Too Much to Chew

By Mikael Frey ‘22, Taigu Fellow 2022-2024

At my encouragement, my parents came to visit me this winter. For months, I have been eagerly imagining their arrival. I hoped that, being here, they would see the thing that drew me to China. The something I still cannot quite put into words. When I applied for the Shansi Fellowship, I only applied to work at Shanxi Agricultural University. I was determined to find my way here. I think, at some point, I will find my way back. I wanted my report to be about this: what makes this country special to me. Why it touched my heart and drew me here. Every time I try to put the words to paper, they are pale and lifeless. I think I hoped my parents would find the kernel at the heart of it.

My Year 1 English major students and I, in our first in-person class after a year of online instruction

In Taigu, families throw a huge birthday party for 13-year-old children. I once ate at a restaurant to the side of one such party. There were, it seemed, nearly 100 guests. It looked like a wedding reception; a quinceanera or bar mitzvah. If you go a few towns over, they have never heard of such a tradition. People from towns only an hour or so away by train complain that they cannot get their favorite foods from their hometowns here. We wander around the city and find an ancient building; an opera performance; square dancing; a boxing match; and a million things more.

Looking back towards Taigu from halfway up 凤凰山 (Fenghuang shan, Phoenix mountain), featuring the Shansi tote bag

I used to travel voraciously. I wanted to see and experience as much as I could. This January, I took 7 different train trips, ranging from 3 to 12 hours in length. I took my parents to Chengdu, Xi’an, Harbin, Beijing, Wuhan, Pingyao, and Hong Kong. We saw temples, and sweeping modern buildings, and giant shopping malls, and crowded market streets. Each city was startlingly unique. I realized halfway through the trip that I’d been too busy giving my parents Chengdu food, Xi’an food, Hubei food, and so forth, that we’d barely eaten Chinese food.

My favorite local stray cat. I've named her 金龟 (Jingui, scarab/tortoise)

I only have one year here. Teaching online for the first year of my fellowship, that limited timeframe loomed in my mind. One year couldn't possibly be enough. Having lived here for 7 months now, I can confirm that one year isn't enough. Nor is two years; or three; or an entire lifetime. I could live here for any length of time and still be missing out on something. This knowledge that would've sounded depressing a year ago is freeing now. I lean back into it. I know in my bones that I will miss it when I go; that would be as true now as it would have been in two years. The good thing about missing something, missing it deeply, is that you get to carry it with you. I can't consume it all, so I must not need to.

My father and I doing sit-ups at a public park in Beijing

When I introduced my parents to a few friends in Taigu, they asked them if they thought I had changed in my time here. My parents thought on this question, then both answered: No, not really. My friends were surprised, and I just laughed. This is maybe not the answer you expected. I was not particularly surprised by it, though. Self-discovery was not the thing that drew me to Shansi. I've known for years I wanted to spend a year or two living in China. I don't feel all that changed. What I do feel is grounded.

An impromptu calligraphy lesson in Beijing. We ended up staying for hours chatting with the teacher and his student

Graduating from Oberlin college leaves you with plenty of opinions and perspective, but it is a very particular environment. The self I crafted was now asked to exist on its own, lacking the community it had flourished in. I think this is something every college graduate experiences to various degrees, but it is rather drastic when immersed in another culture. When I first landed in Taigu, I was the only fellow there for about 2 months. I was glad to be joined by the other fellows, but I'm also selfishly glad I had that time alone. For just a bit, I was standing on my own, stumbling through it. What I cherish the most from that time is no particular lesson, but a simple kernel of knowledge. That I could; that I did.