August has been busy – hosting friends, solo backpacking, flying to NYC on a whim, clearing out my belongings – and amid all these, inevitably, summer has come to an end. Two days later I will leave the country that has welcomed me for the past five years, maybe for a couple of years, maybe for forever.
Often, I feel like my life is a little too dazzling. 2016-2021 are undoubtedly the craziest years of my life so far. I’ve been to so many places: Tokyo, Paris, Lausanne, Geneva, Chamonix, Amsterdam, Siem Reap, Kuala Lumpur, Salt Lake City …. I’ve bonded with so many wonderful people: Z, J, T, J, C, C, C, Z, R, A, B… Some of these journeys are because of courses, research, internships, some just because I am extremely priviledged and I decided to go. In many ways I am living “the ideal life” of exploring the world and absorbing as much as possible. My life is completely devoid of the “daily tedium and meaninglessness” that marks the “average adult life”. Yet something still doesn’t click. Something is still lacking. Il me manque, mais je ne sais pas ce que c’est.
I’ve spent this summer in a childlike manner, with a true idleness that I last experienced in the 5th grade. I didn’t want to do another internship, or run experiments at the bench, or even travel. I felt tired after driving 2,500 miles across the country, and confused by all the knowledge I’ve learned in college, all the people I’ve met and what they said to me, and all the expectations, yearnings, disappointments, achievements floating around. I longed to retreat to my den, devoure books, comb through my experiences, trying to make sense of this all.
You might think it’s easy to spend a summer in such a leisurely way, to have a “true summer vacation” as they say, but you are wrong. I am so used to the hustle, to the packed schedule, to long work hours that I can’t let loose. Some days I woke up and picked up my kindle, buried my head in an Ishiguro book, and only lifted my head again to realize it’s 5pm. Then I reprimanded myself for not being productive, for not doing my French exercises or Leetcode problems. I don’t do too well in an unstructured environment.
Despite all my dissatisfactions with myself, the summer in Seattle is well spent and eye-opening in many different ways. Admittedly, many of these things I could not have done if I were under the stress of another internship.
First, I read a lot. When at Yale, I craved for lesiurely reading during the semester, but the demanding coursework leaves no time for a novel for fun. I’ve maintained a pace of one book a week this year – so far – and some of the passages brought me immense pleasure. I read the Wuthering Heights in Chinese when I was around 10, but reading it in English at 22 is another experience.
Second, I was introduced to alpine mountaineering. Climbing Mt. Rainier and talking to professional mountain guides let me see what else are there to climb, and really make me look at climbing as a hobby seriously. There are so many things, so many mountain disciplines to learn – all the knots, anchors, steps and rescues.
Third, I met wonderful people. I’ve hiked and camped with 4-5 different people and learned about their interesting journeys. I loved hearing about their childhood stories, their time in Alaska or Guangzhou, and their dreams and ambitions for the next five years. These are ordinary people, but down to earth, genuine, and in the present.
This is really a loose diary entry. I loved Seattle, loved Fremont. I miss the Sea Wolf bakery where I get my baguettes, as well as the Burke-Gilman Trail that I’ve ran along so many times. I’d love to come back another time – to finish the 60km of Olympic coast trail,to be in the company of lovely friends again.