Sense of Self in Cuandixia

Do a quick google search for “trying to find myself.” The search will return Web sites about Thai students traveling abroad, husbands in danger of losing wives and families and, yes, English as Second Language teachers lost in mind and self on every continent. 

I did this search because the overwhelming feeling that I am lost 8,000 miles across the planet drove me to a remote tourist village five hours, two trains, two taxis and a bus away from “home,” or Tianjin. Instead of “finding myself,” I found peace in good company and new friends in Chinese courtyard houses.

The village of Cuandixia has the best preserved collection of courtyard houses from the Ming and Qing dynaties. The town is one of the China's historical heritage sites, but is not heavily visited by tourists and on the day I went, I was the only American in town. The centuries-old village has moved into the 21st century, with adequate hot and cold running water, electricity and karaoke set-ups in some houses where visitors can rent overnight beds. But it is still an old-fashioned small village in that there's not much to do.

After climbing the mountain staircases to every viewing platform in the mountain valley, I started to feel a little bored and actually lonely on what I'd romantically thought would be my first solo adventure. It was my first Mid-Autumn Fest and my 23rd birthday comes shortly after and this was my present for both.

Re-entering the village, I passed more friendly townsfolk and ended more conversations in embarrassed muttering and looking at the ground. I finally chose a courtyard house because there was music coming out of it and I wanted, needed to be around people. As soon as I entered, a young Chinese woman handed me a microphone and asked (in English!), "Do you want to sing?" Viola, and her friends Jiang Nan, Yuan Bo and Deng Rui Teng (pictured here), saved my trip and taught me the first lesson of traveling alone: be an extrovert.

I stayed in the extra bed in my new friends' room, ate new dishes while laughing over Chinglish, sang a terrible rendition of "Dizzy Miss Lizzy" at their and the other guests' express desire to hear me sing a Western song, and shared mooncakes. We played "games" that seemed more like theater, and at midnight they sang me Happy Birthday. Viola gave me birthday presents of face wash samples (very handy) and a lime. My mechanical hanzi was critiqued by a man who opened Tsingtao beers with chopsticks, but he, with Viola translating, taught me the meaning of single happiness. 

The name of the courtyard house we stayed in was named for the character that means single happiness. The character describes the happiness of a woman when she gets married. When the woman and her husband have a baby, the character is written twice, to convey double happiness.

Forget finding yourself, it's better in the company of others. The night I spent in Cuandixia was one of single happiness, but the memories will give me double happiness to come.