days in China.
There was Shelley, my plane ride buddy - from Tokyo, Japan to Beijing, China – who reassured me that my Chinese accent was fine, who reminded me of my own mother, and who happily chatted in Chinese throughout the entire plane ride even though I was ready to pass out. You look Japanese, she had stated very confidently. I'm not. I know, she had replied. She was excited to know that I knew where U.C. Davis is located, since she had just seen her own daughter off to college there. By the end of the plane ride, she had given me her number and offered me a place to stay in Beijing (since there was now an extra room in the house and she said she would love the company).
There was Newnew, a friend of a friend, an ex-Pat who had perfect Chinese, who without knowing really what I looked like, or ever even talking to me, picked me up from the airport. A sweet, incredibly adorable girl, who talked just a little too fast and had enough energy for the both of us (considering I had just spent almost 24 hours on a plane or waiting for one, her energy level was exceptional).
There was Christine He, who I had met from my last winter session in Beijing. A recent graduate who was about to spend a few years in the UK to finish her Masters. A very engaging girl, with a passion for her English studies, and a nonchalant vibe that allowed her to easily intermingle with foreigners. I’ve only talked to her in person once, one afternoon, for a few hours, while making dumpling. Yet after exchanging emails last winter, we had quickly decided to live together if I were to stay in Beijing and if she was still in Beijing. Despite plans falling through, I still had a place to stay for a few nights at her apartment and someone to help me buy train tickets to Changsha.
Then of course there was the scrawny Chinese boy who worked at the train station. Who, after I lost my 342 RMB train ticket to Changsha, was in a state of tears, and wanted to call someone but had no cell phone on me? Looked at me with such understanding that I couldn’t help but be thankful for his presence. He looked at me with such a look of worry, for me -- just another stranger, softly speaking “没事，没事—不用哭。别哭吧”almost afraid to touch me, as if I would break. For the half hour where I was panicking and was starting to regret my decision to come to China alone – he was like my life raft. I clung to him as he lugged my over-packed suitcase to the actual platform and waited until the train actually took off to Changsha, before disappearing from my sight. Albeit we exchanged only a few words, I’ll never forget how much I needed him at that time.
How embarassing -- and how silly -- I look back and wonder why I had such a heart full of worry.
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