I remember that I used to hate history class. Back in the junior high school years in Taiwan, we had to study the history of China, Taiwan, and the Western world, as if five thousand years of the Chinese history wasn’t enough. To me, history was only about memorizing the year, people, and human achievements in certain eras. I had to try very hard not to fall asleep during the class because it was very dry to me. I hate it so much that I even destroyed all my history textbooks after I passed my final exam.
I didn’t appreciate history at all, until I went to London in 2007. When I was living there, I started to appreciate old buildings, antiques, and even the old pavements. As I visited more old cities and places in Europe, I began to picture what it was like few hundred years ago at the same place, what people wore at that time, what they ate, and what they talked about…
Yes, I should’ve appreciated history more. When I was wandering around in the city of Rome last summer, I regretted that I didn’t pay enough attention in the class. I could barely remember the Roman history… But I guess no matter how much you read about history, it’s just text printed on paper. You really have to see the remnant of the past to understand how amazing history is, that ancient people could build something grand like this. It is so strong that we can still see parts of it after more than two thousand years.
Carl Jung said, “Who has fully realized that history is not contained in thick books but lives in our very blood?” It is in our blood. We don’t exist without our history.