Getting Home

I am finally home! It was definitely not an easy trip home. I had two oversized luggage, each of which were charged 250RMB. Canada is stupid enough that I had to go through both Canadian and U.S. customs and immigration in Toronto. So I had to pick up both luggage and drag them around in the airport. And I couldn’t pay someone to push them for 10RMB like I did in Beijing airport. I am not spoiled, they are just really heavy. I spent three sad hours hugging my computer and sitting on the floor of Toronto airport (I had to plug the computer into the wall). The only warm thing next to me was a cup of coffee. I looked through all my China pictures and talked to people online. I almost turned into a puddle of tears. Here is a little excerpt of what I wrote at the airport:

“I am stuck in the Toronto Airport for another two hours. It’s just stupidity beyond belief to have to go through U.S. customs in Canada. The lines were out of the lobby! They are dumb and just got dumber! I really want to go home, but I am stuck here. This is the pinnacle of the incredible feeling of torn I have welled up inside of me from the last three days. There are so many things waiting for me in the states. However, I am also unbelievably attached to many things in China. The tuck-a-war between the desire to leave and the urge to stay has generated so much heat that I wish I can explode and split into two pieces. I try to think about how I was in August when I was sitting in this exact same airport, waiting for a flight to Beijing. When I landed in Beijing I didn’t know what to expect apart from to look for a person holding an IES sign. I let my mind take flight, fly back to the past four months, fly back to Bei Wai, Urumqi, Kashgar, Dunhuang, Xiahe, Xi’an, Pingyao, Hangzhou, and Shanghai. What a gorgeous ride!”

Thoughts of happier times kept me sane. When I finally landed in Boston, I was surprised to see stars in the sky. I forgot they existed. I sat down in front of Dunkin Donuts and waited for my parents. Two tall blonde girls walked by with popped-collar double-layered Abercrombie polos. They turned around to stand in line at Dunkin. Their asses were huge. BAM! Reality hits. I am BACK in America! You rarely see people that tall AND that bootylicious in China.

Another hit of reality---reverse culture shock. Most people don’t understand why some of their friends and family might get tired hearing their stories abroad. I am the opposite. I find it exhausting to explain everything. The first full day I’ve been back home, there is already friction with my father. We are not talking as of now. He kept asking me “What have you learned in Beijing? If you haven’t learned anything, it’s a waste of time and money!” I just got really annoyed and defensive. The amount I have learned is more than a simple conversation. I am tired and sad and I am not ready to talk about it. I need time to sit down with myself and digest it. I know what he wants to hear: China is a fast developing country, it has so much potential, we should care about the poor people in China, pollution is a problem, you need guanxi in China…blah blah blah. I already gave him those answers when he came to visit in October. He sure was very pleased to find that I have concerns larger than myself and partying. I can’t bring myself to tell him that what I have experienced is more important than those vague concepts. The happiness in finding people who share common interests; the surprise in traveling with strangers who will become my friends; the frustrations in trying to understand others who might not understand me; the difficulties in accepting the fact that I might not see some of those faces ever again. So what, if this experience won’t turn me into a Sun Yat-san or Che Guevara, I know it has been my own rite of passage. Oh well, you walk this life alone.