I always remember pictures in my mind- a broad, deserted asphalt road, on which myself is driving a beat-up cross-country car. It may be a morning of brilliant sunshine on which I set out to a distant place, or on a clear, scant-starred night that I drive towards a hotel. I prefer summer days, I can be shirtless, with a pair of relaxed jean shorts, and enjoy the gentle wind blows from the window, sometimes my skin goosefleshes. My right hand must be holding the steering wheel, while my left hand is hanging on the window, with a lighted cigarette, Light music and rock are circularly playing in the car, and I am humming…

Sometimes I ask myself, why this man appears shirtless and in a pair of relaxed jean shorts? Why he lights a cigarette but doesn’t even smoke pot! Does he play it cool? But I deny it soon because there’s nobody else on the road, so I just have to admit that he is not acting. He is travelling.
Many people have stray plots in their mind, they imagine to stray from afar with a backpack, that must be very beautiful and romantic. However, most people fail to do it till old. We as young people always bustle in and out, with much complaints about no enough money or time for travelling, though we have courage, passion and longings, and a lover who pursuits the same romance as us. Till we get enough money and time, we can do nothing but sigh when our hair turns grey, and our beautiful daydreams dim and disappear from mind, even a lover who can walk the way together with us will be difficult to find. We young people always create cages and limitations for ourselves, and keep waiting, imagining and expecting till our life ends. Of course, not all of us think it a pity, some are satisfied to take a guided tour, squeeze themselves into the crowd, and take some photos before sights in the limited time and then leave with the group reluctantly.

But for major in Tourism, I could never distinguish travelling from touring. Every time I set foot on a train with my backpack, I would hear the same words – “You tour again!” said my friends and relatives with envy. “Yes, I travel again”, I replied. Previously, I set out for the romance of travelling, wherever I went, I tried to get some experience which I could show off before others. Once I believed that it must be very romantic and poetic to go afar to an unfamiliar place. But, after experiencing more, I gradually became accustomed to calling it ” travelling”, rather than “touring”, for I could taste life much more deeply in the process.

I think every traveler will never want to return to the city life when facing those crumbling rubbles and bricks, and will refuse to argue with the hotel owner about no independent bathroom when boarding in a 20- Yuan- per night hotel. When we are pounding down the road with our heavy backpacks, and suddenly see some wandering singers, who are singing while drinking, we may feel that happiness comes from not only luxurious life with villa, gardens, BMW, Benz and delicacies, but also the responsibilities of loving others and working honestly, the passion of pursuiting dreams, the simpleness of pursuiting romantic love.

Touring is only a lifestyle, while travelling is an attitude of life, I think. Let’s twinge the guitar string soulfully in the stray days, and go forward while thinking. Life is like a journey, from the departure to the destination. On this short journey, we always be prisoners of the result, and we bind the heavy bitter cross on our life, for example, exchange romantic love for money or let beautiful dreams be raped by the cruel reality. What’s worse, we can do nothing but feel sad and shameful. Similarly, when life is banded with these heavy “bite crosses”, can we really flee for our lives from the raging flames? We all know, on this train which runs towards the destination, we always forget to appreciate the beautiful scenery outside the window.

One day, I set out without a beat-up cross-country car, not appearing shirtless and in a pair of relaxed jean shorts, without my right hand holding the steering wheel and my left hand hanging on the window with a lighted cigarette. Instead, I sit in a green-cover train, which runs towards an ancient city. I look out of the window through the morning mist, watch the small houses and upright poplars that stand in the misty drizzle, among the mountains, and I smell the fragrance of the blossoming rape flowers. I put on my earphone, listen to the song named《Travelling》, and look the scenery that passes by，and forget the destination.

Writer: Bruce Yang, The department of tourism of South China Normal University;

Translator: Penguin Chen, The School of Foreign Study of South China Normal University