Other Moments

I enjoy sharing funny and inspiring stories about living in a foreign country. They're fun to tell, and more importantly, fun to live.

But then there are other moments.

I've been struggling a little bit lately with all the new things here. Things I'm not used to. I usually have an adventurous spirit and I'm always up for trying new things and being uncomfortable, but I will admit I actually struggle to leave the apartment at times.

First of all, I'm living by myself. Walking to class by myself. Sometimes eating by myself off in a dark corner of campus, just to get a moment of not being stared at, pointed at, or laughed at. Even babies in strollers have pointed at me, mouths gaping, because they recognize that I'm "different."

I feel so helpless. I have to go to multiple stores around town just to get basic sandwich fixings. Currently my refrigerator contains 1 kiwi, 1 half avocado, some ham, cheese, and a couple of uncooked eggs. And then when I do cook those eggs, I must do it on a gas stove...and I still haven't figured out how to hard-boil them just right. Also, I'd never had to peel two completely black layers off a grilled cheese sandwich until recently.

You know, the last time I came here, it was with 6 other crazy Americans. We stood out together, made cultural and language mistakes together, and tried new things together.

It's much different doing it by yourself.

How humbling is it when you can't even say what kind of meat you want in your dumplings? How frustrating it is when you know you've already learned the word, but of course you can't think of it in just the moment you need it. And then when I manage to stammer out a few awkward phrases in the language and I'm hoping to be told "good job," instead I am immediately corrected at such a fast pace that I can't understand a word they are saying.

I know I should just sit with random people at lunch, make goofy mistakes, and laugh at myself. But sometimes, that's much easier said than done.

Sometimes, I just want to speak English.
Sometimes, I just want for no one to stare at me like I just stepped out of a UFO.
Sometimes, I just wish I was back in Austin with that Starbucks right down the street.
Sometimes, I just want to not be humbled constantly.

And then I walk the 35 minutes back to the apartment, by myself, fighting back tears and secretly hating the loud honking cars and pedestrian-homing-missile bicycles that I have to dodge just to get across the road, with a bag of dumplings in one hand and a bilingual dictionary in the other, and fling my stuff down and cry and pray and sing out to the One who fully understands English, who would even understand nonsense words were I to utter them.

In some moments, that's the best you can do.