I’m back in the Jing. Beijing, that is.

Being in back China gives me the strange sensation of living in perpetual deja vu. I can still vividly remember what it was like to first start living in a foreign country and learning a foreign language; it felt very much like being a child, who can’t swim, but suddenly finds themselves struggling against the strong current in a large, deep pool.

At the beginning, you have to tread cautiously near the edges, with a dictionary on hand or with a native speaker at your side, for which to grab onto and support you if you can’t keep your head above water.

But once you learn how to speak the language, you don’t need anything anymore.