“Your soul is not a passive or a theoretical entity that occupies a space in the vicinity of your chest cavity. It is a positive, purposeful force at the core of your being... When the energy of the soul is recognized, acknowledged, and valued, it begins to infuse the life of the personality.” Gary Zukav from The Seat of the Soul.
My latest experience is narrated mostly by my soul, although my personality occasionally takes the reins as well.
Should I stay or should I go?
All of last week, I was obssessed with one Idea for this upcoming weekend: mountains. However, a Friday morning torrential downpour started to flood doubts into my plans. By afternoon, the rains had tapered off but the ominous clouds remained. As is the case every Friday afternoon, hosting Below the Bassline put me in a groovy mood. Feeling so nice after the show, I decide to Go Dutch for a little hit of their creamy cheesecake. I mention to Erik, the owner of the coolest little restaurant in town, that I have been considering hitting the high mountains but have my doubts in terms of weather. “Ah, don't base your decision on the weather in Tainan. It could rain here and be beautifully sunny up there”, he offered in his laid-back Seattle accent.
By the end of the afternoon, the sky clears amazingly to display a stunning orangy-pink sunset. In a rare Tainan moment, the rains team up with the wind to plow away the habitual layer of pollution, leaving the mountains in plain view from Jackie's eastward facing apartment on Dongmen Street. Tempting. I am firmly caught between two minds (what's new? eh, Dan). Alright, who can I coax into joining me? The list of rejections is long. Michele is coming off a week of sickness. Asif is scared off by the weather reports. Dave has to work on Saturday morning. Dan has plans. Siv's out of town...etc. There are special times where I demand to take off by myself; unfortunately, this isn't one of those times. Alas, maybe it just isn't meant to be.
Or is it. More than his words, it was Erik's look of envy when I told him I planned to hit Yakou. “Man, why do I need anyone else anyhow?” I start convincing myself, “you're going, accompanied or not”. My personality interjects. “You shouldn't go alone, it's too dangerous. Remember what Jackie's Mom said about the poor road conditions up there. Besides, won't you get bored all by yourself. What if it's raining and cold all weekend?”. I won't bore you with the listing of my personality's endless fears. I signal for my personality to hush and this is what I say in the kindest and firmest of tones, “Pack away your fears and get your things together. Unless it's pissing down, we leave in the morn”.
Now, as I see it on this here Saturday morning, the sun's already up and inviting me to take off eh. I get ready and say goodbye to my sweet lady. “Looks like it cleared up after all", she says, " wasn't sure it would after last night's rain”. “Good thing I hadn't heard the rains during the night or I would have surely called it off”, mutters my personality. After a light dan ping breakfast, I mount Berthe and press play on my MP3 and let the cool sounds of Joe Bataan's Black Coffee set the tone.
In top flight, as the new day sun already beats down hard on my exposed arms, I'm thankful to be leaving early. The prospect of an adventurous weekend on my own Time (kairologic time if you recall) plus the driving salsa and latin beats get my blood boiling. The reality of the immense, multiple-layered peaks sitting buddha-like in the distance are highly inspiring. I can't wait to just be right up there.
Just before noon, after several hours of motoring and having now just entered the lower mountains, I stop by some stairs by the side of the highway. As I turn the key to Berthe's ignition to the left, the sound of running water trickles into my ears, replacing Berthe's rather noisy gait. A quick scout mission tells me it's the perfect spot to sip tea and have a little sit down in the shade. It turns out that not only is there a stream but there is decent waterfall here as well. I have to hurdle a few rocks to get up close and in my excitement to clamber up as fast as possible, I misjudge a detour around a fallen branch. The unusually sharp branch catches on to my pant leg and creates a tear. “What's the rush, laddie?”, I remind my personality. Sometimes, he is such a child. But then again, that's also part of his charm.
Standing near the falls, I can see its main jet ricocheting off one or two projecting rocks, before it tumbles down about 30 ft. In a flash, I've stripped down to cool down. The loudness of the crash is almost deafening as the powerful jet thumps my head. People pay good money at spas in Taiwan for this very same treatment. And, just like the spa, all I have to do is move slightly to the side to get a less potent yet just as pleasurable jet. Then, a colourful surprise. I am suddenly encircled by rainbows. Small ones which follow me which ever way I turn. I'm no physics genius and I don't know the theory behind wave particles and such so as to be able to explain this phenomenon to you. All I can do is pass on the image and try explain the sheer delight of being massaged by Nature while rainbows dance all around me. And now I am finding that mere words can not do the feeling justice as I now dry off in the sun. Overhead, a group of thugged out rain clouds moves in to block the sun. It doesn't dampen my present mood, though. I brew up some tea and sip in the sweet silence.
