The Unruly Foreign Adventures

This is a city that has contrast embedded in its roots. I chose this destination for my foreign exchange without much thought, just knowing it had a good university and a completely different culture from mine. Yet, I was surprisingly welcomed to an amazing city with amazing nature. This is where the balance begins. The name Hong Kong even has a yin yang sound to it. From the cityscapes to the landscapes, from the richest of rich to the poorest of poor. The city is intensely diverse, you have everything you might want or need.

This is the start of The Unruly Foreign Adventures, where we go on a journey through the power struggle between democracy, freedom of speech, liberty vs communism, authoritarianism, regulation, and censorship. Let the semester begin...

My journey led me to South Korea—a land where ancient traditions and cutting-edge technology coexist harmoniously. In Seoul, the vibrant culture was evident in the bustling streets, where neon-lit skyscrapers stood alongside historical palaces like Gyeongbokgung. The city's markets, especially Gwangjang Market with its vibrant food stalls, stood out. An old lady there served up traditional Korean dishes that left a lasting impression. The energy was infectious, and South Koreans sure know how to party. Shout out to Soju-Bombs—if you haven't heard of them, look it up; it's worth it.

Yet, beneath this lively exterior lies a society grappling with social pressure, where looking good and excelling are paramount. The "work hard, play harder" ethos was palpable, with excessive drinking often serving as an escape from daily stress. One morning, after a night out, I ventured to a nearby convenience store for water, feeling under-dressed compared to the impeccably styled locals—a testament to the pressure to maintain appearances, even on quick convenience store runs. While the pressure was there, the style was definitely appreciated and admired.

I stayed at Jin's Paradise, a hostel run by the incredibly charismatic Jin. Jin was a one-of-a-kind, crazy Korean, and a tremendous host. He even challenged me to a push-up contest in a wager for the next round of beers.

Of course he won. He hustled me, in a fun and inviting way. Standing a couple inches lower than me and being way skinnier than me. He made it look as if it wasn't something that he did often and that he wasn't as fit as it seemed, but his time in the military taught him discipline and how to do really good push-ups. Of course I learned this after the fact of him beating me by doing around 50 something pushups. No breaks. Strict form.

He would often chat about how everyone would go out hard but still rise early to hike around Seoul's scenic trails. This love for nature was evident in how the city was intertwined with nature.

Beyond the urban sprawl, I found solace in the serene landscapes of South Korea. The tranquil beauty of Baekyangsa Temple in Jangseong County, with its serene Buddhist retreats, offered a stark contrast to the bustling city life. The temple stay left lasting life lessons, that I still to this day remember fondly. Don't always use a knife to cut, or you will become a knife.

As the unrest grew, signs of the protests started to arise in everyday life.

Infinite climbing and infinite tufas, a climbing term for stalactites. This is where I learned to start to truly climb and what a place to embrace the learning. This is why the catalog is titled TUFA. As it is the fine balance between fun adventure and chaotic disorder of my study abroad.

Japan was life-changing. I was absolutely astonished by the level of detail embedded in every aspect of daily life. From gardeners trimming leaves one by one, to construction workers smoothing out dirt with their own feet—it felt like every action, no matter how small, was done with care.

Trains ran to the second. There were officers stationed just to help you cross the train tracks. Everything was designed, executed, and maintained with such a sense of precision, presence, and pride. And to be honest, it was a breath of fresh air.

I've always appreciated attention to detail and craft. It's something that brings me a lot of joy. So to be immersed in a culture where that wasn't just a niche trait but a collective value—it was nothing short of extraordinary. It wasn't just individuals—it was a whole way of being. A culture that respects its craft, its systems, its people. Everything felt intentional. Well thought-out. Well made. But what truly blew me away was how this precision and care extended beyond process—it showed up in the beauty of everyday design. Japan doesn't just function well—it's beautiful in how it functions. From the modern lines of the Port of Yokohama to the timeless charm of Kyoto's hidden corners, even the smallest villages felt carefully composed, like they belonged to something larger.

