Today is Wednesday, and I am sitting in a random seat of Louisa, an uprising coffee brand in Taiwan. My mom cut off the unlimited Internet access at home, so I have to come out to places like this, order a cup of Oolong tea so that I can write something down in my computer.
The Trip to Penghu (Part 2)
Think of this as a... continual to the previous letter.
There are so many things about this trip I want to talk about, so maybe I'll just break it into several parts.
The Bikes and the Accidents
The means of transport in Penghu has always been a big problem for us. Being the only one in the ten-person gang who has a license, we had to take the electricity powered motorbikes as it requires no license. You just have to be above eighteen and are able to actually ride it.
Having arrived at the port of Penghu, the first task that awaited us is to locate the electricity-powered motorbikes Amy and Selena booked. Even though we were not following a tour group, we still had a pretty tight schedule, all the reasons to go faster. After half an hour of waiting in a un-airconditioned room, our bikes finally arrived. I had never gotten the chance to ride a motorcycle before, and no matter how many times William had assured me that it resembled really much like riding an everyday bike, I could not help but feel stressed due to the extra passenger (Allison, in my case) that would be sitting from behind. It was already scary to go at 35 km/hr with only a helmet as protection, but the notion that you are also responsible for another person's safety? Now that was scary. Funny thing, though, was that it wasn't as scary as I thought it would, when I was taxing all my strength and attention on the road and the bike mirrors that showed the more unruly bikes and cars or even trucks. Since it was battery-powered, we had opted to change it every one or two hours at whatever convenience stores that offer this kind of battery-changing service, which turned out to be another reason I love Taiwan's convenience stores' culture.
On the first day, we went to an aquarium after having lunch at McDonald's (It was hot at noon and we were desperate for some cool air and that was WHAT we got). We spent only half of our time in the aquarium watching the sea creatures, making weird noises when we see the jellyfish propelled by the streaming water in the tank or the biggest stingray in the complex. The other half of the time we spent it playing a game that is really popular in Taiwan recently, but due to the restricted time given today, I will just keep it at that.
Penghu is a collection of several separate small islands, jointing each of them are wide bridges. Among them is one longest bridge whose entrance was like a tourist attraction. When the aquarium was about time to close, we headed for the bridge.
Just several minutes from the aquarium, an accident happened.
I was, as usual, the bike riding behind trying to go steady and safe, but then when I braked at the sight of a red light, I heard a small crash and the sound of metal scraping against the asphalt. I jumped at the sound and immediately pulled the bike to the side of the road as the other did. Something was apparently wrong.
When I went to the front, I saw Candy standing by the road holding her finger, as Selena was helping Amy stand up when someone else was holding the handlebars of their bike. From the corner of my eyes I noticed several people in orange vest came out of the car just behind Candy and Amy's bike. Amy's chin was already swelling up, her knees bloody with the open wounds. It seemed like the bike Amy was riding and the one Selena was riding didn't keep enough safety distance and when the red lights showed, they made a minor crash when trying to stop before the red lights. Normally, it would be okay, suffering from several cuts from the rocks on pavement that requires only basic arrangements, but this is Amy we were talking about. Due to her own health conditions and the slightly malfunctioning blood platelets, she is prone to bleeding and infection, and it truly terrified me. The aforementioned guys in orange vests approached us in concern. Turned out, they are officials from the Coast Guard Administration. In other words, they were like sea patrols who seemed to be heading back from work. They offered to bring her to the hospital that was quite far from where the accident took place, which Amy promptly declined. At the insistence of us and the patrols, we decided to take her to the nearest clinic. Should the need rises, said one of the patrols to me, that I could call him and gave me his number.
But then we faced another problem. We only have five riders available, and right then Amy was not capable of riding, so after a series of erratic gesticulations and arguments, we asked Cathy and Sherry to stay right there with one of the bikes, while the other eight of us took the remaining four to tend to Amy and Candy, who later said with a pained look that she might have sprained one of her fingers.
We were lucky that the clinic was only about to close instead of having us facing pulled-down gates. The nurses tended to both of their pains and we started discussing the possibilities of calling it a day. But Amy didn't want all of us to miss out the jointing bridge all because of this. We watched with worry as Amy got back onto her motorbike and reminded her to be extra careful. After the bleeding, we certainly didn't want her to ride again, but we didn't have any other choice.
