Journey Home 3

YY's apartment, located in the western part of the town, should be, as the name of the building suggests, the "light of the city." Indeed the security-guarded entrance, the marbled ground floor, and the front-mirrored elevator were quite imposing, but when we were taken in by YY's wife, we were a bit surprised by the scanty-furnishment there. Other than a plain couch, a small wooden table in front of it, a marble-surfaced table to its right, and a TV stand to its front at the other end, the living room was bare. Not that it did not send off some elegance and taste of luxury from its fancy lights on the ceiling; it was just that for our undertanding of the scale of YY's business, the apartment looked a bit undeserving. We were soon to learn that this was just a dwelling place for his wife, whose working unit was nearby, and that they had bought a house somewhere else. Still, this supposedly three-bedroom luxury apartment was a bit disappointing, especially after we had used the bathroom, which was a bit smelly even as the western-styled toilet looked decently clean. There was a white porcelin tub, too, two feet away from the toilet, unlike in the usual Chinese water closet. The bathroom floor was wet, though,because there was no curtain to the tub and indeed no possibilty to install one due to the crude way the shower head was connected to the water tank above the toilet. While I was managing to shower L, she whispered: "Mom, why some part of Auntie's place is so dirty?" At her first comment after landing, I had to invent something: Auntie's place would be much nicer once we woke up in the morning when we were less tired." And that's all my eight-year American PhD training could invent upon an urgent call.

Journey Home 2

“You have not changed much/a bit”--this turned out to be the most frequently said and heard on the journey—as a compliment meaning one was still young, as an icebreaker between those who had obviously been estranged by the years of separation, and as a substitute for what was meant to be said in fact: “Much has changed.” As soon as he saw to it that all luggage was safely stowed away in the trunk of his driver's minivan; T and L in the van; Q, L and I in his car, LW exhaled an a-ya- and said,"you haven't changed a bit, still as slender as you used to be.” “But the hair has turned gray, that's why I am wearing the hat!” Q was apparently pleased with LW's compliment and voiced the hair imperfection in a brisk tone that made nothing but a delightful fact of it. “Mine, too, but I have dyed, haha,” said LW in a light tone as well. The air in the car was now much less pressing and pleasantly cool; still LW asked in earnest if the air-conditioning was functioning properly for L and me in the back. "How's business? We are all proud of you, YY and a couple of others in our cohort who had the courage to "go down to the sea" and set up your own companies," said Q. "All right, all right, small business, though. Not unlike YY, whose company is big. You communicate more with YY, though? We are not often in touch, even as we are both in Beijing. Do you still remember QWC? He is probably in America now, but I haven't heard from him since he called from the airport, saying he's going abroad. Nothing, no news at all. He's made a fortune, though, you know, financial business conducted together with his brother-in-law. Three boys, all gone with him, I guess, but no news, no news at all. Strange. Strange. He could have sent us a brief note specifying his whereabout as you did for our cohort renuion, but not a word." LW sighed and adeptly passed a giantic truck that seemed to be verging onto his lane on the crowded high way. "Aha,can't it be that he is hiding, like other corrupted," said Q jokingly. "Who knows what, nowadays," LW seemed to have taken Q's joke seriously, "Based on you two's experience, is it better to send a kid abroad for school? And what's the best timing, high school, college, or graduate school?" LW was trying to pull me into the conversation. To prevent Q from voicing any extreme view as he would on this issue, I jumped in quickly:"While exposure to another culture is certainly helpful, it really depends on the character of the kid as to when it is best to go abroad; if one is independent and strong willed, it won't matter much probably to study away from home earlier; otherwise it is probably better to wait till later since studing abroad does entail tolerating much lonliness and self-discipline." I was surprised at my own cautiousness but relieved that Q now could no longer say, "the earlier, the better." LW called to confirm with YY that we were to gather at a restaurant near YY's apartment, and it was close to 8 p.m. when we arrived there. LW ordered a huge bunch of food and drinks but we failed to be good guests enjoying most of them due to jetlag. Q wanted to suggest that the leftover be packed up and taken away, but seeing no such intention on the host's part, he did not voice it. And it was late into the night when jetlag brought me awake in an small hour of the morning that I saw Q staring at the ceiling and murmuring: "As regards eating, much has changed."

Journey Home 1

Something is remembered because it is constantly recalled and relived in the mind. That the recent trip back home should still come alive to an agitating heart in the depths of night suggests its recordable quality. So here are attempts to take down what still lives of the journey back to Ch from July 11th till August 10th, 2012. July 12th, Thursday. The plane from Seattle to Beijing was half an hour behind the schedule, and so when we presented ourselves at the International Arrivals, we did not see Q's nephew or college classmate who was supposed to meet us there. I surveyed each expectant face leaning over the steel frame that zigzagged around the exit. Q did the same but with more anxiety voiced by repeating: "Traffic jam maybe, traffic jam." I went to a counter where two girls seemed to be selling phone cards. The cards they sold could only be used on public telephones like those ancient black ears hanging on the wall behind them, and the least payment for a card was 50 yuan. I was to buy one when Q closed up and said "no need". The girls immediately erased whatever had remaimed of a rigid smile on their beige faces and did numerous invisible frowns at us perhaps, judging from their obviousy managed air of all-rightness. I walked towards the crowd to the right of the International Arrivals and found it to be people waiting for domestic arrivals. As I returned with determination to buy an IC card anyway, I heard Q cry out, "Here they are." Walking towards us was Q's nephew, a junior in an engineering institute in Beijing, and right behind him was a tall man in his prime. Q ran to hug his newphew briefly before he took up the hands of the man,saying, "you have not changed much, LW."