I’m always afraid of planes crashing.

I’ve got a list of Japanese literature related topics. How dare I, to teach japanese literature and ask for money. 

My mind is all over the places.

I could be learning something from Joyce Carol Oates or Margaret Atwood, but I’m so tired. It’s almost 9:00 am. Couldn’t sleep at all. 

I’m thinking about writing a blog. A serious one. About learning languages. The thing is I’ve gotta study first in order to write.

I’m thinking about stopping my chinese lessons. My teacher is not great so why keep paying him.

I’m also a teacher. I try to be a good one. One they want to pay. My income is low as shit so that’s why I was thinking about teaching Japanese literature or starting a blog. Teaching is not bad, but Mexico’s economy just sucks.

Anyways, I don’t really need the money. So there’s that.

I digress though. I was offered a job opportunity in China. Teaching abroad for a year. But then again I don’t have my freaking degree. And I really want to have it. I want it more than anything I’ve wanted before. My thesis has been once again rejected. Probably not as bad as it could have but nonetheless it means a step back and probably staying in Mexico for another month. It sucks. Do I really want to pursue a job in Academia? It’s painful and frustrating. 

So I’ve got to paths: go to China without a degree. Or stay and get the degree but lose the chance of teaching in China.

Why not live in China for a year? Couldn’t be that bad — been there before so I guess I’ll be alright a second time. 

Then I could come back and get the freaking degree. It’s just a paper. Money is paper as well. 

Going to China would mean flying for 16 hours to arrive at a horrible place I want to be at. Not going would mean staying at a horrible place I don’t mind being at.

Aaah, decisions. Well it’s fine. The year is about to end. I should learn to let go, whether it’s a degree or China. One thing will be lost. Maybe it won’t be the later.

Updates in two months.

I'm jealous,I'm happy, I'm nostalgic and what not.

"I want to keep going with my chinese lessons" I tell my brother. I tell him that more often than not, so often that I slap myself casually after saying that trying to remind myself "shut up, no one cares about China!" He just nods or laughs. It is crazy to think life was happening there. It was more than 13,000 km away from home and as the days pass I just think "I would never change that decision".
It is not that living there was easy, it hardly was, I'm not totally sure why I liked it there. I try to think about it as I hear the typical mexican sound of the man who comes selling hot sweet potatoes --it is like a flute, a very annoying one -- and I drink my coffee. I'm in my room. It is a peaceful morning, I see through my windows the buildings, the imperfect blue sky... a view nearly impossible in the often grayish Beijing. The sun too, here it is warm and friendly, there it was too hot and it burnt bad. As a side note, it is 11th November and the weather is still perfect while I know in Beijing it starts to freeze. Anyways, my heart longs. "Why I liked China?" I ask again... well... Maybe because of the feeling of adventure. Now, every time I talk to someone, even a driver or a cashier, I appreciate it so much --- finally speaking spanish, my dear and beloved language, and the best one. But then I think "I sure miss asking for 're cha' in the boba tea store outside my University". I also miss the faces of China. People with daring fashion styles, haircuts many Mexicans would be afraid to try, feminine girls, adventurous boys and of course those almond eyes you can hardly find here. Needless to say, you stand out there. Some people looked at me with curiosity or surprise when I was there, I was 'the different one', another feeling I never really experienced before --not even in my time in the super cosmopolitan London -- I was the laowai, the foreigner. I know many people do not like being labeled like that, for me, it was just a new experience and a new adjective for my identity. Here in Mexico I'm just a Mexican, as well as the Japanese kids born in Mexico or the Spanish friend who has been living here for fifteen years so he or she prefers tacos over paellas. I've noticed that after living here a while and if people really embrace the culture we don't have problems calling 'the foreigners' 'Mexicans' or even 'half-mexicans' or 'almost Mexicans', maybe literally speaking they are not and never will be -- like my Swedish teacher who was in Mexico for maybe ten years and spoke a very fluent Spanish. I remember one day, without him being present, we said "Oh but I think he is more Mexican than Swedish now" It is not that he ceased to be Swedish, but a part of him belonged so much to Mexico, we, bornt and raised Mexicans, already considered him a part of the society...something impossible in China. There, you and me, we would forever be foreigners. But I digress.

