Unlike some of the other members of the printculture gang I’m not much of a cyclist. I didn’t even learn to ride until I was ten, and harbor a deep suspicion of the idea of remaining stable on two wheels. I avoid letting go of the handlebars as much as possible; you won’t find me doing any fancy dismounts off my bike.

But lately something has come over me; I itch to get on that unsteady metal frame, to rush through the wind and smog with legs pumping, to try new roads and routes, to get close enough to the chaotic and quick street traffic to be able smell the difference between each street block.

I told others that I began biking to classes because I wanted to save some money and get some exercise; most of my classmates come from Korea or Japan and are hurting from the worsening exchange rates. Between the break-time discussions of plummeting stock markets and melamine-tainted eggs there isn’t much difference: in a world in which economic and agricultural systems are so integrated it is hard to find the beginning or end of a crisis. Perhaps we will come out of this as locavores with our money stuffed under the mattress.

On this particular day I have gone from class to lunch with some North American expat ladies in the affluent Jinqiao area where our conversation runs along the same lines: economic and food crises. I think, as I sit and order fahitas, that I am witnessing the last generation of North American expatriates — the kind that come with drivers and can afford tuition at international schools. Companies will realize that they can cut enormous costs by getting rid of these positions. (Let’s say, for sake of argument, that housing for one family costs $5,000 a month, school tuition for two children $40,000 a year — not even adding in drivers, travel, and other extras.) In the past, perhaps, companies weren’t happy with the qualifications of the local people, but now places like China and Korea have plenty of talented, well-educated locals with MBAs from places like Harvard and expertise in multiple languages and cultures. The need to bring in upper management (often with no Chinese/Korean) from Minneapolis or Chicago will wither away. And with it, the enclaves built around them will also shrink and discombobulate.

I have accidentally left my map at home. But no matter: I have a general sense of where the FedEx office is and have a good two hours to get there. I don’t think it should take that long but my forays into baidu and ditu.google weren’t enough to gage the distance of the office on this particular road.

The economic benefit of biking over is more psychological than actual — taking the bus to class is 2 RMB; by contrast a cappuccino is 24 RMB. But being on the bike makes me feel in control of my fate and my dependancies, like I’m taking steps to avoid complete disaster. It makes me feel like I have agency, not just watching as my savings disappear. But the restlessness to act, to be on my way, to be moving towards something is not just economic. I have been waiting for this election for a long time and I’m anxious for the results to come in and afraid to hope for the best lest I jinx it. The recent attraction to biking stems partly from that nervous energy and that need to feel a sense of movement towards a goal.

I leave the neighborhoods of villas and international schools and head towards what turns out to be a more industrial area, suddenly conscious of the quality of fabric of which my shirt is made. People stare at me as I go by. In my backpack I have my Federal Write-In Ballot; my real ballot has not yet arrived. I'm also carrying a free FedEx waybill printed from the Overseas Vote Federation website.

I could have taken a taxi but I decided to bike. On this day of all days the biking channels a deep sense of restlessness that I didn’t know I had until I began to push through it physically. Being in a new country, I’m impatient to settle in; some of it comes from that sense of uncertainty. But a great deal of it is the pins and needles that comes from emerging from the “twilight stasis” of the last eight years, and the world we’re awakening to feels completely different than before, especially looking out from the Awakening Giant. The world seems to be vibrating with big changes and I'm itchy and anxious to see what is going to happen.

I cannot say, more than or better than others have said before me, all the reasons why I hope that Obama will win today. I can only say that I did my part and that if he does win I think some part of me will awaken. I have for the most part avoided watching him speak but in the last few weeks of the election I read and reread the transcripts of his talks and watched his “infomercial.” I was surprised how emotional I was; and I realized that I have, for all the time I’ve lived abroad, avoided thinking too much about how the rest of the world must see the U.S. Because in reading and watching I started to remember how proud I was of the U.S. when I was young, how it represented all that was right and good, a place where people fought the good fight even if it was harder and more expensive. I wanted to feel that way again. I hope to feel that way again.

Go out and vote today, if you haven’t already. And then come back and tell us about the experience here.