I’m now in my third week in Chicago. I can’t say that the transition has been easy; my dog Gougou endured almost 24 hours in a pet carrier being transported from China, and the culture shock of re-entry plus the jet lag have left me feeling drained.
We lived in a hotel for a week, while I searched for and rented an apartment in Lake View. We’re now installed in a comfy but small studio, and I’ve purchased the bare furniture essentials, and begun to outfit the kitchen. Gougou seems to have adapted better than I have, and we enjoy walks together to the nearby lakefront, Belmont harbor, and the abundant parks that stretch along Lake Michigan.
It’s strange new world that I inhabit: I can understand the language here, and the mannerisms and attitudes of Americans are very different from those of the Chinese. I’ve lost my different-ness; in China I was often the object of attention, and here I’m simply another person on the street. Coincidentally, my new apartment is just a couple of streets away from where I lived many years ago at age 22, fresh out of university and experiencing the big bad city with young eyes. I constantly compare what the neighborhood was like then with its current incarnation. There are far more yuppies now, and the gay population of Boys’ Town is much more visible than similar populations would be in China. My neighborhood seems to consist entirely of joggers, dog-walkers, and gym rats traveling to and from their workouts.
I have a two-week teaching stint in a summer English program at DePaul University, and I continue my job search as I continue to adapt to my surroundings.
I seem to have come full circle, once again.