The food was also hard to swallow at times. To many species and a lot of oil. But after a while I got used to it, I enjoyed it. And my life without rice seemed so lost. And then talking to people, oh god...no one spoke English there. So instead of being stubborn, I learnt some Hanyu -- Mandarin -- You know, even though Spanish is my first tongue, after learning English at a quite fluent level you become lazy. A part of me understands why most English speakers don't learn another language. I remember when I started French lessons at the age of 12, I was like whyyyyy, this is so boring, "I already speak English! Why do I need to learn French!?" When you speak English you feel life will be fine, because English is the international language, isn't it? If you go to France, speak English, they must know! If you go to Mexico... Mexicans have English lessons so it's fine we speak English too! and in China, it has to be the same right? Well, that's a horrible way of thinking to be honest, but at twelve I was an entitled little brat. So even though I took on the adventure of learning Swedish after French, and I already spoke English and Spanish, I went to China thinking "okay but Chinese is super difficult so no one must spect me to speak it, right?" And chinese people actually don't, if you say something in Chinese they are fairly surprised. But still, you should arrive at least knowing the basics. That is: xie xie = thanks; i ge = one; zhe ge, na ge = this/that ; duo shuo qian = how much does it cost? Well, I only knew ni hao was hello and that is not of much help. But later I was amazed at how well I handled life with just a few words and some phrases. I took the metro, I asked for food, I walked around Beijing and I even traveled both in China and overseas and ooooh I was so happy and surprised when I arrived to Hong Kong and discovered people --even elders -- spoke English fluently there! I was never so grateful about the ability to communicate with others. There were many feelings and many surprises there. Sometimes I was lonely and I learnt how to be happy with myself, how not to depend on others ... do you want to go to The Temple of Heaven? just go! Are you dying for visiting Tokyo? Take the flight...oh yeah, I was also so financially careless...what a blessing. I didn't have to worry much about money back then because the school gave me an scholarship that seemed endless. So yeah, China has its ups and downs, but I was very amazed with the daily views, the asian aesthetics, the sounds of the language and that feeling that traveling gives you. It's joy, amazement, sadness, happiness, frustration and then accomplishment. Of course, mostly, I think gratefulness. To learn how wide this world is, how different we can be from one another but lastly, how similar too, since we are all humans always asking for a wifi password, mei-fai mima, wifi mot-de-passe, wifi lösenord, la contraseña del wifi, or the wifi passuwodo.

So now, I see on Facebook posts of friends who are living their exchange semesters or traveling for reasons. I feel a bit of jealousy, I miss my days as a "foreigner"--and a very standing out one. I'm also planning and saving money for my next trip. But I'm also very happy to be at home, in my little part of earth, that part where I belong, where everyone looks mostly like me, where everyone speaks my tongue, and my slang, and where we can make jokes of the accents and sayings among the country and where I understand every single peculiarity. Mexico is not perfect, Mexico is a difficult country, even more if you are a woman. Mexico city is a big city, complicated, messy, bizarre and even surreal according to the surreal father Dalí -- maybe the surreal mother, Remedios Varo would have a different opinion, but will we know? she was a woman after all, so even if she differs, no one asked.
Anyways, a woman in Mexico...it takes guts. but it is still my place, my colors, my flavors, my sounds, the way to dance, argue and even fall in love... I've notice the differences, believe me. Or maybe I'm like Jean Rhys, thinking, overthinking, about places and spaces... but for me, well for me it is like this. Somedays I love Mexico so much, i feel like I don't ever want to leave...then my ears listen to 'Tian Mi Mi" or watches a picture of the Tokyo Tower...my heart longs for the other side of the world, for the foreigner adventures, the Asian cosmovision, so, so distant from the Latin one, the Western one, ah.... what a wonderful world we have to explore, and how many meetings, how many goodbyes that will tear our heart and will make us appreciate more what we have had and what will come...

China, eras complicada, rara, no siempre te entendí y sin embargo... dejé tanto de mi en ti y trajé algo de ti conmigo. Patrick Rothfuss, uno de mis escritores favoritos dijo algo, y ahora lo entiendo perfecto, después de China: "to love something because, that is easy, but to love something despite...that is the true beauty."

