A different kind of freedom

Living abroad provides a different perspective. You live in the country without ever being truly part of it. In a way, you are an American island in a foreign sea. I remember a few years ago I was taking a boat ride down the Li river from Guilin to Yangshuo in Southern China with a Chinese friend. During the cruise I alternately read the novel Kim and looked at the scenery. My friend asked me why I was reading, it was hard to explain, especially in my limited Chinese, that in a sense I was at three places at once. I was absorbed in a book about 19th century India, I was also looking at the China of peoples dreams, the Karst Mountains shrouded in mist and fog, and I was also home in America, inasmuch as we always take part of our home with us where ever we go. It was an all together different sensation than what I had visiting Zion National park. I was struck by Zions beauty and I would recommend everyone visit there, but it did not have that ineffable quality that existed that day on the river. It was a boat ride of but a few hours, yet that sensation lingers with me to this day.