Dear Diary

I saw a foreigner for the first time today. My friend Lee said he saw one two weeks ago buying peanut butter, coffee and toilet paper at Wal Mart. Perhaps we saw the same foreigner. She was sitting on the bus headed towards the city center. The bus was packed, but she had a seat and was staring aimlessly out, ears plugged up with headphones and I imagine she was listening to Country Roads or My Heart Will Go On. Those are good songs. Or maybe she was listening to Chinese music. I wonder if she likes Chinese music. I could tell even from a distance that her eyes were not brown. I have only ever seen brown eyes. There are a few movies with actors who have blue or green eyes, but the color doesn’t show up very well in movies. I’ve always been curious what eyes of a different color would look like. Her eyes were definitely not brown. I think they were blue. It made me very nervous to see someone with blue eyes and blonde hair, someone who so clearly is foreign. I felt like I should say something to her, welcome her to our beautiful country, but I could not gather the courage. My neighbor nudged me with his elbow and said “look, a foreigner” and a few others in the crowd murmured their surprise. Foreigners do not come here to our Kong Gang, and they do not ride our buses. Her eyes looked sad, but that is not likely. Maybe it is normal for foreigners to look sad. And tired. I bet people are very friendly to her and always welcome her. We are a friendly people, so it is not likely that she is sad. Foreigners just look sad. And tired. But I bet she is happy. Just before her bus pulled away from the curb, her eyes flashed suddenly to mine. Oh, the thrill and fear of those bright blue foreign eyes piercing right into my own! I have never before felt such unease. When our eyes met, she cocked her eyebrow in a way I am unfamiliar with. I wonder what it meant, that eyebrow raise. But before I could analyze her expression more, the bus, with its sole foreign passenger, was gone. If I ever see her again, I will gather my courage and invite her to hot pot. I wonder if she likes hot pot. It will be difficult for her, though, having to use chopsticks and all. I hope I see her again and I hope I can be brave enough to speak to her.