For me, walking with Paul in rural Sichuan Province was a spiritual journey of discovery. Growing up, I had a lot of problems with my identity, as I was raised in two countries simultaneously. My time split between the United States and China has caused a cultural split, as I cannot fully know where I truly belong.
The divided life made me feel like a tourist in my own home. The neon of Beijing never really suited me, and the appeal of the slow Vermont countryside has never left me. I’ve felt like a traveler my whole life, never able to settle down in one place for too long. I came to understand this as the modern way of living, always on the road. However, I also came to understand that what I was running from wasn’t the places where I’ve been—but myself as a person.
If we think of life as a journey, perhaps at my young age, I’ve seen too little to understand anything much about myself. On that journey, I’ve met many others who have faced the same dilemma. They were a sort of mirror I’d use to judge myself. I once asked friends with split backgrounds like mine what they thought of Beijing and its people. The response wasn’t entirely surprising: “I hate this place and everyone here, I wish I was back in the States.” Or something along those lines.
The walking party, with Luke at back, navigates steamy farm fields and sodden hills forested by new tree growth—a result of the rural exodus to China's cities.
Walking with Paul was one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. We traveled along the rural roads of Sichuan Province, each kilometer filled with nothing but the silence of my thoughts. One night, I gazed into the heavens and saw a thousand glimmering stars. It was a sight I realized I’d hardly noticed back at my home in the Vermont hills. Every evening, we ate meals with local people, who were very lovely and surprisingly friendly to foreigners. There was one older couple, both pushing 70, and the woman, warm and energetic, was very interested in Paul and wanted to converse with him. She asked him questions about why he was doing the walk, and where he was going, and where he grew up. Witnessing and translating the conversation, I felt an indescribable emotion. Here, a woman who grew up in rural Sichuan, connecting patiently with a man of mixed origins in Mexico and the United States. It was beautiful, to say the least.
Speaking with Paul was a very pleasurable experience. I felt as though he was a man who has seen it all, and I told him so. He merely laughed and said, “No, Luke. I have not even seen half of everything.” He understood my dilemma about coming to terms with my identity, as he himself faced the same situation when he was young, growing up in Mexico and moving to the United States. He told me to cherish it, to see it as a gift. “If you can understand not one but two cultures, you can fit in anywhere.” Hearing this wisdom from a man who has embraced so many cultures in his life was truly inspiring.
Luke Luo, 17, lives in Beijing. He joined the walking trail in Sichuan with his father, Luo Xin, a historian from Peking University.