Missing America

Some days there is only so much pushing, staring, honking, leering, and talking you can take before you secretly wish you were on a remote desert island as far away from China as possible. Yesterday was one of those days. I was tired of the crowds and the struggle. I was tired of pushing my way onto the bus only to be leered at by two men sitting a few chairs down from me. I was tired of racking my brain for the little Chinese I have learned and then shouting it over the blaring Chinese pop music just to order an 8 oz. cup of coffee at the little shop near my Chinese class. I was tired of the steady stream of non-pedestrian-yielding cars as I tried to cross the street on the crosswalk. I was tired of trying to find food that did not involve noodles, rice, KFC, or McDonald’s. I was tired of China.

Maybe it was the presidential election that made me suddenly long for America. Yesterday, I listened to the results on CNN’s website on my laptop in my office. Children were screaming as they ran past my office door, the teachers were chatting loudly in Chinese at the desk next to me, and the bad internet connection wouldn’t allow me to see the video. I pressed my earphones to my head and listened anyway trying to imagine myself in my living room with my parents watching the television in anticipation and later discussing the results. I even miss American television. I’m tired of the two English channels here that play brainwashing music while showing “splendid China” every ten minutes instead of commercials. So strangely enough, I even miss our commercials. At least some make me laugh. I’m tired of the one news show that comes on in the morning hosted by the same Chinese man whose voice I have come to despise.

I miss the diversity in America. I miss the choice. I miss walking down the cereal aisle in Wal-Mart. I miss arguing in the car with my family over whether we want Italian, Chinese, Mexican, BBQ, steaks or seafood for dinner. I miss seeing black people, Asian people, Hispanic people, and white people standing in line at the supermarket. I miss driving my car wherever I want, and I especially miss driving alone in my car on the open road with my music.

I also miss privacy. I miss public bathrooms with separate sinks for males and females. I miss restaurants with booths. I miss people who know that it’s polite not to stare or to ask you personal questions like how old are you, do you have a boyfriend, and how much do you weigh. I miss early morning runs without cars and thousands of people. I miss my house and its quiet neighborhood.

Even after being tired and missing all of these things, I tell myself not to despair. It is only the day. Tomorrow will be filled yet again with millions of Chinese people, but it may be different. Maybe tomorrow I will laugh at how ridiculous Chinese people are sometimes, or maybe I will suddenly understand why they do what they do. It’s just part of adjusting.