Life in China: The Messy, Honest Version

Hey everyone—campus dorm, instant coffee in hand

(still can’t stand local brews), and I finally gotta spill what this life’s

really like..

I’m from Windhoek, Namibia—grew up where night air hums with birds,

the sky’s a permanent blue, and the nearest mall’s a 20-minute drive

away. Moving to China two years ago to study? It was like walking into

a movie with zero previews. No glittery stories—just the raw, unfiltered chaos.

First off: this place is loud. Back home, main streets die down by 8 PM. Here? The city never blinks. My campus is in a mid-sized town, and even at 10 PM, streets buzz—food stalls hissing, bikes honking, groups yelling laughter. At first, the noise made my chest tight. I’d lie awake, listening to the chaos, aching for the quiet of Namibia’s countryside. Now? It’s weirdly cozy. Midnight runs to the convenience store? There’s always someone there, always something going on. Feels like I’m not so alone, even when homesickness hits hard.

Shopping’s a love-hate rollercoaster. The convenience’s insane—Taobao delivers anything in a day. Back home, if you want something specific? You order from South Africa and wait weeks… or forget it. Here, I’ve scored a new backpack, biltong (yes, it exists if you hunt for it), and a desk plant—all with three taps. But sizing? A nightmare. I’m taller than most guys here, so finding clothes that don’t look like a potato sack? Impossible. Sportswear’s my only safe bet. And bargaining at markets? I’m a disaster. Locals probably snicker after I leave—always overpaying like a tourist chump.

Friendships? The best surprise I ever got. I was terrified no one’d get me—our cultures are worlds apart. But my Chinese classmates? Total sweethearts. They help me muddle through Mandarin (still mix up ni hao and xie xie half the time), drag me home for family dinners, and never tease me for hating spicy food (which is basically a felony here). We geek out over school, movies, even politics. They lose their minds over Namibia—begging for desert photos, asking if I’ve ever pet a lion. I show ’em pics, and they gasp like it’s Narnia. In return, they teach me to fold dumplings for Spring Festival, explain why red’s lucky. My international friends are cool, but these Chinese buddies? They turned a dorm room into home.

But it’s not all warm fuzzies.

The language barrier’s soul-crushing. Two years in, and I still mess up daily. Once, I tried ordering a sandwich at a café—ended up with a bowl of noodles. Don’t ask. And the staring? Nonstop. I’m one of the only Black students on campus, so every time I walk out, eyes lock on me. Sometimes it’s just curiosity. Other times? It feels like I’m a zoo exhibit. Strangers snap photos without asking, point and whisper. Makes me hunch my shoulders, like I’m not a student—just a tourist attraction.

And the food? I adore dumplings, fried rice, that famous sweet and sour pork. But so much of it’s fiery hot, or has mystery ingredients I can’t name. Wu la (no spicy) is my go-to phrase—say it so often, it’s basically my catchphrase. Also, portions are tiny. Back home, a meal feeds two. Here? I’m starving an hour later.

Another thing that grinds my gears: the pace. Everyone’s in a sprint. Subway crowds shoving past, people walking like they’re late for a fire, working insane hours. Back home, we take time to chat, to sit, to breathe. Here, it’s like a never-ending race. Just watching it stresses me out. I’ve had to force myself to slow down—to sit in a park, do nothing, and not feel guilty about it. Balance is hard.

But for all the annoyances? I’d do it again. China’s taught me to roll with the punches, to step outside my bubble, to see the world in a whole new way. The silly moments make it worth it—like the time I took the wrong bus and ended up in a tiny village, or when my friend tried teaching me chopsticks and I dropped food all over the table. We laughed till we cried.

Would I change anything? Learn Mandarin better before I came. Pack more clothes that fit. But overall? This experience’s messed me up—in the best way possible. I’m not just studying here. I’m learning how to live in a world bigger, wilder, more diverse than I ever dreamed.

So that’s my China life—messy, confusing, wonderful, and everything in between. Gotta go hunt for non-spicy food now. Wish me luck.