I don't know where to find things. I don't know how to bargain for items. I don't like being stared at like a foreigner, and I don't like not being able to talk to other people. As we were sitting at the corner of Le Duan eating roasted corn, I am watching the corn lady put incense around that street corner. I desperately wanted to ask her why. I want to learn more about the local culture, the daily life of the people of Da Nang. But there is no one we could really talk to. Most people we meet speak little to no English. Tam, the friend of our attending, seems to want to share most of her stories rather than answer questions, though she doesn't seem to mind the questions.
I feel unsettled and lost in some ways. This city reminds me so much of my home city all those years ago, yet everything is foreign. I can't read any signs, don't know any shops, and can barely do the basic daily functions. I can't eat in my own room and have to rely on restaurants, where figuring out the food takes a good 15 minutes.
In some ways, I expected it. There is always that initial period where the culture shock kills my enthusiasm, and as I become more settled in a routine, things get a little better. Yet, I also didn't expect the extra frustration that is coming with the sense of nostalgia. I feel like I actually know how things work, yet I don't really know. That is the part that I did not expect and I now miss China more than ever.
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