“Where did everyone go this summer?” a teacher asks during the icebreaker. It’s my first day of high school, full of students stuffed in the halls like sardines and an agenda book already full of homework. I rack my brain for everything I did over my 3-month-long vacation. I’m met with memories of scrolling on my phone, mindless homework, and much-appreciated sleep. But through these dull memories, something exciting stands out. Vivid gardens and sweet blooming flowers flash across my mind. The kind faces of relatives and family friends whom I hadn’t seen in years whish past. The acute smell of delicious food blurs in my mind. All of these experiences culminated in my annual visits to China.
When I visited China last year, what I most clearly recall is seeing my family. While most of my friends in the US see their grandparents, uncles and aunts, and cousins relatively frequently, I lament about how I only see them once a year. Yet they say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. So through my relatives' kindness, I understood that even though we don’t know each other very well, they do love and care for me. From showing us around the city to inviting us to a birthday banquet to simply making small, homemade meals every day, their actions make us feel like a true family.
Even those whom I may not be as familiar wth, such as family friends, treated us with such kindness. I particularly remember the family of a friend my mom went to medical school with, who took us all around Changsha. When we visited their house, they introduced us to the traditional tea process. The warm, earthy scent of the tea leaves seemed to bloom as she poured boiling hot water into the pot. The ridged table underneath steered spilled water away as they handed us clay cups, small and warm in my hands. Her daughter treated us to a famous milk tea, which my sister and I would later beg to buy later on, and brought us to museums about ancient embroidery and the rise of the Communist Party. Though the complex characters blurred in my head at times, she explained what each of the plaques said with patience and clarity. We even visited a developing medical center and museum dedicated to her grandfather, one of my mother's mentors. There, I of course had to take pictures of what my parents looked like when they were younger, and the old, yellowed texture of the photos only made the experience more enjoyable. Despite not being as close, they still offered their time and patience with us as they welcomed us to China, just as much as my blood relatives did.
The only parts of my experiences in China without relatives were when we visited new cities where my parents had never been, such as Yangzhou. Despite the boiling temperature that led to a sheen of sweat after walking a couple of steps, I can still recall the beautiful gardens, freshly made food, and handmade crochet items. As we walked at night through the cobbled street market, roasting meat and fresh fruit filled my nose, and the shops each lit up with a warm glow despite the darkness. Each of these places and people greeted us with warmth and human connection, describing the history of the gardens and their inhabitants or their daily lives of waking up early and sleeping late to master their craft. Even the hotel we stayed at, akin to an Airbnb, greeted us every time we returned seeking refuge from the heat with smiles, small talk, and snacks.
So, when the time came for me to answer the question of where I went this summer, I introduced China. I describe its ancient history that probably would make our heads spin, the amazing cuisine, and most importantly, the hospitality of the people there. Though I may have been a foreigner from thousands of miles away, the people there, no matter my degree of familiarity with them, treated me with kindness and made me feel like I belonged. Like I was family to them.
(Second Prize)
