As I look at the photos strewn on my wall in a beautiful, haphazard mess, it struck me how many beautiful moments, people and places I’ve experienced over the past year alone. The feeling of being surrounded by family and friends in Perth; eating and being merry, laughing with my heart full of joy - those were one of my happiest days in a long, long while. Dark, rich orange, voluptuous sunsets in Bali, vast rice fields and the sound of winds, the taste of saltwater on my lips and long scooter rides on windy roads. In Thailand, I experienced both questioning and peace, and made some of the deepest connections in a brief amount of time. Yet, it was the recent six weeks in Taiwan that my heart felt a familiarity that I haven’t yet experienced in my other travels.
The two months after Plum Village and before I left for Taiwan were hard. I felt a deep loneliness during the nights alone, surrounded by thoughts of the past, and the unsettled hurt that had been pushed down deep inside, out of sight and out my mind. But they slowly made their way to the surface when some emotions in my heart were stirred, and in February, when Kelly passed away, my heart was once again filled with despair and sadness, and depression tightened its familiar grip around my ankles, pulling me into a deep dark chasm.
It seems that when unfortunate things happen, they tend to happen all at once. In the recent year and half, I find myself drifting from place to place, stumbling and dealing with grief and loss, loneliness and longing, regret and pain, bottled up emotions and so many questions that continue to go unanswered. Some days, I don't even know what to feel or how to keep going on.
When I landed in Taiwan, I only wanted to be free of all the painful memories.
It has always been a place that I’ve wanted to visit and live in, to learn more about the culture and lifestyle, to experience the warmheartedness of her people and to savor all the culinary goodness she has to offer.
After catching up with friends in Taipei, I took a long train ride to Taitung.
Seated beside the window, I unintentionally let out a gasp when the scenery changed and the great blue ocean suddenly appeared. At that moment, I felt my heart open again. It’s been almost six months since Bali, and I’ve missed the ocean so much. I remember feeling so sad in Perth that I was desperately finding a place to be near the ocean again.
I'm finally here.
Finally.
都蘭 (Doulan)
都蘭 is a small hipster-ish surfing town, and life here is slow and peaceful, a stark contrast to Bali and Singapore. There is only one main street, backdropped by the mountains. As I walk on the path to the beach most mornings, I'm surrounded by fields of coconut trees. Most of the people I met came here from the city to live a slower life, like the owner of the guesthouse I lived in. 阿蓁 came from Taipei to be a helper at the guesthouse five years back, and she liked it so much that she never left. She met 蟲蟲 then, and together they bought over the guesthouse. They are super nice and friendly and helped me with many things, like getting a surfboard and a scooter, and lending me his wet suit and warm clothes. Their guesthouse is called 都蘭朋友家，and it really feels like a home. It's super cosy with a backyard, and comfy rooftop with a hammock where you can rest in the noon and look at the mountains.
I've had many conversations with 阿蓁 over the week that I lived there. She moved here because she felt that when she was in the city working everyday, she couldn't feel the meaning of life. But here, she could be close to nature, look at the ocean, observe the little things around her that changes daily, like a flower blooming by the sidewalk, or something she hasn't observed previously. Over here, she can live life at her own pace.
當她在說著的時候，我的眼睛也不期然而然的紅了，聽著聽著眼睛怎麼都變濕了呢。
I thought about the younger, carefree days when life was simple and easy. Thinking back to childhood, to secondary school and poly days, I remember all the good times, good friends and good memories.
Here in 阿蓁 and 蟲蟲’s house, I met some of the most wonderful people.
There is David, a super friendly and easygoing Canadian who is in his 50s who look like he's in his early 40s in terms of looks and fitness. Then there is Ah Chieh, a Taiwanese who eloped to the states to get married. He's on a walking trip around the island, and shared with me some of his amazing stories. David and Ah Chieh eventually walked together for three days after they left and formed a deep friendship and bond.
There is Renton, whom I met over hotpot one day, and who gave me loads of tips to surf better. Ah Kai and Jen, a pilot and stewardess who often come to stay over and surf. Together with a new friend at the guesthouse, Han Xian, we went to a mountain at night to try spearfishing in a small pond. It was a small pond located under a bridge, and in the cold water under the starry night with only the lights from the bridge and the head torches, it felt so surreal.
