Matthew Jellick

This summer in China has forced me to adapt, reaching out digitally and reminiscently for a mid-July to mid-August break which should be spent idly on the beaches of my home in Southern California or sailing across the open waves of the San Pedro Channel en route to my favorite place on Earth, Catalina Island. Checking the weather app on my telephone in Shenzhen, it registers as “Feels Like” 107° Fahrenheit; I am reminded that the Sun somehow shines brighter in California, but never quite as hot. Same with the breeze: longing for that cool draft off the ocean, seasoning the air with a fresh scent of the Pacific, overwhelmed by olfactory hues.

Looking back at pictures from summers past, it is a balance between gratefulness and sadness, understanding the favorable conditions which somehow landed me in California at birth, but also despondent that I can’t experience those past feelings of summer this time around. Since 2009, when I began living abroad, this is the first time I haven’t gone home for summer break. Not just having a powerful effect during those few weeks of bliss spent underneath California stars, but perhaps more importantly, acting as a reset of sorts for whatever will come next semester. In different countries I have lived in over the past 11 years, I’ve often related to it as “going up for a breath of fresh air.” While this can be taken quite literally in my current context, it also means that as a foreigner living abroad, it is important to be able to let my guard down in my natural environment so that I can prepare for the challenges of living and working in different cultures and climates.

In Shenzhen I have often been able to ride my bicycle along the Dashahe Ecological Corridor, but it isn’t quite the same as riding along the Pacific Coast Bicycle Route. Here, too, I have been able to utilize a pool pass at the Ritz, which is nice, but it doesn’t have the same link to nature as floating in the Pacific Ocean, with the south swell rolling underneath. Weekend trips to Guangzhou and Shanghai are interesting, but even more so are jaunts to Baja California or Northern Virginia. And yeah, hand-made dumplings are delicious, but in my opinion, they still pale in comparison to Carne Asada being grilled in the backyard underneath a Magnolia tree.

I miss that Cali. nod, recognized between strangers on a street as meaning that all’s good, going separate ways to wherever, while bouncing heads listen to a beat that lays the soundtrack to summer. I miss seeing my friends, many of whom I have known for over 30 years, catching up over a drink, sharing stories of distraught on both sides of the Pacific.

I miss my family, the roots of the branches which have spread me across the world, and not being able to see them is truly heartbreaking. I miss a late-night drive to In-N-Out Burger to pick up a Double-Double, just because I could. I miss watching the Moon setting over the sea, bringing the end to another summer day, where daydreams fade to sleep.