By know I should be acquainted with daily life in Beijing. I'm three months in and I laugh at the Chinese tourists who struggle to navigate the vast metropolis. The laowai make me depressed, especially when they start yelling at the subway worker doing his job in english like he understands a thing he's saying. Things like early being hit by a car every time I take the risk to ride a bike, the deathly level of pollution and of course, the always unsolicited photos. They make this place feel at home. Not to mention the crappiest weather i've ever lived in my entire life. Despite all those negatives, i've called to call this place home. Maybe the first time was after I arrived back from Shan Xi. There was something calming about just being able to navigate myself around the city and get myself home.

Home within itself is a funny word. It is officially described as being "the place where one lives permanently". But in reality, at least from my travels, I've come to believe that home is the place where you are most comofortable. That for me has become my apartment in Beijing and my relatively new host family. It may not be such a bad idea if I never… never went home again.

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