Today, I spent the whole day in Nice. As I walked through the streets, I wondered why I didn’t come here earlier with my camera to take some shots. Somehow, it didn’t feel like the right time until today. Although it’s a beautiful city, and there is a lot of charm and character here… I couldn’t quite bring myself to take the camera out the same way I did in Taipei. But this trip has made me appreciate the region more and see it from a different perspective. A remembered perspective.
When a baby looks into a mirror, they see the whole world. There is so much information that is new to them even within their own appearance. As we become adults, we tend to categorise things to make life easier. We begin to seek comfort in logic and sense. I can’t help feeling these days that this creates an illusion for us, certainty when there is none.
We forget that in our eyes we are truly more than the label given to us by our family, government or friends. Nationality, race, culture, body type, age… these are all categories of convenience. I had forgotten the truth of who I am, and travelling these last eight years has made me remember again. It is as if making new discoveries on the outside, reminds me of who I am on the inside.
I have travelled to around 30 countries, and in each I have recognised a part of myself. I have met people who originate from all over the world, and in their eyes I see part of myself too. Even if it’s just a glance. After gathering a lot of this kind of information, I began to form a picture of myself that was sharper, more nuanced. I looked at myself in the mirror and I could feel more than my appearance let on.
Travelling around France in particular, it felt like a long time before I could truly see something authentic. Everything here seemed so stereotypical to me, a little superficial. I think it is often like that with very touristic places. The image they send out to the world is a mirage and it is a very strong one. It takes a lot of digging to find anything real. But over the last four years I have stripped the layers away, revealing the truth under the illusion. France has diversity. It is not just wine, cheese and baguettes. There is a lot of colour and texture here, a lot of hidden stories which desire to be told. Suddenly, something that looked so pretty, and frankly boring, like a perfect little medieval village… now looks much more interesting and richer in detail for me.
I like to go under the surface of pride and explore corners that no one told me about before. As I walked around Nice today, I saw an unpolished side. Away from the intense red of Masséna Square, and the glowing Mediterranean coastline, I saw the traces of real lives marked on the walls and across the floor. And I liked it very much. I finally see under the surface, a part of myself that I can truly recognise here. I finally can leave my hunches behind and know that the decision to live here is a correct one. I leave tomorrow, but I will return and I will have a lot of work to do when I come back. I’ve only just scratched the surface.
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