The Fork in the Road

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Last week, I traveled back to a life previously lived. For seven days, I reveled in reunions with old friends, feasted on Beijing delicacies, breathed in (relatively) smog-free air, and bargained up a storm at Beijing's famous Silk Street. For seven days, I imagined what life might have been like had I stayed. Just over a year ago, I had reached a fork in the road: four years in Beijing was long enough to have become truly immersed in the language and culture; what did I imagine for my life moving forward? Obviously, the choice I made at that time brought me back to the country of my birth, the incomparable United States of America. But was it the right choice?

I had seven days to figure that out.

I arrived in Beijing on a Monday afternoon, just in time to get hopelessly stuck in the city's notorious evening rush hour on my way to the city center. The leafless trees in the forests lining the airport expressway provided little aesthetic appeal as I sat in the backseat of the taxi, texting friends and my Chinese host family to let them know I had arrived. It was if no time had passed, let alone more than a year since I was last in the 'Jing, as we fondly refer to it. I made plans to meet friends for dinner and a pub quiz later in the week and excitedly anticipated my reunion with my Chinese family that evening over dinner.

I had lived with them for three months during the summer of 2005 while I was in Beijing for an internship with a Chinese orphan support organization between my junior and senior years at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. We became close over the summer and so when I officially moved to Beijing in the fall of 2006 to begin my 'adult life', weekly dinners at their apartment became a ritual. Over the years, they became my Beijing family. I could confide in my host mom and sister about anything--relationships, American politics, friendship woes--and they confided in me, too, about their fears over food safety in China, their feelings about the Chinese government, and their increasingly common trips abroad. When the door to their apartment was flung open and I was enfolded into a three-person hug, all the old feelings came rushing back. I was home.

We chatted late into the evening, about all of the changes in my life and about nothing in particular. Before I knew it, it was 10 PM and the jet lag was hitting me hard. Reluctantly, I headed back to the hotel, with promises that we would have dinner at least once more before my flight back to Minneapolis later that week.

It was a busy week. Although the bulk of my work is with Chinese university administrators and professors, businesspeople, and government officials, in the summer I design and manage a program for Chinese high school students. Over the past decade, the number of Chinese undergraduate students studying at U.S. universities has exploded. Many students are at the top of their class, but they often arrive without the soft skills necessary to be successful, like independence, presentation skills, and leadership abilities. I try to design a curriculum that will provide students with a foundation in these types of skills during the three weeks they are in Minnesota. I had meetings with the international program administrators of five high schools in Beijing and Tianjin (a coastal city located about 25 minutes southeast of Beijing by bullet train). When I wasn't meeting with the decision-makers, I was holding info sessions for interested students.

Interestingly, the meetings and interactions with students weren't the most tiring part of the work. No, hailing a taxi and getting anywhere in the city in under 90 minutes was the truly challenging aspect of my schedule. When I left Beijing in December of 2012, the city was adding nearly 1,000 new cars to the road every day. That statistic, while hard to believe from this side of the ocean, was decidedly not from on-the-ground in China. It made me grateful for my 20-minute commute to work on public transportation in Minneapolis. Transportation has been one of the biggest changes in my daily life as I made the shift from Beijing to Minneapolis. Where once I endured a 3-4 hour daily commute in Beijing, I now get to and from the office in 40 minutes--an hour if I walk. I never stop being grateful for that!

Toward the middle of the week, I was sitting at a local coffee shop enjoying a pastry and coffee for breakfast while idly people watching before a meeting. I thought about how familiar it all seemed to me. I knew what the attitudes of the baristas would be in the early morning. I knew exactly where all of the narrow, twisting alleyways in the surrounding neighborhood led. I knew how to bargain to get the best price at the local market down the street. Small children in city parks addressed me as 'auntie' and chattered away happily to me in Chinese, never taking note of my blonde hair and green eyes, as though that would label me as someone who couldn't understand their language. It would be so easy to simply melt right back into that old life. Most of my close friends were still in the city. My Chinese family was just around the corner. With my professional experience and language abilities I wouldn't have trouble finding work. There were abundant opportunities for community service in local organic farms, orphanages, or environmental protection groups (really!). I couldn't help wondering what would have happened if I hadn't stepped on that plane a year ago. If I'd stayed.

