Up in the air

I've reached that horrible clichéd point in my life where I have absolutely no idea where I'll be going, or what I'll be doing. No kidding, I could write a whole book about this weird feeling that so many students who are about to graduate are experiencing. Hell, I'm sure someone could make a film out of it. The employment/grad school clock is ticking, but nothing is helping me choose what seems like the right path. Every door is flung wide open, and each opportunity is greater than the other. For some reason, I can't seem to pick one.

For the past five years, I thought I knew which direction my life would take and where I would end up. 20 years old, journalism, Hong Kong. Set, not for life, but at least until I reached the point where I would want marriage and kids.

Now, at 20, the life I had imagined for myself at 15 years old is so far from what I am facing. Being the near-obsessive planner that I am, feeling this way kind of terrifies me. I don't think I've ever not known what I want, and I envy all of those who have either found their passion early on, or who at least have a plan for the next 12 months.

What I realise, however, is that there are no limits to what I can and will ultimately choose to do. Fine, I may be a tad held back by my, er, 'special relationship' with numbers. But that has nothing to do with where I will be building my life next. So be it Beijing, London, or home again, it's all worth being more excited than scared about.


Beijing

Learning a new language is like arming yourself with more and better ammo in order to kick serious butt in the working world. At least, that's how I perceive it, and it's exactly what I plan to do if I end up spending 10 months in Beijing, with Mandarin.

Ideally, I'd like to live in a rented studio flat, where I'll be pushed to practice the language, instead of fall back into the comfort of English or French with other international students. It's not that I want to be the ultimate loner and not make any friends (any potential future friends reading this, please be my friend!) I just want to make the most of my experiences, and take in every ounce of extra knowledge that is available.

Aside from that, I just want the food. Oh, the food. I think my diet might just consist of dumplings, dumplings, and more dumplings. I've already played the tourist in Beijing, but I can't wait to live it all. To breathe it, less so, but I'd like to think that growing up in Hong Kong has built up my immunity to the adverse health effects of excessive levels of pollution.

In all fairness, I don't have a concrete idea of what Beijing holds in store for me. The last time I went, pre-Olympics, taxi drivers were hesitant or even reluctant to stop for me. I failed to fall in love with the city, although that can be blamed on my young age. I wonder how it has evolved and changed with the 2008 Olympics, and whether I can learn to love a place where I'll be just learning the native language.

Be good to me, Beijing.


London


With respect to London, I feel a bit like Peter Pan. I almost don't want to grow up, and remain in the safe little cocoon that student life has built for me over the past three years. London represents the working world, council tax, more tax. It's everything that will begin that transition into true, scary adulthood.

Nothing is definite, though, with London (and with true, scary adulthood). I just feel like it's time for me to start testing the waters of the formal interview process, the business suit, the morning meetings, and sustaining my life with my income and nothing but my income. And where better to do all that than London?

London is one of the few places in the world where I feel like I fit in. If the world were one big high school, I'd fit into the London clique. You can't really define and pigeonhole a Londoner, it's just impossible. The first time I went to London without my parents, I felt at ease with the variety of languages, accents, sounds and sights that surrounded me. I was even asked for directions multiple times, and had to apologise for not being able to help, given that I was a tourist myself. But it made me realise that I feel at home in London. I'm comfortable there, and giving in to the dynamics of the city comes so naturally to me.

After experiencing life in a small university town, where being an international student is 'obvs' indicative of having terrible, strongly accented English, I'm ready to live a life without odd remarks about my 'exotic-ness'. I'm ready to break out of this weird cocoon and go out into the big bad world, starting with London.

Hong Kong


Two years ago, if someone had asked me where I plan on ending up after university, I would have said 'Hong Kong' before they'd even finished their question. So many things attached me to home, and I thought I was made for Hong Kong because I grew up there, and it's all I really knew. How things have changed since then.

Indeed, Hong Kong is home, but I have this strange urge to detach the word 'home' from that place now. I want to uproot my life and give another place a chance at being called 'home'. Hong Kong is beautiful and full of surprises, and I have nothing but love for the city. Somehow, that hard-hitting, full-on homesickness that could bring me to purchase a ticket to Hong Kong almost immediately has dissipated over the past year.

Hong Kong will always be the safe place, though. It's where I know I'll have a roof over my head, where food will be on the table, and where the golf buggy is there to take out for a spin when times get tough. It's where everything is so distinct, that you really can't find anything like it anywhere else. The smell of IFC mall when you first walk in, the golden reflection of the sunset in glass buildings set against a blue or purple sky, the hypothermia brought on by sub-zero air con temperatures during 30-degree summers... Those are the things that bring me comfort.

Surely, working and living in a comforting environment can't be half bad.

Home again