Chengdu has been a wild ride. The job I thought I had lined up for me was a bust. They wanted a more “foreign” looking teacher. As racist as it is, it felt kind of nice, like a slap in the face to wake me up.

In any case, I’m chalking it up as a victory. Since then, I’ve found a much better gig. I’m currently helping this kid pass the speaking test of the IELTS, the English fluency requirement to study in the UK.

He’s improving really fast, but a little concerned about getting an American accent. I told him that his accent will be unique in England and he will be exotic to English girls. He’s been working hard ever since.

Until yesterday, I’ve been living at my Dad’s apartment in Shuangliu. Pretty damn far from the city center. It took me almost 2 hours to walk to the bus stop, ride the bus to Sihe metro station, take the metro to Nijiaqiao and take the 76 bus to Sichuan University.

Now I’ve finally got my own place and it is so damn convenient. Taiwanese beef noodles, Hong Kong milk tea, American seafood, convenience stores and cafes are within spitting distance. I shit you not! There is a restaurant two floors below me.

Coming here though, I’ve truly realized how terrible my Chinese is. To make things harder, most people here speak in Sichuan dialect. I feel like I know how to crawl, but I’m being asked to run and juggle balls at the same time

But I am happy here. I felt like living in America I was always being asked to fit into this mold. Ever since I’ve landed here, China has been taking sandpaper to my skin. The scrapings around my feet grow taller every day.

I don’t have to be Jordan, that hipster Asian dude that’s obsessed with China. I can just be me. Nobody here casts me a second glance. I don’t even have to try to fit in. China accepted me long ago. It just took me 24 years to accept China.

It’s hard to boil down this feeling into one paragraph. I hope you’ll bear with me as this ABC finds out what being Chinese is all about.