Traveler 11 · The Note-Taker · Thank You, Guangzhou

July 2, 2026

Day two, and the notebook is already suffering

I brought a fresh notebook just for this trip, and two days in, it is already a third full. Yesterday I wrote down every stop between Baiyun Airport and campus; this morning at yum cha I filled another page — shrimp dumplings, siu mai, rice noodle rolls, chicken feet. The teachers laughed because I kept asking them to slow down so I could spell the names right, and the volunteers taught me how a few of the dishes sound in Cantonese, so I wrote those down too, exactly the way they sound.

In the afternoon we walked across campus, and I tried to take notes while walking, which I do not recommend. Trees everywhere — someone said the tall ones by the road are kapok trees, and I underlined that twice so I would remember to look them up. My handwriting from that stretch looks like a heart monitor.

At night I sat on my bed copying the messy parts out neatly. The others tease me about it — right up until nobody can remember which building the canteen is in or what time the teachers said we meet tomorrow. Then my notebook suddenly has thirteen best friends, and honestly, I don't mind at all.

The campus walk I tried (and failed) to write through

The last page

I counted this morning: ten days, one notebook, almost no blank pages left. Metro lines, menu names, half the things the teachers said, the exact color of the Pearl River at sunset — it's all in here somewhere. While we waited to leave I flipped through from the beginning, and the others kept leaning over to check what I had written about them.

There is one page I keep coming back to: the night we saw Canton Tower from across the river, my notes just stop halfway down. I remember putting the pen away because writing felt slower than looking. That half-empty page might be my favorite in the whole book.

At Baiyun Airport I wrote one last line on the inside back cover, in my best handwriting: thank you, Guangzhou. Then I closed the notebook. I'll remember that line without ever rereading it — but a note-taker finishes the page.