When I was nine years old, I tagged along with my mom to attend a higher education fair in Beijing. The fair would typically occur in a convention center that looked like a fine art museum to me. The attending schools were universities from around the world, but usually from the US, Canada, and other English-speaking countries. As a nine-year-old, I would not understand why I was here. It confused me why people waited in line to speak with people who looked different from most people I saw in China. The school officials had golden and brown hair, tall noses, and speckles here and there. I looked into their blue eyes and felt a little scared actually. “Would they understand me? And what should I say back if they spoke to me in a language I didn’t know?” I let questions as such float around but they did not bother me for long.

I was tall even for a nine-year-old, so I could easily reach one of the booklets on the table with my hand. Those booklets were really nice. I was immediately drawn to the pictures printed on the covers: Some of the pictures showed a chapel-like building that had long corridors leading to it, which I bet meant some sort of prestige. Other photographs were more naturalistic, showing maple leaves covering the alleyways of a university campus during the autumn months. Looking at these pictures, I began to wonder if I could one day visit one of these fairytale-like places. And where are they anyways? I am sure that when I was pondering these questions, I must have fantasized about a euphoric future where I become a student there. “But doing what,” I wondered? So I hurriedly put these picture books back on the table. These exotic destinations just seemed so far away that they were out of reach.

Anyhow I was still just a kid. My questions and fantasies faded quickly as I romped around the booths. I got easily distracted by the bustling atmosphere. Once the fair was over, I barely thought about it again. I kept on doing the same homework my Chinese teachers assigned at elementary school, and I kept reading the monthly computer magazines I always enjoyed reading. Days and years passed. I never believed those faraway places could be anything more than pictures in a brochure, but somehow, here I am. But now, with the golden leaves crackling beneath my feet, I realize that dreams, even the faintest ones, can sometimes find their way to you.