To my introverts, anxious travelers, and the directionally challenged, please take a second to read.
Previously, in 2024, I had already been to Beijing, China. I unfortunately had a hard time adjusting to their environment due to familial circumstances that bled a sour perspective. It was not until December 2025 that I yearned to go beyond my arrogance and changed the underserving opinion I had of Beijing. Upon arrival, I was nervous because I knew I was severely challenged, directionally. To be honest, three months later I am still shocked that I even made it to China alone. Everyone was moving so fast that when the professors had gathered groups of students, it did not sink in that I was away from home, building fond memories of a new home. However, anxiety levels shot through the roof with rapid introductions of everyone while I was sweating buckets out of my armpits and eye bags that weighed heavier than my checked suitcases. I didn’t think much of it, and yeah…that’s where I messed up, bad. After the first week, my brain was running at full capacity, which eventually led to mental shutdowns while also getting nerfed by the flu! When my professors asked simple questions, “Are you alright?” “Do you need anything?” the tears would already be pouring down. As well tagged along with the multitude of differentiating personalities and cultural backgrounds, I simply forgot how to be present and lost myself. It’s difficult to analyze where all the angst came from, but I can assure you that time does heal, and it will get better.
Fortunately, I found this out through the two friends whom I shared my vulnerability with! One had guided me by laying out moral alignments from Islam; while the other had introduced me to the historical legacy of Chinese tea. But what do these two have in common? — “Knowing that life on Earth is a test and everyone faces a Day of Judgement.” My peer had enlightened the avoidance my brain was seeking, orchestrating, which exuded a form of ungratefulness as I denied my body the right to proper rest, neglectful meals, and self-awareness. At that moment, it felt like he had the intention of mental slaughter, it was brutal! But the more I was around him… the more I progressed with detachment of negatives, resilience, and compassion. Though alas, suppression still got the best of me.
My other friend noticed and had invited me out for tea. I was imagining milk tea, because that’s what you get when you’re sad in Seattle. Nope! When we got there, it was one uncle managing the entire teahouse. We didn’t even sit down yet, and it was a whirlwind of questions: “Where are you from?” , “What made you come here?”, and “Why did y’all choose a teahouse?”. Surprisingly, the interrogation was fun! I think it was due to our fusion of broken Chinese and English with a side of translating that turned one hour into two…into three…into FOUR! It was 12AM by now, and we were soft launching the fact that assignments were unfinished, but Unc kept insisting we stay longer. Funny, but could’ve not been so funny was when my friend and I gave each other the side eye; it read: “Do you think we’re going to get trafficked…?” Anyway, we’re alive and actually overpaid him for his wonderful service, met the owner of the house, and went back at least twenty times during our stay. At some point, they even cooked us Beijing-style food and gifted us tea sets for free. There, I got to learn the six categories of tea, their variations, tea etiquette, and personalized suggestions for body health. TMI (but also advice): drink red tea 红茶 if you want to get rid of constipation and fart out your toxins. Every visit, believe me when I say that my pee was clearer than your prescription (and if I so wanted to save their water bills, I didn’t even have to flush LOL). This teahouse made me realize that after immigrating to the U.S., I fooled myself into thinking that my cultural roots were slowly withering away. With each and every year, the incense burned on Lunar New Year had less and less blessings due to the unfortunate language barrier. Now, I can offer tea and spark the incense on the shrine in remembrance of my ancestors confidently.
I finally understand that to love anything is to realize it can also be lost. I have never been the one to ache so deeply, but my experience in Beijing will leave an everlasting imprint of the challenges, mental disparities, and human connections I’ve made not only to myself but to the surrounding professors and friends beautifully gardened within my time here. Additionally, I sobbed about nine times- count this as the tenth, and that is more than I have ever in a year I have felt human. So, thank you for reading this, and thank you, Beijing, for erupting my physical conscience in this world again.
To feel is to be loved.