There's a reverence for things. For space. For the way a garden is shaped, a dish is plated, a sign is painted. And it's not pretentious—it's just part of the culture. A quiet commitment to excellence that left me with a deep sense of peace and satisfaction. I'd go back in a heartbeat. And I will—because there's still more to learn.

The whole experience was eye-opening. When we stay in our cities, surrounded by the familiar, it's easy to think this is just how life is. We forget that the way we live isn't the only way. We stop feeling like foreigners. We stop being curious. But stepping into another culture reminds you: there are countless valid ways to be human. To build. To love. To work. To care. And the real magic comes when you start asking— What should I take back with me?

From Japan, I take back their deep respect for one another. Their precision in action. Their craftsmanship in the everyday. And their quiet, powerful attention to detail. Next time I travel, I'll carry this lens with me: What do I love about the culture I'm visiting? What values, practices, or mindsets are worth bringing home? And what do I learn about myself—my culture, my values, my way of being—in contrast? Because that's the real gift of going somewhere new. Not just seeing the world, but letting the world change how you see.

Tear gas in dorm rooms. Universities under siege by the police. Full-on riots across the city. Eventually, the 2019 extradition bill protests hit a breaking point.

This was the moment the university told us to go back home and do school remotely—before remote was even a thing back in 2019.

What you see in these pictures is the aftermath of full-fledged riots in front of the HKUST campus, as well as some shots from inside the HKU campus. These pictures are historical. They're part of one of the craziest things I've ever witnessed in my life. It made me realize that freedoms we often take for granted—like freedom of speech—aren't a given in all countries. In many places, they're a luxury, not a right. That experience made me appreciate the life we live so much more.

Some details to focus on from these pictures:

– You can see riot police confronting a poor man who's just trying to cross the bridge, on what would have been another day in the life.

– Some of the protesters are standing in the background, watching the police from afar, observing how they move and behave.

– The streets are covered in thousands of bricks—the aftermath of full-on chaos.

– Inside the university, it looked like a castle prepared for war. Graffiti covered the walls. Bricks were stacked and lined up, ready to be thrown out through the windows. Supplies were scattered throughout—students had planned to last inside for days. Makeshift barricades were built facing the entrances to stop police from storming in. The HKU metro station was completely vandalized.

This was the moment when, amidst the chaos, I decided to make the most of the situation—and started traveling all around Southeast Asia. Everything was happening outside of my control. There wasn't anything else I could do to support the efforts against the extradition bill.

I want to be clear—I don't condone vandalism or violence in any way. The escalation of these riots is a clear example of what happens when peaceful protests spiral out of control. That said, the right to speak freely is fundamental. That right has been taken away from Hong Kong. Unfortunately, it looks like it will stay that way. It's part of their new national laws now.

Before I left, I asked the local students at the university: "What can I do? What can we do to help?" Their answer was simple: "First Hong Kong. Then the world." And just like that, my university exchange was over.

I immediately packed my bags and was off traveling. After the protests escalated, HKUST announced it was closing for the semester. It didn't take me more than five minutes to start getting ready—I wanted to make the most of what was left of exchange.

First stop was Beijing, and the only place I repeated during the semester: Yangshuo.

I left for China envisioning a mega city. I got to see what a mega city really is—total control. Forced rain with the government literally controlling when it rains to reduce the pollution in the air. Control over what family life looks like. How many kids or pets you should have. It's wild.

Then there's the entrance into China itself—the amount of cameras, the innate feeling of being watched. It's something you can feel distinctly as you move through the country. It was a truly unique experience, one I hadn't felt anywhere else before.

Then it was back to Yangshuo—this time, solo. There's something interesting about traveling truly alone. You meet people you never thought you would—or never knew you would. Everyone carries their own stories, their own versions of how to live. It's infinite, really. And it gives you perspective.

You get to know not just the world, but also about the world—through the people you meet along the way. You go to one destination, but you learn about seven or eight more—however many stories you cross paths with.

