Oh, China. You are too good to me.

Yikes. It’s been a while. I had every intention of writing a nice, introspective post in honor of my “monthiversary” last week, but life got in the way. I’m all for that. Vikki Lee keeps telling me that I need to stop thinking so much and just start living. Not bad advice.

I have to admit, I’m really happy here. It’s not an “Ahhh I’m –so-excited-I’m-going-to-scream-and-flail-my-arms-about-in-a-fit-of-unbridled-joy” kind of happy; it’s more of a quiet, unexpressed satisfaction with the way my life is unfolding. The friends I’ve made thus far are some of the most positive, flexible, happy, and interesting people I’ve ever met—and I need friends like that so I can learn how to be more flexible and open-minded.

A big lesson that I’m also learning is the value of being comfortable in your awkwardness. In China, I’m awkward pretty much 24/7. I’m the only laowai on a bus packed with Chinese, and the only one who seems to fall over when the bus lurches around corners. I’m the silly foreigner who stares dumbly at a waitress when she asks me something in Chinese too quickly and I have no idea what she said. I’m the mentally insane tourist who weaves through a stampede of oncoming bicycles in pursuit of an snapshot of an adorable Chinese child (yes, I’m that creepy). I’m the bizarre English teacher who pantomimes and overdramatically gestures in attempts to make myself understood to my students (and I oftentimes only succeed in making them cry with laughter, not understand my English). Yep, all signs point to helplessly and irrevocably awk.

In the States, I was very awkward-averse. I purposely avoided situations in which I felt uncomfortable or unsure. Here, it’s impossible to avoid these kinds of circumstances. And that’s becoming more and more okay with me. I’m learning that making a life in a foreign country requires a kind of fearlessness—a willingness to roll with the punches and to be vulnerable; to be comfortable with your abilities and your (increasingly apparent) limitations. I think I’m coming to know myself better here than I ever did in the US, and that’s a really cool feeling.

Another awesome thing about China is that I get to hang out with monks. Well, as close to hanging out with them as I can get as a non-practitioner of Buddhism. A quick story: so, the other day, I woke up at 3am to watch an unmentionable college football game (don’t ask). Anyway, by about 7am, I was feeling pretty stressed out and tense, and I needed to let off some steam. So, I pulled on my running shoes and headed out the door in the general direction of a Buddhist monastery nestled among a crop of mountains that line the western edge of Hangzhou. And I jogged, passing monks in their gold and silver robes on the way to meditation, and stopping to chat with a few who were enjoying a morning cup of tea in front of the monastery gates. Being surrounded by the serenity and beauty of a crisp, clear fall morning in the Buddhist hills made the ill-fated football game seem like a distant and hazy memory. Oooh China, you are too good to me.