東河 (Donghe)
There are a few surfing spots here. One that I love is called 小魚港。It's a quiet sandy beach backdropped by the mountains. When I'm sitting on the board looking back, I can see the whole line of mountains with clouds over their peaks. It's so beautiful..In another spot called Jinzun, the sun rises in front of you, and the water becomes golden. It's beautiful when you watch the sunrise from the shore, but when you are sitting out in the water, it's an entire different experience. It's as though you are there in the front seat.
The only thing with Jinzun is that going down to the water and coming up is extremely difficult and dangerous. The way down is very steep with big breakwaters and the ground is all rocks of all sizes. The shore break is strong and the waves smash against the rocks. The way down and back up is painful literally and I have to get the timing right to avoid getting smashed. When you hear the wave smash against the breakwater like a big boom, and the sound of all the pebbles rumbling, it's super scary.
The first few times, I slipped and the shore break washed me and my board against the rocks, my back got smashed on the big rocks and then I got dragged out as the water retreated, only to get smashed as the next wave came. At that point, there is nothing I could do but just get up and do whatever I can to survive.
Perhaps, sometimes that's the same thing with life too.
I was lucky that I didn’t leave with any major injuries, as I heard that in the following week it got so big that ambulances had to come as some tourist surfers were so battered by the waves.
The skies were overcast as I rode a long wave back to the shore after spending the afternoon surfing. It was a fairly calm day, with smaller waves here and there. There was still light, but it was evident that the skies were darkening.
I checked my watch - 5.34pm.
I thought of leaving but Renton was still in the water, and the waves were starting to get big. So after I stood around for what felt like forever, I put my leg strap back on and paddled out past the crashing waves to where the water was calm.
I turned back to glimpse at the shore, and was taken aback by the beauty of the scene before me. Beyond the black sandy beach, a crimson glow diluted with milky sea mist spilled across the entire horizon. A quaint looking white house with a blue roof sat alone in a forest of trees. Above and beyond them all loomed the silhouette of two mountain peaks so enveloped by clouds that you could barely make out where they started and where they ended.
Just at that moment, the mirror like surface of the water was gently broken by a gradual wave of raindrops. The visibility around me faded a sheet of rain fell around me, coating the air in a shade of cloudy gray. It was eerily silent save for the pattering of rain rejoining the sea. Sitting alone a hundred meters out from the shore, there was a sense of peace and fear, knowing that if anything were to happen right then, there would be no help coming.
The photographer in me wished that I could take a photo of it right there, but it would be insane, or impossible, to bring a camera out to the surf. There were so many moments like this that I wished I could capture.
All I could do was stayed present and basked in that beautiful collision of nature, another breathtaking scene stored away in my memory with all the others, to be one day relived, over and over again.
I thought of leaving but Renton was still in the water, and the waves were starting to get big. So after I stood around for what felt like forever, I put my leg strap back on and paddled out past the crashing waves to where the water was calm.
I turned back to glimpse at the shore, and was taken aback by the beauty of the scene before me. Beyond the black sandy beach, a crimson glow diluted with milky sea mist spilled across the entire horizon. A quaint looking white house with a blue roof sat alone in a forest of trees. Above and beyond them all loomed the silhouette of two mountain peaks so enveloped by clouds that you could barely make out where they started and where they ended.
Just at that moment, the mirror like surface of the water was gently broken by a gradual wave of raindrops. The visibility around me faded a sheet of rain fell around me, coating the air in a shade of cloudy gray. It was eerily silent save for the pattering of rain rejoining the sea. Sitting alone a hundred meters out from the shore, there was a sense of peace and fear, knowing that if anything were to happen right then, there would be no help coming.
The photographer in me wished that I could take a photo of it right there, but it would be insane, or impossible, to bring a camera out to the surf. There were so many moments like this that I wished I could capture.
All I could do was stayed present and basked in that beautiful collision of nature, another breathtaking scene stored away in my memory with all the others, to be one day relived, over and over again.
成功 (Chenggong)
成功 is a much larger town about 20km north of 都蘭，and the journey there is quite breathtaking. On some stretches of the road, the trees seem to form a tunnel and their leaves are so green, with fallen leaves carpeting the road. The mountains on the left are especially beautiful, and there are several bridges where you could stop for a while, with the mountains on one side and the ocean on the other. Every time I ride to 成功, I’ll stop by a particular bridge and sit by the side, letting my gaze float up to the mountains and letting my mind be still, the cool wind on my face.
