致我的 2016To My 2016

Still soaking in the happiness of having just come home, and 2017 arrives quietly. I haven't used QQ in ages and have no idea how my old friends are doing. I also have no idea how many people will still see a post like this — if nobody does, then let it be written for myself, as a keepsake.

Looking back now, after four months abroad everything at home feels unfamiliar. Wherever I go I reflexively open Google Maps, and a few lines of English or oddly pronounced French come out without my meaning them, and I can't quite recall what that fast-paced life used to be like. At the same time it all feels like a dream — and waking from it, my heart is still racing.

By my third year of university, the days started flying. It feels like at the start of the year I was still being tortured half to death by my GPA — on one hand feeling I wasn't smart enough and had to make up for it with effort, on the other hand lost, not understanding what any of it would actually get me. I felt worse than everyone else at everything, and what little sense of superiority I had left evaporated. I didn't know what I wanted to do afterward, and felt like I was just killing time.

Later I gradually worked it out, decided I needed to try some new things, and started looking for internships and doing something different. Once I was busy, the information coming in increased, and my mind gradually settled. But I still didn't feel I'd found a direction for the future. And I felt that this fast-paced life wasn't what I wanted — pulled in every direction, all I wanted was to get out of the wind for a while and think in peace.

I finally landed in a completely new environment, and then sometimes felt, out of nowhere, that life had gotten a bit out of control. That's probably what they mean by culture shock. Losing my passport, all the times I couldn't make myself understood, all the problems on the road, all the small chores of daily life. The biggest difference between France and China is probably the way of living. They do everything slowly, would rather chat than work, and nobody thinks there's anything wrong with that; partying and smoking weed every day isn't seen as decadence; nobody wants to do the thing that's theirs to do, and they aren't especially good at it either. That's probably why this country keeps getting messier and its economy keeps getting worse. France is more or less a microcosm — and an extreme case — of most of Europe, so Germany can hardly hold up the EU alone, and with every country sharing a bed and dreaming different dreams, Europe falling apart is probably just a matter of time.

All the draining things aside, travel is still, ultimately, a happy thing. And you can think more and see more while you're moving. My impressions of each place are largely blind men feeling an elephant, but I still want to write them down, or argue about them with someone.

Northern Europe was our first stop: prosperous, settled, and, in immediate terms, expensive. People's lives are stable and short on turbulence, and their sense of well-being is high. Germany is different — Germans are rigorous, principled, spirited, and hardworking; genuinely a breath of fresh air among Europeans. Switzerland's scenery really is beautiful, but the local temperament always struck me as a bit tricky — you can see it in how it's stayed neutral to keep itself safe, and in how nearly every shop takes euros at 1:1 and gives your change in francs. France feels like a place that isn't quite consistent with itself: the south has a North African feel, and Paris is so captivating. The Benelux countries feel like they're huddling together for warmth, always with some strange quirk of their own. Spaniards are so warm, the climate is good, prices are low, the food is good — high marks. Italy has cultural depth too, and I longed to go; the people are just a bit lazy, like the Spanish. The British really are on a different wavelength from the continent, and I inexplicably like them — the shared language helps. Iceland is like a hidden paradise; a shame I didn't see the aurora, I'll go in summer next time. Prague really is beautiful; a shame I couldn't enjoy more of it. Hungary feels like it hasn't entered the 21st century — everything is a bit run-down. Vienna deserves the title of city of music: I saw Macbeth, was astonished by how opera expresses things, and finally fulfilled my wish to see one. The Baltic three — Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania — look exactly like the Russia in my head, and showed me how far behind these so-called developed countries can be. Poland's cities carry the shadow of the Second World War everywhere, and Auschwitz is carved into me.

This was probably a small dream fulfilled: at twenty, to be a backpacker and travel the world. Even if I only got through Europe.

Somewhere in the process I also worked out a little of what I want and what I want to do. And I came to feel I really do need to step outside my comfort zone and do things I used to look down on, or didn't want to do.

Life is hard, so work harder. A bit of a platitude, but there doesn't seem to be any other way. In the end, your twenties are always going to be somewhat hard.

Still, I feel lucky. Life is colorful after all, there are people with me and people who love me, and I don't feel that alone.

Lately I've taken to a song that was inexplicably banned once. Maybe you need a bit of a pep talk sometimes, something to give you the drive to go west.

Here's hoping for good luck in the new year, and that every hope settles where it should.

In memory of my 2016, my twentieth year.