Essay

The air was cold and the sky white-grey. Faint puffs of breath diffused into the atmosphere, and under several layers of clothing, I shivered. Summer. Away from the barbecuing heat of Manila, the cool weather of China was an ominous force to be reckoned with. If you weren’t careful, your fingers could freeze off.

A taxi door slammed, and my parents and I stepped out onto the asphalt roads. The driver rolled down his window and pointed at something. He uttered a few unintelligible words in his version of English, and my dad nodded and handed him a couple of bills in return. A screech of tires later, the little red car was gone.

I turned around and let my gaze wander over the landscape. The Great Wall. This was where the wind was a shrieking chill down your spine; where stone snaked over earth in an almost endless path, stretching across the country from the capital to the Gobi desert. Before us lay the realm of Outer Mongolia, and behind us, a streetful of noisy, scary hawkers, beckoning to the ‘rich tourists’ to come and splurge some dough on products made in China. Slowly, we began our ascent.

The Great Wall is insanely famous, so I wasn’t surprised to see the path packed with people up to the second watchtower. The first few steps were easy; my parents and I strolled along comfortably enough, pausing occasionally to admire the view and take pictures with a Llama. The path was, at the very beginning, extremely friendly to the feet. Unfortunately, its nature in the long run is an entirely different story.

We were halfway to the first watchtower when the wall began to curve. Built over mountainous territory, it went up and down, up and down. The path steepened, and my legs were beginning their slow, painful journey into jellyworld. It didn’t help that the wind got fiercer as we trudged farther on, biting at my fingers and cheeks.

The goal was to reach the second watchtower, and we were only halfway to the first. The stone path slanted upwards, and I groaned mentally. Second watchtower, second watchtower. My hands were going numb, and I stuffed them further into my jacket-pockets; a futile attempt at warmth. Half an hour of trekking passed, and I kept going. So did my parents. Up, down, up down went the wall, and our beaten feet obliged, stopping for only a few moments of rest before continuing the long journey.

Past the first watchtower, my knees and feet were screaming. ‘Must…keep…going,’ I thought to myself, panting. ‘I’ll get there eventually.’

And when we did get there, the view was breathtaking. Flowered fields stretched out before us; the wildlands, dotted with violet and green under the grey-white sky. It was beautiful, and totally worth the tiredness, the numb fingers, and the jello legs. I smiled to myself right then, rubbing my flushed cheeks with cold fingers. Climbing the wall had been an endurance test; to see how determined we really were. I could have stopped in the middle of the path and have gone back, only to miss the breathtaking view that lay a few steps away.

When it comes to life, shortcuts won’t get you too far, but patience, quiet perseverance and rigid determination will. If you know what you want, then by all means, work towards it. Don’t stop. Don’t let any obstacle daunt you or put you down, because if you do, all the strength and effort you’d have poured into your journey will be for naught.

note: crammed because I was impatient and didn't want to miss FMA. :D