The Pacific

“Just as the sea is an open and ever flowing reality, so should our oceanic identity transcend all forms of insularity, to become one that is openly searching, inventive, and welcoming.

Epeli Hau’ofa, We Are the Ocean: Selected Works

I lived on the two extremes of the Pacific and it was never my intention. At 33, I thought I had resolved most things in life: I had a steady job in the government and parallel, I was teaching at the university, living in a small Mexican catholic town. I was in a dead end relationship with someone I thought I loved very much. However, I wasn’t happy or remotely satisfied. I cried and curled into my bed every night feeling I didn’t belong there, I had a sour taste in my mouth watching other people happiness. I accumulated a reasonable amount of debt because I couldn’t administrate my finances and I was worried about the future. Is this it? is this enough? is this the way it’s supposed to be? . Somehow life gave me another opportunity and after many nights of struggle, I decided to move far away, and for such purpose, China was the best choice, the Pacific coast of China.

The first point I reached was Narita near Tokio, where I stayed for a layover. It was my first transpacific flight and I couldn’t sleep thinking I had left all my life behind. I brought nothing but an old suitcase with a few clothes and 20 dollars on my bagpack. I remember I took a video leaving my hotel in Narita and walking towards the bus stop . I was with other students, looking for a place to eat, without any clue of where to go, laughing and exploring. That was an exciting evening and I embraced my curiosity and adventurous spirit. The next morning I took a flight to Shanghai, where we were welcomed by the university staff and taken to Wanli collegue in Ningbo.

What was supposed to be a year of studying abroad became a lifetime. The trip to Ningbo was exhausting, I couldn’t cope with the humidity of the coast and I remember my first dinner with the dishes served at the centre, a bowl of rice and a coconut milk. I didn’t know that I was going to pass that colleague everyday for the next 15 years on my way to work. I miss the sound of the dragonflies in the early morning, the recording of the public bus, the nard scent of my neighborhood, and the cleaners who were sweeping the streets and would greet with a smile, gently asking me if I had breakfast.

This morning all those memories come with nostalgia now in the other side of the Pacific, in the Mexican coast. Again, I have left all my life behind and like then, I am ready for a new beginning.