scribbler at large

Hi friends, it’s been a while! Coincidentally, I just learned how to say “long time, no see” in Mandarin. If you need an important speech translated, I’m clearly your best bet.

Quick recap: we went to Hawaii for > three weeks, and got back in mid February. While there, we watched lava pour into the ocean, climbed into an active volcano, and took photos of the sunset from the summit of Mauna Kea at 14,000 feet. Oh yeah, we also hung out on the beach, drank fancy coffee, spent too much time in grocery stores, got ambushed by wild pigs, and snorkeled with sea turtles. Pretty dang great. So great, in fact, that I can’t blog about all of it. Instead, I will (selfishly) preserve it in my own memory. I'll sprinkle Hawaii photos throughout this post, though, just for kicks.

What have I been doing since Hawaii? Perfecting the art of procrastination. Let me know if you need advice in that department, because I am packing knowledge. But here I am, finally getting around to what I most want to tell you about, which is what it’s like to leave China after living here for seven months.

I figured that reentering the U.S. would be a wacky mental process on some level, but I was unprepared for what was revelatory. It’s hard to convey the experience of traveling from a people-filled place that, by western standards, has some crude social behaviors (spitting in the street, infringing on personal space, talking during movies) to a place like Japan or the U.S. When we got off the plane in Tokyo (where we had a quick layover), for example, we found ourselves standing in a single file customs line with unexpected space between bodies. I was then surprised by a Japanese customs official giving me a pair of slippers to wear through security while she cradled my shoes in her (gloved) hands. Once we’d made it through customs, we ordered beers at an airport bar where we were further surprised when the server smiled and said, “thank you.” After using the spotless bathrooms (with real toilets and snazzy buttons to make them work) I was ready to move to Japan. All that space, cleanliness, and western etiquette was an unanticipated relief. It turns out that life in Beijing is stressful in a way that wasn't clear until I left.

Toilet operation at Tokyo Narita International.

Things got more American after we landed in Honolulu, hopped a cab, and rolled our suitcases into our hotel. The hotel clerk roped us into a twenty minute convo that included non-relevant summaries of (allegedly) funny Youtube videos, and side comments about how stupid some of the hotel’s policies were. He also told us he had a Chinese coworker who called him “fei.” The only “fei” I know means “fat” and not in the cute way. He did her the honor of imitating her accent for us (eye-roll). I couldn’t help but note that in China this whole conversation would have been about, you know, checking into the hotel. At the same time, I guess there’s something familiar and endearing about a loudmouth semi-racist who can’t help showing off his personality…right...? #USA

Colorful lava and clouds on Chain of Craters Road in Volcanoes National Park, Hawaii.

More surprising than all the stuff I just mentioned, was the diversity in Hawaii. There were people of all colors roaming the “strip” in Waikiki Beach. I wouldn’t have noticed “diversity” a year ago—there’s an outside possibility that I would have even commented on the vast number of white people in Hawaii. But in Beijing everybody looks the same unless you’re in small pockets of the city where foreigners work and hang. Even then, the foreigners are relatively few and far-between. I’ve gotten used to being the only non-asian person in a crowded subway car, and to sometimes hearing passersby remark on my appearance, saying, “waiguoren” or “laowai” to their friends (or even themselves) when they see me (those words mean “foreigner”). The neighborhood we live in has quite a few embassies, so people in a three block radius of our house find foreigners unremarkable, but there are parts of the city where people ask to take my picture, or just stare at me intently for an inappropriate amount of time. In contrast, Hawaii was a real melting pot.

Lame photo of the most awesome thing I've ever seen, Volcanoes National Park, Hawaii.

Interestingly, there were lots of Chinese tourists in Hawaii, and we could ID them as such from afar just by watching their body language. In an earlier blog post I talked about the persistant apathy of the people of Beijing—none of that, catching-the-eye-of-the-driver-in-the-car-next-to-you crap we do in America. People here only pay attention to their own personal commute, their phone, or the friend they’re walking down the street with. Nothing else. In comparison, Americans show a huge amount of interest in the people around them—so much eye contact and covert staring! All this to say that the Chinese tourists brought that self-orientation with them on vacation, and it’s weirdly obvious in a place like Hawaii that’s full of Americans, Japanese people, and (bizarrely) Australians.

Up close and personal with the Halema'uma'u Crater in Volcanoes National Park.

After a couple of hours in the old U.S.A., we were fully adjusted, and the surprises stopped happening. That said, the novelty of being greeted by everyone we passed while hiking or walking on the beach did not wear off. Hi! Hello! *nod**smile**comment about the sports team embroidered on my husband’s hat.* In a sentimental twist this introvert never thought she’d experience, I liked the ubiquitous friendliness—it even gave me a small bump of patriotism.

Looking down at Waikiki Beach from Diamond Head, on Oahu.

On a materialistic note, hanging out in Safeway was a euphoric experience. At first, I felt meh about being inside a U.S. supermarket, but each cart-turn down a new aisle was more exciting than the last. Greek yogurt and goat cheese and OTHER cheese from brands I love. And half & half and California wine and American craft beer!! Organically grown vegetables! Bread that was real, not a puffy imposter! Frozen foods that stretched off into the distance!

Even though we can get everything we need and almost everything we want here in Beijing, (thanks, Amazon) there’s something truly bewitching about the quantity and variety in U.S. grocery stores. How do they get all of that stuff onto the shelves and keep it fresh for us?! And on an island?!

Monstrosity we found in the Target frozen section.

In summation: as a newly minted expat going back to the U.S. and stopping in Tokyo on the way, I was a bit blindsided by my own reactions. Before we moved to Beijing, a few friends told me that spending time abroad is the best way to understand and appreciate where you come from. Welp, they were right. Living in Beijing has thrown light on the awesome aspects of life in the U.S. that I didn’t notice before. Conversely, there are downsides to living in America that I may not have thought about pre-Beijing. If anything, though, our trip to Hawaii was timely—when many Americans are struggling to love their homeland, our Beijing filter made it easier for us to see the good qualities of the U.S.

The Pacific looking dangerous and gorgeous at the same time.

The night before flying back to Beijing, we stuck our feet in the sands of Waikiki Beach and mourned our imminent departure. But vacation would be useless if it happened every day...right?

Plus, it's good to be back in the land of amazing food and A+ people watching.