There are times in my life of ex-patriotism when I feel a deep love for the place despite myself... views such as this inspire that.
But as an ex-patriot you learn to live in a kind of surreal waiting. You wait all day for your family and friends to wake up in the west, and when they finally do, you must remember that they are just starting their day while you are ending yours. Inevitably, you wait up late into the night for them to have their lunch break or get off work so you can call or communicate with them in some way. And then you go to bed, and wake up the next day only to start the whole process over.
You wait for an English television show to come on the air... you wait for Reese's to come to the stores... you wait for a box, a letter, a connection with the person you used to be - with what, in your mind, is the real world.
Think I'm crazy? Perhaps just a bit. But though the grass is definitely greener on my side of the hill, your side sometimes looks quite comforting nonetheless.