That's something I really came to appreciate during my time in China. Climbing with different people, having different climbing partners—I learned what different lives can look like, and what it might mean to live a "good life" in someone else's shoes. So when I travel now, and I meet people along the way, it always feels like there's something to learn—from the different eyes you meet along the journey.

We heard sirens from the windows, and helicopters above. After China, it was a quick pit stop back in Hong Kong to pack the rest of my things and leave them with a friend from the exchange—she was actually my onboarding buddy (thank you Sonia). The day I was there we hung out at a friend's apartment all day, hiding from the chaos below us. We swapped stories, we laughed and just like that we were off again. The plan: meet up with the rest of our exchange crew in the Philippines, specifically, El Nido on the island of Palawan.

From the moment we arrived, the place felt oddly familiar—an unruly yet somehow organized chaos that reminded me of Mexico's energy, only in an Asian setting. It was gorgeous: white sandy beaches, jagged black-and-grey limestone cliffs shooting straight out of a deep-blue sea. It felt like something straight out of a movie, with sailing tours that threaded between the monumental mountains.

Misadventures¹ blended right in with the postcard moments, and together they're what made the Philippines unforgettable. The photos alone still spark the itch to explore, to chase the next horizon, and to remember how alive it feels to be somewhere completely new.

Travel has a way of humbling you. We spend so much of our lives in our immediate circles that we forget there's an entire world around us we've never seen. We're naive to think we know so much when in reality, we barely know anything at all. The more you travel, the more you realize how much beauty there is for us to experience—and how much richer it all feels when shared with friends you make along the way. There's something to be said about group dynamics, about truly enjoying those around you and making the absolute most of it. Sharing these experiences, rather than living them alone, makes every moment feel deeper, more meaningful, and simply more satisfying.

So why stay put? Whether it's halfway across the globe or two neighborhoods over, the point is to explore. Try things. Keep your curiosity and your sense of wonder present. For me, this trip was a first real taste of remoteness: sunsets that dyed the sky every color you can name, islands that looked hand-painted, and a reminder that the spark of exploration only dies if you let it.

Next stop Bohol and of course, chaos tagged along. One afternoon our tiny rental car slowly sank into the muddy road. Our tires spun but the car wouldn't budge an inch. We tried everything—rocks and logs under the tires, all three friends pushing with all our might—but it wouldn't move. With no signal, we could only wait and appreciate the landscape.

Soon we heard an approaching vroom of an engine. A gang of kids, no older than twelve years old, rolled up on a couple of motorbikes, and with the kindness of their hearts (and probably a bit of motivation from the fact that we had a pretty girl with us), they jumped in to help. Five kids plus three muddy college students later, we trudged the car through the mud, inch by inch, until it slowly came free—to our surprise and excitement. They even guided us to their aunt's place to hose the whole thing down so the rental company wouldn't leave us bankrupt for the mess. To them, that was the reward. The good deed, of course—but let's be honest, they also got a spectacle. They watched spellbound as we washed the car. Prime entertainment for a 12-year-old kid: a college girl in a bikini, washing down a muddy rental. It still makes me laugh nostalgically to this day. And to their point… she was pretty good-looking.

The Philippines was the last place where this group of exchange friends was all together before we dispersed into our individual future travels and eventually headed home. Watching a stunning sunset amid what was supposed to be an impending storm felt like a perfect parallel to what the semester had been—a beautiful, chaotic adventure coming to a close. I long for those days: exploring new horizons, living experiences that feel endless, and doing it all surrounded by friends who made every moment unforgettable.

So—where will your next adventure take you?

¹ Speaking of memorable experiences, one day we had quite the misadventure. We rented scooters and spent the day at the beach—swimming, body surfing, and enjoying drinks in the sun. As dusk fell, we watched a beautiful sunset over the ocean, but as we prepared to head back, we realized our scooter's headlight wouldn't turn on. After multiple attempts (and removing everything we could), we accepted it was completely dead. We spent the next 30 nerve-wracking minutes driving across the island in near-total darkness, using only our cell phone lights to stay visible to cars. Luckily, the road wasn't heavily populated, and we made it back safely—but let this be a reminder: always double-check your rentals!

