An Unprepared Departure

I. Going Alone: It Starts with a Passport

I couldn’t say when the thought of “going abroad to have a look” first took root. Maybe this year. Maybe much earlier.

I used to think going abroad was far away from me. The distance was never the point—what kept me back was a pile of imagined procedures: a passport, a household registration record, a birth certificate, bank statements. The short videos sounded so authoritative that I assumed I needed a whole box of documents.

Last year I went home for a holiday and meant to start with my first passport(护照). But the office was closed at weekends, and on weekdays I had to head back. The plan quietly dissolved.

Then in May this year I happened to mention it to a friend. He said it was nowhere near that complicated—an ID card was enough. So I looked into it again: I could apply in a different city, all I needed was a photo receipt and my ID, and I could book an appointment online. And one weekday morning I walked into the office with those two things and was done in half an hour. The passport arrived a day or two later. The moment I tore open the envelope my heart was pounding—I could finally go abroad.

Step one, done. But “when?” became the next worry: English, a travel companion, money. The same doubt had simply put on a new face and stayed at the door.

Then one day a close friend asked where I wanted to go next. I said Singapore(新加坡). I couldn’t tell you why. It was simply the first place that surfaced.

Before I knew it, National Day was around the corner and everyone was discussing holiday plans. A friend asked, “I thought you were going to Singapore?” I said I wasn’t ready.

“Not ready? Ready for what? What’s missing?”

Right—what was missing? The confidence to speak English, and the courage to travel alone.

The nerve I think I have. I’ve been to plenty of places by myself over the years. And English—what’s there to fear? There are translation apps. There’s a phone. So: go.

This will be the boldest trip of my year—going to Singapore alone.

Then the busywork: read guides, buy a SIM card, exchange currency, book transport and a bed, and let GPT put the itinerary together. The plan came into focus, and off I went.

I bought my ticket late, so only the evening flight was left. I usually fly out of Tianfu Airport(天府机场) T2, where I know every corner. This time I walked into the international departures of T1 for the first time, and everything felt new and bright.

II. In Transit: Set Off First, Fill the Gaps on the Way

Everything went smoothly, unusually so for a National Day week. The international flight wasn’t crowded at all, and there were empty seats in the back. The man in front of me simply lay down and took three of them. (I didn’t. I just envied him.)

We landed in Kuala Lumpur(吉隆坡) in the middle of the night for a connection, with just an hour before the next flight.

I went looking for the second check-in(值机) counter, wandered in circles, and found only boarding gates. Never mind, I thought—I’ll just ask a staff member.

I’d always been a little hesitant to speak English aloud, so I had planned to rely on my phone. Then, as luck would have it, there was no signal. I’d assumed my VPN would work overseas but had forgotten to turn on roaming. All right, I’d have to ask for directions myself.

At the information desk, I found a staff member who looked Indian and cautiously asked:

“Excuse me, can you speak Chinese?”

She answered matter-of-factly: “No.”

So I switched to English:

“Could you show me how to get to the H01 check-in counter?”

“Turn left and go straight.”

She pointed the way. I wanted to make sure, so I asked:

“This way?”
“Yeah.”
“OK, OK, thank you.”

What I was actually thinking: isn’t this exactly where I just walked to the end and turned back from? One more wrong turn and I wouldn’t make it back to the gate in time.

I walked on nervously—if I missed it, I’d be stranded in Kuala Lumpur and have to check in all over again for a flight back to China, my National Day holiday over before it began. Then I spotted two Chinese travelers on more or less the same itinerary, also circling in place.

A little further on, I spotted a young Chinese man. I grabbed at the chance to ask for help: “你好.”

“你好!”

At last, I had someone to confirm the way. I told him which gate I was heading to; he listened, checked the departures board against my boarding pass, and explained that I didn’t need to check in again—my bag was through-checked(行李直挂), so I could go straight to the gate. The direction he pointed was only a short walk from where I’d got off the plane.

With no electronics to help me, I still found my way there by following the signs in English.

III. Arrival: Exchanging Money, Getting a SIM, and Regaining “Omniscient Mode”

We crossed the Strait of Malacca(马六甲海峡) and landed in Singapore.

Money changed, SIM installed, back online—I had restored my “omniscient form.”

Changi Airport(樟宜机场) was huge, and the trains on both sides seemed to run in the same direction. I’d never seen that before.

IV. Traveling Alone: Freedom and Loneliness

I don’t really like planning. I’d rather wander. Whatever comes, comes—what isn’t fixed in advance is what feels new.

Singapore was lovely, but I wasn’t as excited as I’d imagined. It felt more like being somewhere new and observing how people live, how a city works, and what the world is like.

More than the scenery, this trip was a way to prove something to myself—from the kid who had never left his province two years ago to a grown-up kid brave enough to travel abroad alone.

Going alone is lonely. But the world is never short of people going alone. On this trip I met many people like me, and admired their courage.

No waiting for anyone.
No adjusting to anyone else’s tastes.
I can eat what I want and leave when I want.
I won’t miss out on my own life waiting for others.

And… honestly? Pretty great.

V. The Sea: Where I Go Quiet

The second day was my favorite of the trip, because of the sea. The sea always quiets me.

It makes the world feel enormous—big enough to throw my loves and hates, my anxieties and irritations into, without so much as an echo. Very still. So I went still too.

A young man asked me in English, hesitating slightly at first: “Excuse me, can… can you take a photo for me?”

I said, “OK.”

He waved hastily and said, in Chinese, “Wait, let me tidy up.” He had no idea whether I understood Chinese; I answered in Chinese without thinking: “Sure.”

He could have been Malaysian, for all I know.

I went looking for one line in particular:

“Lose yourself to find yourself.”
I never did find it.

By the shore, though, I came across another:

“Tune into the symphony of the shore.”

VI. The Little Train: Only Roads Taken, No Wrong Turns

On the last day, the only thing left on my list was the waterfall at Jewel Changi(星耀樟宜), so I gave it all my remaining time.

What stayed with me wasn’t the waterfall, though—it was the way there. The airport has a little train that skims past it at just the right angle. The guides say to sit on the left going from T2 to T3; I happened to be arriving from the opposite direction.

The woman beside me was traveling with her child and was unsure which side to take. She guessed wrong, ending up beside me on the side with no view. The train was too crowded to cross to the other side, so she started scolding her son.

“Can’t you use your head? If we’re going the other way, the view must be on the other side. Now we can’t see it, can we?”

On and on. The child didn’t dare talk back, only murmured that he could ride back and look again, since it wouldn’t cost anything.

His mother went on and on.

For a moment, I felt that pressure too. Somehow, it brought Chinese-style parenting to mind. Maybe I grew up that way too, which is why I understand the feeling, even though I don’t like the approach. If I ever have a child, I want to respond differently.

I remembered a passage I once read:

My anxiety, I think, began in kindergarten: pass the parcel, musical chairs, drop the handkerchief. It carried on through primary school—the train game, speeches, being called on to answer, working problems at the blackboard, the red Pioneer scarf, exams. I hate competition. I don’t care about winning or losing. Whenever I see people fighting over something like mad dogs, I only want to get far away. As far as possible.

We live in a world that is one long contest: who’s taller, who’s faster, whose grades are better. But why compete? I just missed it once; I can ride back and look again. I don’t want to be written off for a single miss.

There are only roads taken. There are no wrong turns.

VII. Epilogue: Beyond the Destination, We Find Ourselves

Let me end with a few lines.

We already have maps.
We have navigation systems.
We have satellites.
It has never been easier to reach a destination.

But we still need the resolve to set out.

We set out to explore not just a destination,
but ourselves, too.