A petite brown-skinned woman in her early thirties, donning a blue long floral dress, has a backpack on her tiny shoulders, and an incubating pot-belly, protruding out of her rounded waist. She's at the airport, nervously fidgeting with her air-ticket, so uncertain of herself, for the first time in her life, daunted by fears of plausible upcoming challenges. At sixth month of pregnancy, she is traveling alone, to a place where English is an estranged language, where traffic signs, food menu and everything else is in Chinese. She can stutter few incoherent Chinese words, but her vocabulary is limited to countable ramblings. She looks at her five year old, one last time, shuddering at the thought of missing her desperately. Her daughter looks at her with piercing hopefulness, but in vain. With tearful sunken heart, she takes aching strides to the departure gate... "
This journey is a memoir I have to scribble about... too important a life event, too many memories to recount in years to come. I came to China for a training course of one month, all by myself, to a city I had never been to, without a single soul to call my acquaintance. It may not sound so unnerving, but my guts failed me because I was in vulnerable stage of life. I had lost my pace, recently overcame hyperemesis with ketonuria, and was regaining my health and stride back....
But the most striking part of my journey was the eager generosity people bestowed upon me. Be it random Chinese passerbys, handful Nepali students at the dorm or doctors at the hospital. I was greeted with exceptional kindness and love. Everyday I travel alone, to my faraway hospital, to shopping centers, electronic stores, groceries, and far off. I somehow find my way, without the google map, amid illegible Chinese signs, hoarding boards and bus routes. My full belly turns a lot of heads, and many helping hands too. Some instances are surreal and too-good-to-be-true. My beliefs of benevolence are reaffirmed very strongly in this presumed outlandish city...
... to be continued