I'm starting to feel peckish so I decide to have lunch in the nearby town of Meilan. I order a fried rice and some mountain vegetable from a local restaurant run by aboriginals. There is an older but not elderly couple sitting down enjoying their meal. They are curious about the foreigner and instantly strike up conversation as I walk by. Turns out they are also from Tainan. They are curious as to my meticulously planned schedule for the weekend. I tell what little of them I possess but refrain from getting into the whole no-plan philosophy. In return, they enthusiastically divulge their entire agenda.
Once I exhaust my limited conversational Mandarin, I sit down and wait for my food. Ah, the snail's mountain pace can be felt even though my food comes quickly.Yums. And even before I am done, in true representation of the warm aboriginal hospitality I've encountered time and time again iin Taiwan, one of the owners offers me a local delicacy called xiao mi. It's a kind of dumpling filled with crushed peanuts and something sweet. Who cares what it is, it's delicious! Following that, I watch as the woman from Tainan jumps out of the passenger seat, runs over to me, and hands me a bag of fresh wax apples. Feeling blessed from all these unexpected gifts, I'm all smiles with thanks as I strap my helmet back on and start up Berthe for the next stage of the journey.
Up, Up and Away
From past experience, I remember to stop in at the Meishan visitor centre to pre-order my supper at the Yakou hostel. Being so high up and isolated from any cities (by Taiwanese standards anyway), they must know you're coming in advance or else you starve. I learned that one the hungry way. I run into some communication difficulties with the teenage kid at the reception. He is so embarrassed to be talking to a foreigner that he is unable to concentrate. The best he can come up when we are in a communication stalemate is, “ni hen shuai” (You're handsome). They are the perfect words to diffuse my frustration at my lack of being able to convey a simple desire to eat supper that night. Oh well, I may starve but at least I'm handsome to this guy. Anyway, he finally calls for back-up and it all gets sorted. And with the sun shining strong, I decide to camp that night and refrain from ordering a room. I know it will be cold up there but I am sufficiently prepared for that. As long as it doesn't rain...
Amazingly, not ten minutes after leaving the visitor centre, still on cloud nine, the god Murphy asserts his omnipresence by envoying a convoy of clouds to roll in suddenly like those alien ships from Independence Day (never ever thought I'd make reference to that crap movie) and I start to feel a few innocents drops from the sky. Is it too late to go back and order a room? I decide to suck it up, whatever conditions I'm dealt. After all, I won't die now will I? To dawn or dismiss rain apparel, that is the current question. I decide to put it on. Five minutes later the rain stops. That Murphy character sure does have a sense of humour.
However, by the time I reach my next stop in Tianshih, after an hour or more of steady upwards spiralling, the clouds have completed their hostile takeover of the sky. They are moving hurriedly, like worker ants with a task to finish. The unpredictable mountain weather is demonstrating itself at an accelerated pace. I cover my tent and sleeping bag before climbing the steep steps leading to, - you'll never believe it - in Taiwan of all places, a temple! Before reaching the top however, an audio sensation snags my attention. It is distinctly the sound of monks chanting, and rather loudly at that. I immediately envision monks performing a sacred meditational ritual upon the mountain peak. However, when I reach the shrine, the shaved-headed holy men I had imagined are actually a small tape-palying device and a few speakers. Tricknology! The shrine is a memorial for the souls who lost their lives during the construction of the Southern Cross Highway as it is known. I say a prayer of thanks to them for without their sacrifice I might not be here right now.
Decidedly, the weather in the PM cannot be more different than the AM. The blue skies have been taken over by fleets and fleets of various types of grey clouds, from ghostly thin vaporous ones to fat moonless-night coloured ones. The likelyhood of rain doesn't stop me from exploring the area behind the temple.
