Stranger in a Strange Land

It struck me last night walking in the cool moonlight how amazing it is for me to be where I am. A dream really.

Sometimes, I look at night at the pink, green dancing neon signs saying “Shanxi Agricultural University” and wonder where I am. The smoke coming from the nearby building turns purple in its strange light and the illumination from the almost full moon. With these strange tall buildings radiating light and colored smoke and the moonlight making even the darkest buildings look sharp and clear and full of geometric shapes, I wonder if this China I’m standing in is fake. At other times, the fountains turn on and loudspeakers blast Kenny G or the latest Chinese pop song, and the water dances up and down to the music, and I wonder if they are trying to make China fake.
And then sometimes, I see the quiet corner of a restaurant sharply illuminated in the moonlight, strange geometric shadows making the dirty scene look strangely neat and tidily drawn, and I wonder if I am in a museum. And then, walking along in the dark, I see a young girl sitting on a young man’s lap, the tree shadows carefully covering the places in their face their mouths would be, and I wonder if I am in Oakland, California again.

But sometimes, walking along a dirt road, hearing the quiet sounds of friends giggling and speaking Mandarin together, walking arm in arm, watching others hurry off to their dorms for the evening, with the feeling of a light autumn wind brushing my face and the moonlight illuminating my path, and I remember where I am and I am awed.