Close your eyes and fill your mind with the sights and sound
of the beach. You see the sandy, golden shore, littered with shells and
pebbles, the arched palm trees and their long, green and gold leaves, you feel
the soft summer breeze and the golden sunshine on your skin and you hear the
sound of gulls squabbling over scraps of food, and the boom of the ocean as the
waves break. This is the typical tropical paradise, maybe the Maldives or
Puerto Rico or Seychelles or maybe even Hawaii, but not anywhere I have been.
Our imagination takes us places, and we all dream of being
there in the flesh someday, but sometimes, places you never expected to feel
like paradise manage to surprise you. These places may be closer than you realise,
and in just a single moment, you may be overwhelmed by its beauty, which is
something, that perhaps, only you are able to perceive. For many of us, there
is a special place, some corner or nook or cranny on this majestic planet which
owns a fragment of your heart, and I think, that perhaps, I have found mine.
Taiwan is not known for its beaches, but there is one, far
down south that fits the description above. I have not had the chance to visit
that beach, and probably will not get the opportunity any time in the near
future. I was however, lucky enough to visit a different piece of the
coastline, and what I saw there, is closer to my definition of paradise. The island of Formosa is like an unpredictable friend,
familiar, yet always revealing surprises at unexpected times.
Christmas Holidays 2013 – 2014, I visited two different
pieces of the Northern coastline of Taiwan on two different days. I was
incredibly lucky as the weather on both days was fantastic, although rain did
cut short my adventure on the second day. On day 1, I visited what is
the most northern part of the island (Coastline 1 on the map below).
The
coastline was beautiful, stretching as far as the eye could see with the dark
mountains in the distance helping to craft an unforgettable image. Along the
way, we stopped at a geological wonder, the Shi-Men hole, where waves had
eroded away bits and pieces of the rock over time, and left a natural arch-like
structure, onto which you could climb via two flights of stairs on either side.
The vantage point from here allowed a wider view of the surrounding ocean, and
on that day, together with the warm winter sun and soft breeze, being so close
to the ocean left me feeling calm and at peace. The tranquil sea seemed to
strip away the burdens and anxieties that I carry day by day, pulling them down
and down, into the dark depths of the unknown, and in those few moments, I felt
a lightness in my soul and happiness. Later, I bid farewell to the fifth day of
the New Year as the sun set over the ocean, a visual spectacle that I rarely
have the chance to enjoy. The sky was lit up by rich, vibrant colours, leaving
me amazed at the beauty and artistry of our natural world. These simple and
priceless things in life, forever surrounding us, never fails to slow my footsteps
and thoughts, and seems to infuse me with an energy that feeds not just the
body, but the spirit and the soul.
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The long long coastline |
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The Shi-Men Hole |
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The view from the top of the Shi-Men Hole |
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Sunset over the ocean |
The surprises were yet to come. On the second day we took a
trip to Coastline 2, and the weather seemed to not be on my side, it was possible
we were not going to make it to the ocean before the rain hit. The god of rain
(whoever he is, or is it goddess?) was unusually kind that day, and only teased
us with soft drizzles for most of the morning and early afternoon. We first
drove past the Yinyang Sea, a small stretch of the ocean where the water has a
distinctive colouring: the water in the bay area is ochre/yellow-brown, but
further out is the usual blue colouring of the open sea (azure, if using fancy
names to describe colours is your thing). This is a natural phenomenon, a
result of runoff of seawater over rocks rich in iron pyrite and then some
geological/chemical mumbo jumbo happens, causing the water to be stained the
distinctive yellow-brown golden colour.
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The Yinyang Sea |
The coastline here was also breath-taking, with mountains
that were closer than along the other coastline, grandiose in their demeanour.
We sped along the ocean road, I saw bits and pieces of the beach and rocky
shores and tried to capture some of them on my (incredibly slow shutter speed)
phone camera. A little surprise came in the form of two rocky sculptures
basking in the sun. Two whales sculpted out of rock: the blue whale asking “Marry
Me?” and the reply from the pink whale “Yes, I Do!” In my opinion, these
creations are way cuter than a certain yellow duck, and I was surprised that
they have been barely mentioned on the internet.
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Fishy marriage proposal |
Our final stop was one of the many places my uncle would go
to fish. There were abandoned abalone farms here, stone paths stretching over
an area of the water designed in a grid-like fashion. The floor of the enclosed
area holding the water was made of rocks overlapping each other on a 45 degree
slant. To my delight, I spotted little schools of fish darting about in the
water, different colours and sizes. There was even a puffer fish, which swam
with aimlessly around the enclosed area, sometimes pulled by the water
current, seemingly with no concerns or burdens in life. My
uncle prepared a fishing rod for me and cracked open some barnacles (or
whatever they were) with a rock for use as bait, which worked well. To my utmost surprise, my inexperience did not
let me down, and I managed to catch three greedy, unsuspecting fish. Whether or not catch-and-release fishing is considered as animal cruelty, I hope what I did that
day was just a bit of harmless fun. Just as I was perfecting my technique, a storm hit and a fourth fish I did not hook. As we scrambled to get our umbrellas open over our heads, we were pelted with rain and our dash back to the car was a little too late, we were already drenched. In this midst of all this chaos I
was happy, albeit a little disappointed my adventure was drawing to a close, but
the sea had brought out the child in me again, and its clear waters and little
treasures had reminded me of the best things in life.
As I move on with life, and eventually return to my studies, I think that I will sometimes just close my eyes and take myself back to that place. I will imagine the sounds, the sights and the treasures waiting to be found, and perhaps that will give me enough energy to carry on. I hope to return some day on a bicycle, so that I
can see and feel as much of the coastline as possible, travelling at my own
pace, stopping when I desire to, to drink in and breathe in all the sights and
sounds that the Northern Coast of Taiwan has to offer.
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