The lake I had read about is no more than a pond in reality. There is a trail behind it which eventually leads into the forest. Had I suddenly slipped, banged my head and contracted amnesia, I would have sworn I was in BC judging by the size of the trees. Indeed these multi-limbed giants are from an era long past. Within seconds, the wind makes me stop in my tracks and commands my attention. I listen carefully and respectfully. Once it has spoken its piece, the quiet that follows the monologue makes up for months of constant Tainan city noise. I can't get over how lush everything is. Songbirds brag to one another about how many little critters they've gobbled up. A few swoop down into my path just millimetres ahead of my stride in a display of precise stealth flight. Velvety moss and lichen drape the trees' ankles. A slight rain begins but there are so many trees to use as cover that I fail to get wet. That is, until it starts to pour down. I decide to seek cover under a particularly massive umbrella-like pine. It is here that I encounter another human moving in the opposite direction. I never did catch his name but he is a real character from Taipei. You don't encounter too many unpleasant people when walking in the forest I've noticed. My guess is that their souls have also taken over their personalities in Nature's splendour.
I return to the temple around in the late afternoon. I quench my thirst by eating some of the juicy wax apples I had been given earlier that day. I decide to sit on the steps facing the valley and watch the clouds for a bit. Mesmerizing. Surreal, too. Giant masses of vapourous spirits colliding invisibly, often travelling in completely opposite directions; the beauty of chaos. And what is my place is all this? Humble observer. When out of the blue, a patch of perfect azur sky magically opens up, high above the dizzying clouds, I gasp in amazement while applauding the spectacle. However, with the hunch that the day's end nears, I decide to leave the cloud show and make a move to the hostel.
The interminable night
As I slowly rise in altitude, clouds still racing frantically about me, I find my hands are beginning to sting from the cold. I'm forced to add an extra layer in the form of my ever-dependable MEC fleece. You gotta hand it to that company, they make stuff that endures. Even though I've prepared myself for the year round cold of Yakou, the reality of driving in it remains a challenge. As I pass through the infamous weather changing tunnel, I wonder what the view will be like on the eastern side. The western side usually holds the favourable weather until you hit that dank, creepy tunnel which often leads to gloomy weather on the other side. The weather is already gloomy though so I can't see it getting any worse.
Sure enough, it is marginally nicer on the other side as I am welcomed by the sight of a glorious sea of clouds, immobile and restful. I stop to admire my new setting briefly before cruising down to where the isolated hostel lays nestled on a small plateau.
With Berthe's engine cut for a well-deserved rest, the first thing I notice is a difference in the strength of the wind up here. It's wailing; a worrying factor if I am to spend the night in a tent. I'm already starting to regret not reserving a room. And when I scope the parking lot, I notice the dreaded tour bus. Surely a full bus will fill the hostel. A couple are outside their van checking out the scene as well. It turns out they too are also from Tainan. We go in together and soon learn that they are indeed completely booked. Where is my saviour, Peter, this time around?
As it is only 7 o'clock, I contemplate eating my reserved supper and then making a run for Lidao, the next village over. Not a mouth-watering prospect in the dark, especially after a long day of driving already, but doable. For what though? The sake of comfort? That 's when the stubborn part of my personality, the part that believes strongly in self-sacrifice and and rigorous challenges as a means of learning to live without comforts, takes control. “We're staying. You said you'd tough it out, so tough it out tough guy”. Did I mention that I make it a point to never argue with my personality?
After dinner, I return outside. The couple introduce me to Kevin, their son. They invite me to come over and try some the taro cakes and soup they had been concocting under the shelter. Though freshly full, it would have been rude to not accept. Plus, I was curious to try these reknowned tarot delicacies from Jian Shan I had often seen but never tried. Again, I try to converse with them as much as possible, practising as much Mandarin as I can while the opportunity is there.
Then I set up my tent. I am advised to set up right next to main entrance of the hostel as it is the best place in terms of priority number one: wind protection. Once it's up, I try it on for size by lying down and faking sleep, unconvinced that concrete will provide any sort of rest this night. Beneath my delicate spine and the tent's thin layer of vinyl, I feel only rigidity. Bob Marley's words, "Cold ground was my bed last night/and rock was my pillow too.." spring instantly to mind. I think back to my rainbow waterfall; the sunshine, the elation and freshness of it all and have to question whether or not that was really earlier today. The yin and the yang. I resolve here and now to make the best of it and deal with situation I have put myself into with as much grace as possible.
