When I was 13, I climbed my first mountain — a fairly gentle 3,900-foot peak. I was overweight at the time and became breathless after reaching the top. But I loved the challenge of conquering something bigger than myself, and soon I’d climbed nearly 100 peaks.

I often go climbing with my friend Mel. Two years ago, on 30 December when I was 16, we drove to tackle 11, 240-foot Mount Hood. It’s safer to start winter climbs at night when there’s less risk of the sun melting the snow. That day, we started at 3 a.m., though the temperature was extremely low.

Five hours later, we reached Devil’s Kitchen at about 10,000 feet. However, the wind was blowing fiercely. The other climbers decided to turn back, but Mel and I went ahead since we thought we were well prepared.

The path became harder and harder to climb. At around 9 a.m., we reached a narrow ice step. I volunteered to go first. I placed my left foot on the ice step. Confident I was safe, I put my full weight on it. Suddenly, I heard a crack and fell backwards. I stuck out my arms and legs, grabbing at anything. That helped but I was still sliding. Finally, I stopped somewhere above the Devil’s Kitchen. Having fallen 600 feet, I found my face bloodied.

To make sure if I still had my senses, I asked myself, where are you? Mount Hood. What’s the date? 30 December. Good. My brain still functioned. Then I took a survey of my body, starting with my head, then my neck and arms. For the most part, I was fine, except for a sharp pain in my left leg. Strangely, touching my left leg, I couldn’t feel anything, so I tried to make my toes move. Fortunately, that worked — I wasn’t paralyzed (瘫痪).

I was relieved and started to yell for help.

The doctors advised me not to climb again but I wouldn’t give up.

On the morning of our long- awaited graduation day, expectation filled the air as I together with my best friends Sarah, Maria and Grace gathered our bags, waited for the plane and set about our adventure to Barcelona. For months, we had been dreaming about this moment, which marked the end of years of burying ourselves in hard work and staying dedicated. It was three months ago in a history class that we were drawn to its rich history, from the medieval streets of the Gothic Quarter to the groundbreaking historical architecture of Antoni Gaudi.

The happiness of burying ourselves in a new culture, filled with amazing and new cuisine and friendly people, advanced our excitement. However, despite our enthusiasm, we couldn’t ignore the fact that none of us spoke Spanish so fluently. On the day before setting off, we were still hesitant about whether to go or not. While surfing on the Internet for advice, we found that most people travelling to Barcelona considered the locals friendly and warm-hearted ones who are always willing to offer help. A sense of relief and expectation took the place of the worries. We made up our minds to go there.

As we stepped off the plane, bathed in Spanish warm sunshine, our spirits rose high. We kicked off our journey with a wander down Las Ramblas, enjoying the energy and talent of street performers. Down by the street, the traditional buildings and precious cultural sites were a true feast for the eyes.

Yet, the days passing by, unforeseen challenges began to take place. On the last day of the journey, as we were lost in the beauty of the amazing squares and traditional buildings, Sarah put forward that we could play the game of cat and mouse to better explore the architectures. After arranging our roles, we ran towards different directions to hide, while the cat, Sarah, began to count down to find and catch us.

Hiding myself in the corner of a hall, I carefully observed Sarah.

Panic seized our group as we found Sarah's left arm bleeding.

Alex sat quietly at the back of his Chinese class, his eyes fixed on the textbook before him. As a shy and unnoticed student, he felt like a lone wolf, struggling against the complexities of high school life. Ms Lau, his Chinese teacher, was a light in his otherwise dark world. Her warm smile and gentle behavior made her stand out among the sea of teachers. She was the only one who seemed to understand his conservative nature, always encouraging him to step out of his comfort zone.

One day, after class, Ms Lau approached Alex with excitement shining in her eyes. “Alex, I have an offer for you,” she said, her voice filled with enthusiasm. “I am organizing a cultural exchange program to China, and I believe it would be a great opportunity for you to explore a new world.”

Alex’s heart skipped a beat, the prospect of traveling to a foreign country both exciting and terrifying. He hesitated, unsure if he had the courage to start such an adventure. But Ms Lau’s firm belief in him gave him the push he needed to take a leap of faith.

Under Ms Lau’s guidance, Alex began preparing for the trip. He got really interested in Chinese culture and learned about its long history and traditions. Ms Lau became his mentor(导师), teaching him not only the language but also invaluable life lessons. She taught him the importance of being confident and not giving up, reminding him that growth only happens outside one’s comfort zone.

The day of departure arrived, and Alex found himself on a plane headed for China. He couldn’t help but feel amazed as he stepped off the plane and into a world so different from his own. The busy streets, bright colors, and unfamiliar sounds flooded his senses. Yet, Ms Lau’s comforting presence by his side provided him with the strength to face the unknown.

During their time in China, Alex wholeheartedly enjoyed the experience.

Back in the United States, Alex was a changed person.