From Qingdao to Dallas - Without Sleep

When I just arrived in Dallas, the last 47 consecutive hours of my life had been travel, starting with the 12-hour bus from Qingdao back to Beijing, then directly to the airport for my hours of travel back to the U.S., finally ending with a comparatively short leg back to Dallas. As I blankly stared out of the airplane window on my last leg of this hellacious two-day travel ordeal, I was struck with a strange feeling, being back in the United States. Before I went to China, I thought that only having two months there wasn't going to do anything. Now I’ve realized just how long two months can be. Don't get me wrong, I loved every moment of it (okay, some parts were less good than others). All of a sudden I don't have to actively listen just to understand things, I don't have to spend a full minute reading a sign, and I don't even get to hear Chinese being spoken anymore. It's all over, so quickly. 

That's how I felt about a few of my fellow CET classmates, the ones I became close friends with. For two months, you spend five hours everyday in a classroom together, and then even more time doing stuff on weekends, and then one day, you realize you'll probably never see each other again. It's just a humbling feeling, to realize how quickly and easily a friendship you cherish can be ended. And I know that some of you will say that's why Facebook and Skype exist. True, but no amount of online chatting could ever amount to aimlessly wandering the streets of China together. 

Anyway, my experiences in China will be impossible to forget, which is stating the obvious. What's less obvious is the effect that observing Chinese culture and daily life has had on my views of foreigners and all other human beings in general. I never expected to fully and truly understand why people so badly thirst for the opportunity to come to America. Sure, everyone realizes that the American standard of living is comparatively higher, but until I saw some things that literally made me stop and feel guilty for having even the clothes on my back, I didn't fully understand the perils of these people's lifestyles. I'm going to refrain from specific examples, because it's just one of those things that any amount of complex phrasing I could use will never, ever do it justice. 

I’m also not going to attempt to describe my overall opinion of China, or do any kind of wrap-up. I’m far too lazy, plus I believe that sort of thing is unnecessary. What I will do is publish my final essay that I must write for CET about how the trip affected me, so I think that will do just fine. Now, for my last week. 

After arriving in Qingdao at 5:30 am last Wednesday morning, I headed to my hostel to try and sleep for a few hours before meeting my class. Unfortunately, at 6 am every single old person and middle-aged person woke up, started jogging, and resumed a construction project next door. Also, the room lacked air-conditioning. So I just headed out to the beach, where I met up with my classmates for breakfast. We spent most of the day on the beaches, which are absolutely beautiful with decently clear water, so we went swimming too. Being the only foreigners on the beach, we attracted plenty of attention. Then in the mid-afternoon we went for a fresh seafood lunch, which gave us a little surprise the next weekend. But the seafood for dinner was amazing, just delicious and not too expensive. Then we headed out to “Beer Street” to find the beer festival, since Qingdao is the city where Tsingtao beer is produced (the pronunciation is the same, just the westernized spelling differs). After failing to find more than restaurants that served beer, we ended up searching for clubs with live music. The one we ended up at had a highly-talented band of 6 asians that covered everything from Queen to Chinese pop -- and did so pretty well. 

The next morning, after waking up at 6 am yet again, I promptly threw up most of the seafood we had the previous day for lunch. So instead of heading back to beach, I spent four hours of my morning half-conscious on the floor of my friends’ hostel. Thankfully, I felt better by noon, so my friend that wasn’t throwing up and I headed to the Qingdao beer museum, and got some souvenirs before I had to head to the bus station for my 12-hour trip back to Beijing. After saying our tearful goodbyes, I boarded the bus and began my 50 hours of travel experience. Despite all the travel and food poisoning, being in Qingdao was one of the most fun times I’ve had in China, and I can’t wait to go back there, or really anywhere else in a country with 5000+ years of history.