[dropcap]T[/dropcap]here are two things I can’t stand more than anything. The first is getting in trouble. The second is travelling. I hate travelling. I hate packing, I hate that long drive to the airport and I hate going on airplanes. But I do it anyway. I endure all the things I hate to go on trips to unknown lands with the crazy, troublemaking people I love.
Three years ago, I endured a six hour, nauseating flight from Beijing to Yun Nan, two provinces on the almost opposite ends of the country, to go on the high school senior trip with the people I love. As soon as we got to the hotel, all I wanted to was crawl into my hotel bed and never get up, after that long flight. Of course, though, my roommate had other plans. She dragged me off to where all of my other friends were gathered at the hotel pool, having the time of their lives. I refused to join them; we were supposed to be in our rooms until the teachers told us to come down for dinner. We could’ve gotten in serious trouble. When I refused, though, they hoisted me up and swung me into the pool.
I was mad. I had just been through a hell of a flight, and as soon as we got to the hotel I wasn’t even allowed to rest. Instead, I was manhandled and dripping wet. I had been sucked into one of their crazy plans again, and as soon as a teacher noticed we were missing, we’d be in an unbelievable amount of trouble. The anger quickly dissipated as they pulled me out, and every single one of my friends ran over with a towel and started to dry me off. I probably should’ve felt suffocated being enveloped by so many towels, but instead I felt wrapped up in a giant fuzzy ball of fluff. They apologized and bought me food, and told me I was welcome to go back to my room if I wanted. If they were caught, they said they wouldn’t ever let on that I was involved whatsoever. I bolted back upstairs.
Only after I was back up in my room did it hit me: this would be the last trip we would ever do together.
This would be the last time we could travel together — before our lives started moving in seperate directions. I had just turned down one of the last chances I had to hang out with my friends. As the goody-goody of all my friends, I was always tasked with being the “mom” of the group. I was uptight, nagged them often and tried to make sure everybody stayed out of trouble. But that day I realized it was okay to unwind. It was okay to let loose, break the rules and just live a little.
I want to tell you that I went back downstairs and joined them at the pool. But I didn’t, because the teachers soon started calling us down for dinner. After that, though, I took every opportunity I got.
This would be the last time we could travel together — before our lives started moving in seperate directions.
I didn’t think twice about sneaking away from our tour group and zig zagging through the maze-like city of Li Jiang. I didn’t hesitate when my friends asked me to sneak out at night to a pub with a live band. I didn’t even flinch when I was assigned a thousand word reflection after getting caught playing videogames in the boys’ room after lights’ out. That isn’t to say we were always crazy kids; we enjoyed the culture of the city and appreciated how close the natives were to the beautiful natural world surrounding them.
The days passed by in a blur of tourist attractions, late night conversations, extremely traditional and gross Chinese food, and constant reprimands from our teachers for always sneaking away from the group. On the last night, we decided we should do something huge, something that we would remember forever. There was talks ranging from skinny dipping to setting off fireworks, and everything in between.
In the end, we just ran off to the rooftop to watch the stars. Nothing crazy, no breaking the rules. It was just us, the night sky, and deep talks. That night was worth more to me than any crazy prank ever would have been. I took a good, long hard look at the faces that had been with me all throughout high school, and knew that we wouldn’t last. We’d drift away, and I’d never see most of these faces again, but that was okay. We would always have this trip, this night, and that was more than enough.
Li Jiang was the city that set my adventurous side free, and where I left my old high school self behind. Li Jiang taught me the importance of letting go, and how to live in the present. Sometimes I miss the past and what we had, but Li Jiang was always meant to be a memory, a last hurrah of high school.
When I close my eyes and think of the city, I don’t remember the itineraries, what I wrote my reflection on or even the name of the hotel we stayed at. I remember shrieks of laughter, the weirdest selfies, and the happiest smiles.