Memories from July 12th, 2017

Happy days in my life:

1. July. I made a trip to see you. Although short and fleeting, a feeling I will never forget. 
2. The night in Mexico City when Joaco Vitola jumped off stage and sang to me. 
3. 5:30 a.m. A common morning in my hometown after being gone for quite sometime. It was chilly and quiet. Breakfast was milk, homemade bread and honey. 
4. Shoreditch park. I saw Cavan McCarthy and he was soooo pretty. I was able to see Swim Deep playing live and that was a dream come true 
5. Yesterday in the Hutongs, being away from home. Very far away, a lovely afternoon. 
6. I was 11 years old. I read The God of Small Things. I couldn't understand it but I knew I loved it. 
7. Days when I realize things. 

Trying not to cry. Life is full of so many things. You are beautiful. I miss you. I'm happy. One day you will realize it too. Wish we could have gone to Paris together. I send you love. Thanks for taking care of my plants. The world is awful but we have been lucky. I will always write about you.

    8. You never called me back. A feeling I'll never forget.

I don't speak Chinese, wo bu shuo hanyu. But I live in China.

I am a Mexican exchange student in China for the Spring semester of 2017. That's all you need to know.
1.
I say: "wo xuexi le hanyu yi ge yue zai moxige before coming to China (中国)" and they nod and smile. Then I show them I can write some characters in chinese. "Cat" (猫) "Fox" (狸) "Dog" (狗), and I say "I learnt fox the other day. I went to a coffeeshop with a friend and she taught me" There is surprise in their faces. They think I learn fast. I don't. My pronunciation is awful. "Wo de hanyu bu hao" but they always say "Well it is good for a foreigner", "but you are not studying it", "you've only been here for three months". I feel frustrated and happy. A weird combination. Then a Mexican friend of mine says to me "pinche idioma feo" and I giggle. I say nothing. I think "I guess learning other languages has just made me more tolerant about it".
I know many times languages won't make sense, there are rules without explanations and as I attended a Spanish for foreigners class the other day, I think Spanish is, too, a pain in the ass.
2.
As I wander in this city full of people, I grasp part of conversations, sometimes I can identify which language someone is speaking and sometimes I can speak it too. "Tu est francais?" "Belge", "Tu es francais?" "Oui, de Paris" and how romantic. I ended up kissing that boy that night.  And I thought "I guess that is the dream. Kissing a boy from Paris" and I talked to my 12-year-old self who didn't like french homework: "See, it paid off". (And yes, I talk to her in English, not in Spanish).
Then I met a girl whose major was Swedish and when she said that I, smiling, overexcited, say "Jag can talar svenska." And she was so freaking shocked. Like, really, her mouth almost fell to the floor. Why would a Mexican speak Swedish? And why is that language useful in China? well, it is not. And it is. We became friends. "Why did you learn it?" "For fun. I just studied it one semester". and because I liked Ingmar Bergman. Because I thought the language sounded beautiful. Because I really liked A Swedish Love Story. We had a conversation about Swedish language, about traveling and studying and all that. Now every time I see her on campus we say hi to each other. And of course I feel less alone. So I made a Chinese friend not because I can speak Chinese or because she is fluent in english (she is) but because I was able to say "Vad heter du?"
Another time, a teacher asked us to write a poem using our native language and then translating it to English. "Use five words who you think are the most beautiful, and use them in the poem". And so I do. But then, I approach my professor frustrated. "I can't do it." "Why?" "Because this word doesn't exist in English". "Madrugada" doesn't have a translation into English. "Early morning", "early dawn", it is not the same.
3.
I feel there is a huge difference between "amanecer" and "madrugada". The first can mean hope, or parting, even regret from last night. But the other... "madrugada" is you walking in the dark streets of any city, with your friends, a bit dizzy, a bit drunk, a bit in love. That's why I like "madrugada" better than "early morning" or anything else.