Through a series of coincidences, I found myself in a bookstore opened by the person who runs the forest stay that I will be going to. That very day that I’m there, it was the opening day of a local writer who was having an exhibition and I ended up being transfixed by her words in her poems. In them, I could feel her emotions as she went thru stages of her life. I spent probably close to five hours there, and met some really wonderful people who I eventually met again at the place I'm staying now.
Here is one of Feirou's poems -
沒有想去的地方
沒有想達成的目標
光亮裡，黑暗裡，風裡，雨裡
哪裡都好
現在的我只想待在這裡
好好看看現在的自己。
There's magic in traveling alone and staying at the place for longer, you'll slowly integrate into the town and get to know the people there, and with that, they'll bring you to local experiences. Over here, most of the people left the city to start a new life. I've met a lady opened a wood fired pizza place, a cafe owner who makes wonderful burgers with homemade bread, a guy who left his job and rented a house here to sell handmade coffee, an painter who refurbished an old house into her studio space, a couple who built their own wooden house on wheels and make their art using recycled wood, and a guy who cooks Japanese styled noodles from his push cart that only opens on the weekends.
In this small town located on the east coast of Taiwan, I've met many interesting people, plenty of whom left the city in search for a slower pace of life closer to nature. Artists, musicians, writers, and those who have come to pursue their love for food and surfing.
Thru a series of coincidences, I happened to cross paths with a couple who upcycles old and used wood taken from demolished houses, and make art pieces out of them. They cordially invited me one afternoon to the wooden home that they built from scratch with recycled wood in the same fashion, adhering to their philosophy of giving a second life to forsaken objects. Partly to save the environment, but somehow I'd like to think that thru their hands, they impart an understanding to those discarded objects that they still matter. That somewhere in this world, someone sees them and the value that they embody.
In their double storeyed portable wooden home on wheels, their art intermingled with the realities of real life. It was sectioned into two main parts; a display area for their work, and a cosy kitchenette combined with a workspace. A ladder located on at the back leads up to their sleeping quarters. On the kitchen walls, various pots, pans, and utensils hung scattered in a seemingly random harmony; a beautiful symphony of everyday life. A green glow filled two rectangular glazed windows, it's source - the coconut trees that sway languidly in the four o'clock wind.
Separated by a wooden counter, husband and wife were working separately in a comfortable silence that hinted of years of teamwork. In her hands, the fine details of a family of orcas were slowly and meticulously being carved out on a palm sized piece of recycled wood. One could see the love for her work the way she holds the wood and gently sweeps the sawdust from her surface.
In this manner, she had created pieces of art for the past ten years that had enabled them to support the life they wanted to live, along with their family of three little girls, and to focus on the things they wanted to do.
It reminded me of a poem written by Feirou that goes -
能一起好好過一些日子，能一起認真做一些什麼，真好。
Thru a series of coincidences, I happened to cross paths with a couple who upcycles old and used wood taken from demolished houses, and make art pieces out of them. They cordially invited me one afternoon to the wooden home that they built from scratch with recycled wood in the same fashion, adhering to their philosophy of giving a second life to forsaken objects. Partly to save the environment, but somehow I'd like to think that thru their hands, they impart an understanding to those discarded objects that they still matter. That somewhere in this world, someone sees them and the value that they embody.
In their double storeyed portable wooden home on wheels, their art intermingled with the realities of real life. It was sectioned into two main parts; a display area for their work, and a cosy kitchenette combined with a workspace. A ladder located on at the back leads up to their sleeping quarters. On the kitchen walls, various pots, pans, and utensils hung scattered in a seemingly random harmony; a beautiful symphony of everyday life. A green glow filled two rectangular glazed windows, it's source - the coconut trees that sway languidly in the four o'clock wind.
Separated by a wooden counter, husband and wife were working separately in a comfortable silence that hinted of years of teamwork. In her hands, the fine details of a family of orcas were slowly and meticulously being carved out on a palm sized piece of recycled wood. One could see the love for her work the way she holds the wood and gently sweeps the sawdust from her surface.
In this manner, she had created pieces of art for the past ten years that had enabled them to support the life they wanted to live, along with their family of three little girls, and to focus on the things they wanted to do.
It reminded me of a poem written by Feirou that goes -
能一起好好過一些日子，能一起認真做一些什麼，真好。
池上 (Chishang)
