This was my first time "home" in, well, many years. I couldn't speak Mandarin, I could barely pay for things[^1] and the last time most of the people who I'd be staying with saw me, I was thirteen going into my final year of middle school. I'd now finished middle school (somehow), another four years of high school, and a year abroad — yet in their eyes, I was still a kid. I'd tell them exploits of surviving motorcycle crashes, oxygen shortages on top of mountains, or exploring Omani markets, and they'd smile at the incomprehensible solecisms and malapropisms that plagued my language. In some ways, within this distinct society, I kind of was a kid. Linguistically, yes; financially, kind of; shock and awe at almost everything, definitely. I feel very lucky to have spent the time with friends (for a lovely week) and family (for a very lovely ten days) — partially due to their company, partially because the lifestyle it unlocked was very pleasant. Adventures often come with physical discomforts; these days were filled with getting practically everything taken care of for me. All the places I visited felt like curated experiences. Not being able to read characters or speak as fluently as those around me (also not really having a functioning WeChat) is probably not an excuse given the number of travellers who do solo travel China. Still, just being told where to go and at what time was a nice change of pace. Some other brief things: - Sometimes — if I'm so lucky — seeing someone I love will cause my heart to change. This time, looking at these cute kids that I hadn't really met and realising they were related to me, my heart nearly, painfully exploded. - I feel, unfortunately, some of the rapid-fire reflections that marked the beginning of this year have dried up. Call it numbness. And yet, I'm having a lot more fun. I think change comes in spurts, and whatever changes have happened before this stage of travel have completely elevated the experience. Basically, I'm okay with this. - I must thank the family, who consistently and deliberately ordered food to suit my palate. - Cheese foam is really addicting. Boba for cheap is also dangerous. Many times, the reflection on this blog may verge on contrived, and thus, unenjoyable. This one, more than anything, may push those boundaries. Forgive me. Part of why I wanted to visit China was that I was always reminded of it, in some way, growing up. My parents would remind me that the parallel existences of rigorous academics could have been my life. While I never really felt "Chinese" — Chinese Canadian, at most — I still had more claim to this faraway land than most of my friends. Sometimes, seeing other Chinese people who were more secure in their cultural heritage made me feel uncomfortable — as if I had been doing something wrong by choosing to assimilate rather than accepting who my relatives were, who my parents were. Most of my friends were other Chinese kids who, for all intensive purposes, blended into the societies we grew up in. Chiang Mai was the first time I realised these uncomfortable exteriors kind of meant nothing — and that my heritage also represented an ability to interact, even if my linguistic capacity limited that ability. Sometimes it's also uncomfortable to write, and think, about this story because it's the story of so many others. It feels somewhat cliché, common, mundane. To me, it's never felt as interesting as the immigrant — or the broader — stories of others: like the Turkish guy who holds court outside my neighbourhood Whole Foods or the Tanzanians who learned Mandarin for business. Still, I think and write about it, both because I have to, and because it helps unlock those other, perhaps less common, stories. [^1]: Less lack of funds — the dollar being what it is — and more literally not having the requisite apps on China's bizarre, unique, incredible parallel internet ecosystem.