So here I am, back in Lanzhou, hungrily anticipating the beginning of school. Bits of my psyche are scattered all over China and the northeastern United States, putting down their roots while I frantically try to re-integrate myself and focus on who I am, where I am.

Being in New York for two months was rich and instructive. I savored friendship, companionship, relationship. I sailed the high seas of all those ships with new appreciation. It was a feast after a long fast. I overflowed with gratitude for things I’d taken for granted all of my life: unearned loyalty, tacit acceptance, predictable understanding, seasoned tolerance. Effortless communication. The constant presence of loving, beloved people. In the last few days there, every part of me resisted leaving; there was a constant ache behind my collarbone. I have much to be grateful for in China, but no matter how long I choose to stay here, I can never expect to have those very particular blessings. Those are the blessings of home.

Since leaving New York on August 6th, I’ve seen more of China. There are plenty of new photos. I joined my daughter, Dylan, in Beijing on the 7th. We spent three days there, seeing many of the predictable tourist attractions, but also walking wherever we could in the city to try to capture its flavor and any lingering odor of its history.

From there we flew to Chengdu, Sichuan, aiming to see the pandas at the Breeding and Research Center there. We didn’t really need the enchanting photos in this summer’s feature in National Geographic to draw us there. The NG article was patronizing in its tone, I thought, suggesting that without the technical help and financial support of the international conservation community, China would be bungling the pandas into inevitable extinction. I might have felt outrage over the article had I not already seen, to my horror, the inside of a Chinese hospital for human beings, not to mention daily evidence of China’s cavalier attitude toward preserving the environment. The panda center in Chengdu is well maintained and tourist-friendly. One of my favorite features was a billboard-size sign that proclaimed, “All things bright and beautiful, All creatures great and small, All things wise and wonderful . . ..” The quotation then trailed off in a string of dots. The next line of that hymn, “. . . The Lord God made them all,” is apparently better left unsaid in our God-less China!


Our plan had been to travel from Chengdu to Xi’An to see the archaeological dig of the renowned terra-cotta warrior statues, but we got stalled in Chengdu, and ended up taking the train directly to Lanzhou, Gansu, my Chinese home. (It’s frequently difficult to get train tickets; tales abound of plans derailed and of determined travelers riding endless hours in overcrowded “hard seat” coaches. We opted to stay in Chengdu until we could get our preferred tickets.) The 21-hour sleeper train journey offered views of agricultural, sub-tropical Sichuan, the heights of its mountains, the verdant southern Gansu landscape, and then the thinning vegetation of Gansu as we entered the southeastern portion of the Gobi Desert and approached Lanzhou. We shared our compartment with a friendly Chinese couple and their tiny daughter, exchanging snacks and inventing games.



















We spent nearly a week in Lanzhou; Dylan liked my city. We shopped , lounged in the parks, and feasted on spicy local specialties.