I think when you go out, accidents are bound to happen, only that it can go from a scale from one to ten. There is not a foolproof way of stopping one from happening, but how you deal with it, preferably with a cool head, is what is important.
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| The bridge jointing the islands |
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| The aquarium. |
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| The finger owner is William. |
Amy's bruises were fading gradually, and that is what matters.
The Beaches and the Sunburns
Note to self: Bring sunscreen next time. In three days time, we visited a total of four beaches, all with different textures of sand. I think the general population would agree that smooth sand is the most ideal kind, compared with the coarse and seashell-riddled beaches as you can feel either the coolness or the heat of the sand at your feet, the small particles flowing through the spaces between your toes when the waves push and pull them, to and fro the coastline. One thing in common between them was that they were exceptionally clean, but I guess it only makes sense since it was Taiwan's designated natural preserve.
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| Me and my ever awkward moments |
I've always like the sand and the the sea, the lively repetition of digging holes and have the waves wash it back flat. On the second day, since Amy was troubled by the open wounds that were practically still fresh, she had to recoil from getting too near to the salty waters. I felt sorry for her, knowing that she was looking forward to the beach activities as much as we did, and also when the reminders of my family members about not to get too near with deep waters kicked in, I decided to join her for a while. An idea suddenly came to me and I asked if Amy had ever buried anybody alive.
Her eyes glinted, and all of a sudden, she was game.
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| Yup, that is me. |
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| And that's me as the sea turtle. Welp. I'm burnt. |
I found the perfect place for lying down, during which I kept a very conversational tone talking about the resemblance of this to a serial murder case as Amy tried to cover me with the sun-kissed warm sand. It was warm and drowsy in there (of course my face was left in the open).
Following the burial (of me) came several beach resort activities including scuba diving, canoeing and so on. Little did I know right then, how one neglected process would make my next week quite uncomfortable...
When it was time to leave the beach resort, we rode back onto our bikes, and headed back to our hostel. Under the artificial white lights, we got to view each other with more scrutiny. More specifically, our red, burnt skin.
It was really horrible. My arms, my legs my feet (since most of us wore only slippers) and even my neck - all burnt from over exposure of the sun. William was perhaps the most seriously sunburnt, given all the time he spent wallowing alone in the shallow waters under the mid-day sun.
Amy did come to our rescue with the big can of aloe vera she stored in the hostel refrigerator on the first day. Every one was practically begging for the skin refreshment and with ten red and darkened people running around a small room for four, it had to be a really funny sight to see.
The Stayup and the Sunrise
I once promised myself never to do this again. I deem myself too old for this kind of activities that in which an overflow of youth energy is required. There's actually a story about this.
Six years ago, when I was about to go on my first graduation trip of my life -in elementary school-, I was relishing the idea of staying out with my friends for the night. I deemed it a chance that I don't often get, so I decided to stay up all night long and play games with my best friends back then. When the board games and the card games are failing to keep my friends awake, I lay with them under the covers, letting the time pass by by playing cellphone games until the alarm clock sounded in the morning. At first, I was incredibly proud that I did something my friends didn't, but when I inevitably fell asleep on the bus and was dragged down by my teacher in a haze (we were catching the train to head back), I wasn't really noticing my surroundings since my head was still buzzing with sleep. At the train depot, I stood right there with my eyelids half-closed and there might be a trail of drool at the side of my mouth, when my friend tapped me on my shoulder and asked one of the most memorable questions ever:
"Where is your luggage?"
My half-closed eyes sprung to life as I searched around frantically.
It was an embarrassing experience, and a very tiring one at that, and since then I had decided to sleep everyday no matter what.
My friends in EHP, however, is the only magic word that is needed to break my rules.
At around twelve, my mind was already gurgling and demanding sleep, and since it would be the wise thing to get adequate sleep as I am the one driving the motorcycle, but I was not willing to retire to my room alone for some reasons I wish not to voice here. Obstinately I decided to stay, and then when the board games started, my groggy mind morphed into a blubbering clown, and I started to act like a three year old, making strange noises and knocking over things intentionally/unintentionally, to a point where my friends were pretty much annoyed with me (but when I was practically drunk on nothing I failed to register that).
