27 Days and Counting
Tonight, for the 27th time this month, I stood on my balcony, watching the sun set over the Pacific ocean. Sometimes it’s a beautiful view like the picture above, with pink and orange clouds and a light mist over the water. But tonight was cold and windy, no pretty colors or sunset, just the sight of thick, cold fog rapidly rolling in, as it often does. Fun fact: the official name given to the fog up here in San Francisco is Karl. Why though? I’m not sure. I’m not actually from here; that fun fact is just as new to me as it is to you. In fact, tonight is only the 27th night that I have been able to refer to this city as my “home”.
My parents moved into this home on February 3rd, the day we were all supposed to begin school in Shanghai. But instead of sitting in classes going through syllabus after syllabus, I spent the day moving with them, unpacking box after box. The spare room that had been jokingly dubbed by my parents as “The Room of Serenity”, intended to be my mother’s yoga room, is instead now my bedroom, filled with nothing but an air mattress, a small dresser, and a rolled-up yoga mat in the corner. But with my parents away on business every week, it often feels as though this whole apartment belongs to me, and only me. And in looking out every night towards the water and over the city, I am reminded that I am alone- alone in a city which I have never lived in before, in a home that I had never intended to even get to see. I know no one here, and no one knows me. It’s an interesting feeling to look out over the city and know I bear no responsibility to anything or anyone out there, outside of the walls of my apartment.
I spend my days somehow keeping productive, but feeling as though I am doing nothing at all. I like to joke and say that every day I remember something new that I left in Shanghai; yesterday it was my summer sandals, today it was the unopened bottle of Soju on my desk. I’ve been listening to a lot of podcasts recently, and catching up on a lot of American politics that I feel I’ve become a degree too detached from after living out of the country for a semester. I’ve been cooking a lot too, purposely dirtying up dishes so I can spend some time cleaning them up at night and listening to yet another podcast episode. I’ve probably taken my poor dog on more walks these last 27 days than he’s had to go on in the last 2 years combined. Today, on a day where I’m sure I otherwise would have been out ordering oolong bubble tea (the best type, by the way) or making the routine daily trips to 全家, I helped repaint my stepdad’s office. It’s gotten better now that school has started, but with all of the online classes continuing to function on Shanghai time, I find myself staying up half the night to “attend class”, and then sleeping half of the day away.
But these classes are genuinely the best part of my week, for they are the opportunity for all of us not studying at a campus this semester to continue to come together and be a part of a community. A few nights ago, I closed my computer, smiling as I said 再见 to my Chinese class, having just came in 4th place in Kahoot. My stepdad, with this being the only night of the week that he was home, looked at me and said “Wow Riley, that’s the first time I’ve ever actually heard you speak any Chinese. It sounded like you were having a good time though.” And he was right- I was. Because if there’s one feeling that I’ve been comforted by this semester, it’s the way that NYU as an institution has pulled together. It’s the feeling of knowing that every other person from NYU Shanghai, from the students, to the faculty, to the administration, is functioning in a new situation, and the knowledge that we’re all figuring it out together, one day at a time. It’s the feeling of coming together on a Thursday night, despite the chaos of the semester, with 10 other people literally spread across the globe, to play a game of Kahoot.
My biggest fear this semester was losing the connections with the people and the community I had met in China. I spend a lot of time thinking about all I would have said or done with people before I left Shanghai in December, had I known it will be likely more than half a year before I get to see them again. Like my classes, I have experienced my friendships this semester remotely, interacting entirely through my phone or my computer. But this has taught me that although you may not be able to physically be with each other, the willingness to make a phone call, send a text, or share a meme is all you need to have in order to keep your connections alive. In this I’m slowly working to overcome my fear, talking every single day not only to the friends I have made in Shanghai, but also to the friends back home, many of whom I haven’t even seen since being in high school. And I find happiness in the fact that we’re not talking as strangers in search of reconnecting, but instead as if we were friends who saw each other just yesterday. It’s taken me 27 days to reach this point, although I continue to be weary of what my life and friendships will look like by the time that these 27 days have turned into a number much larger. But while I continue to be alone in this city to whom I am a stranger, I am slowly becoming more confident that, as long as you’re willing to put in the effort, no separation of time or of distance has to lead into a separation of friendship or community.