The couple beckons me over yet again. This time for some sake to warm us up. After my first small cup, the wind suddenly gusts violently and my tent responds by leaping in the air and dazzling us with a lovely pirouette. However the landing is less impressive as it folds over on itself and crumples in an injured heap. I react immediately by mending the minor damage and then gathering four fair-sized pieces of metamorphic rock residing in the neighbourhood and tying them with string to the tent. I return to finish the rest of the sake in this increasingly blistery environment. The family ask if it would be ok to camp out beside me. With all the hospitality and good will they have shown me, do you think I am about to refuse? All I can really offer them in return are some grapes, which I do, and of which the mother eats one out of politeness. Oh well, I can't exactly force them to accept.
For a very long time now, after milleniums of lying awake, invariably woken up each time just as I am on the verge of sleep by a severe feeling of discomfort resulting from the unyielding ground beneath me. I have resisted looking at the time on my cell phone -even though my personality leeps asking if he can check - because I am all too certain that I will see an earlier number that I desire. Each time I get close to sleep, I suddenly realize that if I don't remove my shoulder blade digging into the concrete this instant, I may never regain feeling in it again. I'm cerain this seemingly endless cycle of near sleep and extreme discomfort could only get worse by checking the time, triggering spiralling, negative thoughts of how much longer there is to endure. Why bother counting?
The wind is unrelentless. Often I can hear it howling way off in the distance beforehand,so I prepare for its imminent arrival by bracing myself. Sure enough, when it reaches the tent, it swoops down and sweeps it up in a brash demonstration of power. I can't believe the tent is holding up as well as it is. I decide to dub the tent George, after George Chuvalo the Italian-Canadian boxer who withstood punishing rounds with such boxing legends as Mohammed Ali, Joe Frazier without ever being knocked out.
A gleam of hope perhaps. The noise of awake and chatty people is clearly audible now. Sure it's another source of sleep deprivation, but if people are up and about, then maybe I've survived the interminable night after all. My personality can no longer resist the temptation and reaches for my phone, unable to ignore the time any longer. It reads 4:02. "now why did you have to go do that?" I scold.
A few times during the night, I think of my friends in Tainan. Are they struggling to sleep due to intense +30 degree humid heat while I lay here wondering if I am going to contract hemrrhoids? Ironic! Well, it's almost seven now, so I might as well make my way to the cafeteria and wait for my pre-ordered breakfast to emerge. I take out a book in an effort to stay awake. I'm physically exausted yet strangely, I feel an inner strength. It occurs to me that I did not once feel myself turning negative throughout the entire nocturunal ordeal. Sure, I second guessed my decision and my stubborness in accepting my fate rather than attempting to make it to Lidao, but on the whole I'm happy with how I've dealt with it. Not once have I succumbed to despair as I easily as I could have. This feeling is echoed in the smile I give the curious little boy who keeps interrupting my reading by saying only "hello" and then running off.
A breakfast of eggs, shredded pork, a steamed bun, rice porridge, cabbage and pickled something or other is devoured in record time. Now to decide on the course of my day. High on the list of temptation is renting out a room and making up for valuable lost sleep. Alternatively, I could suck it up and start exploring mountain country. The weather does nothing to ease my decision-making. It remains storm cloudy, cold and windy. I decide to wait it out until 8 o'clock to see if there is a change in the sky by then. Dreary thoughts of returning home -of quitting - undoubtedly brought on by the ominous clouds, start to get seriously entertained.
As I pack George up , an audience- small both in number and in size- consisting of the same curious boy along with his brother and sister watch my every move. They find it tremendously funny every time the wind blows through to mess up the fold and I have to run to repair it. So content were they with the foreigner show that they did not even think of coming down from their comfortable perch to help me out, the little brats! To kill time afterwards, I go back inside and try to read in between dozes.
At 8 am, I make my way to the very front of the hostel grounds to check out the weather again. A shiver runs through me as the cold wind whistles through. I have to crouch low in order to see under the tall pines blocking the view of the valley. Is that sun I see reflecting on the face of the mountain in the valley beyond? I turn around and look behind me. Dark rainclouds pervade. Still unsure. One thing I do know is that I've got to move. “Well, I'm going to get on Berthe, start her up and when I get to the highway, I will either turn right or left and my decision will be made.” Poor Berthe has trouble getting going, evidence that she has also suffered last night.
