The sales pitch sadly continued at our next stop, a so-called grassland reserve. Instead of the scenic break we were expecting, it turned out to be a miserable place full of vendors aggressively pushing overpriced horse riding “experiences.” Many of the horses looked malnourished, some were injured, and all were clearly overworked.

Not surprisingly, few people in our group were interested. Only a mother and child bought a package, while the rest of us stood around awkwardly. My guide, frustrated by the lack of sales, even turned to me for help. It was a sad day when the unemployed foreign tourist became his last hope, but here we were. We wasted another hour waiting for the mother and child to return from their ride. It was the longest hour of my life.

During that time, my guide tried to educate me. He insisted that I wasn’t Chinese American, as I had always referred to myself, but simply Chinese. This brings up an interesting point. The Chinese language has a variety of words to describe “overseas Chinese.” The most general term, 华人, refers to “people of Chinese heritage,” regardless of nationality. Within this category, there is also 华侨, which specifically means “Chinese nationals residing abroad.” For the average layperson in China, these two terms are often conflated. However, because this is so relevant to my own background, I’ve spent a lot of time studying these distinctions. Occasionally, locals like to argue with me about it, but I know I’m right.