Thailand will always hold a special place in my heart. It was the place where I spent the most time after my study abroad forcefully ended. I say forcefully because of everything that had happened with the protests. That's why I ended up spending so much time there, and it's where I continued to expand one of the biggest passions I had at the time: climbing.

I had been looking forward to this stop the entire semester. The famous Tonsai Beach, where towering limestone cliffs rise right from the shoreline. Waves crashing against the sand while you're up above on the limestone walls. It is world-class and iconic. This was the place I had been dreaming about, talking to friends about, and where I had even been recommended to meet a local guide named Maxi.

And sure enough, when the ferry pulled in, because you can only arrive by boat, there he was.

Believe it or not, he was the very first person I saw. I stepped off the ferry with luggage in both hands, mine in one and a friend's in the other, and looked up. There was Maxi, sitting on a rodeo line strung between two palm trees, at least 50 meters long, perfectly balanced as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He looked down at me and said, "Do you want to try?"

That pretty much set the tone for Thailand.

This place was transformative. I met more people. I was in this state of mind of climbing, reflecting, and thinking about life and what life means. Trying to make sense of the world around me.

The climbing itself was incredible. It was terrifying in the best possible way. You could hear the powerful sound of the waves crashing below you while the breeze from the beach hit your face. Your forearms were burning as you reached for the next hold under the blistering Thailand sun. It was exhausting, beautiful, and completely worth it.

But that was exactly it. Everybody there was there to climb. That shared goal of climbing, and knowing everybody had flown across the world just to make it there for that one activity, was what made this place so beautiful. I met people from all around the world, and we were all connected by the same passion.

What Thailand really taught me was this. Let your passions drive you. Let them shine, and live them fully, to the max. The things you like are part of your soul. They are part of who you are. But you can't figure out what your passions are without trying. You have to go explore. You have to experiment. You have to discover what you actually care about.

People always say that if you find your passion at work, you'll never work a day in your life. Maybe that's true. But I don't think it has to be just about work. Your passions can also exist outside of it. Work can be one passion. Climbing can be another. Photography can be another. You don't have to have just one.

The important part is that you live life passionately.

Because if you aren't, then what are you doing?

You're living life with the handbrake on. You're living life a little muted, without its full colors, without all of its notes.

That's what I loved about Thailand. Even though my semester was technically still ongoing and I was taking my classes remotely, all of that craziness was being contrasted by these incredible experiences that I never would have experienced without that chaos. Looking back, I don't think I would change any of it.

Sometimes you don't know what's ahead of you. Sometimes you just have to trust that whatever is unfolding is the right thing, make the most of it, and live passionately through it.

To close off the Thailand experience, we headed back to Bangkok before continuing the rest of our study abroad. The next stop would be Vietnam, but first we spent a couple of days in this insane megacity.

Bangkok was as chaotic as it gets. It made me appreciate just how difficult it is to organize a country and a society at that scale. Organizing chaos is hard, and Bangkok was a living example of that.

Unfortunately, I had to spend almost an entire day finishing my final ethics report, specifically on The Banality of Evil by Hannah Arendt. But it was also the very last piece of homework I had to do for my study abroad. Once I finished it, I could finally close my laptop and simply live the rest of the trip.

Honestly, I had procrastinated on it for most of the semester anyway. And by then I was so obsessed with climbing that I didn't really care about spending a day in Bangkok doing homework. I was just happy to finish it and move on.

And that's how Thailand came to an end.

A place full of passion, reflection, incredible people, and some of the best climbing I've ever experienced.

So I'll leave you with this. What are your passions? Are you doing enough of them? Do you not have any yet? How can you go find them?

Think a little bit about who you were as a kid. What did you enjoy doing? Can you explore a little more of those things? Those interests are ingrained in you. They're fundamental to who you are.

