生，活／Life on the road

我从小厌恶漂泊。我会为了稳定或者纯粹是懒得争取而放弃机会。结果呢，进了住宿高中，出国念大学，从一个遥远的地方去往另一个更远的地方。
也许我的偏好改变了，也许没有。小学有一阵子，我的主要课外书（厕所／饭桌／午休）是《生存手册》。我还记得宝盒里的火石和锯条，记得怎么用树叶或细枝搭建庇护所，记得给鹿放血时的注意事项，梦想着有一天能拥有一颗 β 灯。在那之前是《福尔摩斯全集》，之后是《科幻世界》。
但我从来不喜欢出远门。行李，充电，舒适与轻量的权衡，回家之后的空虚感。在外面住久了，适应周围的环境后，又难免对居所产生依恋，临走时打包分外困难，不知道能丢下什么，不知道往后的生活里会思念什么。
此时写下这几行字，那些被丢在了日本的东西又浮上心头，冲刷过我的视野。

I hated drifting much since I was a kid. I would trade opportunity for stability or was simply too lazy to try. It just turned out I entered a boarding high school, went abroad for college, from a distant place to another farther place.
Maybe my preferences have changed, maybe not. For a while in elementary school, my main reading (toilet/dining table/noon break) was the SAS Survival Handbook. I still remember the flint and flexible saw in the survival kit, how to build a shelter with leaves or twigs, or the significant steps when bleeding a deer, and I still dream of having a beta light one day. Before that was the Complete Sherlock Holmes, followed by Science Fiction World.
But I never liked to travel far. The baggage, the charging, the trade-off between comfort and lightweight, the sense of emptiness when back home. After living outside for a long time, after adapting to the surroundings, it is inevitable to form some attachment to the residence, and makes it difficult to pack when leaving. Don’t know what to leave behind, don’t know what will be missed in the future.
As I write these words, things that I have left in Japan float onto my mind, and rush down my vision.

然而很讽刺地，正是这几年的漂泊，定义了我现在的模样。
以前看过一本漫画，叫《妻は他人（妻子是陌生人）》，里面讲了作者和妻子在澳大利亚打工度假的时候主食是肉和芒果，在老家几乎每天都吃鱼，公寓附近开了新的便利店就时不时吃方便面（P27）。当时我想，真好啊，我总有一天也要成为这样，到哪儿都能适应生存的人。而，不知不觉间，我已经是了。
曾经断舍离、极简主义风行，我却总是割舍不下许多东西。结果呢，一个人跨国搬家，电子化一切纸质材料，最后托运还是超重了好几千人民币。到了新宿舍安定下来，发现过去的几年生活，几乎没有留下什么行李体积上的痕迹。
我想我在本质上并不是一个极简主义者。在国内的家里，我的书占领了两墙顶天立地的书柜和书房的小半地面，然而半年前我塞进行李箱的书，只有三五本文库小说和一本二手的专业大部头。书是我为漂泊所作的最后的、也是最难的牺牲。
……谁知道呢？
如果有一天，我漂泊的生活指引我摒弃电子产品，我会拥抱它吗？

Ironically, however, it is the drifting of the past years that defines who I am now.
I have read a manga called My Wife is A Stranger. When the author and his wife were taking a working holiday in Australia (P27), their staple food were meat and mango. He ate fish almost every day in his hometown. And when nearby their apartment opens a new convenience store, he bought instant noodle from time to time. I thought while reading the book, whoa, I have to be like that someday, to be able to survive anywhere. Well, all in a sudden, I am already.
Once when Danshari and minimalism were hot, I was so unable to give up any thing. In the end, I managed to move abroad alone. After scanning almost all handouts and notes, the checked luggage was still overweight for thousands of RMB. When I finally arrived at my new dormitory, I found that the past few years had hardly left any trace of luggage volume.
I guess I am not a minimalist in nature. In my home back in China, my book occupied the bookshelves of two complete walls and almost half of the floor of the study. However, half a year ago, what were stuffed into my luggage were several bunkobons and one huge second-handed specialized book. Cutting off the books was the last and most difficult sacrifice I made for the drifting.
…But who knows?
If one day, my wandering life guides me to abandoning all of my electronic products, will I embrace it?

我总是在计划着，梦想着，等有一天拥有了自己的房子，可以不用再扔东西，可以塞满书柜，可以放一阳台的花盆……我曾经拥有过；我几乎要拥有了，如果留在日本读研工作的话家人会支持我买房的——然而收到波恩的录取信之后，着了魔一般，这一切都被我抛到脑后去了。
留在欧洲也曾在我的列表上，然而从某天起，对洛杉矶的憧憬盖过了我对美国的成见，盖过了我对好不容易安定下来的留恋，开始对我大吼大叫。
可能，也许，我最终还是喜欢漂泊的。

I’ve been always planning, dreaming, waiting to have my own house one day. When I don’t have to throw anything away, when I can stuff my bookcase, when I can put a thousand flower pots on the balcony… I once had it; I almost had it, If I stayed in Japan for graduate study and work, my family would support me to buy a house – but after receiving the admission letter from Bonn, I was enchanted, and all of those was left behind my head.
Staying in Europe used to be on my list too. However, from some certain day, the charm of Los Angeles overshadowed my prejudice against the US, overshadowed my reluctance to settle down, and began to yell at me.
Maybe, after all, I still like drifting.