The loud hiss of the cappuccino machine broke through my reverie, startling me. How different Beijing was from when I'd first arrived in 2006! The availability of imported goods, western restaurants, US clothing brands, and western-style apartments was pretty outstanding. Business executives were no longer even offered 'hardship allowances' as they once had been when China first opened up to the world in the early 1980s. Life could be frustrating (anyone needing to make a standard visit to the bank should plan on at least two hours), but it wasn't that difficult. So, why had I left?

There were practical reasons for returning to the United States, of course. I needed to think about the future--entering the retirement system and investing in mutual funds would certainly provide for a more stable tomorrow. If I did intent to return to the US for the long run, it made sense to do so sooner rather than later, when I was still young enough that my experience would be relevant enough to enter the job market and compete against newly minted master's degree holders. It was nice to not have to worry whether the eggs I bought at the market had been injected with some degree of unsavory hormone or chemical. But I could find a way to accomplish most of these things from China. No, the primary reason had to be something else.

I enjoyed karaoke sessions with old coworkers and dinners with friends each evening of my visit. I had a wonderful time catching up with everyone. It was a comfortable and familiar routine. Everyone sang the same songs at KTV. Friends told similarly hilarious stories as from brunches of years past. It wasn't exactly that I'd outgrown those friendships or those experiences, but something felt different this time around. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I felt caught between two worlds. New friends in Minnesota, for the most part, couldn't relate to my life abroad, while old friends in Beijing couldn't relate to my new life back in the U.S. It felt like I was balancing between two cultures, desperately trying to keep my balance as I walked the tightrope between each. Both lives were equally wonderful, for different reasons. What had made me tip the scale in favor of the US?

With the question still unanswered, I found myself back on a plane bound for the United States. I couldn't sleep; my mind was filled with questions. Could I just pack up and move back to a life abroad? Was my right place back in America, in Minnesota? When we come to such a gigantic fork in the road, how do we make a decision?

This morning, I called my grandmother as I was packing for another adventure abroad (stay tuned), though this one very much not permanent--two weeks. I hadn't spoken to her in a few weeks as she enjoyed the warmer temperatures and climate at my parents' home in Phoenix. It felt good to hear her voice and to reconnect with her. As we said goodbye, I felt a little tug at my heartstrings. Where had the time gone? It seemed like just yesterday that I was learning to bake chocolate chip cookies in her kitchen on my weekly Thursday afternoon visit after school. And then, it hit me. The reason why I had moved back to the US.

Family.

Despite the technological marvel that is Skype, and despite the ability to get on a plane and be on the other side of the world in a mere 12 hours, it's not the same as being in the same time zone, able to pick up the phone and just say hi. It can't compare with the ability to hop on a bus and spend the weekend with your parents in the city where you grew up. It just can't. And, so, I finally felt a deep peace settle over me. I had made the right decision. Any lingering doubt in my mind vanished. I was in my right place. The Beijing chapter could be opened again anytime I returned for a visit. It wasn't closed. It's just time for a new chapter.

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Photos

Outside of Beijing No. 4 High School
Prior to a meeting and info session

Comments

[Mom]

Family--An Anchor
It's not always easy to be part of a family, but I'm glad to know that we were able to tip the scale and help you make a hard decision about where you should be. Friends are also family, and sometimes we are able to have a work family. There are many families, but the real family(ies) is(are) the one(s) that love(s) you unconditionally. Love, Mom

[Lee Sorensen]

Great Writing
Again and again, I find your writing informative and inspiring. It seems that I can feel what you are feeling. Thank you so much for sharing.