Coming Home

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.  You’re free to swim as long and far away from the edges as you desire, because you can understand and interact with everything around you.  You can walk out the door armed with only your language skills, and know that no matter what situation might arise, you can handle it.

For me, being in China has none of the stress associated with traveling in a foreign country and speaking a foreign language.  I’m so comfortable and confident here that it feels no different than being in America.

Because it’s not foreign to me. It’s like coming home.

November 9th, 2008

 

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