And if you still don't know what your passions are, that's okay too. It's simply a matter of trying. Keep exploring, keep saying yes to new experiences, and sooner or later, the things you truly love will appear.

The journal continued with the rest of Thailand, but our next stop was Vietnam.

Spending Christmas in Vietnam was the first time I had ever spent Christmas away from family. It was interesting trying to experience Christmas so far away from home. It made me realize that Christmas is really a construct of Western society, and that in a lot of places in the East, it's not such a big deal. It simply doesn't exist. It's just another day. It reminded me that some of the things we think are so important aren't as universal as we imagine.

I also got to experience Ha Long Bay, and while it was beautiful, it was quite touristy. It reminded me that there are other places nearby that aren't as touristy and have the same, if not even more, beauty than Ha Long Bay. It taught me the importance of always keeping an open mind for what you can see and looking for the paths less traveled that often lead to greater riches. Sometimes the touristy places are worth it, but in this case, there was so much more to experience through the nearby islands and smaller places that most people skip.

The adventures continued as we explored more of Vietnam. We visited bustling cities like Hue and Da Nang and spent time on the beaches along the coast. We even spent New Year's there, and unlike Christmas, New Year's is celebrated everywhere.

That night also gave me glimpses of what my life used to be back in Mexico. Andrea, Uli and I ended up at a club, something I hadn't done in years. I realized how much I just don't enjoy clubs anymore. I think I only did it back then because it was the only thing to do. But now, after seeing so much more of the world, you begin to grow out of certain things.

What I enjoyed the most was continuing to meet so many people along the way. Through climbing and through all of these experiences, I truly felt like I was getting to know the world through the people I met, their stories, and their lives. I felt the shared humanness between all of us. Even though there are so many cultural differences, in the end we're all the same. It's just that the dimmer switches of our personalities and cultures are set differently depending on where you are and how you grew up. It's a little different, but it's also a lot of the same.

That gave me a lot of empathy and perspective for everyone around me. So when was the last time you learned about a different culture? When was the last time you stopped to think about what's unique and strong about your own culture? How can you bring the strengths of where you come from into your own personality? And how can you adopt some of the strengths from other cultures to grow in the areas where you're weaker? That's how we become better people, and ultimately, how we build stronger communities and a better society.

Vietnam was also the last place I saw my friends from exchange. It felt like the closing chapter of it all and the beginning of the end. As I said my last goodbyes, I found myself reminiscing about everything the semester had been and everything I had lived through. Looking back, I realized that I had experienced something truly life changing. I had lived what I would genuinely call an adventure.

That brought me to my final week, traveling completely by myself through Southeast Asia to finish off these adventures.

Next thing I knew, I was in the middle of a pick up tuk-tuk, lying down on the bed of the mini truck where they carry produce and supplies, looking up at the stars as I made my way to the climbing hostel in the middle of the mountains.

Laos was the last stop on my trip before heading back to Hong Kong and eventually heading home. The only way to get there from Vietnam, at least for a broke exchange student like me, was by bus. Along the way, I got to meet people from completely different worlds than mine, and yet they still felt familiar. We still shared the same things. Even when there was a complete language barrier and we had to talk through Google Translate, you could still laugh together and enjoy each other's company. In this case, I was dying laughing as the local Laotian driver and his helper kept making fun of each other because one of them had a black eye.

As I arrived at the hostel, I got to the last place on this adventure. Once again, I was surrounded by people who were there for one reason: climbing. It was climb, sleep, repeat, and that was it. Everybody was on the same schedule. There were people of all ages, from people in the later stages of their lives who were still going hard and doing their thing, to younger people like me. There were barely any kids, except for one family who had brought their children along. Yet I never questioned anyone's age. We were all one and the same. We were united by this one passion that was climbing, traveling thousands of kilometers just to do this one sport.

As I got there by myself, it was interesting because up until then, everything I had done had been with friends. I thought it might be hard to figure out what to do now that I was on my own. Yet almost immediately, I met somebody who had lived in the same small town in Tennessee where I had lived, and he also didn't have a climbing partner. We became partners for the rest of the trip.