The time went by as I dozed and woke for dozens of times and it was already three in the morning. Right then, my mindset morphed again into a clearer one, and I could see things without blurry black edges once again, and all those who were also on the verge of involuntary shutdown also had the same signs of awakening, and then we started talking about the pros and cons of staying up all night. On the pro side, we would lower the risk of waking up sleep-deprived disorientation bu not sleeping at a;; (on what scale does this argument stand valid I don't understand) and staying up meant that we get to spend more time together having fun, while on the con side, we have only had two people asleep at the moment, Cathy and Allison, who would never be willing to ride the bikes in our stead, meaning that the five drivers were actually discussing the possibilities of staying up ask night.
But then, Melody or William, the two people who were trying really hard to preach everyone into some midnight extra stargazing activities but had their pain backfired when the clouds started gathering and lighting started flashing, threw out the idea of seeing the sunrise at the nearest beach (about fifteen minutes of riding distance) which passed unanimously.
The games went on, and when the alarm for five o'clock sounded, we skidded quietly down the three flights of stairs and headed out for our bikes.
Halfway through, the eight of us could already see the sun lit up to a dim rosy shade, the flowing of the colors orange and blue fluctuated when the clouds changed their shapes. At the beach whose sand was smooth just the way I like it, we saw her - the sun rose up from the horizon, its lights radiating and penetrating the thickest of the clouds. The waves were lapping at the smooth, Turkish yellow sand, its waves of tongues gently lolling out at the loose land we were standing upon. The guys plopped on the beach, taking in the serene several minutes before the sun rose to its full power at a surprising speed.
Sherry was wearing sneakers,so she wouldn't step on the beach lest the sand get stuck on the shoes and it would be a great nuisance.
The orange-y glow of the sun transitioned to the color of a very healthy egg yolk until it was too bright to watch. It was around six thirty when we got back to the hostel, and I was just stying behind for a couple of minutes to check if all the bikes were nicely parked and if the keys were all removed, but when I got back to the room, every one was already under their own respective covers and sleeping soundly like they never stayed up. William was bunking on the floor, using OUR extra-sized blanket all for himself. I forgot what I used to cover myself from the cold from the air conditioner, but I could remember being very cold before I plunged into deep sleep until it was time to get up at eight in the morning.
Thanks, William.
My half-closed eyes sprung to life as I searched around frantically.
It was an embarrassing experience, and a very tiring one at that, and since then I had decided to sleep everyday no matter what.
My friends in EHP, however, is the only magic word that is needed to break my rules.
At around twelve, my mind was already gurgling and demanding sleep, and since it would be the wise thing to get adequate sleep as I am the one driving the motorcycle, but I was not willing to retire to my room alone for some reasons I wish not to voice here. Obstinately I decided to stay, and then when the board games started, my groggy mind morphed into a blubbering clown, and I started to act like a three year old, making strange noises and knocking over things intentionally/unintentionally, to a point where my friends were pretty much annoyed with me (but when I was practically drunk on nothing I failed to register that).
The time went by as I dozed and woke for dozens of times and it was already three in the morning. Right then, my mindset morphed again into a clearer one, and I could see things without blurry black edges once again, and all those who were also on the verge of involuntary shutdown also had the same signs of awakening, and then we started talking about the pros and cons of staying up all night. On the pro side, we would lower the risk of waking up sleep-deprived disorientation bu not sleeping at a;; (on what scale does this argument stand valid I don't understand) and staying up meant that we get to spend more time together having fun, while on the con side, we have only had two people asleep at the moment, Cathy and Allison, who would never be willing to ride the bikes in our stead, meaning that the five drivers were actually discussing the possibilities of staying up ask night.
But then, Melody or William, the two people who were trying really hard to preach everyone into some midnight extra stargazing activities but had their pain backfired when the clouds started gathering and lighting started flashing, threw out the idea of seeing the sunrise at the nearest beach (about fifteen minutes of riding distance) which passed unanimously.
The games went on, and when the alarm for five o'clock sounded, we skidded quietly down the three flights of stairs and headed out for our bikes.
