In Which the World Is Mine with a Ni Hao and a Smile

The juice box was unexpected but not unwelcome, handed to me by a little boy with round, strawberry cheeks and dandelion-fluff hair. He was with his two older sisters, walking backward to better stare at me. We were an unusual parade down the Korla sidewalk.

He stared and stared, so I smiled and said ni hao. *Gasp!* He planted his face in the pleats of his sister's coat and walked that way for a block, occasionally peeping out from the folds of wool with one licorice-drop eye. Finally, he disentangled himself and ran back to me, offering the juice box he'd been carrying.

Well. That was about the nicest thing I'd experienced in China. Until I met his sisters, of course. They were so focused on chasing him that they didn't notice me at first. But when they did, they exchanged a look that conveyed several exclamation marks: Foreigner!!! Possibly American!!

They bustled over and both spoke excitedly in Chinese. I smiled and shrugged apologetically. "Wo, wo, um, wo... don't speak Chinese. Much," I said. This earned another exclamation-filled glance: She speaks English!!!

The younger of the sisters, Ruo Nan, who's 14, asked in halting English where I'm from. She asked if I live in Korla. And then she inadvertently caused me enlightenment.

"We live," she said, pointing at a high-rise to our left. "Do you come play?"

She wanted me to come up to their apartment.

Now, that probably wouldn't be the smartest thing I could do, going up to an unknown apartment filled with strangers, in a country in which I still wasn't 100 percent comfortable. It seemed like a good way to get rolled.

But... she and her sister seemed so nice! And the juice box! So delightful! My gut -- to which, previously, I'd rarely listened -- shouted yes! Go! "What if you're sorry an hour from now?" my brain argued.

Gut and brain bickered back and forth for a second, giving heart time to step aside and allow all of Korla, all of China, all of the world and maybe all of the universe to swirl and pulse around it.

The day was crystal bright and chilly, and I was about 10,000 miles from anything familiar. It had been months since I could claim to have done the smart thing. I had no concept of the future beyond the next few minutes -- no idea where I'll go or what I'll do after my contract expires next January, no sense of direction, no map after more than a decade of OnStar for the Well-Ordered Life.

When I boarded the plane for China, life morphed from a linear narrative with a clear view of the horizon to a series immediate moments -- bright beads on a string, to be appreciated as they come my way.

And in that moment, I wanted to go "play" with this family. They seemed really nice.

"OK!" I said.

The sisters beamed and clutched my arms, dragging me into the building and up to the 14th floor, presenting me to their parents and grandparents: Look what we found!

"Ni hao!" I said.

Well! I was offered a seat on the couch. And a Pepsi. And an apple. And some sunflower seeds. To everything I replied "OK!" or, sometimes, OK's equally congenial cousin, Sure! The whole family gathered around me -- even grandpa, Mr. Inscrutible East -- staring and talking all at once. Ruo Nan rushed to a cabinet to retrieve the plaque she'd won for placing second in a modeling competition. Gian Gian, who's 23 and the oldest sister, hustled to another room for photo albums.

The two middle sisters, Wei Wei and Liu Ying, came home and their oldest and youngest sisters sprang at them: Look what we found!

It was an impromptu party -- conducted almost entirely in Chinese, of course, but I know enough to recognize a good time when I see one. Their dad boiled some sweet potatoes and offered them to me, then decided we'd all go to the hot pot restaurant that evening. The girls walked me home, then picked me up later for dinner, overjoyed that Tom, the Australian teacher who lives next door, was coming, too.

By the time dinner was almost over, I had new friends and a sense of place in this sloppy, beautiful jumble of life. The only thing my brain was telling me was to stop eating or I'd be sorry later. And for once, my gut agreed.

The wonderful Cao sisters: Liu Ying, Wei Wei, Ruo Nan and Gian Gian

Grandpa, grandma and mom (photo by Tom Cliff)

At the hotpot restaurant (photo by Tom Cliff)