Echoes of March

Life Is Elsewhere

Today marks March 16th. I casually glanced at my smartphone, only to find the countdown I had set prior to my departure now relegated to the annals of history, adorned with the inscription “25 days since.” Yes, it has been precisely 25 days since my arrival in Melbourne. Before embarking on this journey, whether engaged in light banter with my parents or amidst the joviality of a say-goodbye gathering with friends, I often jestingly remarked, “I’m traversing from the northern reaches of the northern hemisphere to the southern expanses of the southern hemisphere.”

Occasionally, in the late hours of the night, lying in bed, scrolling through social media, I see updates from family and friends living on the other side of the globe. I see them still bundled up in thick down jackets, their exhalations materializing as ephemeral plumes of warmth in the frosty air. The landscape remains steeped in the desolation inherent to the depths of winter, suffused with a pallid, seemingly interminable grayness. In such moments, I am seized by an ineffable sense of unreality—a fleeting respite wherein I am able to apprehend the essence of my being and the seismic shifts that have beset my life. But at least it proves that I’m adapting well, doesn’t it?

For the first 22 years of my life, I lived on the Chinese mainland, in Beijing. Except for occasional trips with family and friends each year, allowing me to visit different corners of the world, I never seemed to leave the place I call “home.” Well, this is my first attempt at studying and living alone in a foreign land (and it’s really far away). It’s a complete solo endeavor, handling everything I need in life.

I don’t know how many others at our uni are in the same stage as me, but I believe our feelings are roughly similar: it’s a complex mix of emotions that’s hard to accurately describe with just a few words. Excitement, trepidation, anticipation, self-doubt—none alone suffice to encapsulate the gamut of our experiences; they must be lived to be comprehended. At the very least, I stand poised to triumphantly check off item 11 on my list of “100 things I want to do before I die”(Inspired by Chip Huyen, I have created my own list of things to do before die), which is described as: “11. Live in another country.” Yes, I did it!

All is Serendipity

So far, I’m already falling in love with Melbourne. This beautiful place is brimming with so many surprises. Every day, as the sun sets, I stretch lazily, and in my mind, I think, “Wow, today brought yet another new findings.” Indeed, each day unfurls before me like a new chapter in an enigmatic tome, leaving me to marvel at the endless possibilities that lie ahead. It’s a sensation both peculiar and sublime, one that defies simple explanation.

Amidst the bustling streets, everyone I’ve met here has been incredibly friendly and kind. The sense of community that permeates the very air I breathe is palpable. I cherish any connection I make here: One day, as I was strolling down the street, I bumped into my former English teacher from China. He’s a funny Australian bloke, and I have no idea how I recognized him from behind. While waiting for the tram, a guy who was in my tute just moments ago, deeply engrossed in his notes, walked past me. We were both surprised to realize we lived on the same street. And now, including you, possibly reading these very words, we’ve all instantly formed some kind of connection at this moment.

My English isn’t the best, and I don’t quite know how to accurately describe this feeling. Just like a feeling akin to destiny—a whisper of the divine that reminds us of the inherent magic of existence.

Originally posted on First Year Diaries