Living as a stranger in an increasingly familiar, friendly land

It dawned on me recently that for nearly half my life I've lived as a foreigner in one country or another－and lest you underestimate how much time that is, take a look at the photo of me looking back at you.

I spent some time thinking about it and came to the conclusion that foreignerhood goes through several stages.

At first, you're excited and stay out and about to witness everything there is to see in the new country. It takes a while for the reality of being there to catch up with you. But there's always at least one moment that breaks through the fog of excitement to clarify that things are different now.

It happened perhaps in my first week in China. I was walking late one morning along a busy Beijing street and came upon what appeared to be the kitchen staff of a large restaurant clad in full culinary regalia standing at military attention along the sidewalk. Before them, the apparent head chef paced back and forth giving a fervent motivational speech－I didn't understand a word he said, but the intention was clear. It ended with a group cheer, and all went back into the restaurant.

I had never seen anything like that before, and I worked in restaurants for years in my youth.

After the reality settles in there comes a longish period when you're semi-acclimated but feel compelled to keep learning about your surroundings, the people, the language, the customs.

Eventually, you reach a point where you begin to understand bits and pieces of the local language－and I have to confess that in this respect I'm a lot slower than most－and if you're lucky, you've made many local friends who tell you about their culture, beliefs, customs, what is expected of you and how best to get along.

Ultimately comes a period that is the culmination of all those before. You realize you have settled in, and the place you live has become for you simply that, where you live. Just like the local people, you enjoy some things, and others less so. Life in the new country is just, well, normal.

And that's when you find out you've still got a lot to learn.

A month or so ago, our landlady called to tell us that workmen would stop by to install a new gas meter. When they came, the job was quickly finished, and they were gone before we knew it. I don't think they explained anything about how the meter worked, but then, we probably would have had difficulty following it, and what was there to know? It measures how much gas we use and we can read the meter on the front to see when we need to buy more.

I have a very routined life, particularly on the days I work. I spend the morning and early afternoon in a race to complete the things I want to accomplish before work. Then I have a late lunch with my wife, and precisely half an hour before I have to leave, I take a quick shower.

So there I was under the shower the other day, all lathered up and trying to hurry, because I was running late, when the water started getting cold.

I jumped to the side. Then it got colder, and colder still, and then it got frigid. But I was covered with soap, in my hair, all over my body, and I had no choice but to rinse it off.

I think I learned that day what it feels like to be one of those swimmers who cut away a hole in the ice and plunge into the water, but I was able to get most of the soap off my body.

Before rushing out the door, I asked my wife to get some more gas, because, obviously, we had run out.

She called later to tell me we still had more than enough gas. When she called the landlady to tell her the new gas meter was apparently broken, she learned that these meters shut off the gas supply as a warning that it is getting low. All that was needed was to reinsert the card in the meter and the gas supply turns back on.

It seemed that everyone knew this already.

Everyone but me... but I'm still too busy shivering at the memory to feel sheepish about it.