put it in the zoo.

Three months. The halfway mark.

And still a freak.

I admit I'm one of those people who has never really fit in anywhere. One of those restless misfits, destined [doomed?] to wander the planet, anxiously seeking 'the' one place I belong. Searching, perhaps, for somewhere I don't stand out.

But if China has taught me nothing else, it's that my freak status is the highlight of their day.

Sat in the park with my journal last week; portrait of the aspirational writer, full of literary intent and intellectualism.

For four seconds.

Heads turn. Elbows nudge; excited murmur breaks out.

Fellow park dwellers suddenly torn from blissful observation of spring blooms to observe the stranger, the creature, the utter freak that has wandered into their midst.

I, harmless and unsuspecting, am beset on all sides by throngs of jabbering schoolkids and toothless elderly men and mothers with toddlers. Thirty or so delighted Chinese bodies pushing and jostling to get a closer look at me, at my journal, at my sandalled feet, at my oh-so-strange nose.

Have flashback to when I used to catch spiders butterflies and seal them in a glass jar.

Nervous giggling and pointing all round. Whispered phrases in broken English; suspense builds until one bold individual [a kid of about nine] dares to shriek, "Ha-lo!!"

Explosion of raucous laughter. Sea of thrilled faces above me closing in; kids in red tracksuits tripping over one another to get a closer look. Dribbling toddler shoved at my side by grinning mother. Camera flashes.

Am running out of oxygen.

Not, unfortunately, my first experience of celebrity treatment. Have learned that this is a lose-lose situation; responding elicits more laughter, silence produces near-hysteria.

Some days, it's almost amusing.

Some days, I'm hungover and it's not. This is one of those days.

Whistle blows. Kids scatter like fish. Some genius tosses a "Bye-BYE!" in my direction. Hysterical laughter fades with pounding feet.

Am left with damp toddler and a transfixed mother. Camera flashes again.

Leave park in haste with warm cheeks and unopened journal.

Three months here and I still can't quite comprehend magnitude of cultural barrier in such situations.

Can only conclude that - in Hohhot at least - an individual who doesn't look like everyone else also doesn't think like everyone else. They are, instead, an object of utter fascination.

An alien. An exotic bug in a jar. The Elephant Man. Utterly thrilling and exciting and untouchable all at the same time.

And, ultimately, inhumane.

A freak.

Still. It feels better here than at home.