The collected writings of a Renegade Tourist

Category Frozen Moments

Dabicuo River, Glimpses

9:12am: The water is gushing down on me, trying to push me off the rock I’m standing on. A thought rushes through my head, should I give up, take the easy route? I shrug it off, find a new handhold, fight back against the force. It’s go time! With the water spraying into my face I push off with my legs and heave myself up. I’m through! What a rush! Soaking wet, I pump my fists in the air.

9:19am: I’m trudging through knee deep rapids, feel the force against my legs. I clamber over a boulder and as I … Read the rest

The Undergrowth,12:06 pm

We go tramping through the forest like giants, mostly unconcerned with where we step. It’s not until you kneel down to pick some berries or mushrooms that your perspective changes and you notice it: The forest floor is like a landscape within a landscape. There are groves of blueberry bushes with fields of grass in between. There are deep gullies winding their way between moss covered hills. There are anthills the size of cities and paths that no human has ever walked. There are irregular patches of lichen scrubland. There are bright red, yellow, and purple mushrooms shooting up from … Read the rest

Lion Head Mountain 8:03 am

Guanyin statues, hundreds of Guanyin statues arranged in neat rows down a series of terraces, right in the middle of the jungle. Their once white skin has turned grey and yellow with dust and mold. Some have started to crumble, fingers or whole hands falling off, halos collapsing down onto their heads, one has even been bisected, only her legs remain. The jungle has slowly started closing in, vines creeping up from below to ensnare a few of the statues; thick taro roots snaking along the terraces, their giant leaves sprouting up at irregular intervals; moss crawling across the concrete. A Buddhist chant comes rising up from a temple somewhere below, cranking up the ambiance to eleven. Two questions keep running through my mind as I explore: "what is this place? Why are they here?"

Alishan, Road 18, 3:41 pm

We come around the bend and the view opens up in front of us; distant peaks obscured by the haze, the mountain side dressed in pale greens and yellows – bamboo waving in the breeze like reeds – the mist comes rolling down the slope like water, spilling out as it hits the boxy structure of a man made tunnel – concrete and dark green moss –  billowing into the air like smoke then swirling into the blue void. No time to take a photo, just a few moments until the road leads us into the gaping maw of the … Read the rest

Jizo Sancho Station, 9:34am

The zoom mechanism on my camera has become sticky due to the cold, my viewfinder keeps fogging up, and my fingers grow numb with the biting wind, but I don't care. There's a whole bunch of other tourists milling about, posing for selfies and blocking  my shots, but it doesn't matter. The landscape in front of me is one that triggers my inspiration and drives me to keep taking pictures despite the circumstances. I really hope my photos can do this place justice, but in case they can't, I have these words: They call them Snow Monsters;  trees covered on all sides by snow and ice, turning them into twisted irregular shapes. Hundreds upon hundreds of frozen pieces of modern art spread out all over the mountain side like a great big field of strange sculptures. The landscape feels almost alien, like I've somehow ended up on a distant planet. The only thing that detracts from that impression is the fact that there's a bunch of other people here. However, that doesn't stop me from continuing to explore as if they weren't there.

The Patio at Haggen, 5:50 pm

The rain is drumming on the parasol and the wind blowing through the trees is unusually cold for the season. The lake, just down the slope in front of me, lies flat and gray like a piece of slate, reflecting the dismal sky. The embers in the barbecue glow red, heating me up just enough to keep standing here. The summer shouldn't be cold and wet like this but the sun is conspicuous by its absence. Two steps to the side I would be miserable yet here, in this little pocket of dry warmth, it's strangely cozy; like sitting inside watching the rain through the window but somehow more acute. All I lack now is the typical barbecue beer...perhaps exchanged for a cup of hot chocolate. 

Skäret Harbour, 10:48 pm

The moon rises full and bright above the headland on the far side of the small bay, the jagged silhouette barely perceptible against nearly black sea and deep blue night sky. The moon is big and orange like it can only be in August, casting its light in a streak across water. Only four colours yet this simple beauty is nearly impossible to capture with my camera so instead I try to memorize the moment while the cool breeze swirls gently around me.  

Luoping Junction, 11:59am

Im sitting on a big boulder in the middle of the river just enjoying the moment. I feel the warmth of the sun drenched rock against my butt and the palms of my hands; I feel the cool breeze on by back; my ears fill with the thunderous rush of the river. Just beyond my feet, the crystal clear water swirls around the boulder as it flows past, and beyond that, a great conical cliff draped in green rising up towards a perfect blue sky. There's a feeling here that's difficult to describe, a sort of sensory balance that's almost meditative; the sun, the wind, the churning water that draws in the eye. Just a few moments more then I slide into the water and let the current carry me downstream, a rush of adrenaline before swimming back to shore

The Balcony, 3:10am

The rain is beating down so hard the noise drowns out all other sound. Down below preparations are going on for opening the market just like every morning; trucks of all sizes coming and going, boxes of fruit and vegetables being loaded or offloaded, and men shouting to each other over the droning of engines. Normally the sounds from all this would float up to me where I stand but this night they don't, nothing but the whoosh of the water. On a clear night you could see far from here, the lights of apartments on the other side of the city and the faint outline of distant mountains against the pre dawn sky, but tonight the pouring rain obscures everything, making the world seem small. It's like being in a silent bubble, surrounded by a curtain of water. 

The Choice Bar, 11:34 pm

A cocktail, not beer, not wine, not a splash of liquor mixed with soda, but a real fucking cocktail with some bite to it. They call it Apple Yam something or other, some strong liquor tasing of alcohol with a faint hint of sweet potato, mixed with apple liqueur and lime juice.  Almost nothing to dilute the alcohol, the full force of it hitting your system with every sip. It's expensive and fancy so you take it slow, one sip every few minutes, savoring the taste while pretending to read your book. You're not drunk...yet, but we'll on the way to getting there, and you have to go to work tomorrow. Life...is good
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