That was the thing about being by yourself. You actually got to meet other people and hear the stories they had to tell. It's through that discomfort that you seek comfort in other people and end up meeting them. It's such a great way to meet the people around you and make groups of friends that you never thought you would, from all walks of life.

All of this happened with only the simplest of plans. I had my climbing gear, the location of where I wanted to stay, and that was it. I didn't even know how I was going to get back, and yet it all fell into place.

I kept enjoying my time, resting, climbing, and exploring the mountains of Laos, and the days just flew by.

One thing I won't forget about Laos is that, as I was climbing and making my way up a route, I was on the hardest route I had ever climbed. I was so close to redpointing it, which means climbing it from bottom to top without falling and without having practiced the moves beforehand. It would have been the hardest grade I had ever climbed.

As I fell, I lost it. I lost it, but truly lost it. I was pissed off. I shouted, kicked, and screamed. I was so frustrated. I erupted. Eventually, I finished the route, came back down, and apologized to my partner for acting so strangely. I didn't know why I lost it like that.

Chris, the guy from Tennessee, still remembers that conversation to this day. He told me, "Yeah, man, there's just no need to apologize. It's just a lot of ego. I used to be that way too, but once you let go of all those conceptions of needing to achieve and do those things, and rather just enjoy, you don't really have those reactions anymore."

He was right.

I realized there was a lot of ego between me and enjoying climbing, and a lot of growing that I still had to do. Looking back now at 28, there are still flashes of that person every now within but the reaction is now under my control. I realize the maturity of learning to let go. Letting go of that ego has allowed me to enjoy climbing, and any activity, for what it really is: just climbing. Just having fun.

Before I knew it, it was my last day. I needed to schedule a bus back to Da Nang, where I would fly back to Hong Kong. I borrowed a friend's motorcycle to go into town and find Wi-Fi because there was no signal where we were staying.

I headed into town, booked the bus, and started riding back. On the way back, I saw one of the most beautiful sunsets I've ever seen. Purple skies painted across the mountains, the wind howling in my ears as I rode the motorcycle through fields of flowers with a backdrop that was absolutely jaw-dropping. I still remember it to this day.

What made it even crazier was that I had only ridden a motorcycle once before, when I was 15 years old. Yet somehow, I still had it.

Looking back, all the things I had stressed about before leaving never really mattered. The overplanning, trying to have every little detail figured out, sometimes it's better left unplanned. Sometimes it's better to leave your options open and see what the world has to give you.

So what's the world waiting to teach you now? Are you open for it to teach you, or are you closed off to what you're used to planning? Where can you improvise a little bit more and let life take you?

I was panting as I struggled my way up the wall, hundreds of meters above the Hong Kong skyline. My arms were burning, my feet were pressing hard against the rock, and I could see the entire city beside me as I made my way into the layback, the hardest pitch of the Lion's Rock multipitch.

A layback is where you climb, usually up a crack, by using counterpressure between your hands and your feet. You're pulling hard with your hands while pushing with your feet, slowly taking pressure off your feet, inching them up, and then pulling yourself higher. You repeat that over and over again until you make it up the wall.

It is one of the most exhausting styles of climbing, and the first time I ever did it was right then and there, hundreds of meters in the air.

After coming back from Laos, I was back in Hong Kong and, of course, very fittingly, back in the middle of all of the disaster that was happening. I knew I had to close my time in Hong Kong with something iconic, so I climbed Lion's Rock with friends, where I learned how to multipitch climb for the very first time.

Lion's Rock is probably the most recognizable mountain overlooking Hong Kong. You can see it from all over the city, and from the top, you get one of the best views of the skyline.

It was a beautiful view and a beautiful climb.

When my climbing partner and I finally reached the top, I pulled out a dragon fruit, just like I always did after climbing. My arms were still tired, my hands were rough from the rock, and I remember sitting there, slowly eating it while looking out over the city.

I still remember the sweet taste to this day.

