"But everything looks perfect from far away..."

You all may notice that my posts here get more frequent in proportion to the number of other things I should be doing. I am trying to just let myself be productive in whatever way I can, however, so I've decided that's ok. My courses are honestly far less demanding (at least so far, you can ask me again when term papers are due) than most years at U of Iowa, so it will probably work out.

I am still stressing about my presentation on Monday, but I have more or less convinced myself that the stress + my worn-out state from the rest of today make it not worth working too hard tonight. I am instead trying to regain my emotional and intellectual strength for tomorrow. I am doing so by drinking tea, reading fiction, and journaling.

I helped out teaching 5-6 year old boys again this morning, probably for the last time. Getting up very early on a Saturday morning, on top of the discrepancy between my energy wavelength and that of kindergarteners, leaves me ill-equipped to be much use to them. I have found other venues for out-of-school productivity though, so don't be too unhappy for me.

I climbed a mountain today! I was an awfully small mountain- when we first got off the bus Xiaoxuan turned to me and said "山在哪里？" (where's the mountain?)- but I still give myself a lot of credit for climbing it.

Xiaoxuan told me the other day that she had been worried about living with an American, she wasn't sure what cultural problems might arise, but that her fears were misplaced because I am more like her than most people. She, and independently a number of other Chinese classmates both male and female, has told me that I am more like a Chinese student than an American. I am too 文静 (gentle), too 安静 (quiet, peaceful). This is perhaps in large part due to stereotyping, but also to the fact that Americans can be of ridiculous when they travel abroad. Perhaps especially in China, where the first impression people have of foreigners is: FOREIGN, and one quickly realizes that it will be impossible not to stand out.

One thought this repeated observation about myself has led to is that I must be a very odd (perhaps eerie?) presence a lot of the time. I try to let people know I approve of them. I don't sit in silence out of spite or frustration, though perhaps occasionally out of self-doubt. Mostly, I just find a lot to think about in the spaces between the lines on a highway, or the different ways houses seem to greet the world with the lines of their eaves and the sizes of their windows, or the sentences people choose to say when they don't want everyone to know what they are thinking. I am not sure I would not call this wisdom; I seldom reach meaningful conclusions. I just see a lot of interesting paths for my thoughts to travel and generally feel it's better to take them.

Can I tell you a secret? I don't really like to travel that much. I am not very good at transitions. They leave me feeling tilted and worn-out, and it can take a long time for me to recover. I think it took more than a month for me to be okay with Nanjing, and I think I probably won't really have anything solid to say about how I feel about this city until I leave in January and come back in February. But I think that the patchwork quilt of places spread across our planet is one of the greatest gifts we have as residents here. If one dimension of the universe can be described with math and physics, in describing the shapes of the lines that connect all its points, another can be described with biology and ecology, in all of the incredible diversity that those elegant essential truths can combine to create. Another more complex dimension is human, sometimes messier to sort out but all the more poignant for its layers. And all of these are woven in and around and through one another all over our beautiful planet so that whole worlds exist in any one place, and even beginning to draw a line between two of them is magic.

If I chose each day what I would most like to do, I would almost always end up sitting someplace sunny, drinking tea, reading, writing, twirling my hair absent-mindedly, rambling in mutter-y and introverted kind of way, and looking out of windows.

I cannot promise that after next summer I will have seen all the sights in Nanjing, or sought out all of the worthwhile people I could have. I am so grateful for my chance to just be here for a year and let the reality of the place sink in to my consciousness.