Standing middle of the room, I feeling strange. This is The West. By window, there hanging old red curtain with holes. Under feet, old blood-red carpet has suspicions dirty spots. Beddings, they covering by old red blanket too. Everything is dirty blood red.

Room smelling old, rotten. Suddenly my body feeling old too. “English people respect history, not like us,” teachers say to us in schools. Is true. In China now, all buildings is no more than ten years old and they already old enough to be demolished.

With my enormous curiosity, walking down to the night street. First night I away home in my entirely twenty-three years life, everything scare me. Is cold, late winter. Windy and chilli. I feeling I can die for all kinds of situation in every second. No safety in this country, I think unsafe feeling come from I knowing nothing about this country. I scared I in a big danger.

I scared by cars because they seems coming from any possible directing. I scared by long hair black man passing because I think he beating me up just like in films. I scared by a dog. Actually chained with old lady but I thinking dog maybe have mad-dog-illness and it suddenly bite me and then I in hospital then I have no money to pay and then I sent back to China.

Walking around like a ghost, I see two rough mans in corner suspicionly smoke and exchange something. Ill-legal, I have to run-maybe they desperate drug addictors robbing my money. Even when I see a beggar sleeping in a sleep bag I am scared. Eyes wide open in darkness staring at me like angry cat. What he doing here? I am taught everybody in West has social security and medical insurance, so, why he needs begging?

I going back quickly to Nuttington House. Red old carpet, red old curtain, red old blanket. Better switch off light.

Night long and lonely, staying nervously in tacky room. London should be like emperor’s city. But I cannot feel it. Noise coming from other room. Laughing in drunkenly way. Upstairs TV news speaking intensely nonsense. Often the man shouting like mad in the street. I worry. I worry I getting lost and nobody in China can find me anymore. How I finding important places including Buckingham Palace, or Big Stupid Clock? I looking everywhere but not seeing big posters of David Beckham, Spicy Girls or President Margaret Thatcher. In China we hanging them everywhere. English person not respect their heroes or what?

No sleeping. Switching on the light again. Everything turning red. Bloody new world. I study little red dictionary. English words made only from twenty-six characters? Are English a bit lazy or what? We have fifty thousand characters in Chinese.

Starting at page one:

A:

Abacus::(meaning a wooden machine used for counting)

Abandon::(meaning to leave or throw away)

Abashed::(meaning to feel embrassed or regretful)

Abattoir::(meaning a place to kill the animals)

Abbess::(meaning the boss of woman monk’s house)

Abbey::(meaning a temple)

Abbot::(meaning the boss of a temple)

Abbreviate::(meaning to write a word quickly)

Abduct::(meaning to tie somebody up and take away to somewhere)

Words becoming blurred and no meaning. The first night I falling into darkness with the jet-lag tiredness.

1. Builder’s Super Platter:

double egg, beans, bacon, sausage, bubble, mushroom, tomato, 2 toast, tea or coffee included.

2. Vegetarian Breakfast:

double egg, bubble, mushroom, beans, veggie sausage, hash browns, tea or coffee included.

full english breakfast

“Talk doesn’t cook rice,” say Chinese. Only thing I care in life is eating. And I learning English by food first, of course. Is most practical way.

Getting up early, I have free Full English Breakfast from my hostel. English so proud they not just say hotel, they say Bed and Breakfast, because breakfast so importantly to English situation. Even say “B and B” everyone know what thinking about. Breakfast more important than Bed.

I never seeing a breakfast like that. Is big lunch for construction worker! I not believe every morning, my hostel offering everybody this meal, lasting three hours, from 7 clock to 10 clock. Food like messy scrumpled eggs, very salty bacons, burned bread, very thick milk, sweet bean in orange sauce, coffee, tea, milk, juice. Church or temple should be like this, giving the generosity to normal people. But 8:30 in the morning I refuse accepting two oily sausage, whatever it made by pork or by vegetables, is just too fat for a little Chinese.

What is this “baked beans”? White colour beans, in orange sticky sweet sauce. I see some baked bean tins in shop when I arrive to London yesterday. Tin food is very expensive to China. Also we not knowing how to open it. So I never ever try tin food. Here, right in front of me, this baked beans must be very expensive. Delicacy is baked beans. Only problem is, tastes like somebody put beans into mouth but spit out and back into plate.

Sitting on breakfast table, my belly is never so full. Still two pieces of bread and several “baked tomatoes” on my plate. I can’t chew more. Feeling guilty and wasty, I take out little Concise Chinese-English Dictionary from my pocket, start study English. My language school not starting yet, so I have to learn by myself first. Old Chinese saying: “the stupid bird should fly first before other birds start to fly”

When I am studying the word Accommodate, woman come clean table, and tell me I must leave. She must hate me that I eat too much food here. But not my fault.

First morning, I steal white coffee cup from table. Second morning, I steal glass. So now in my room I can having tea or water. After breakfast I steal breads and boiled eggs for lunch, so I don’t spending extra money on food. I even saving bacons for supper. So I saving bit money from my parents and using for cinema or buying books.

Ill-legal. I know. Only in this country three days and I already become thief. I never steal piece of paper in own country. Now I studying hard on English, soon I stealing their language too.

Nobody know my name here. Even they read the spelling of my name: Zhuang Xiao Qiao, they have no idea how saying it. When they see my name starts from “Z,” stop trying. I unpronouncable Ms. Z.

First three days in this country, wherever I walk, the voice from my parents echo my ears:

“No talking strangers.”

“No talking where you live.”

“No talking how much money you have.”

“And most important thing: no trusting anybody.”

That my past life. Life before in China. The warns speaking in my mother’s harsh local dialect, of course, translation into English by Concise Chinese-English Dictionary.