On The Road

I have been back home for over a week and my mind is still a tangled mess. Memories of the trip crash through me like trains, country after country flashing by, information overload making it hard to breathe. Friends ask if I traveled alone or with someone. I laugh, alone it is easy, free, I go wherever I want, follow my whims. But with friends it is another world, you have to think about them, about time, about whether your laughter is too loud. But the memories, the memories explode like streetlights, little sparks everywhere.

I thought I was low energy. Not true. I am low energy for socializing. Walking all day, fine. Hiking, sure. Running around, no problem. But spending long stretches with people, talking, laughing, coordinating, waiting, oh, my heart gets tired. My body can handle it but my soul gets drained. At night, lying down, I feel hollowed out. So I have learned to breathe alone, to find my rhythm in the chaos.

Nature hits me hardest. Big stretches of green, deep blue lakes, like a brushstroke on my heart. Museums, galleries, thick with history, dazzling with culture, sometimes make my chest jump. I realize I am a romantic at heart, always struck by beauty. Nordic waters, Swiss mountains, Lisbon sunshine, they all whisper feeling matters more than the itinerary.

London, fast paced, lousy weather, not for living, but always something new to see. Stockholm hit me the moment I landed, Nordic sophistication, everyone seems like they walked straight out of a book. Switzerland, mountains and nature ruling everything, my favorite, intense impact, though city life a bit dull. Munich, meh, plain. Berlin, beyond expectation, calm and gentle, life pleasantly slow. Paris, old place, new feelings, needs to be savored slowly. Lisbon, though I have lived here a year, feels different with friends, everyone sees it in a new color. Cobbled streets hurt your feet, slow pace, bright sunshine, I love it completely.

I am on the road, my steps bouncing through cities, my heart swaying between nature and culture. I am a traveler, an observer, shaken by the world, caressed by sunlight, lightly bumped by strangers. Every road, every city, every encounter is like coffee, bitter, warm. Memories swirl in my mind, slowly digesting, slowly entering my blood, slowly becoming my breath.

回到家已经一个多星期了，脑子还是乱成一团麻， 旅行的记忆像火车，轰隆隆地撞来撞去，国家一站一站地闪过，信息量大得让人喘不过气。 朋友问我，这次是自己走还是和谁一起，我笑，自己走自在，想去哪就去哪， 随心所欲，但和朋友在一起，又是另一番世界——得想着别人，想着时间，想着笑声会不会太响， 可回忆呢，回忆多得像街头的灯火，碰撞出小火花。

我原以为自己是低能量者，其实不对，我是社交低能量者。走一天路？没问题。爬山？没事。奔波？ 随便。可是和人长时间在一起，聊、笑、协调、等待，哎，心里累。身体可以撑，但灵魂会累， 晚上躺下，整个人像被掏空一样。于是学着独自呼吸，在喧嚣里找自己的节奏。

自然震撼我，大片绿色，深蓝色的湖水，像画笔直接在心上涂抹。博物馆、画廊，厚重的历史、 闪耀的文化，有时候也能让我心脏一颤。我才知道，自己是个浪漫主义者，总是被美感击中。 北欧的水、瑞士的山、里斯本的阳光，像在对我说：感受比行程更重要。

我在路上，脚步在城市间跳跃，心在自然和文化里摇摆，我是旅者，也是观察者，被世界震撼， 被阳光抚摸，被陌生人轻轻撞击。每一段路，每一个城市，每一次遇见，都像咖啡，苦涩又温暖， 记忆在脑里搅动，慢慢消化，慢慢流进血液，慢慢成为呼吸。