Overseas briefing

BEIJING — It was somewhere between the instant noodle aisle and distilled rice spirits section that an unsettling sensation started in my stomach. Caught in the whirlwind of a sudden onrush of shoppers scrambling for half-priced yogurt, I lost track of my friends. The first few days in Beijing had been a blur of excitement and rediscovery. It had been five years since I had last lived in China and I couldn’t wait to be a first-hand witness to the endless changes taking place there. But at this moment, the surreal thrill of arrival gave way to the present reality of the situation.

After that, getting lost has become a daily occurrence. Usually it ends up with a pleasant surprise, such as finding a delicious back alley dumpling shop or having a chat with an elderly tai-chi master in the garden. Other times your unintended destination might not be as desirable, like ending up an hour out of your way on the other side of town because of sloppy pronunciation. Despite the steep learning curve, life in Beijing hums with possibility. Every street offers a new discovery just around the corner if you can survive the crossing with all limbs intact. Just like that one bite of street food can give you moments of delicious satisfaction or hours of misery at the nearest squatter toilet. I just fell in love with a restaurant yesterday when an old man shot off an awe-inspiring snot rocket onto the floor then proceeded to clear out the other nostril.

Places I used to know are barely recognizable. Cranes loom across the skyline, erecting shimmering new buildings at a frenzied pace, while bulldozers tear down condemned blocks of old neighborhoods. Beijing is happening, a place where the only constant is change. I’m not sure it’s possible to fully experience culture shock in a city this Westernized but beneath its newly applied glossy veneer lies a gritty authenticity just waiting to be tapped. You can feel it in the Beijing accent that comes on as thick as the smog. You can hear it in an underground rock bar where local bands reinterpret post-punk in the context of contemporary China.

Despite all the chaotic energy of relentless change I’m starting to settle into a routine. Classes have made me realize the true meaning of Maoist-style re-education through labor, but interactions in the language with my Chinese roommate and people around the city make it all the more bearable. I’ve been thinking about the ways in which language shapes the way we process the world around us. I’m a week and a half into a language pledge, and although the modes of expression are limited, there is something freeing about immersion and the possibility for screwing up and learning from those mistakes. Minor aspects of daily functioning are suddenly transformed into critical tests of your ability, where even getting on the right subway line can be a major accomplishment.

I’ve kept in touch with my old host family, and the lasting connections made with them have made my experience here all the richer. Despite the ironies of living in the fasting changing society on earth, their warm welcome was an unwavering constant throughout all the transition Beijing has experienced and the hot pot was great. Reuniting with my host parents while speaking only Chinese made the whole experience come full circle, and this time I have even more of an opportunity to soak up the language and culture over my semester abroad. I’ve already reached my destination, but the real trip hasn’t even started. Sometimes getting lost along the way can be the best itinerary. In the words of Confucius, “Life is a garden; dig it.”