You know that you’ve stayed too long in China when you catch yourself drinking hot water for no reason…during summer!!! And when you can’t feel satified of a meal unless you have eaten an outsize amount of rice. What I’m going through feels like diet. On one hand, my tastebuds are immensely greatful for the quality and freshness of the food that I am experiencing since I have arrived. But on the other hand, I’m starving ! I have been missing so much the authentic flavors of healthy food and the fine mixture of ingredients peculiar to French cuisine. I have been dreaming so many nights of a simple steak-frites. What I forgot is that before going to Shanghai my daily diet was organic to a unreasonable extent. I’m now missing all the greasy sauces and violent taste of vegetables mixed with dubius meat and strong spicies (I’m not missing though the roughly cut pieces of meat together with the bones, hairs, skin and fat). Yesterday, I tried on my favorite black pair of jeans which I let here while I was there. It wouldn’t fit. I was able instead to wear the one pair of jeans that would always feel so loose before. I have gained one size thanks to muay thai and Chinese food. But I’m back to my past. I will go to the park again. 

Leaving on the 6th floor feels different. I can’t tell how. It is physiological or something. I can feel the difference when I lay down. Neigbours are loud. In China, you could never tell how many live in the flat next door. I have heard about 25 roomates in 50sqm. Everytime I would meet somebody in the corridor, I would sware it was a different person but I always give the benefit of the doubt because of my potential inability to identify people. I can bet there are 2 children and 2 adults behind the wall. I wonder if they can also hear me when I tune up the music and start singing in the shower. Before Shanghai, I had never lived higher. But after Shanghai, the 6th floor feels too low. But when I look outside the window I can already see the top of every other building. I can see super far away. There, are La Tour Montparnasse and Sacré-Cœur. Amazing. I opened the window and remembered about double glazing. Also, I figured that there was a construction site on the opposite side of the stadium. And I realized that today was Monday. And yesterday, nobody was working. And this is usual here. 

The sky is blue, there are clouds. The air feels purer. It’s 8PM and it’s smelling of French fries…. I am amazed of the streets. There is a lot of space. There are trees. And it’s clean. Organized. It looks very organized : the numbers, the names, the high of the buildings. You can actually see what’s on the balcony of the last floor. And the sunset. I don’t need to be on a rooftop, the orange and pink light is right in between the buildings, at the horizon of the streets.  I try not to walk to close to the people. I can walk super fast ; without looking down where I put my feet. It’s not weird. There are other people walking fast. People don’t look at me. I am looking at them. It doesn’t feel akward because I am not staring. It actually feels good. There are not so many people. People have emotions on their face. Some have already run for some time, I can see. Others are a little sad. But most of the people seem to be really enjoying beeing under the sun or the shadow of the trees. People look around them. Not as much as I am, but they look alive. If I say something, they would understand me. They all speak my language. But I still have this phenomenon : I think in English. 

A man in the street told me yesterday. We are the 15th of August, everything is closed. And I hated it. But today, I know that this is right. I deserve it as any other French, because I am French too. The town is probably empty. No one is disrupting the on-going quiescency that I have. I am silent and without desire. And I am well hidden. I don’t need to hide. It just feels well. The week end has 2 days, not only one. So, errands and domestic activities won’t ruin my day because tomorrow will still be the week end. Wait, I have nothing to do and nobody’s in town ! When it’s Saturday in Shanghai,nodoby needs to tell you, and you can’t stay home. First of all, you have got to go to work. But before that, you need to put yourself together. Meaning, taking off your face all the glitter from last night and breath out any suspicious smell of non-soft drink. And remember, whatever happened with or without colleagues belongs to Friday’s beer o’clock and does not have to interfere with any other working week hour. Meaning every other day of the week but Sunday. Sunday is not dedicated to rest. Because Chinese don’t have a religion. And God…might feel uncomfortable in between scryscraper’s. So, basically, on Saturday, nobody speaks about the day before and nobody wonders about the day after. But on Satuday night, Saturday night is ON ! 

Oh waw! It’s freezing here!! And dryyyy… Where am I? What am I doing here? This is home. I belong here. These are my people. Actually. I have been staring at this guy. I don’t know what he wants. He speaks French. « Tu peux me répondre, jvais pas te manger ! ». Everyone speaks French. I’m exhausted, I wanna go home. I am in that cheap bistrot. I am right in this French mess. Oh no, this is not really a mess, there are just discussing loud about last night. A man drunk, drinking a draft beer. It’s 8AM. I’m drinking tea. I asked for mint. But this is not really mint. I’m tolerant. Because I have been through Shanghai. And because the waiter obviously doesn’t see well and because I haven’t been sleeping for more than 20 hours! I deserve sleep and total strangers understand that. So I am in this room. Cold room. Under the cover. It is still super cold. And it smells of tobacco. And I wonder what am I doing here. And tears get out of control. I’m alive. I’m soon gonna be home. I’m dreaming.