China 2010 Narrative.

Going to China is weird.

It's not vacation, it's not work. I don't even quite know how to describe the mood when I garner the funds and time to make the trek across the Pacific. Maybe..... impending doom meets ecstatic anticipation meets a psychological girding of loins?

How is one supposed to feel about family that one hardly ever sees? There's such an innate bond and disconnect all at the same time. My dad is ever the middle child; never wanting to cooperate and always on the hunt for Somewhere Else. He left China in the late 80s and never went back. Subsequently, my sister and I have been raised continents apart from our grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles, and the like. We have never been more than a fill days travel from our family, had unrelated babysitters, and small holiday gatherings. Furthermore, we settled in a town that is 90% white, so we think we are white girls. Commence cultural confusion.

To make matters more inconvenient, the two sides of our family are like the Sharks and the Jets. Not in the wanting to rumble and fight with chains, but still so so so different. They are different in ways that span generations, and, as it is, need not the added monkey wrench of the Americans.

So how, really, is this supposed to go?

I'm always nervous that I wont be able to say what I want, because with every visit my Mandarin gets rustier.

I'm always afraid my grandmother will make me eat something gross.

I'm always wary that one of my uncles will give me the "don't forget where you came from" nonsense.

I'm always preemptively annoyed about the crowds, the filth, the rude, and the heat.

However.

I always am so thrilled to see my family, and to hear silly stories from when I lived there.

I always know that they admire what's become of us.

I always remember all of the delicious treats we can buy for pennies on the street.

and I always know I can come home to the States.