A year after China
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As I celebrated America’s birthday by watching the fireworks last night, I couldn’t help but think of another country — China.
Last year, I marked the 4th of July in a Beijing restaurant that was either called “Pizza Steak” or someone just mistranslated the sign. (Both are very possible.) We chose the restaurant because was right next to our hotel, and we were still seriously jet-lagged. We tried to order the most American thing Pizza Steak offered — onion rings and Budweiser — but the rings were more like tempura-ed onions and the drinks came warm with a glass of ice. At least we tried.
It’s weird to think I was in another hemisphere just a year ago, covering gymnastics for the Olympic News Service and blogging for NeighborsGo. Since then, I’ve graduated from the University of Missouri with degrees in Journalism and Sociology and moved to Seattle, where I’m working for the summer as a general assignment reporter at the Seattle Times.
From here, I’m not sure where I’ll go. A plummeting economy and an expanding unemployment rate have made things hard on recent college graduates. Of all my friends at Mizzou’s J-school, only one got a job right after graduation. I’m one of the lucky few who snagged an internship. Like all grads, I’m competing for jobs with men and women much older and more experienced than me, who have been laid off or taken buy-outs elsewhere; but unlike other grads, I’m looking for a job in one of the most rapidly changing markets in the world – newspapers. Come August, I have no idea where I’ll be.
But I figure, no matter where I end up, I’ll make it work. I mean, if I can navigate the streets of Beijing, haggle for pearls, climb the Great Wall, cover the Olympics and blog all at the same time, surely I can find something out there that will make me happy.
My grandmother once asked me what my favorite memory from China was, and I can’t help but come back to that night at the ballet. I scored a last minute ticket to Medea, directed by the man who choreographed the opening Ceremonies in Athens. I still remember the overwhelming emotion I felt as a theater full of Chinese men and women stood in ovation, honoring the Greek dancers who’d performed one of the most lasting stories their culture produced. I watched from the front row as art bridged the gap between two cultures.
No matter where I go, I’ll always have China.
Last year, I marked the 4th of July in a Beijing restaurant that was either called “Pizza Steak” or someone just mistranslated the sign. (Both are very possible.) We chose the restaurant because was right next to our hotel, and we were still seriously jet-lagged. We tried to order the most American thing Pizza Steak offered — onion rings and Budweiser — but the rings were more like tempura-ed onions and the drinks came warm with a glass of ice. At least we tried.
It’s weird to think I was in another hemisphere just a year ago, covering gymnastics for the Olympic News Service and blogging for NeighborsGo. Since then, I’ve graduated from the University of Missouri with degrees in Journalism and Sociology and moved to Seattle, where I’m working for the summer as a general assignment reporter at the Seattle Times.
From here, I’m not sure where I’ll go. A plummeting economy and an expanding unemployment rate have made things hard on recent college graduates. Of all my friends at Mizzou’s J-school, only one got a job right after graduation. I’m one of the lucky few who snagged an internship. Like all grads, I’m competing for jobs with men and women much older and more experienced than me, who have been laid off or taken buy-outs elsewhere; but unlike other grads, I’m looking for a job in one of the most rapidly changing markets in the world – newspapers. Come August, I have no idea where I’ll be.
But I figure, no matter where I end up, I’ll make it work. I mean, if I can navigate the streets of Beijing, haggle for pearls, climb the Great Wall, cover the Olympics and blog all at the same time, surely I can find something out there that will make me happy.
My grandmother once asked me what my favorite memory from China was, and I can’t help but come back to that night at the ballet. I scored a last minute ticket to Medea, directed by the man who choreographed the opening Ceremonies in Athens. I still remember the overwhelming emotion I felt as a theater full of Chinese men and women stood in ovation, honoring the Greek dancers who’d performed one of the most lasting stories their culture produced. I watched from the front row as art bridged the gap between two cultures.
No matter where I go, I’ll always have China.