And in a "madrugada", after a club I take a cab in the never-ending city of Beijing with my friend from Mexico. We had so much fun with a bunch of foreigners who can't speak Chinese, and who say things like "I cannot wait for it to be July so I can go back to Rome", "Y yo soy Español, hostia!", and we laughed. But in our way back we are once again alone with the "beijingner", and the one who does not speak English at all: a late hours taxi driver. So we say "Beiwai"(That's the name of my uni in Chinese). He drives. We are happy, excited, and quite afraid. But we ignore the last part of that sentence and start speaking in Spanish. Then the taxi driver interrupts us, he said something. My friend is studying Chinese but she can't understand a thing. So I say "zen ma, zen ma?" (Sorry, what?) --As if I knew! And then a miracle happens!  I understand two words! I feel so happy it is stupid (and not at all). "Na li" I know it means where. So I take a guess and reply: "Wo men shi mo xi ge ren". "We are mexicans", "Somos mexicanas", "Nous sommes mexicaines", "Vi är mexikaner", "mekishiko hitodesu"... but of all of them, just one worked and one I knew "wo men shi moxigeren". He smiled and laughed. He said we were very pretty. "Xie xie", then again he asked us something. I couldn't understand. "Zen ma?" He spoke slower. I understood the phrase. I laughed so hard because I was surprised by the question, he laughed because he was surprised I understood. "Mei you, mei you". My friend look at me quite lost. What was going on? The language barrier was down for me to some extent, however she didn't know I laughed cause the taxi driver asked if we had boyfriends, and I, embarrassed by his question, said we didn't. When I explained to her, once we were in campus again, she said "And I'm the one who is studying chinese..." I don't know how I was able to have a conversation with a chinese taxi driver either, but I did. "Maybe it is because you have studied languages". Maybe.
4.
But you know, there is this theory about people being different depending on the language they are speaking. Also, now many monolingual people (specially English speakers) regret not knowing more languages. As for us, who speak at least two languages, we might think about it deeply: who am I in English? Who am I in Spanish? and even in French... and how exhausting it can be sometimes, not speaking in your mother tongue for a while.
5.
I can share one secret with you: for me Spanish is home. It is comfort. It is the starbucks coffeeshop round the corner where I study other languages but where I feel at ease. "Un café americano. Mediano. Sin leche. ¿Quién le pone leche al café?" and not "yi ge... yi ben? meiguo...meishui kafei... ah?  eh? ah! Dui, re. Bu 'milk' (I have to look up my phone now) Bu munai (also, i used my fingers to stress the mispronounced tones)" I finish saying that, exhausted, confused. Just asking for a coffee without milk is a whole thing. I'm never exhausted in Spanish.
English, well...If I do sometimes forget words I can at least substitute them with others, and it is not bad at all. English is my language for adventures and making friends. Even a bit of a show-off when I say "my mother tongue is Spanish". English, if not comfort, is security.
We must accept is dominance in the world, which allows you to communicate with a wide range of people anywhere. Just the other day I was able to find the police station for an interview about my visa because I asked a Chinese girl "I am lost, do you know where is this place?" and she understood me.
6.
Mikhail Bakhtin said "...language, for the individual consciousness, lies on the borderline between ones' self and the other..." So even when we learn and master, two, three, four, five languages, I guess there will always be an otherness in that which isn't (y)our mother tongue, some kind of mystery, but also some "appropriation" of the language, as we become fluent and we make it our own. We will be, both a self and an-other. Isn't that interesting?
So for me, Spanish is comfort and home. It is discussing with my mother, it is petting my dog, it is playing at my grandma's garden when I was eight, it is coffee-made-easy. It is home.
English is poetry and beauty. After all, I decided to study English literature 'cause I found it entrancing. But it is also security. Security in this vast world. And of course, the possibility of making friends despite where we are and where we come from. So English is also fun, adventures and good times. English is my abroad self. The one with less worries, or different worries who do not seem too bad.
As for French, well, I've never been to Paris before, but I guess it is true, at least for me, that French is the language of love! even if it is just for one night at a Beijing club.

He perdido muchas cosas en esta vida. He perdido un par de medias, algunas horas, he perdido días enteros, la sonrisa, el corazón. He perdido un sueter negro en esa estación de Londres, una bufanda en un invierno en China, he perdido la paciencia, la página de un libro, una nota de amor. He perdido las llave de esa casa, ese único recuerdo que me quedaba. He perdido la inocencia, los modales. He perdido amigos, confianzas, certezas. He perdido el secreto que me diste, he perdido tu número de teléfono. He perdido el coraje para decirte te quiero, he perdido las ganas de verte. He perdido tantos amores, tantos besos me han robado en noches largas y miradas indiscretas. He perdido la cabeza por una muchacho, o tal vez dos, he perdido la sonrisa, he perdido el corazón. Pero tanto he ganado.

--

Estoy en China. Todo es muy raro aquí. Pero me gusta.

Beijing Foreing Studies University, School of English and International Studies