If you don't know already - I'm in China.
I had never really considered homesickness a problem in the past. I grew up in Dorset, the rural back-end of England, so there isn't really a lot to miss there. Sure, maybe the rolling hills and luscious forests, but in all honestly that means very little to me. Unless you're particularly fond of churning butter, incest or casual racism, your heart-strings will be happily left un-tugged by the sight of a postcard from home.
However, I find myself increasingly touched by the most random things. The other afternoon I was searching for my mobile phone charger, and upon finding it I noticed my lip quiver. Just the sight of the classic British three pronged plug was enough to send me into a bawling fit of homesick tears.
Facebook has opened up a whole new world of homeland-pining for me. Facebook is a blocked website in China (obviously the government are particularly offended by over-enthusiastic pokers and Farmville requests). However, through some nifty fiddling with proxies (Computer words make me sound so smart) I could now access my profile from the comfort of a rickshaw. Just seeing photographs of all my friends going out and grinning made me yearn for those nights I took for granted back home; surrounded by the folks I adore. In one photograph it seemed there was even a space left for me. Literally, a me-sized space, as if an invisible spectre had taken my form and sneakily slipped in-between my pals.
However, I soon remember the reason I came to this wonderful land: to explore and to experiment, and boy have I done that.
Just the other day I consumed scorpions, cockroaches, tarantulas and geckos, all of of which a) were lovingly presented on a stick, and b) tasted like burnt toast. Not a bad taste at all, I know. But then, as your crunching on it, there's suddenly a flash in your mind. You remember that the thing in your mouth is indeed the carcass of a dead spider. Those things you feared would drag you down the plug hole as a child. You remember the scene with the tarantula in Home Alone. You vomit. You weep. You loose all self respect. You move onto the next stand to eat yet another beast on a stick.
So my cure for homesickness? Put something repulsive and traumatising in your mouth. Read into that as you will.
Jack Buckley
