Penultimate

In a flight of fancy, I've decided that this is going to be the second last entry in this blog. This is influenced only mildly by the 白酒 that my friend Ben and I consumed at dinner (along with 青岛; China's defacto 'light' beer). What follows is largely stream of consciousness, so be forewarned.

I promised you all some deep introspection into my stay in China, and deliver on that promise I shall. I'm writing while coming down off a caffeine buzz and a chinese-liquor drunk, so I apologize if there is any problems with coherence. I'm also in a bit of a melancholy and wistful state.

In 13 hours (8 of which are allotted for sleep), I will be on a tube of metal screaming through the upper stratosphere towards cold weather, family and good friends I've left behind for the previous 5 months. I've never been this far away from hearth and home before, and the amount it's taught me about myself is staggering. The amount I've learned about others is almost as amazing.

One friend here, one very very good friend I don't think I'm going to let go of, told me that the worst part about travelling is the people you meet. Here you are, temporarily displaced from everything familiar and comfortable. You're alone, sometimes for the first time, and you crave human contact. In this vulnerable moment, you're deeply involved in the mind-numbing panic and boredom of eating lunch alone again in a packed cafeteria full of people chatting in an alien tongue. Who should come along but someone who's essentially destined to be your friend. People who share your interests, sense of humor, taste in music and everything but country of origin seem to find you in the crowd. Or you find them.

Then, months later, some great big breaker in your mind suddenly slams shut when sitting at a dinner after laughing so hard that your stomach hurts. Like a slap to the face, you realize that these people will, in all likeliness, never be in the same room again at the same time. Looking from face to face, you drink in expressions, accents, stories and laughter to hold on to the memory of people you've known for such a brief time. People who, if you had lived next door to them your whole life, would be sitting beside you as your bones creaked in shit weather a few dozen years down the road. Tears well up before the Aussie across the table laughs so hard beer spurts out her nose. Then everything's obliterated in white hot laughter as the table erupts again and the locals question your sanity.

The worst thing about travelling is the people you meet. It's the most glorious thing, too. Landscapes bedamned, historical sightseeing is for photographs and culture fades. The best thing about spending time immersed in another nation is the people you meet and the friendships you make. Bittersweet joy abounds as you share explorations of this strange new land. You give freely of yourself and accept whatever it is they offer of themselves; knowing that these people have no reason to trust you other than you trust them. You find humor in cultural differences and laugh endlessly about how everyone's supposed to be speaking English but no one can ever get their damned point across.

Then they leave.

Or you leave.

Sooner or later, real life digs deep and reels everyone back in. No one's a permanent fixture anywhere. Some say 'home is where you make it', but the problem is in coordinating with those near and dear exactly where we should set up shop.

I'm rambling. I'm sad, and mildly intoxicated, and this is the end result. I'm attempting to wax poetic and organize thoughts that simply refuse to cooperate.

I've met so many wonderful people from all walks of life. I've learned so much. So much. I've learned about the Chinese; their language, culture, traditions, cuisine and daily life. That was expected and indeed the point of the trip.

What I didn't expect was to learn the word 'bogan'. Or to listen to an Australian girl ask a French girl in Chinese how to say 'Regular' in English. Or skull VB while cheering on Hawthorne as they blitzed toward an AFL title. Or skate on a frozen lake in downtown Beijing while helping a new friend not fall on her arse. Or change the way I speak my own language in the name of hacking out a common pinyin so everyone can understand me regardless of origin. Or cry when friends left, despite having known them a relatively tiny portion of my time on this earth.

I'm sad for having to leave. I'm sad for the knowing that of all I've met, e-mail is our best bet for prolonging the relationships we've made. I'm sad for having to say goodbye.

But do I have any regrets? Yes. Those aren't for public airings, though. My regrets are my own.

One thing I never, ever, will regret is the time I've spent in Beijing. I've learned a truly immense amount about both myself and the world around me. My mind races daily with exactly how my time here in Beijing will dictate the course of my life in future years.

Thank you. Everyone who I've met in Beijing, whether I enjoyed your company or not. Knowing you has taught me something; about myself, yourself or the world. The knowledge is invaluable and I appreciate it.

For now, I've got to get packing and then get some sleep. I'm for a final breakfast in 五道口 tomorrow before I leave.

Thanks for reading these entries, if you have. After I've been home for a bit, I'll polish up the blog and the trip. There's so much to think about that I don't think I'll be ready to put the final bookend on this trip for a while.

One more left...

- Nathan