3.30PM
I arrive at Chicago with that sense of wonderment and thrill, something I had forgotten I could feel. Being in Singapore for such a long time has sorta made me feel as if I've been everywhere, seen everything, there isn't a place that can surprise me or excite me in this fresh new way any longer. The land of Oprah is a beautiful, flat one. I say flat because I used to complain to Damian how obstructed the view in Singapore is. You couldn't look anywhere without having your vision blocked by some huge building. Here in Chicago, everything is just so spread-out – you could look for miles and miles into the distance, and actually see where the baby blue heaven meets the lush green earth.
The flight here wasn't as torturous as how my pan-pacific-flight phobic mom would have described it. I don't get airsick, so the agony lies more in how boring a 13 hour (from Hong Kong to Chicago) flight can be. Sure I have my iPods, and my adorably sweet seat partner (who offered me a packet of tissues when I sniffled) made the flight kinda worthwhile, but can you imagine just sitting there for an entire day, just listening to music you've already heard many times before? The service on United airlines ain't much to brag about, either. In their mad rush to finish serving drinks before the plane lands, one flight attendant actually slipped and dumped a cup of water on my jacket sleeve.
But at least I'm here now. Customs were a breeze, and of course, I gave the patented condescending smile to those who have to wait in ridiculous queues to pass immigration. The warmth of the people here is immediately obvious to someone who has grown up in stoney-cold Singapore. People would smile and ask you where you're headed to as you wait together at the bus shelter, bus drivers (at least for the chartered ones, I don't know about public buses) greet passengers with such unbridled exuberance, as if he means every 'Ahoy!'. Whether it's what they truly feel is a different matter altogether. The fact is that they bothered to go that extra little mile to make you feel welcome, and it does make a difference, especially after you've stepped off a 20 hour flight journey. (Btw, I haven't slept for 40 hours, the very idea of me managing to still write coherently is a joke to me. I might look back at this piece and realize it's all gibberish.)
It surprises me that things have been going so well till now. Other than a little confusion at the Hong Kong airport (the whole place is so hideously messy and disorganized, and I'm not just saying this cause I wandered around for half an hour looking for the right place to board my transit flight), everything else is just peachy. The bus service was much less complicated than I imagined – I just had to wait at a general chartered stop, and board the bus that would take me to Madison, and then pay the driver $27 later on. All my fears of terrorists making pregnant women go hysterical and then into panic-stress-induced labors were unfounded, as it turns out.
I promised myself I wouldn't cry, but reading Damian's and Jiahui's letters for me while on the flight pushed me over the edge. I left pretty quickly while at the final gate (the one visitors can't go through without a boarding pass) with a quick 'okay, bye everyone!', because I knew the longer I dragged it, the harder it was going to be. Like an uncomfortable hookup – get it over and done with, and pretend they're not there. It was like those movie-scenes, I kid you not. I was reading their letters as the plane started to gather speed, and just as I started to truly realize how I'll never get to have that much time with them anymore, the plane takes off, as if confirming what I had been thinking and sealing all our fates. I wasn't bawling like a baby – it was those dignified, reddening of the eyes and slight sniffing kinds.
I arrive at Chicago with that sense of wonderment and thrill, something I had forgotten I could feel. Being in Singapore for such a long time has sorta made me feel as if I've been everywhere, seen everything, there isn't a place that can surprise me or excite me in this fresh new way any longer. The land of Oprah is a beautiful, flat one. I say flat because I used to complain to Damian how obstructed the view in Singapore is. You couldn't look anywhere without having your vision blocked by some huge building. Here in Chicago, everything is just so spread-out – you could look for miles and miles into the distance, and actually see where the baby blue heaven meets the lush green earth.
The flight here wasn't as torturous as how my pan-pacific-flight phobic mom would have described it. I don't get airsick, so the agony lies more in how boring a 13 hour (from Hong Kong to Chicago) flight can be. Sure I have my iPods, and my adorably sweet seat partner (who offered me a packet of tissues when I sniffled) made the flight kinda worthwhile, but can you imagine just sitting there for an entire day, just listening to music you've already heard many times before? The service on United airlines ain't much to brag about, either. In their mad rush to finish serving drinks before the plane lands, one flight attendant actually slipped and dumped a cup of water on my jacket sleeve.
