Category: Travel

A Day With the Cousins (Exploring Xinyi and Hiking Elephant Mountain)

Although I was born in Taipei, Taiwan, I moved to Canada when I was six months old. Living somewhere for six months does not give much time for one to grow attached to the culture of a place; however, perhaps being born there and growing up in a Taiwanese family naturally increases the pride and joy I have for my country. The familiar Taiwanese dialect surrounds me from the moment I step out of the airport to when I step out on the streets, as food stall owners attempt to stop potential customers to taste their foods. The aroma of beef noodle broth, pan fried vegetables, lamb meat skewers, tropical fruit, and moist rain mix together to produce a very particular “Taiwan smell.” And the sights – oh the sights – there is more to the country than the bustling streets often advertised. I have visited Taiwan a few times now and yet, there is still so much of it I have yet to see.

One afternoon, my cousins decided to take my sister and I around Xinyi. (Now that my cousins are older too, we are allowed to go off to farther places on our own). I was so excited when I found out that the plan that day would involve both the city and being on top of a mountain.

Our first stop was the Eslite Bookstore in Xinyi. My cousins and I walked between shelves of books while admiring the interior space, read out random pages of books to each other, and commented on everything we thought was beautiful.

Next, we walked around one of the shopping districts. Despite the fast pace of the city, we chose to take it slow that day and just soak in the sunshine and our time together, stopping every once in a while to finish a conversation, to watch groups of dancers perform, to observe fashionable wear on passerby, or to appreciate the art we saw around us.

Around late afternoon, we headed towards the trail entrance to Xiangshan, or Elephant Mountain. This hike is well-known for its easily accessible hiking route, its short distance from the famous Taipei 101, and the beautiful views it offers on the mountaintops. It only took us about 40 minutes to climb the 1.5 km of steep, winding stairs, although the humid weather made it feel like a longer climb at times. It helped that amidst the sweating and the slapping of mosquitoes every few seconds, my cousins and I had each other to share silly jokes and laugh with.

Once we got to the top, we were faced with a panoramic view of the city!

We stayed at the top for a while and watched as the sun moved from between the tree leaves to dipping behind the mountains and finally, making its departure by colouring the sky with remnants of its light. A row of photographers watched nearby as well, waiting for perfect opportunities to snap photos of the sunset or to stop their time lapse videos of the setting sun. Once bathed in a golden glow, we now felt the cool evening air sweep over us instead.

My cousins and I took the train to meet up with my parents afterwards. Our loud hoots and calls to each other slowly settled into a calm exchange of words as we rested our tired legs on transit. My parents later listened to our adventurous day over hearty bowls of noodles followed by yummy mango shaved ice.

The day was perfect. It was rejuvenating for both the soul and body. Elephant Mountain has become a memorable place for me not only because of its beauty, but also because of who I went there with. My impression of the mountain has become attached with what I love about my cousins and about spending time with my family.

Backpacking in Taiwan (Day 2): Touched By an Angel

Credit: 위로가 될게 (Instrumental) by 일레인 (Elaine)

The morning after visiting Shifen Waterfall and setting off lanterns in Pingxi, my sister and I awoke to the thumping of our own excited hearts. Our adrenaline jerked us from our slumber like ringing alarm clocks. The rain outside swished on the pavement beneath our feet. It was cold, but slurping down a bowl of beef noodles from a nearby shop for breakfast warmed our bodies. With satisfied stomachs, we hopped onto a random departing tour bus and eagerly anticipated for whatever adventure we were headed towards. It had only been seconds before we entered the bus did we learn that we were headed towards Jinguashi, a town by the northeast coast of Taiwan known for its rich history and copper mines.

The bus steadily climbed a steep and winding incline for an hour. Staring wide-eyed at the misty landscape through the windows, my sister and I found ourselves curving through hilly mountains that overlooked coastal views. Colourful houses in different shapes and sizes dotted the slopes of green and the fog which blanketed the mountains defined their multiple layers. It was a sight to see.

When the bus finally reached its destination, my sister and I jumped off in excitement and stared at the view. Having only been to the urban areas of Taiwan before, this rural area displayed a different kind of mesmerizing beauty. We quickly realized our unfortunate luck, however. The Gold Museum required an entrance fee, so we only circled the outer gates. A recent typhoon had also severely impacted the town and the Yin and Yang Sea, so we were warned of the potential danger hiking down there would be. Thoughts of whether to continue our sightseeing in Jinguashi were quickly interrupted by a middle-aged woman who claimed to be a local. After overhearing our conversation marked with disappointment, the woman offered to be our guide that day. The chances of this stranger deceiving us seemed to be low, so my sister and I decided to follow her along the meandering roads towards a lesser known location which she was already enthusiastically chattering about.

