Zàijiàn, Shànghǎi
It’s officially been two weeks since I packed up all of my panda paraphernalia (hat, suit, pillow, iPhone case, notebooks, postcards, folders, stickers, backpack, shirts, socks…) and reluctantly landed back in California. In China it took me about two days to realize I had so much adventure and culture to endure, and about two weeks for me to realize that I wasn’t just on vacation anymore. I was doin’ the dang thing and living there.
Which brings me to the realization that now I’m doin’ the dang thing and living here in San Francisco.
Even if it’s for no one else, I felt the need to officially end this blog. Close the book on China and reflect on what made me love not only my life there, but my life in general.
I’ve said it once (or twice or five hundred times): I loved Shanghai. I loved the city, I loved (and still do and always will) my friends (except you Jay. You’re the worst). I loved the work I was doing and the people I was doing it with. I loved my apartment and I loved the things I got to do and the places I got to go to. I loved knowing that I could do and say absurd things and it wouldn’t phase anyone because that was the norm. I loved getting giggled at when I attempted to speak Mandarin at (not with, but AT) the locals, and let’s not forget about my love for the food (why, hello understatement of the year). I loved how I could feel the energy of a booming city, and I loved feeling like I was actually a contributing member of that growth. I loved how easy it was to meet new people, and I loved how comfortable I was with sparking and maintaining new friendships.
So when it came time to leave all of these things I loved, I got really nervous. And I quickly moved past nervous and into shock. As I had mentioned before, I couldn’t believe I had to leave China. And just like I didn’t know what it would mean to move there in the first place, I didn’t know what it would mean to leave it.
So, what about now?
I love San Francisco. I love the city, I love (and always will) my friends. I love the work I am doing and the people I do it with. I love my apartment and I love the things I get to do and the places I get to go to. I love knowing that I can say absurd things and perhaps it will phase people, but I can just (BECAUSE CHINA) them and not give a care. I love getting giggled at when I attempt to speak Mandarin at those who actually speak it and even those who don’t, and let’s not forget about my love for the food. I love how I can feel the energy of a booming city, and I love feeling like I’m actually a contributing member of that growth. I love how easy it is to meet new people, and I love how comfortable I am with sparking and maintaining new friendships.
As Chicken-Soup-for-the-Teenage-Soul as it sounds, my experience living in Shanghai helped me realize who I am and what makes me happy independent of my surroundings.
Of course I’ll miss the “BAGS? WATCH? WATCH? BAGS? PRETTY BAG, PRETTY LADY!” gauntlet on my way to work. I’ll miss how I could bargain anywhere. I’ll miss the absurdly unnecessary light pollution the skyline provides. I’ll miss the super cheap cabs (not to mention the dreamy cab drivers). And I’ll miss having all of my friends there be a part of my day. I’ll even miss the retched smell of someone bringing home fish for dinner on the metro. I’ll miss being 15 minutes away from my office, and I’ll miss getting to use (because china) as an explanation to anything and everything. And having that really be the most appropriate answer.
Brother Bear made a comment that really stuck. He expressed that when you go live abroad you leave everything and everyone and gain this life-changing cultural experience. You come back thinking that you’ll never be the same. You think your sentences will always begin with “well in China…” with an upward inflection, and even though your friends are so over hearing all the differences between two obviously different cities, you don’t care because you are CULTURED and IMPORTANT and SIGNIFICANT and UNIQUE. And then in a short amount of time it just becomes this cool thing you did once and go on to sulk when your DVR records Toddlers in Tiaras instead of My Strange Addiction LIKE IT WAS SUPPOSED TO. And while I don’t really want to start all of my sentences with “welllllll when I was living in ASIA….” (because annoying), I don’t want to lose all of my AZNess.
But that’s what Chinatown is for, right?
So a huge thanks to those of you who followed along and helped me still feel connected to home. A big ol’ thanks to AB for pushing me to move to China, and props to being SO RIGHT about your biggest concern not being me loving Shanghai, but me not wanting to come back to California. Still don’t know how you were so spot on about that one.
China, you’re a crazy place and you don’t make any sense whatsoever. You’re dirty, polluted, messy and can be outright offensive. But I love you. And I’ll see you again sometime soon.
