I didn't want to come here. I thought it was a waste of time. I kept trying and trying to convince myself that it wasn't, that it was good for me, that I was going to get to "discover my roots," (on the count of three: CLICHE), get to know my family, blardy blar blar. It was only for two years, after all. Two years pass quick, and then I can be on to bigger and better things, like dancing tango every night, duh. But all of that justification, and I still couldn't answer the question, "So do you like it here?" I just kind of waved my hand and said something along the lines of, it's not whether I enjoy being here or not, it's that I'm used to it and it feels normal, like anywhere you've lived. But no, of course I didn't like it here. Why would I?

I had just left Buenos Aires, which was coming home, with the milongas and the familiarity: same stores, same organization, the Spanish finally clicking. Left New York, my home for seven years, just three or four shy of being a "new yorker," just left trapeze and its beloved affiliates, just left my tango lessons and partners, just left all my friends and the food and popping out of a subway stop and knowing _exactly_ where I needed to go because I just cross the street toward the B and N, past the coffee shop, kitty corner from the store with the blue awning, _that_ direction. Knowing the landmarks. Knowing where the public restrooms are within five blocks. How could I leave that for Taiwan, of all places?

Some of my friends expressed surprise at my coming here. "You? Taiwan?" their eyebrows raised in disbelief. I was like, "What?! I can be Asian." And they were like, "well, you just didn't seem the type, that's all." And they're right. I'm not the type.

But now maybe I'm closer. I love living in a country where I look like everyone else. I don't have to worry about double takes (unless I'm wearing my purse strap across my torso, in which case it's just outright boob staring. Men here don't do it so much, so they're not as adept as hiding it.), don't have to worry about someone bothering me or targeting me because I'm yellow, like yelling konichiwa or nihao, or better yet, ching chong or cheeeeena at me. I feel... normal. For the first time, in any country. I know, i know, I've lived in China, but now, my Mandarin is better, and the culture is different, like they kind of have manners, which sincerely surprised me. (Just don't get behind the wheel of a car.)

And I like being just outside of society. E. once told me that that's what she liked about being an expat; you're a little outside, so you can do whatever you want without seeming too weird. You can do activities they would just blink at stateside, because you're not one of them, just the crazy American and besides, you can't even read Chinese. I like that. I have an excuse for feeling just enough outside that I am completely myself. I'm not sure if that's what E. meant, but that's what I mean.