As such, I took this leap of faith which landed me in Beijing, the capital of this new land that would become my home but for a short five months. The experience of wandering through its buzzing streets on my own was overwhelming, exciting and humbling all at once. All of the knowledge and experience I had had until then served me no use. I could not even order the simplest of meals, ask for directions or even attempt to read any of the vivid neon signs written in a language of dancing and contorted figures. I felt lost, abandoned in a world where I had been reduced to what little my gestures could express. This was, nonetheless -and quite inexplicably so- a fascinating feeling. I had finally found myself in a corner of the world untouched by the English language, a place that still preserved its essence, which had not been greatly affected by the homogenization of modern society. I felt as though I had found a precious gem.
As my ears became accustomed to the sound of a language that portrayed no meaning to me, I felt the spark ignite inside me: China had me sold, and its language had enticed me. I was impatient to dive into this unknown world, savor every last 饺子 (jiaozi) [dumpling] and munch on the delicacies sold by screaming vendors on the crowded streets of this ginormous city.
Not only did my appetite grow in China, so did my thirst to learn about its fascinating culture and history, and its relationship with the rest of the world. As an international relations student, I had been thrown into books and books on European and American history, politics and economy. Non-Western knowledge remained a mystery to me, and I was frustrated with this narrow and one-sided perception I had of the world.
Nonetheless, it was not long before I finally had the answers that I sought, and I had developed my own mindset regarding China. A fascinating course on Chinese History, a challenging introductory course to Mandarin and an engaging internship with Project Pengyou offered me the possibility to delve into the wonders of China. These were three doors that led me through a road that would satisfy my curiosity and open my mind. A bumpy road nonetheless, it was a fascinating one to drive down. Reading about late Qing China, practicing my Chinese characters an infinite amount of times, and participating in the conversation on US-China relations proved challenging and riveting.
The first has allowed me to gain a greater understanding of the rich history that is so engraved within Chinese culture today, it has allowed me to understand the why’s of the societal differences I encountered throughout my travels in China. Whether I was reading about the intellectual pursuits of the Qianlong Emperor or the Taiping Rebellion (history’s deadliest civil war), I was understanding China’s past, comprehending its present and ridding my mind of silly preconceptions.
Learning Chinese has provided me with limited yet useful tools to communicate with those around me; thanks to the few words I can pronounce I have made fascinating acquaintances in the simplest of places: a little boy who asked where I was from on an overnight train to Xi’an, a joyful couple on a tour in Dunhuang who insisted I looked Russian, and a small woman on an elevator who kindly called me 漂亮 (piao liang) [pretty] with a wrinkled smile.