Unlike the trip I took from Munich to Milan last year, this trip was during the day so I couldn’t sleep despite the fact it was a 8 hour ride. I just had to see the Alps this time around. I watched the landscape change from brownish-green hills to mountains and then from snow covered mountains to snow covered plains. It was great thing to see.
When I arrived in Munich, I waited for my godfather to arrive. Only this time, I didn’t have same excitement and anticipation that I had when I arrived last year. I think part of it was the weather, but also because I’ve learned to expect less so I don’t pin my hopes too high. Also, I was tired.
After half an hour or so, I realized that he probably wasn’t coming and that I’d have to make it to Erding myself. It turned out that I was right. When I got to Erding, I wasn’t 100% (or 60% for my brothers) sure how to get to my godfather’s house, and of course, ended up getting a little lost along the way. Good thing though, because it gave me a chance to walk by the central square and see the streets filled with warm light and colorful decorations. It was a beautiful walk despite my condition.
When I arrived at the house, I felt like I had just walked into the setup of a play. I didn’t mind though, I was ready to help. That feeling stayed with me until about 5pm on Christmas eve, when my godfather rang a small bell to officially start the celebration. From that point on, I began to see where my own family’s Christmas tradition came from.
From the 24th to the 26th, more relatives had come, and the traditions I had known from home were carried out over more time and more emotional intensity. I also had the chance to finally catch up on sleep. However, the highlights for me, as they’ve always been, were conversations with my godfather. And this time around, with some of my cousins also. We talked largely about work, culture and meaning. I can’t remember everything word for word, but the essence was as follows:
- You work in order to create and support your private life. But you shouldn’t loath or love your work either.
- About culture, if you want to really work in a foreign country, you have to learn not only the language, but the culture. And by default, adopt at least part of it. (This has been a big question for me since I left China the first time. Do I really want to do that?)
- About meaning, you need to at least know it in order to celebrate it. Like so many, including my godfather, have said about Christmas.
On the 27th, I joined some of my cousins for a 12 hour Lord of the Rings marathon. A story I can relate to. It was great to watch it once again, despite the length, and the resultant lack of sleep once again.
From the 28th to the 30th, I spent time in Regensburg visiting some of my other relatives once again. The highlights there were dinner in a Chinese restaurant (which immediately reminded me of the dinner I had the previous year in a German restaurant in Anting), and running 5km with one of my uncles.
Upon leaving Regensburg on the 31st, bound for Milan once again, I pondered why this trip had felt so different. Maybe it was just a timing thing. This trip wasn’t the best planned one, as everything since arriving in Milan has been. But then again, even if it was, I think it would still have somehow been different.
My return to Milan was really important thanks to the presense of a German girl I met on the train who had moved to South Tirol (a German speaking part of Italy). We told each other our stories of how we ended up in Italy, and kept each other occupied until her stop in Bolzano. Her story was so familiar to me. Though we shared a lot of thoughts and I felt I learned a lot, one sentence she said really stood out. Roughly translated:
“Some people you just can’t help. They want to live the life they have. Even if you could do something, it wouldn’t help.”
Once again, I’ve heard something like that before, just not so blunt.
…
When I arrived at the apartment, I was greeted by my roommates,… and four others. My Chilean roommate was preparing a New Year’s dinner for us all. It was a nice evening of meeting new people and sharing some good “Italian” food.
As a group, we didn’t really know where we wanted to be when the clock struck twelve, and when some of us did decide, we were already too late to make it on time. The story of my life. So, at midnight, Italian time, seven of us celebrated the new year on metro line 3. We made the best of it, inviting the others in our car to join in. It was fun.
When we arrived at our stop, we just walked around a bit until we found an activity to take part in. And the first one we found was ice skating. One of my Lativan roommates and I strapped on our rented skates, and lapped the crowd of Italians on the small skating rink while throwing snowballs at each other. Ah, wintersport.
It was by far the strangest new year’s experience I had ever had, but good nonetheless.
…
Upon returning to my apartment on January 1st, I encountered an old Italian man in the metro station by the name of Hadriano. He just wanted directions at first (something I still have some trouble giving in Italian), but when he asked where I was from and I replied “Alberta, Canada”, he guessed my city. When I asked him how he knew, he said he had an opportunity to work there once, but passed it up to go to Taiwan and Thailand and teach. He later told me that he has since learned Mandarin and that his birth day was the same as mine (albeit 46 years older)! This had to more than a coincidence, so we exchanged numbers and said we would celebrate together. What a way to start the new year.
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