Alma Mater and A Walk to Remember

During my last days in Davis, I usually took a walk from home to school just to take a look at the campus. I always felt the need to see it one last time before I start to forget how it looked during my days.
Those days was indeed tiring, both physically and emotionally. I always caught myself in the middle of nowhere, questioning that moment of my life – the moment of transition. After all, my four and a half years in America were coming to an end; I had to part away from the campus I had developed a deep connection with, and I also had to prepare for a new life in somewhere I had no idea of – Denmark. A lot of feelings, and no sufficient time for my longing for silence.

IMG_0246
An ENH6 leftover 🙂

A walk to school is always a walk to remember. But one particular walk moved me to tears. That heated summer day, I walked through the olive trees on First Street. As I approached campus, I glanced at the houses. They are still a mystery to me even til today -but that is not the point. I didn’t plan to live an American life nor was I a social animal – but that is not the point either. What struck me at the moment were the small alleys between the houses that potentially led to Crepeville (again, I have never walked those alleys). Actually it wasn’t that day that I saw them for the first time. But on that day I remembered the first time I saw them. And it was only a few months before.

I had walked that street consistently for a year before I got a bike, and even then I still walked to school using that street on a frequent basis. Yet I must have been too busy in my head I missed those alleys all those time. The first time I “discovered” them it was just an “a-ha” moment. “oh, I did not know they were there just like that”.

Yet, the moment I remembered that moment, was something different: it was a poignant feeling that I recognized time had passed and that I would need to move on, and yet something would just stay the same. That something is many things: the memories of campus; of late nights biking home praying no spirits would appear out of nowhere (lol and of course yelling in my head to the people in front to wait for me); of the coffee I drank just because I did not want to fall asleep in that certain class (lectures about Design at national scale and the autobahn; how dared I sleep through that?!); of the back of my classmate when he walked away (talk about the kind of person who revolutionized one’s world in 2 mins); of my lazy self rushing to school across the Arboretum and almost hitting the freaking geese which only decided to cross the street right at the moment I got closer; of the conversations I finally got with the professors I had been admired and did not know how to approach (and found out that they’re humans too!); of the trees I talked too;  of many little things, of nothing.
Most of all, it was also the moment I introduced myself to my (old) self, that person who was living dishearteningly. That person who had let the days go by. That person who since then grew up a bit.
Why was summer in Davis so dreadful? so hot? so vacant?

Why did I decide to observe July 4th on this soil only during my last summer?

Why can’t I go by a day in Denmark without thinking about Davis?

You know,

those unconquered adventures.
those unanswered questions.
those olive trees. those oaks. those gingkos. those heavenly bamboos. those whatever plants that bugged my brain during ENH6 quizzes. cultural shocks at 4yr college and quarter system.

hart hall and the art annex/building. one is spooky. the other is not quite quirky. still my favorites.

hunt hall. if they take architecture seriously, at least I would not have to suffer the bizarre temperature inside. did not stay there as much as I wished; but I don’t wish anything different.

dead star. hah. I finally understand why people don’t take architects seriously. like seriously. pls get a life while I am finding my way around.

I still don’t know where the civil engineering building is, if it even exists at all. but I always know both my department and myself don’t have a good opinion about it. (well maybe with one exception)

CoHo is a must for an approaching deadline; or multiple deadlines at once. cheesecake is always a plus. that is if my sugar intake still lets me live for some more good years.

shields, too airless. cannot believe I was so immersed in the NA section. but I did have good sleeps in the courtyard. that sounds more like me.

and bicycles.

yes, bicycles.

I noticed the red ones.

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