Welcome Home

Two years ago, when I flew to Beijing, I was scared. I was heading off into the Great Unknown, Alone, and it was intimidating, to say the least. Getting on the plane was an act of courage.

Last year, when I flew to Beijing, I was depressed. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into, and more importantly, what I was leaving behind. Getting on the plane was once again an act of courage.

This year, getting on the plane wasn't no big thing. My summer break was short, true. Too short to really see and do everything I wanted, but it was nice. I had a wonderful time with my friends; they reminded me again and again why we are friends in the first place. I had a wonderful time with my family; they made me feel welcomed and loved and indulged my idiosyncrasies.

But I found that I was not returning to Being with the same sense of dread and fear in the pit of my stomach. I knew it would be hot, yes. I knew it would probably be smoggy, as well. I knew some of the sewer grates would smell and there would be garbage in the streets. But, it doesn't really bother me anymore. It just ... is.

Yesterday afternoon, I hopped in a taxi and went back to my old neighborhood to visit my Handler. (And buy some stuff. But more on that later.) I told the man "Yuquan Lu." He repeated it back and started driving. I sank back into the seat and started to read a magazine. He then said something else to me (which I didn't understand), and something in me was different.

I just looked up and said, "Yuquan Lu ditie." (That's Yuquan Rd. subway station for those of you who don't speak Chinese.) And he started driving.

Even three weeks ago, I would have tried to figure it out, repeated Yuquan Lu and tossed in a Wukesong or two. Then I would have reverted to English to tell him I at least knew where we were going. Finally, I would have rounded out my song and dance with a "ti bu dong" (I don't understand) or two.

But yesterday, I just leaned back again and let him drive me across town.

I had (half-jokingly) told my Handler that I might need him to talk to the cab driver when I landed, depending on my inebriation/sleep status. It turns out that I didn't need him, so I texted him that I had made it to my apartment.

He replied, "Welcome home."

Yes, I guess I am.

- Do you really care this was posted using BlogPress from my iPad?

Location:Beijing, China