[Part III] Beyond The Smalltalk: Back in Shanghai after 5 years

What it's like going back to a place you once called home

In Part I, I shared how I ended up living in Shanghai after graduating Stanford. In Part II, I talked about the experience of going back for the first time since I left in early 2020, and all the ways how things had changed. Now, in Part III, I want to talk about the deeply emotional side of reconnecting with a place you once called home.

Only after I bought the ticket to Shanghai – which was an extremely spontaneous decision I made while on a friend’s birthday in Hong Kong – I came to realize that it had been almost 5 years since I had left Shanghai in January 2020. And now, in December 2024 I was going to return for the first time. There was something that made me upset that I had let 5 years go by, but as I thought and journaled about it, it became clear to me that this wasn’t my fault, and that in some ways, this was the most earliest time I could have embarked on this journey.

You see, 2020, 2021 and 2022 were the Covid years for China. The country went into a forceful shutdown with unprecedented travel and visa restrictions. By the time the country started to slightly open up, end of 2022, the center of gravity of my life had already shifted. I was living in New York now, distracted with the freedom movement in Iran, falling in love with someone, and deeply occupied about my father’s health journey back home in Germany. China just wasn’t on my mind anymore. 2023 then was the year of being in a deeply committed relationship and losing my dad to cancer. Only in 2024, after leaving my relationship, I started feeling myself again and prioritizing the things that gave me joy. By then, however, the idea of simply visiting China seemed too big, too daunting.

Some people hear my story and might say “dude, you are overthinking this,” and yes, maybe I was overthinking it, but I couldn’t deny how overwhelming it felt to just book a ticket and go back to place I loved so much. You know, my relationship with Shanghai and China was very special. When I moved there in 2017, I did it with the intent to make China a part of my life’s journey. I never just wanted to be just a visitor to a place with such depth and meaning, I always wanted to experience it up-close, travel to the places that others shy away from, learn Mandarin and go culturally deep. I despised those foreigners who go to Asia as expats and stay in their bubbles, and I never wanted to be that person. So in my 3 years there, I did exactly that, travel, learn Mandarin, go culturally deep. During my first job, at bike-sharing pioneer Ofo, I was the first and only foreigner working in their headquarters in Beijing. It was me and 3,000 other Chinese employees. And after that, I started a company in China with two Chinese co-founders. Both experiences left scars, but also left me with incredible stories that a simple visitor would not experience – and in many ways, I always wanted to have those scars.

So as I was thinking about returning, I was confronted with some realities that made it hard for me. My Mandarin had deteriorated, which filled me with shame. I had fallen out of touch with some of the people I called close friends, which was very atypical for me, especially as someone who prides himself with maintaining long-lasting and meaningful relationships. I also knew I was going back to a place that had both been through a lot and changed a lot, which felt alienating because I hadn’t kept up with all its challenges and changes. Yet the biggest question on my mind was the question of “what is my new relationship with this place going to look like?” Will it be a place that I will casually tell my kids about: “hey, your daddy once used to live in Shanghai,” or will it be a place with which I continue to have a living and breathing relationship that evolves and grows over time (“kids, we are going back to Shanghai this summer”)?

In some ways, this trip was a quest to seek closure, and in other ways, this trip became a quest to find a new starting point. I needed closure because back in January 2020 I felt catapulted out of China without a real opportunity to say good-bye to the people and places I loved. But I also needed to turn this into a starting point for a new chapter because knowing myself, I could never just be a tourist visiting a place this magical, meaningful, and memorable.

As I embarked on my flight, from Macau to Shanghai, I was equipped with pen and paper, and on that journey, I filled 7 pages to the brim with my thoughts and feelings about going back. As a deeply nostalgic person, I wanted to honor the many memories I had of this special place, while also acknowledging that this wasn’t the same place I left 5 years prior, and that I should embrace whatever way the city was going to look and feel, albeit very different from what I had in mind and heart. As my friend Alex said, “the magic is still there and you will find it on the other side of embracing the change.”

I ended up reaching out to everyone I still felt comfortable reconnecting with. From an ex to a long-lost friend. From my co-founder, to a fling-turned-friend. Not everyone responded, and not everyone indicated interested to meet up, but some did and with those, I was able to fill each day of my stay. We caught up over old stories, talked about all the ways the place had changed, and the things that were in store for the future.

This trip reminded me that closure isn’t about tying everything into a neat bow; it’s about making peace with what was, what is, and what will be. Reconnecting with Shanghai wasn’t about recreating the past but about finding new meaning in a place that had shaped me so profoundly. It was a reminder that relationships—whether with people, places, or even ourselves—aren’t static. They evolve, and we have to embrace that evolution, even when it feels bittersweet.

As I look back on this journey, I know one thing for certain: Shanghai will always hold a special place in my heart, not just as a chapter of my story but as an ongoing thread. I also know that I can’t just be a visitor to a place this monumental – that I would need to improve my Mandarin and find ways to reengage with it in ways that honored the deep appreciation I have for it.