Solo - A College Essay
My college essay which I am quite proud of
BANG!” a deafening noise wakes me up followed by branches falling onto the ground. The leaves rustle near my food bag.
I frantically put on my glasses. A minute passes. Water starts dripping onto my tarp. It’s just a thunderstorm. I have to remind myself that I am all alone.
I’m from Hanoi, Vietnam, where a fight in my house can turn into the gossip of the neighborhood; but right now I’m afraid and terrified in the silence, far from the whispers of the talkative neighbors.
I’m from Ba Dinh, one of the original and most crowded districts in the city with around 230,000 residents squished together; but right now I have my own kingdom in the woods of West Virginia.
I’m from the public school system, where students spend 18 hours a day on schoolwork with no time to reflect; but right now I’m excited to write down my thoughts that were once ignored.
I’m from a Nguyen family with a tradition of having dinner and lunch together every single day; but right now I’m hungry, limiting my calories intakes with five apples, six bananas and two avocados for five days. Right now, I am truly free.
These emotions were from solo, a retreat I embarked on during 3-month journey of Mountain Classroom. I spent five days confronting myself and the vastness of the world. On Mountain, I shared everything with others: food, laughs, stories, transportation, and sometimes even sleeping bags. I went from no personal space to having only personal space. It was only me and Mother Nature.
I stared up at my tent and thought of all the small things that had led me there. I thought of the time I was yelled at by the U.S customs officer because my I-20 was folded in quarters. The time when my mother slapped me because she thought I had skipped school. The time when both my grandparents passed away but I attended neither funeral because my father told me school was more important. The time I bought everyone in school bubble tea on my birthday because I wanted them to remember me after I left for the U.S., only to find they’ve all disappeared from my life. The time when my father woke up at 6 A.M. to buy me a Santa hat to make me smile because the one he’d bought the previous night didn’t fit. After sleepless nights of memories, I discovered another perspective on my life that I had never been exposed to: Nature seemed to be my recharging station.
I was picked up around noon. As soon as eye contact was made, I immediately dropped my backpack and ran to each of my friends for a hug, which I’ve never been too comfortable with. My father once beat my brother with a broomstick after finding him at an internet cafe, so needless to say, hugs weren’t really my family’s thing. Even though I came to understand my father was only worried for our future, we haven’t yet found common ground.
However, this is not the story about my childhood struggles or how reckless I was or how scary the woods were. It’s also not a glorifying story of me facing mother nature as a child and coming out a man. It’s a story about the personal space and time I believe everyone deserves in a world full of noise. Terrifying and liberating as it was, I learned that there is no substitute for solitary experience, and ultimately we are all alone. The solitude, along with a physical challenge, reminded me of my past, put me into the present, and guided me toward the future. And right now, on the plane back to Hanoi, I think solo has offered me the best gift for my father, the hug.