Jamie Martines on Starting JYAN in China

But every now and then I find myself feeling like a local, as if I am starting to blend into the fabric of my residential Beijing community. I walk around like I have lived here for years, stopping to buy dumplings from the street vendor and waving to the owners of my favorite restaurant as I pass by. I greet my roommate and my tutor in Chinese—their native tongue—and I no longer surprise the fuwuyuan (in this context, dormitory staff) when I use their language to ask to exchange my linen. This feeling of belonging is fleeting, and it only takes an encounter with a freshly mopped floor to snap me back to reality.

In China, the floors and the streets are always clean. It seems that someone is always sweeping, mopping, or polishing the floor in the buildings on campus, which makes for a treacherous commute to class every day. One day last week, I slipped on the wet floor and fell flat on my backside. This caused a commotion amongst the fuwuyuan as they rushed to my aid. Aside from spilling my tea and bruising my ego, I was fine; if fact, I felt better than I did before the fall. The fuwuyuan did not believe that, of course, and would not let me leave their sight until my tea mug was refilled with fresh water and my hair and clothes straightened. I assured them that I was fine, and eventually made it to class in one piece.

Just when I think I am starting to get used to life here—as if I can actually walk the walk, talk the talk—China finds a way to humble me again. Whether it knocks me on my backside or surprises me with something pleasant, like fruity smelling highlighters, China is challenging me in ways I never imagined. It is teaching me to expect the unexpected and, above all, to take every new obstacle in stride.