But at least I'm here now. Customs were a breeze, and of course, I gave the patented condescending smile to those who have to wait in ridiculous queues to pass immigration. The warmth of the people here is immediately obvious to someone who has grown up in stoney-cold Singapore. People would smile and ask you where you're headed to as you wait together at the bus shelter, bus drivers (at least for the chartered ones, I don't know about public buses) greet passengers with such unbridled exuberance, as if he means every 'Ahoy!'. Whether it's what they truly feel is a different matter altogether. The fact is that they bothered to go that extra little mile to make you feel welcome, and it does make a difference, especially after you've stepped off a 20 hour flight journey. (Btw, I haven't slept for 40 hours, the very idea of me managing to still write coherently is a joke to me. I might look back at this piece and realize it's all gibberish.)
It surprises me that things have been going so well till now. Other than a little confusion at the Hong Kong airport (the whole place is so hideously messy and disorganized, and I'm not just saying this cause I wandered around for half an hour looking for the right place to board my transit flight), everything else is just peachy. The bus service was much less complicated than I imagined – I just had to wait at a general chartered stop, and board the bus that would take me to Madison, and then pay the driver $27 later on. All my fears of terrorists making pregnant women go hysterical and then into panic-stress-induced labors were unfounded, as it turns out.
I promised myself I wouldn't cry, but reading Damian's and Jiahui's letters for me while on the flight pushed me over the edge. I left pretty quickly while at the final gate (the one visitors can't go through without a boarding pass) with a quick 'okay, bye everyone!', because I knew the longer I dragged it, the harder it was going to be. Like an uncomfortable hookup – get it over and done with, and pretend they're not there. It was like those movie-scenes, I kid you not. I was reading their letters as the plane started to gather speed, and just as I started to truly realize how I'll never get to have that much time with them anymore, the plane takes off, as if confirming what I had been thinking and sealing all our fates. I wasn't bawling like a baby – it was those dignified, reddening of the eyes and slight sniffing kinds.
And before I knew it, here I am, thousands of miles away, in USA. It doesn't really feel as if I've made a huge physical move, maybe because while on the plane it never really does feel like you're moving. As I write this on the bus to Madison, I wonder where all my friends are now, what they're doing, and if they're thinking of me, like how I'm thinking of them. I doubt they're doing that thinking right this instant, though. It's 4PM here, so it's around 5AM over there, and if they're dreaming of me, then they've officially crossed that line into stalker-dom, and I just have to say: thank the lord I'm so far away from them now.
6.40PM
Unexpectedly, I started feeling increasingly nervous as the bus nears Madison. It's the first time returning, since leaving here as a wee toddler all those years ago. I was charged with anticipation, to rediscover a world I left behind, but I think I was also worried that I would be disappointed with what I found. Setting foot once more, on a city I had left behind more than ten years ago, fills me with an overwhelming sense of homecoming. The entire place is beyond recognition, but yet, I knew in the back of my mind that this was where James Madison Zhang was conceived in, carried, and pushed out of my mother's vagina. You just don't abandon such connections easily.
The first sight htat greeted me was a majestic one = Lake Monona, in all it's glory, spread out far and wide, almost looking like an ocean. The lake was so impossibly blue that it looks almost painted. Little sailboats could be seen in the distance, little white triangles that dotted the horizon. The bus whizzes by the lake-shore, and every head was turned to the right, taking in as much of Monona's beauty as they could.
The iconic State Capitol Building could now be seen. This feels me with a greater sense of nostalgia than could be described. I don't even remember the building as a child, but seeing it now, perhaps for the first time, made me feel as if I was revisiting something oddly familiar. This was it – I kept telling myself. This was Madison. I was finally seeing, as an adult, the city I had been calling my birthplace for my whole life.
My very first step onto Madison soil was on the front steps of Memorial Union, one of the main administrative buildings of UW. It was a stately sight to behold. Ancient, medieval looking castles, alongside Greek styled pillars and mansions – it was definitely a wonderful first look at Madison. Another thing I immediately noticed was the temperature. It must have been around only 18 or 19 degrees, with a chilly breeze toying around. A slightly cold, but not unpleasant weather.
Everyone's been saying how it would be hard getting used to a new surroundings, and I don't doubt them. However, even thou the differences between Madison and Singapore are so obvious, I don't feel as if I've been completely removed from familiarity. It doesn't seem as if I'm being thrown into a pit of foreign-ness. As I take in my surroundings, bags and luggage in tow, it felt to me like I've finally made it. Barbra's words come to mind :
This world's waited long enough
I've come home at last
'Welcome home,' the customs officer says. Welcome home indeed.
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