Paradise re-visited
Sun vs Cloud. Hot vs Cold. Elation vs Suffering. Me vs Personality. These are the major battles so far this trip. It is only on these weekend excursions to the mountains, on my own, that I become more vocal and cast a shadow over my control-obssessive personality. No, that isn't quite right. It's like my personality is hushed by Nature and allows my wisdom to be heard. In the city, my personality is much too distracted by the myriad of city life social activity to be worried about the Big Picture. As splintered a being as we are, we still have much to learn from one another. And because there are no other personalities present to sway, influence and relate to, my personality is all ears for once when I have something to say.
So it is I which gives the commands to turn right, towards the light, when I reach the highway junction. No sooner then I begin to head east does a full dose of sunshine strike the valley brilliantly, supporting my decision immediately. From this particular point on the road, at an altitude of 3000 some odd metres, it is all downhill until you reach the Pacific. I rejoice in slipping the bike into neutral, thereby severely diminshing the noice factor (she is vocal with her raspy voice that Berthe) and increasing the peace. Even after a short stop at the side of the road to inspect a never-before-seen strikingly violet feathery friend, I merely point the bike back onto the sweet path of momentum to get going once again.
It's time for the Neutral Game! The rules are simple: put it into gear and you lose. It means that sometimes you may slow down so much from a slight incline that you come agonizingly close to stopping. A rookie would then be tempted to slip into gear, for speed's sake. But the wily veteran will exert patience, knowing that holding out those few extra metres will reap rewards of steep declines to follow. I stop again at another spot further down where the entire baricade, designed to protect from landslides has been completely wiped out. The remains of the wall can be seen further down in the trees following the sheer drop-off. Mental note: stay humble and aware.
The worries and doubts I had at the top of the mountain disppear as quickly as my motorcycle drops in kilometres. The temperature also plummets rapidly and it isn't long before I can strip off the burdensome layers. My next decision is the following: to go to paradise right away or on the way back from Wulu. My aching body from the interminable night confirms paradise would very much be appreciated as soon as possible. If you recall the Paradise Found monthly, paradise in this region comes in the form of a unique hot waterfall. The water comes down scalding hot in small jets, which in turn form small pools. People have allowed some of the cool river water to seep into those pools to make them just right for a natural hot tub.
I make it down to the gate and pack a half day ration of food. I will be munching on fruit and snacks until dinner. Aside from a parked green BMW, it is all quiet. So quiet in fact, that I strain my eyes to match the machine-like hovering noise that has peaked my curiosity. A squadron of giant bees or wasps have come to check me out. A little bit further down the path, I hear some strange cawing noise. If it's a bird, then it's a strange one. My suspicion is soon confirmed as a band of monkeys greet me with loud noises and snarls from a safe distance. They are a quintet and the reason they may be so agitated is because there is a baby on board. It's rare to see monkeys in the wild in Taiwan (yes people, Taiwan not Thailand) so I'm quite excited to see my distant cousins again. However, they share neither my enthusiasm nor my curiosity so I decide to keep moving, past the pig sty and the unfriendly chained up dogs (I'd be sour too if I were chained up all day), leading to the path down deep into the valley.
The path down to paradise is as steep as I remember. I hope it isn't slippery from the recent rains but it isn't too bad. A few slips and slides, without the away. Once riverside, I decide to give the beemer crew some time alone in paradise. Plus, I am feeling mighty hot and could use a cool down before the spa. I set down my bag and start hopping and skipping over the rocks with an extra zing in my step. Suddenly, as I stand on a massive piece of rock, I flash back to grade 4 at Jeanne Lajoie. I'm playing on the jungle gym, stalled and standing on the green iron bars that are meant to be crawled upon, maintaining perfect balance. When I reopen my eyes, I'm back to this very same spot on top of the rock. No wonder I'm so happy when I come here. This is my natural jungle gym. And I realize that all that training I had at Jeanne Lajoie has made me a fearless climber even now.
I'm careful not to step on the gazzillion tadpoles near the surface as I enter the water. It's ice cold! A refrigerated shock runs through my entire body when I plunge in head first. When I exit the water after a short swim, my back remains icy cold for a good minute. The swim is just what I need. Now I'm hyper-awake. I brew up some tea and let time pass away in a Pooh styleh. A large spider crawls onto my bag. I manage to convince it that my bag will make a poor home. A fat, brown bird comes to say hello. Then the sun and the clouds start their back and forth, brother-sister squabbling about who rules the sky again.
