Two days ago I bought my one-way return flight back to China. In the past week or so, I got offered a job that promises professional development and is challenging. So I accepted. Looks like I’m in for another year.

While I am ready and excited to start the next chapter of my life, a part of me is sad to leave China. Luckily, once I get home I’ll have more time for myself (and graduate school applications!!), for photography, for fast and uncensored internet, for all the other things I enjoy in life.

One thing I’ll miss about China: women in pajamas and hair curlers on a
public street playing with dogs (and naturally with 10+ people
crowded around taking pictures and gossiping)

Cabbie: How old are you?
Me: 23.
Cabbie: And you’re not married yet?
Me: I don’t even have a boyfriend.
Cabbie: You don’t even have a boyfriend?!? I think it’s time you put less focus on your work life and focus on finding a husband and settling down. You should let the man take care of everything, then you can stay home and relax. How great would that be?
Me: Actually….
Cabbie: [continues to ramble on about men being breadwinners, women being homemakers]

Cabbie: You know why women would be bad doctors? Because they’re too emotional. Let me give you an example. A woman has breast cancer, goes into a woman doctor. This woman doctor may think to herself, “I want to let this woman keep as much of her womanly features as she can, because I know it is important to her identity as a woman. Thus, I’ll try to remove as little breast tissue as I can.” Men? They’re pragmatic. They think, “Cancer is bad, I will remove any remnant of cancer, regardless of what it takes.” Then just slice off everything. See? Then you never know, cancer may just come right back if a women operated.

Actually, I should have titled it “Being Lectured by a Misogynist Nanjing Cabbie,” because I didn’t really converse with him. It was more him talking at me than with me.

Almost at the gate!

Passed out.

The Hong Kong leg of our conference was spent trying to balance spending time downtown (e.g., Hong Kong Island) and sleeping, as our dorms (yes, dorms) were way out in the New Territories. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, Fulbright did treat us with by arranging dinner and cocktails one evening at the U.S. Consulate General’s House.

The view was stunning. Can I live here? Please?

Oh my god. Nomnomnom.

Macau was a memorable experience, though it was unfortunate that it was raining the majority of the time. The Macau Tourism Board gave every Fulbrighter a red hat that said “MACAU” and had a stitching of the Ruins of St. Paul on it. Though it provided insufficient protection against the rain, it painted an ironic picture (we had become one of those tour groups with color-coordinated outfits) and a few laughs with it, too.

Torrential rain
Soaked through

The Red Sea

We listened to an innumerable amount of droning, monotonous lectures about history, politics, culture in Macau. Despite the many hours wasted spent listening to these lectures, we were given ample time to explore Macau. What better way to explore Macau than to eat Macanese cuisine and go to casinos? Macanese cuisine (Chinese + Portuguese + seafood) was delicious, and I have to admit, their egg tarts are the best I’ve ever had. I was able to wander around the Venetian, the world’s largest casino, though I didn’t gamble. There was an actual man-made canal inside the casino with artificial lighting that made it look like it was daytime. It was ostentatious and over-the-top, but how can it be a casino if it weren’t?

The Venetian

I think this woman’s expression exemplified our lecture series well.

All-in-all, a successful conference. I was able to catch up with many other Fulbrighters whom I haven’t spoken to or seen for a while. It was inspiring to see and hear what everyone was doing with their projects, as well as any happenings and developments–personal and professional—outside of research.

(See larger map here.)

There was a sort of solidarity between the two of us. There was a connection, I swear! If only I high-fived him right after the blocking. “Yeah! Great job! My name’s ???; where are you headed?” Wait a second, I thought, I didn’t wear make up today. And I was also looking fantastic from a day of running up and down mountains and caves in Guilin. I looked up again. He was fiddling around on his Nintendo DS.

Anyway, first thing’s first. I got my ticket, and I headed toward security check. I chugged a bottle of water (it’s like a ritual for me. Why I always buy water right before heading to the airport is beyond me) and by the time I was done, he made it before me to security check.

We kept shooting glances at each other. “Please be going to Chongqing, please, please. We can talk. We can be friends.” We exchanged one last glance as he headed off towards Gate XX. And he was gone. I kept imagining myself posting on Craigslist’s “Missed Encounters,” but a) China doesn’t have Craigslist (that’s actually not true, but no one uses it) and b) who writes/reads those sorts of things? That’s right. Creeps.

Below is a photo of central Beijing. My commute is the blue line, and Julia is the green line. We met up at a point on third ring road and continued together (purple) all the way home. I believe the total distance I biked was around 22 km (13 miles).

Although biking many miles in one day after an extended period of inactivity may not be the smartest thing to do, our bike adventure was worth it. I have to say, biking in Beijing is so different from the subway or taxi. In the subway, I see nothing but the faces of the commuters around me and hear nothing but the bilingual droning of the subway voices announcing which stop we are approaching, and how we should prepare to get off.

On a bike, I feel closer to the things I pass. I see the expressions on people’s faces as they cross the street, wait for the bus, or walk with their children. I see the tall buildings that did not exist a few years ago, and I see even more buildings on their way to join the others. It’s a good way to see the city, and I should get out on my bike more often before the heat [be]comes [unbearable].

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