Strangers

(1/16/07)

Beijing is a city of about 13 million, most of which are undoubtedly strangers. With a European face, I am one of the most obvious examples. The Tibetan girls selling jewelry at the nearby underground crosswalk are strangers, too. The young man from the heart of China who sleeps in my room is a stranger as well. We are all strangers, but most of all, I am in particular one in this foreign land -- a novelty and an expectation.

On the subject of strangers, I will first share with you one discovery I've made in the short time I've been in China. All Chinese (language) students get a Chinese name of varying authenticity; mine, Cui Rui-de (seen in red on the banner above), I've been informed twice now is shared by none other than Rett Butler of Gone with the Wind fame: Bai Rui-de.

I could fill an entire book already with what I've encountered in just 7 days that is strange to me, but there is the unexpected strangeness in familiarity and the familiarity in strangeness that is most interesting. Already my life and friends at home and Middlebury seem distant, veiled by time, and now long-gone; already the last thing new seems sweet-tasting with nostalgia. The internet here is virtually useless for anything outside China, and the world behind is only further banished by this.

But present here are ghosts of even older worlds: people and feelings I've not known since this summer: classmates in the same program, a language pledge, and frustration at an insane workload. Some of these ghosts have been in China for a semester already, and it's strange to find their familiar faces present again.

How is that strangeness amid all the strangeness, amid all the strangers? It's familiar. It is all so familiar now.