Time to hit paradise. Populating it is a group of youts (gotta say that one a la Joe Pesci). My guess is that they are classmates in their last year of high school. About 6 guys and one girl in total. Funny age. Lots of horseplay, like pulling each others bathing suits off and loud screams when taunting one another to dive into the cold river. How lucky, two sets of monkeys in one day! Just joking, I got along fine with them, all the while remembering that I was very much the same age once upon a time.
It isn't until a quarter the way through the climb back up, feeling my entire t-shirt heavily soaked through and through, that I recall the intensity of the heat and humidity from my previous climbs. Again, the blessing of my upbringing strikes me. I used to go down into Wilcket Creek and find little paths (eventually leading up to Sunnybrook) and spend hours just scrambling up and down them in the dirt. Or, when we would stop for a water break at the fountain on the way back from a bicycle ride, I'd take a quick sip of water and then beeline for the path and sprint up and ski down the path until my parents would call me to leave again. Getting down on all fours is almost as natural as walking to me!
Now back up on the highway, my plan is to continue eastbound, by-passing the town of Lidao and exploring further down into the Wulu Gorge, unchartered territory for me. I apologize in advance for this one, but what a gorge-ous area! It consists of a deep canyon with high walls rising high on either side of the narrow, brilliantly turquoise river. In the distance from where I am now stopped, I can see a road which possibly leads down to the river. However, the longer it descends, the worse the roads gets. Finally, I decide to turn around as I have no intention of getting stuck and stranded on this rarely trodden path. But first, I might as well take a peek just to see how far... At least the distance of Paradise and back and to be honest, my legs are still a bit wobbly from this morning.
On the way back up now, I spot a suspension bridge. Being a heights enthusiast, I must check it out. Wooha, it's up there. When I peer over the edge of the bridge, seeing the 1000 foot of emptyness between me and river and rock, I feel a tinge of excitement. I always get the urge to jump. Not to kill myself mind you, but maybe it's that desire to feel that flying sensation. I hawk a lugey and it takes it about 8 seconds before it hits the river bed. The view is stunning. On the other side of the bridge, there is a staircase. My personality starts to climb again out of curiosity, (or is it addiction?) before I stop the insanity. Have we not had enough gruelling exercise for one day? When I look down at my trembling legs, I know they are grateful for the decision.
Heading back up towards Yakou, the weather turns sour. The rains come and they aren't messing around. I make a quick decision in Yakou to keep driving until I hit Meishan where I can get a room. It will mean an extra 1-2 hours of driving in the cold rain after having driven a fair bit already, too. But it won't be dark and I feel sufficiently energized to do it. And strategically, it will make a huge difference for the drive back tomorrow morning. And so I ride slowly and carefully in the pounding rain. When I finally reach Meishan, it is dark. I am soaked down to the marrow and exhausted from the required concentration of driving in the rain. I settle a room in the otherwise vacant hostel and, once my stuff is hung up to dry, I relish jumping into the womb-like comfort of a hot shower. I stay in that stall much longer than necessary.
I spend a quiet night in the hostel. It's Mother's Day today and luckily, there is a cell phone antennae practically outside my window. The reception is so good that Maman sounds as if she is in the next room. Then I listen to an old Bill Cosby stand up routine before letting the rain massage me into a sleep as deep as the Wulu gorge.
The rain has ceased when I wake up. When I open the curtains, it takes me a good minute to adjust to the light. I feel like a gremlin. The sky appears overcast but leaning more towards clearing up than more precipitation. I eat the last of the supplies: an orange, a star fruit and some young mangoes, before setting off.
The air is magnificently fresh from the rain. I am literally intoxicated from it. The entire time I remain in the mountains, I make sure to consciously inhale as much of this natural air as possible before returning to the city. Lusher than lush valleys are my delight for the first hour or so. I do not rush this part of the journey. I make a stop in Jiashan for a banana milk and some noodles.Then, the fine selection of latin jazz, latin-funk and salsa rhythms propels me home with a wide grin pasted on my face.
Funny, but it isn't until I reach the town of Shinhua, just outside of Tainan, that the heat starts to get to me. All that concrete and lack of greenery makes a huge difference. The traffic and the frantic driving also gets my mountain goat. Why can't everyone just chill? “You all need a trip to the mountains my friends”, I suggest to all the city folk. Nobody listens. Th reality of work, errands and everyday city life slowly consumes my thought process. I can feel the transformation coming on. My personality is about to take over again and there is nothing I can do to stop it. At least, not for the time being. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.
