Travel, Everyday, Essay
It’s New Year. ‘Let’s work less and earn a lot this year’ ‘Let’s be healthy’ ‘Let’s quit smoking’ ‘Let’s study’ and ‘Let’s do new work’. All are promises that will be completely forgotten by December 31st. Between December and January, the irony of people who patted their shoulders for their hard work casually shouts harder every year. No matter how much I try to enjoy, the end of the year and the beginning of the year are not forever. This year is not over for me yet, but the atmosphere that keeps urging me to end this here is sometimes uncomfortable.
December always comes suddenly and passes through vain. After spending a year in the form of leaving work and leaving behind a lot of work, I feel as if I was deceived by the world. As the sun changes, it resets our surroundings and encourages us to start a new game, but time always leaves us in place and runs away. There are many people around me who start the new year on December 32, 33 or 13.
In the movie “Wild”, there is a scene in which an expert who walks the Pacific Crest trail, which is more than 4,000 kilometers, takes the burden of the protagonist, tears the finished part of the guidebook apart. It means that you don’t need a map of the road that has already passed. Travelers who still think of guidebooks as insurance will agree, but books are also very useful tools for travel, but they are often indispensable baggage. As an aside, the Lonely Planet guidebook “India” is thicker than brick and safe enough to be used as a weapon in case of crisis (?). It is said that he went to tears one chapter one by one (the Lonely Planet guidebook, which often appeared when Jun-yeol Ryu traveled to Cuba, also became thinner as time passed).
Returning to the movie, it is not the protagonist’s will to increase the weight of the road that has already passed, but the will of others. This scene is even more salty after reading someone’s commentary that it reduces the weight of the backpack and increases the burden of the heavy heart that the protagonist is carrying. It is certainly not easy to cut off the time you have been in the past. Like it or not, time in the past drifts away in the present. Seeing the people who entered the year 2020, drastically tearing up the time of 2019, having a bustle at the end of the year and the beginning of the year, I thought I was doing that difficult task very well.
I saw a scene in a television entertainment program asking a young child whether morning is good or night is good. The extremely simple question felt fresh because most children answered that breakfast was good unexpectedly. The vast majority of adults who live 24 hours in the dichotomy of commuting wait for the night. It’s because night is not particularly good, but a body free after work usually meets the night. I also seem to have been crushed by the weight of duty in the morning since I started my social life. Time is extremely private, but sometimes we are not free in the cycle of time. When you live locked up in a clock and a calendar, some people run out of time, sometimes 24 hours are short, so every day is troublesome and troublesome, and the morning comes too quickly.
It was twenty-nine years old that had the most lively year-end of my life. On December 31st, she was thirty in front of the London Eye. Under firecrackers and twinkling lights, they hug and kiss strangers and were caught in the gap between foreigners. Was it because of the exciting atmosphere around me? Celebrating the new year has never been so overwhelming, and I was thrilled to see how much fun would be unfolding for me at 30. It was like the heart of a child waiting for the morning. Looking back, the reason I was able to have such a heart at the time was because I spent the year most fully. While living in London for a year as a stranger, I had a gift-like morning every day, and I was looking forward to tomorrow rather than today. Of course, I was convinced that such days would continue next year.
The journey draws from the past and the future that has not come, and brings it to the present.
Faced with this sentence Kim Young-ha said in his travel book, I belatedly understood the strange New Year’s feelings I had experienced at the time. During my stay in London, I lived a year to the present. I did not think of the past and the future that did not come. I was confused about how to have fun, saving every moment of the day I could not come again. The daily worries of Nordic people, who have the highest happiness index in the world, are ‘What kind of flower should I put in a vase today?’ Ramen, for me at the time, ‘What shall I play with tomorrow?’ and ‘Which city shall I go to next month?’