Notes from on the way back to China

It wasn’t until a few hours before my flight that I realized I was going back to China alone. Obviously, I have known I would be going back alone for months, but I never allowed my thoughts to stray into what my every day life would be like. I would have to sit on airplanes for 18 hours, alone, with no one to bother. I would have to navigate airports and flights without a travel buddy - making a missed flight, misplaced ticket, or other mishap almost guaranteed given my travel history. And more frightening, I would be alone for the next year. It isn’t the first time I have gone off on my own. When I went to college I was particularly thrilled to be going to a school where I didn’t know anyone. But with China I am apprehensive, even though this time when I return I will already have both Chinese and foreign (read Western) friends, a basic understanding of the language, a sense of how much things cost, knowledge of living conditions, mastered chopsticks and squat toilets, and have the ability to ride the bus all by myself. Before I left the first time then after I came back people told me they couldn’t imagine doing what I do; but what they don’t know that I can’t imagine it either.
It is easier to live in China than to think about living in China. I am not foolish enough to believe that this is the only time I will be astounded by my own life to the point that it doesn’t seem like mine, but this is the first time. Up to this point my life has seemed rather believable. I know it is my own choices that have led me to this point, and I could have made millions of other choices. If I had played spin the bottle at the Christmas party I went to in 6th grade instead of listening to my parents’ admonition not to play (which they later told me they were joking about), maybe I would have landed a place in the popular crowd, gone to school in Colorado, joined a sorority, and gone to medical school. If I had chosen to take a different summer job after my freshman year of college I probably would have remained painfully shy (now I have only minor relapses) and skipped a very dramatic portion of my life breaking up with my high school boyfriend, getting engaged, and deciding I didn’t like California.
Instead, I made other choices, one being to live in China. Learning Chinese is the reason I tell people I am going to China. It will open doors for me and give me a tool to use later in life. But the reason for going to China I don’t share with people is that I need to prove to myself that I am as strong as others tell me I am. I need to see the strength that others do, because once I trust that I can do anything, that I have the strength to do it, I will.
So every time I am unhappy or frightened this next year, I have my friends and family to remind me, “This is what you want!” Just because I am doing what I want doesn’t mean I’m fearless about it. I take it as a sign of personal growth that I will do things even though they scare me. I once heard that you can’t be brave if you aren’t scared in the first place.

A note on tissue paper

As a carry-over from China I still carry around a small pack of tissues, a comb, and my little notebook. These things are really unnecessary here since there is toilet paper in public restrooms and I don't have chronic sinusitis due to pollution; I don't ride the red-top bus or walk around in the wind; and I don't need to write down the names of food I like or addresses I am trying to get to. Some habits are hard to shake, and since I'm going back to China next week I'd rather be prepared once I get there. (I carry a mom-purse in China - tissues, water, comb, pen, chapstick, wallet, notebook, bandaids, cell phone, keys, iPod, snacks, playing cards, gum, etc. There are just so many more variables when out and about there.)

However, I decided to stop carrying around so much nonsense this weekend and elected to use my small bag to carry my one-and-only key, my wallet, and chapstick. Unfortunately, I also elected to use the one stall in the one restroom at the museum that did not have toilet paper or a friendly neighbor to pass some under the stall door.

I learned my lesson. I carry my mom-purse with dignity.