I crane my neck

The other day I found myself standing in front of a large map of the world in the room where my Swedish for Immigrants course is held. Each day we take a break at 10:00 where I usually beeline to the vending machine and spend five kronor on "cappuccino". Then, I head back to the classroom, take my seat, hike my feet up and read (English) for the next twenty-five minutes. I was nearly finished with Vonnegut's 'Mother Night' when I felt his eyes. I turned around to find my classmate unabashedly staring at me. He spoke a little English; he wanted to talk.

Before our conversation had gone on too long it was obvious we would need to refer to the monstrous rendering of this good Earth. Off of his tongue rolled names of Chinese coastal towns I possibly never would've heard if this conversation never took place. We stood up and consulted map. He pointed to China's eastern coast, near Shanghai, where he was born and brought up. He asked if Chicago was "in the south" so I pointed it out to him. The conversation moved into what each of missed about home, when we'd return, who missed us, who didn't?

China's eastern coast and the United States' Midwest are about as far as you can get in terms of distance, geographic and cultural. By means unknown to myself the two of us stood, above Europe, are we even in Europe? In Scandinavia, like I said, if you were to find a middle point between there and there you'd land exactly here. And here we are, small and swimming around in it.