You’ll realize that this is where your life is

Hello, all!

My summer holiday has begun, meaning that this book/film review blog is back in business!

I've accepted the fact that I won't be able to post regularly doing the school year; I still do a ton of reading and writing at school, but mainly for class. When I’m not wrangling with words, I spin poi/tumble with the circus and swing dance instead. All in all, college has been a wonderful time.

Anyway, I wrote most of this yesterday while on a plane back to Hong Kong. I was at an altitude of 31,000, the temperature outside was -56 F, and it was 7:38 pm Chicago time, but since we were flying over The Arctic Bay at that exact minute, who knows what time it really was. I peeked outside the window and saw the ice extend forever. Sunlight scorched the land, making the tributaries look like silver. Snow coated the ridges of dark mountains. The whole terrain was like a lithographic print. I would be on that plane for a total of around 16 hours.

I have yet again managed to watch another emotional, heart-rending film on a long-haul flight (other films I have cried to while in the air: Room, Short Term 12, 海角七號).

~ spoilers ahead ~

I heard great things about Brooklyn, but I’m glad that I watched it at the end of my first year of college (you’ll find out why by the end). In the film, Eilis, played by the brilliant and elegant Saoirse Ronan, leaves her home country of Ireland to work in Brooklyn, New York City. While she feels sad about leaving her mother and sister behind, her decision to go is greatly in her favor: there’s nothing left for her in Ireland, where she is stuck working for the awful Ms. Kelly and—despite her brains—will never be given the chance to engage in meaningful work.

Yet Eilis’s initial foray into Brooklyn is far from smooth. Wracked by homesickness (well-foreshadowed by her boat sickness), she is advised to “act like an American” in order to fit in, to be amiable at work, and to essentially settle in ASAP.  

But settling in isn’t so easy, and doesn’t get any easier until Eilis meets Tony Fiorello, a charming Italian who asks her to dance at a weekly Irish dance. The two begin dating, Eilis gradually becomes less reserved, and completely blossoms in Brooklyn: she passes her book-keeping classes with flying colors and falls deeper in love. It seems like nothing could be better.

Then, when Eilis’s sister Rose dies, Eilis is struck by the urge to visit home and returns to Ireland. Paradoxically, it seems like life there—for the month that she stays—will be even better than her time in Brooklyn. She has returned “a star,” strikingly competent and beautiful. Her time in New York was like a spell; Ireland appears to be where she belongs. She is courted by the wealthy bachelor Jim Farrell, offered a job, and encouraged by everyone to stay.

She is so preoccupied with wishing that this was the way life was before she left that she forgets—until an unpleasant encounter with the gossipmonger that is Ms. Kelly—what life was like in a small Irish town in the 1950s. Eilis remembers what drove her from Ireland in the first place and remembers that she has left her heart back in Brooklyn.

The film is a beautiful meditation on what it means to find a new home and create a new identity for yourself. It was slightly clichéd at times, but lovely regardless. I’m glad that I watched it after my first year of college because its last line resonates with me in so many ways:

And one day, the sun will come out you might not even notice straight away—it’ll be that faint. And then you’ll catch yourself thinking about something or someone who has no connection with the past. Someone who’s only yours. And you’ll realize that this is where your life is.

I’m not saying that I have immigrated to America and am going to live there forever with an Italian husband, but there are moments when I realize that I have made a life for myself in Chicago, in a library lounge full of swing dancers, in an open gym with people on silks/flipping/juggling/etc, in a room of friends who have become like family.  

And while I have yet to experience genuine homesickness while studying abroad, I resonate with the advice Eilis gives to the new immigrant she meets on the boat:

When you get to immigration, look like you know where you’re going. You have to look like an American.

I remember being nervous when flying to Chicago on my own for the first time, but I'll never forget how happy I was when I landed in Chicago after winter break and took public transport from O'Hare back to my dorm (ft. two luggages and a violin that has become like my fifth limb) while snow paved much of the ground outside. I'm so grateful that I have a life for me and a family in a city almost 8,000 miles away from the one that I live in now.

The next time I’ll be on another long haul flight is late September; who knows what movie I’ll watch and cry to then. Ah well, I’ll write about it when the time comes.

Happy summer!

童年的紙飛機現在終於飛回我手裡 / a very, very long post

Last Sunday, I returned from my 12-day trip to Taiwan with my friend, Angie (if you are reading this, hiiiii!!). It was my first time going there without my family, and my final taste of motherland before I leave for the windy and exciting city of Chicago in September.

Our first stop was Tainan, 台灣的美食之都 (Taiwan's culinary capital) and also my hometown. Two days there were enough for me to realize how much had stayed the same - and all that had changed. 孔廟（Confucius Temple) still has its place in the center of the city, although the surrounding walls have now come down. The 國立台灣文學館（Museum of Taiwanese Literature） remains a welcome shelter for people to 避暑 (avoid the heat) and read about Taiwan's literary past, although the former seems to be the preferred option these days. Most surprisingly of all, the newly-revamped 奇美博物館 now looks like Versailles/The White House/something you'd find in Rome. My family friends tell me that it is the largest art museum in Asia, and I feel a surge of pride.

孔廟

奇美

Here was the sunset we saw on Day 1.

Day 2 was a whirlwind tour around the city via 台灣好行, a travel-bus-package that lets you take any bus in the city (including the 台灣好行 tourism bus) and stop at various destinations throughout the day for just 88 NTD. We first took a nearly-90-minute bus ride to 七股, where we climbed the famous 鹽山 (the salt mountain; a blindingly white spectacle in the middle of nowhere) and began to feel the palpable heat that would pursue us throughout the day - indeed, throughout the entire trip. From there, we travelled back to the heart of Tainan, stopping at the 安平樹屋 (Anping treehouse; we didn't go in, though) and then to the desolate-looking 安平老街 that had been bustling the last time I visited during high season. We ate chocolate and vanilla ice cream from a U-shaped cone (you guessed it, one flavour per tip), the legendary 臭豆腐 (stinky tofu; ah, the smell of home) but saved space for 渡小月, where the most authentic 擔仔麵 (danzai noodles) of Taiwan is served. We went to both the flagship and the original restaurants, experiencing yet again a sense of the new and old in the same city. Time stretched that day as we hopped on and off a number of buses and strolled countless streets. I have never explored my hometown without my family, but I realize at the end of the day - with an almost childish sense of fulfilment - that I have what it takes to do it!


We left 台南 on day 3, catching an early train to 台東, where our biking expedition (the gold star of our itinerary) would begin. I was so nervous about missing the train that when we finally boarded and put our bags down, I didn't even fully realize I was speeding away from family friends I have known for more than a decade, the hospital where I was born, my 故鄉. Not knowing when I'd next return, I left it all behind at 300km/h. (We'd later be biking at around 1/15th that speed).

When we sped past 屏東, however, I was fully (and guiltily) aware. This was probably the first time I had returned to Taiwan and not stopped by 屏東, my parents' hometown. To be truthful, there is nothing left for me there anymore, apart from a childhood-defining meal of 涼麵 (cold noodles with sesame sauce and cucumber), my uncle's family, my mother's cousins and memories that I've recorded in my diaries and poems. Ah, I must admit: 屏東 will always be the one place in 台灣 that has the greatest bearing on me. Nonetheless, I remain seated on the train that flies past it.

Biking began that afternoon. Never have I ever felt so emotionally attached to a vehicle (I mean, even my name is on it!).