Halfway through, the eight of us could already see the sun lit up to a dim rosy shade, the flowing of the colors orange and blue fluctuated when the clouds changed their shapes. At the beach whose sand was smooth just the way I like it, we saw her - the sun rose up from the horizon, its lights radiating and penetrating the thickest of the clouds. The waves were lapping at the smooth, Turkish yellow sand, its waves of tongues gently lolling out at the loose land we were standing upon. The guys plopped on the beach, taking in the serene several minutes before the sun rose to its full power at a surprising speed.
Sherry was wearing sneakers,so she wouldn't step on the beach lest the sand get stuck on the shoes and it would be a great nuisance.
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| Sherry at the beach. |
The orange-y glow of the sun transitioned to the color of a very healthy egg yolk until it was too bright to watch. It was around six thirty when we got back to the hostel, and I was just stying behind for a couple of minutes to check if all the bikes were nicely parked and if the keys were all removed, but when I got back to the room, every one was already under their own respective covers and sleeping soundly like they never stayed up. William was bunking on the floor, using OUR extra-sized blanket all for himself. I forgot what I used to cover myself from the cold from the air conditioner, but I could remember being very cold before I plunged into deep sleep until it was time to get up at eight in the morning.
Thanks, William.
The End of the Trip
I had immense fun in the short three days, and when I got back, I couldn't help but want to return to the short life we lived as a ten-people borderline-malfunctioning family. It was tiring with all the lost sleep, but staying with them, it kindles joy. It is a unique feeling I wish carved in stones, in my memory.
It will be harder and harder in the future, for the ten of us to go out as a group, especially when I am (might) be abroad in Germany studying. It will take days, weeks, or even months, to try to put the feeling when I belong to this group in words.
But for now, I cherish it. Everything of this trip.
What if It's Us?
See? That was a very long part 2. I must have gotten carried away.
Back to the book of the week.
What if It's Us is a book written by Becky Albertalli and Adam Silvera. I still am having a hard time trying to wrap my head around the idea of co-writing, starting from Kevin Hearn and Delilah S. Dawson's Kill the Farm Boy. I want to know about how they divide parts and how much in terms of proportion the book was for each author. For know I view the book written by ONE Author. It's easier that way.
I came to know this book on an Instagram post in my feed, two boys on the cover, the beige background giving it a very serene, very simple, very innocent feeling of a love story. I saved the post for future reference, but then when I one day discovered that this book was (partly) from Becky Albertalli, after having read her Love, Simon three to four weeks ago, I knew I had to get this book on my shelf. I like her flowing, easy-to-read style of writing, and I knew what to expect from this Y/A LGBT love story.
Arthur in the book was in NY for a summer internship, where he met a boy named Ben who was trying to get out of the shadows of his ex-boyfriend. They talked about universe intervention and so on, went on dates that are bound to make the reader cringe and moan and say "please don't do that". But basically it's just about a couple doing happy and relaxing activities and just normal teenage things.
First of all, I like the frame of the story and the theme about do-overs. When a first date went wrong, give it a second chance and call it a second-first date. As friendship falls apart, find a breakthrough and do a do-over. It penetrated the whole story while signifying the importance of talking things through, speaking instead of letting it ferment in your chest. It sounds like one correct ingredient of a healthy relationship.
One thing about the story that really kept me nagging was how easily the two main characters could get mixed up. Both of them are the nerdy type with accepting parents who held nothing against them being gay (not that it's a bad thing) and it made me really confused once in a while. I guess that is one of the many perks to create in love story two characters with opposite personalities. That way, no one will be confused.
The book concluded its last chapter with an open ending, and it really made me desperate to know what happens next. I want definite answers in love stories: Did the two people get together in the end? What happened to their friends? I know that this ending set its difference with Albertalli's Love, Simon, which ended just like a wonderland high school musical (translation: the best way you deem possible) and an open ending was apparently a more realistic way of ending a story because everyone's life don't just stop at the end of the page, but when our own lives are already filled with uncertainties, I feel like something solid and definite should be more promising. With all being said, I am still not going to hold the opening ending against this book from receiving my favor.
p.s. I am still missing the photo since I have yet arranged a bagel date with Cathy, with which I hope would go well with this book. The photo will have to wait.
End
Phew.
I barely made it. It is Monday in the afternoon now, and I am finally here at the ending of this letter. I meant to finish it yesterday but yesterday was also a day for family gathering and my first day of babysitting a kid I didn't know before, and these stories would have to wait until later. Next week.
Sincerely,
Hugo
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