Had she ever been to Shanghai, there is no way Gertrude Stein would have claimed Paris as her hometown. Who would ever choose crepes and the Eiffel Tower over dumplings and the NanPu Bridge? I mean, really? Priorities, people. But not everyone is like me, moving from place to place, never anywhere longer than two or three years. So what other place was I going to fall in love with, other than the one I’d spent the longest? Five years that is.
I tell people I’m from China. Do I live there? Not anymore. Does my family? Not for much longer. Am I even Chinese? Not in the slightest. Do I love it anyway? Of course. The people, the food, even the smell right off the airplane and the heat of the summer smog. Well maybe not that… But definitely everything else.
There are, of course, things about Shanghai that just make me want to tear my hair out. Which would be a shame since I’ve got curls you could get lost in. As a self-proclaimed music junkie, my inability to access Spotify is annoying, as is the painfully slow internet connection which makes streaming television excessively tedious. It’s at this time in my internal rant that I usually remember how lucky I am to even be living abroad, let alone in China, of all places.
It’s interesting actually because, if my mom had had her way, we wouldn’t be here. I generally consider myself blessed to have two parents who are still–after 25 years–hopelessly in love (except for the PDA, which is just ew). Since they are so sappy, my mom’s wedding vows included a promise to follow my father to the ends of the earth–except to Asia. The irony here just kills me. Like literally keeling over. Anyway, some twenty years later he convinced her to give Shanghai a chance, and here we are.
That irony not enough for you? Here’s a little more. My high school consisted of me and a bunch of Asians. Actually, that’s a bit of stretch, but I’m sure you get the picture. So I’m like, AMERICA!!! LAND OF THE NON-CHINESE. Ha. Two years into university and who do I surround myself with? Asians. The great thing about going to a huge school though is that you can pick your people. In a graduating high school class of 45, that choice wasn’t really available. So I am perfectly content with who I spend my time with, Asian or otherwise.
Speaking of America, I’ll be returning to the “land of the free” in less than a week and I can almost taste the freedom of summer that’s waiting for me. Destination 1? Lincoln City, OR. Why? Spoilers.
Chels
**Title: “Alive” by Krewella**
northofthehouse 