COLUMN: Starting a New Life in America
Time flies. It almost seems to me that I’ve just arrived here yesterday. I still remember the moment I waved my hands toward my anxious parents, who had no idea if their daughter, who had always been twittering and cuddling them at home, will be able to cope with all the difficulties living on her own. To be honest, I myself was uncertain at all what to expect.
After centuries of flying, I finally landed at Salt Lake City. I craned my neck around trying to find my American parents, who knew my mom before and promised to see me at the airport. Their son, Clay, after inquiring several Asian girls, nearly gave up hope that I could be Carrie when he finally came up to me because I don’t look Chinese to him. Anyway, after a choking hug with his mom, I withdrew myself into their car and slept all the way to Aggie Village where I started weaving my American dream.
My first impression of Logan is small, quiet and clean, which is a far cry from Beijing where you never miss a chance to swim in a sea of people and bicycles. I fell in love with this suburb area and immediately took a stroll around the campus. Like what my mom told me, walking through the cemetery is like touring a small European town. I permeated myself in the fresh air, brilliant sunshine and American peoples’ friendly smiles. I shouted to the mountain: “A-I-La-Hoo…”
However, things changed overnight. My happiness received a big discount with the coming of the school year. I was totally lost in the first class. I didn’t understand what my professor was saying. Tears in eyes, I sat still, chin in hands, feeling I was going to be buried by all those piles of paperwork. What a pain it is to see my classmates, full of confidence and gestures, expressed their opinions in completely fluent English while I was stumbling every possible way to decipher the secret code.
The most embarrassing moment came when I laughed with everyone in class without really knowing why. One girl asked, “What’s so funny?” “I don’t know. Just follow them … ” I replied, red-faced. My self-esteem doesn’t allow me to sit there like a stupid fool. Fortunately, all my professors are very nice and they showed their affection by attentively listening to my trouble and trying their best to help me out of my dilemma.
Things work out. Now, I’m no longer out of breath with the long list of readings and writings, which is simply a paper tiger to me. Sometimes I laugh at the other side of my sleeves wondering how come I was sobbing over homework like a I’m child. No wonder my mom insists on her comment about me: “An immature young lady.”
How nice that I’m able to squeeze in some time for fun again. The HPER becomes my second home. I play badminton, table tennis and swim. I’m good at none of them but still retain a professional enthusiasm which wins me respect from people.
Another source of joy comes from my American parents. They knew my mom well when she was here. We genuinely enjoy being together. My dad is keen on flying, which is ranked the top of his list, even more crucial than eating and sleeping. My mom is a busy English teacher whose heart is preoccupied by her students. She’s also a talented cook. What’s the most unforgettable for me is banana bread. Knowing I’m crazy for it, she often makes it for me. The only thing that tickles my heart is it takes an hour to bake, which is normal for others but seems too long for me. My dad suffers from the same anxiety. I used to see him haunt around the oven, pretending to look for what he himself didn’t even know. Though good-willed, it is definitely unwise of me to reassure him that I didn’t see him though, which just stimulated him to run away from my sight.
In all, I appreciate the leisure-paced lifestyle here and I’m on the top of the world having sincere friendships with so many American friends. Their humor, optimism and self-confidence are very attractive to me.
Wei Zhai is a graduate student studying Philosophy and Linguistics. Comments can be sent to zhaiwei@yahoo.com.