I loved windy nights. I loved wide open spaces. I loved winters. I loved the novelty of new places. There was no way I could not be entranced by the something that conflated all these elements. Strong gusts of wind buffeted my face as I stepped out the station on a wintry night in Taitung. A huge garden fronted the building, and near-abandoned roads sprawled out. Footfalls of passengers mellowed out in the buzz of the wind. There were so many trips I had taken just to lose myself in such a transporting ambiance. Sight-seeing and other travel worthy stuff took a backseat in such instances. Like in Hualien, the plan was to spent a night homeless, but was thwarted by the biting cold.
I waited until the people vanished. A walk and a hitchhike later I found myself in the city center. Unlike the tortuous alleys of Taipei, streets here were much less dense.
There were these phases when I recoiled myself socially, particularly when I felt hopeless or scared regarding the future. I took this trip after a terrible week spent vegetating in the hostel mulling over future plans, and consuming more info, with every thought process hitting a brick wall. I took a break from everything, temporarily jumping ship. This was probably the only thing I could do. I had made some good friends in the hostel I was staying in, but in such phases of lowness, there was no one I could vent my frustration with, either online or offline. Getting back into my former comfort zone characterized by solitude and constant activity was the thing to do. And so here I was.
The next morning, in the slight drizzle, I left the hostel and went to the beach. It must have been a morning drill for the pilots stationed at Taitung airbase. The roar of fighter jets boomed out in the sky as they repeatedly made round trips. The air strip was located near a bridge (something 大橋) to the north of the town. I began walking up north and reached the bridge. It was quite a site to behold as the jets landed on the strip, flying a few meters away from the bridge at the same altitude as the bridge, with a marvelous mountain range in the backdrop.
Another hitch-hike took me across the bridge to a place I didn't want to go to, so I hitched yet another ride to come back to the city. A couple of hours on a crappy bicycle and then I decided to go back.
I visited three beaches that day - all empty. I met two weird women from Vietnam with whom I had an awkward conversation. I ate at a 7-11 for umpteenth time. But the highlight of the trip was those first sixty minutes spent at the station on that wintry breezy night.
I found it very soothing being in a place of absolute unfamiliarity. Maybe it was the freewheeling spirit decoupled from all prejudices, or the charm of solitude. It was something that's better left undescribed. And untouched.
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