One extremely notable characteristic of my gap year was the wild fluctuations in living conditions. I began by living in a comfortable apartment in the world's champagne region, then an unheated half-constructed attic without a flushing toilet. I flew from New Year's fireworks in a polished Abu Dhabi hotel to tents on rainy Kilimanjaro, where dry feet became my new definition of luxury. Most of Thailand was standard hostels and hotels. Then, one night, through a wild turn of events, I ended up sitting on the top floor of a Chiang Mai jazz bar with four Chinese work friends on the final days of their visit. I had been planning to leave soon, yet somehow, I had a lunch date with them the following day. Lunch was actually a long, luxurious excursion, followed by tea, then dinner. The whole [[food|"Parts Unknown" vibe]] that usually dominated my culinary adventures was nowhere to be seen. ~ Despite being outwardly Chinese, for all intensive cultural purposes, I'm closer to Canadian than anything else — a fact forming a vicious cycle with how long I've been away. The longer I've refused to go back, the harder it is to go. FaceTime calls, occasionally overheard gossip, dim sum and family meals provided mere glimpses, temporary previews of a culture that should be familiar and is realistically foreign. Like hearing a language that one only knew how to read beforehand, or seeing a painting in real life for the first time, adventuring around with these four strangers was an unexpected, welcome surprise crash course in Chinese customs (and an extreme amount of roasting for my horrid Mandarin). I think part of what has made this year cool is the extremes — from rural France to bustling London; from the constructions of the UAE to the nature in Tanzania; from the familiarity of travelling with my parents to the solitude of solo-backpacking. This whole escapade — a limited, short, cold plunge into what it might be like to have been raised Chinese instead of Chinese-Canadian — was an extreme cultural contrast from my Western social circle. We hunted for durians, always ate family-style, and fought over bills. Little snapshot turned full landscape. I felt familiar, yet unfamiliar. Comforted, but challenged. I enjoyed every second of it. I owe these friends a lot — two nights' sleep in their hotel, lots of making sure that I was okay, a huge amount of food, Mandarin practice — enough to break the cycle and book a ticket to Shanghai for this summer.