2010

I have been thinking for long to write down something about this year... after all 2010 is an important year for me. Turning point? Perhaps not, or perhaps there have been too many turning points in my life up to this point and subsequently I myself have been turning and turning until finally lost.

First of all I turned 26 at the end of 2010. Though I take birthday as the most important day in a year hardly do I care much about the numbers of candles on the cake. But this year I am 26, right crossing the threshold of "youth" and "adult". From time to time I have to admit that an urge to succumb to a world of comfort and stability does come up. As well as the thoughts to stop the crazy things like cross-country road trip, sleeping in airport, taking ryanair. But backpacker never dies, only ages, and not even that would kill the Sehnsucht and wonderlust that is embedded in an old backpacker, only the < 26 discount will never be applicable ever again in life.

2010 Summer I was a Berliner for 3 mere weeks. Finally I have the blessing to live in my favourite city in the world, and it was honestly the best summer ever, ever. I had a small flat in Mitte, with bright berliner sun shining through the white curtain, and surrounded by my secret hideaways discovered after years of passing-by. Be it the small italian takeaway with its very friendly owner, or the cafe around the corner serving fresh Berliner Pilsner. I love the Prenzlauer Berg although the whole Schönehauseallee has been basically taken over by summer tourists; I also appreciate the despite-the-glory-name shabby Sonnenalle (Sun avenue in English it is). I love speaking German, even though the vocabulary and phrases have started to fade away from my memory.

And that was the farewell to my drifting youth. And the beginning of the real life, ironically, is still in Madrid, the capital of this Peter Pan’s land. I almost forgot how good the feeling was to have one’s bank account regularly loaded up and credit card balance cleared. I enjoy my new job and the vista from 22nd floor, yet I do feel really lonely and segregated, if not lost as always. After one and a half year residing in Madrid I still cannot cross the huge language barrier lying in front of me. How I miss my Mancunian-speaking life! And how I miss the expressive and chatty self, rather than swallowing my words along with a perplexed smile – maybe it’s finally a signal that my Spanish life is deemed to end, for better or for worse. And it does come to an end – unless something unfortunate happen and I have to look for a new job again.

Yet being sent back to Asia is indeed a fearful thought, even though I am really up being in Spain. But Europe is still the continent I know, I passionately love and where I spent the most splendid years of my youth. I wonder if there would be anything wonderful ahead at the other side of the world that can really talk me into bidding farewell to this beautiful yet frustrating, vibrate yet stubborn, with an old-school charm, land.

Maybe from now on the full price of life finally has to be paid, just as the interrail pass.