The skyline stretched out below us, the buildings packed together, the city still moving like it always did. From up there, everything looked strangely calm.

Sitting there with the dragon fruit in my hands, I couldn't help but think about how crazy the past six months had been.

I couldn't have imagined any of it. I couldn't have written it any better myself. It wasn't what I expected, and there was a lot of chaos in between, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Somewhere along the way, Hong Kong had stopped feeling foreign.

Very typical for a foreign exchange student.

Yet it wasn't your typical exchange.

So maybe I'm biased, but I truly think it was one of a kind.

As I hopped onto the metro one last time, packed shoulder to shoulder with locals, I realized something. The first time I rode it, I felt uncomfortable. I was surrounded by strangers, and everything felt foreign.

This time, I strangely felt at home.

There I was again, shoulder to shoulder with people I had never met, surrounded by the sounds of the metro and the constant movement of the city. But now it felt familiar. I knew the stops. I knew how to move through the crowds. I knew what the announcements sounded like before I even understood what they were saying.

It was a wonderful feeling because I had the privilege of calling a place as beautiful as Hong Kong home, even if it was only for a little while.

But there was also something strange happening during those last few days.

For months, the speakers throughout the Hong Kong Metro had constantly announced that wearing a mask was illegal. During the protests, people used masks to hide their faces from the cameras that were used to identify them, fine them, or even take them to jail through this kind of Big Brother-type surveillance.

Because of this, masks of any kind weren't allowed, even if you were sick.

Then, during one of my final metro rides, I heard the weirdest announcement:

"If you're feeling sick or have a fever, please wear a mask."

After months of masks not being allowed, and after months of people being arrested for wearing them, I remember looking around and thinking, "That is strange."

It turned out to be the start of COVID. It hadn't fully reached Hong Kong yet, but it was about to, as it had begun spreading in China.

Looking back, it is strange to think that I left Hong Kong just before the world shut down.

As I was finishing my experience in the middle of one historic event, an even bigger and more historic event was about to begin.

As I grabbed my bags and headed to the airport, I couldn't help but smile. I felt more comfortable in my own skin, more relaxed, and more excited for the life ahead.

And oh boy, has it been a good one.

As the plane slowly approached LAX, I looked out the window and saw the white picket fence suburbs of California. Almost immediately, I felt culture shock.

After months of living in the mountains, traveling with nothing but a backpack full of climbing gear, an extra set of clothes, the clothes on my body, and the shoes on my feet, I suddenly felt like a stranger in a strange land.

I couldn't help thinking that this must have been how Tarzan felt when he arrived in Europe.

It was a strange feeling, but looking back, it was exactly what I was hoping for.

I wanted to know what it was like to live in a different culture. I wanted to experience a different way of life. And more than anything, I wanted to come back as somebody different.

I did.

That version of me will forever be a part of who I am.

As we grow older, we tend to think those past versions of ourselves are gone. But they're not. They're still there. It's just a matter of looking.

So if you're ever feeling like you've gotten older, like you've lost that fun, adventurous side of yourself, don't forget that person is still there.

They're waiting for you.

As you go out into the world, don't forget that part of yourself that once saw wonder around every corner. Don't forget to enjoy life around the chaos that surrounds us.

And that brings me back to the beginning of this story.

At the start, I asked you to observe the chaos. To look closer and notice what was happening around me.

I still think it's important to notice those things. We should recognize the chaos, the suffering, and the bad things happening around us. We shouldn't ignore them.

But we shouldn't let them become the only things we see.

What you choose to observe in life slowly becomes the life you remember.

Of course, I had the privilege of being able to travel and get away from some of the chaos. Not everybody can do that. But even among all of the chaos that exists in the world, one of the most powerful things we have is the ability to choose where we place our attention.

So yes, observe the chaos.

Notice it.

Recognize it when it is happening.

But observe the good too.

Practice looking for it. Make a habit out of noticing it.

Because at the end of your life, you will remember what you repeatedly chose to observe.

Life becomes what you choose to notice.