life in transit

I couldn’t be more cliché when I say that studying in China has “broadened my horizon” to dream further and grander than ever before. Being an international and meeting other internationals in an unmistakably international city have stoked the restless embers of wanderlust in my romanticist self. Why keep coming back to China when there are so many other things to do and places to see around the world? What about the unimaginable majesty and beauty of Thailand or India or Australia or Brazil or Egypt or Turkey or all of those tiny European countries you can’t even name?…Oh, you haven’t really lived until you’ve experienced such and such thing in such and such place! This line of logic has led me to the edge of idle discontentment. I begin to believe that I must have this or that or live here or there to be truly happy. In reality, living for experiences is a rather dangerous and hopeless endeavor. In my travels across China, I’ve witnessed the sunrise from the peak of Huangshan, sunbathed on the beaches of Xiamen, soaked in the hot springs of Nanjing, explored the streets of old Shanghai, lounged in a tea parlor in Chengdu, and hiked across a glacier in Tibet. I know it all sounds awesome and, believe me, it really was fantastic! But what my romanticized rendition failed to reveal was the unfortunate reality of long bus/train rides, altitude sickness, food poisoning, interpersonal conflicts, overcrowding, and other such frustrations. As amazing as these adventures actually were, they were but experiences that can be remembered and reminisced but never entirely relived. Although I am arguably a different person as a result of these experiences, nonetheless I am only left with trinkets, knickknacks, and memories that will leave me sooner or later. It is a farce, then, to hope in and chase after experiences. Life’s meaning and purpose lie beyond the boundaries of any geographical location, and contentment can be embraced anyplace—even China.