Episode IV: A New... Place

Huanying! Welcome!

Here starts the wacky(?) account of my time in the beautiful Southwestern Chinese city of Kunming.

It's now the night of day one (two?). Time just moves so slowly in a new place. The days be packed, y'know? With no real solid sleep since Monday night, it feels like I'm going to bed for the first time after a hella marathon day. Lei si le.* It's hard to feel jetlagged after one of those fourteen hour flights - it's hard to feel much of anything, as your body is just about overloaded on vaguely unpleasant stimuli. You've been intermittently chatting, reading, feeling sick, trying puzzles, eating a truly unappetizing meal (is this dinner? What is this?) watching the latest of the Hollywood B list (Iron Man 2, American remake of Death at a Funeral), nodding off for what really can't have been more than twenty minutes - when what you really need is a knock on the head to keep you out for ten hours - having another meal (is this lunch?), trying the book again, dozing only to wake up to find your legs are in some strange pretzel shape, and that you now need to pee, except you're one new sleeping acquaintance away from the aisle, having what is definitely supposed to be breakfast (are they serving these backwards as some sort of time warp?), etc. Ad, if not infinitum, a few more hours.

The final leg, from Beijing to Kunming, was thankfully short, and made interesting by my seat neighbors – an excited teenager and her mother. After initial attempts at conversation ended mostly in her giggles and my puzzled expressions, or with me insincerely asserting that yes, I had understood, I took the opportunity of her looking at my in-flight reading (Alice in Wonderland and a book of kenken) to try to teach them the number puzzle. My explanations were clumsy and lacking in crucial vocab, but after fifteen minutes and several example puzzles, we had something of a breakthrough. But that was enough for all three of us, and we tried conversation once more. The girl tried to tell me where she was in school, or worked. I thought it was the former, as her hand motions seemed to imply cooking, but the word she kept repeating, and which I of course did not know, I recently found to translate as coal mine. So, as they say in Rome, go figure. When they handed out the flight meals I was more exhausted than hungry, but my repeated assertions that I did not need food were taken for politeness, and I ended up with some local rice noodles and an assortment of breads and pastries that the girl and her mother insisted I try. When I poked at the rice noodles and took a hesitant bite without mixing together noodles and sauce, she took my lack of appetite for unfamiliarity, and proceeded to prepare my food for me, dictating my meal. Sensing defeat (I really was far too nervous to eat anything, and unable to stand my ground and continue to refuse her urgings that I try this muffin, and this roll…) I pretended to fall asleep, and then actually fell asleep.

But let me backtrack: Beijing airport: where it hit me what I'm doing this semester. The leap of faith I'm taking by jumping headlong into a lingual/cultural immersion that I am only barely prepared for, with my self-confidence as collateral, and starting bet. That makes it sound bad. What I mean is that the stakes feel much higher here; and as a result, I have so much to gain. WILL I EVEN BE THE SAME PERSON AFTER THIS?

Knowingly entering into an experience that is hailed to be one of the most important and transformative of your life is something that I would guess never feels fully comfortable. It seems that if I’m expecting it, it can’t possibly affect me so much, but I know I’ll be pleasantly surprised.

But ugh, I’m already getting too meta. Bu hao yisi. Not that that was all that thoughtful – I’m just shooting for something a little more surface level for now. The introspection comes later. With the book deal.

Let’s stick to the facts: got a great new roommate, by the name of Li Ming (李明).Met my fellow students, who seem like a great group. More grad students than I expected (I mean, I didn’t expect any) – at least four are here to prepare for Fulbright research or a similar program. I’m allowed to speak English with them until Sunday, and I’ve got to say, I’m treasuring my final days of feeling fully able to express myself. Chinese levels on the program seem to vary a decent amount, and I currently find myself near the bottom. I expected as much, given that I’ve only studied Chinese for two years, while the program recommends the equivalent of three, but it’s still a little disappointing to find myself slightly behind in group conversations. Missing the drift, as it were. My roommate helps me greatly, though – he speaks relatively slowly and clearly to me, so I get the majority. And hey, it can only get better, right? RIGHT? Right.

Anyway, I gotta run. Test in half an hour. Then… bike-buying! Maybe. I’ll let you know.

*author's note: in this blog, there will be Zhonglish (see: Chinglish). It will only get worse. Come ready.