Last Sunday Vincent and I had the luxury of dining al fresco under a clear night at a beautiful Italian district in the city. Over pretzel and beer, we suddenly witnessed above us – a flock of beautiful, white cranes floating by. This wasn’t the first flock I’ve seen this autumn – and it certainly won’t be the last.
The migratory season has begun, and the (probably) salmon summer feast has come to a close in the waters of Siberia. The largest natural migration on earth takes place yet again – this time they’re probably heading towards the warmer coasts the Bay of Bengal or the South China Sea.
It’s breathtaking just admiring them from above us. But mindblowing just imagining what it takes for them to traverse these thousands of kilometeres just by a keen sense of natural instinct.
On a much smaller scale, it leaves me to wonder what makes us go places. For most, it’s purely to ensure survival. For us fortunate few, it’s all about choices, and priorities at any one point in our lives.
Coming to China, and especially to a B-city had been something I’d wanted to do for a while now, but to have it unravel before my eyes, with its bursts of wonder and ugliness, more than makes up for the enrichment I was seeking.
As with the birds who cross mountains and valleys to climates that provide that ‘warm hospitality’ they need to survive, I reckon what keeps me going even in difficult and challenging days is just to be assured of still having a blue sky day, an interesting person that shares something about his life that teaches you something, a run into a little bakery from out of nowhere, or a smile or two from a sea of bobbing heads. Strange as it might be, the rarer the phenomenon, the higher the value I place on it.
Ahhh, such is the irony of life.
Little Roots in China 
I like Your phylosophy.