It’s so different here, and yet so oddly familiar that I’ve had a hard time structuring my thoughts. I can read almost nothing except occasional American logos. I’ve rarely spoken – a smile and “ni hao” to a friendly Chinese face.
Most of my time outside of the hotel has been spent at the Olympic Forest Park – not exactly authentic Beijing I’m sure, but reassuringly safe and filled with maps so I don’t get lost.
This morning I went south looking for the training school. I think I know where to go tomorrow. Afterwards I kept walking. I’ve found a smaller park in which a small group of Chinese people are doing yoga.
It’s beautiful here and I’m glad I came, but it’s not helping me define home.
I planned to leave with no connections, no reason to return to Chicago. That changed and now I feel the call back.
But here I feel my soul settle.
Whatever it was in my restless broken heart that pulled me here was wiser than I normally am. I may not stay. I may choose to return. It’s much too early in the journey to contemplate it’s end, but I am soothed here, surrounded by the unfamiliar familiar.
Beijing – Olympic Park – wandering around my first night here