How was China?

 

When I get home, I expect to get this question from everyone I know:

“How was China?”

And here are some of my answers:

“Two can play this game. How was America?”

“I ate lots of rice.”

“I grew a lot.”

“It was really hot, then really cold, then really hot.”

“People spoke this weird language I didn’t get.”

“Two words: Squatty. Potty.”

“My hair got longer!”

“SMOGGAY.”

“The dogs were delicious.”

(I haven’t tried dog, stop freaking out.)

“The rice was delicious.”

*bursts into random tears*

“Crowded.”

“Beautiful.”

“Different.”

“If you really want to know, you should’ve read my blog.”

“Peace signs. Everywhere.”

“Mulan and I were besties.”

“When I do this, I look more Chinese!” *pulls both sides of eyes and squats*

“Sometimes it smelled like delicious, and sometimes it smelled like fart and pee.”

“Bedbugs.”

“SO. MANY. ADORABLE. CHILDREN.”

“Sketchy.”

“Diverse.”

“Noisy.”

“I got my picture taken so many times. It was like a dream come true.”

“I got really good at charades!”

“Mmmm. Rice. Rice pudding. Rice porridge. Rice cakes. Rice noodles. Ricey-ricey-ricey-rice.”

“Blondes really stand out there.”

*is staring at the clean sky so hard I don’t hear the question*

“Communal.”

“Welcoming.”

“Spicy.”

“I got called beautiful on an almost daily basis.”

“Too much rice will make you fat.”

“BLARGSNARGLEFEEEELINGSSSSSWAAAAAH”

“I went to China? How long was I gone?”

“I towered over most of my friends.”

“It was exactly like Narnia. You should go.”

“I forgot what cheese tastes like.”

“I can count to ten in Chinese! Wanna see???”

“RICE.”

And the answer that will probably end up coming out of my mouth:

“It was good.”