The hike up was anything but boring. The three of us shared about our families, personal histories, and beliefs. We dared each other to walk through a dark mine, hooted with laughter into the wilderness, and peered over the bends every once in a while to almost scare ourselves with how high up we were. With very few tourists around, our voices were the sole sounds that accompanied us on our hike. Just as we reached the summit, the drizzling fell heavier and slid from the tips of our umbrellas to seep the corners of our clothing. My sister was carrying her flip-flops and walking barefoot by this time. Droplets of water flew in the air as she skipped along. Once gathered in large puddles, they were now scattered like disturbed cranes diverging from their straight path. The rainy atmosphere had never looked more magical. My sister and I sang songs while we ascended the stairs to the mountaintop and captured the blueish-gray Yin and Yang Sea with our devices. Even from the highest point, the sea looked like it would never end. While we sauntered, the woman took pride in explaining how the sea would glisten silver during warmer days and told us stories about Jinguashi. Life suddenly felt so simple and unfettered.

The sky had darkened almost completely by the time we reached the bottom of the mountain. It was only early evening, but the few dim streetlights made it feel like night had fallen. We were all wet, hungry, and tired, so our guide led us to a small restaurant for dinner. The restaurant was quite hidden that it almost seemed as if by coincidence that it would be waiting for travelers at the end of their journeys. After steaming bowls of rice and veggies, my sister and I thanked the woman for her incredible kindness throughout and we said our goodbyes.

At the time of, my sister and I did not think much about our encounter with the woman; however, when we retold the story to our parents, they called her an angel sent by God. In retrospect, the poor weather conditions combined with our naïve approach to adventuring Jinguashi were bound to result in unfortunate consequences. Without the woman’s guidance and such few tourists that day, we probably would have gotten lost, but God had protected and provided for us yet again. Even if the woman had not repeatedly asked my sister and I to not forget her during our hike, it is without a doubt that we wouldn’t, for we still remember her to this day. Like an angel, she appeared before us, and as mysterious as our meeting had occurred, so was the moment when we separated ways. The way in which our paths crossed is an event that I am forever grateful for.

The last few hours of me and my sister’s trip were spent on traveling to Jiufen, a mountain town locally known for its history and internationally known as a location carrying the ambience of Spirited Away. We were greeted by soft sunrays shining on the edges of umbrella tops that sheltered food stands by the time we arrived there. As my sister and I grabbed a quick bite for dinner, the hanging lit lanterns along and above narrow alleyways gradually replaced the sunlight. The atmosphere suddenly transformed; the day’s end was unraveling to display the enchantment of the evening. A blend of orange and yellow light flooded the twisting, stone staircase as my sister and I darted down them in squeals of delight. The usual crowd in the town was reduced, which made weaving through the little shops more convenient to do. Our legs carried us around corners that led us to a graffiti cave, a view of the A-Mei Teahouse, street food stalls, and shops that sold trinkets and souvenirs. The night view glistened while we stood on the mountaintop in the cold air. Needless to say, my sister and I were captivated by Jiufen’s beauty. Although we did not get to experience the town in its bustling state, we embraced its solitude and felt free to roam, leap, and yell in an unrestrained manner.

After a few hours of exploration, my sister and I took the long bus ride back home to Hsinchu. It was midnight when we arrived. We treated ourselves to our favourite rice hamburger from Mo’s to celebrate our first ever mini backpacking trip together before we slipped back into my aunt’s house, into reality, and then into dreams of nostalgia and of adventures to come.

This two-day trip showed me how much I have yet to explore and learn about the motherland. Whenever I recall fond memories of traveling, visiting family, and building relationships with the people I met there during this summer, I feel attachment and pride for the country which I was born in. Canada is home, but Taiwan will always feel like another home to me.

Finding Grace Amid My Travel Mishaps

Do you ever wonder about the timing in your life? While some situations could not possibly happen at a worse time, other events align just perfectly. Even when timing goes unnoticed, it is because of the seamless transitions which hide alternative consequences. In addition, various timelines are produced from both unpredictable events as well as choices we actively make, but to what degree one makes a difference versus the other is sometimes unknown. My mind often goes back and forth from questioning what more I could have done to prevent or allow something to trying to accept that I will never foresee all possible outcomes.

This was the case for me during my exchange in Australia. I struggled with constant regret over unaccomplished tasks, missed deadlines, and pestering thoughts of what-ifs because I knew I could have done more. I was upset at myself for something almost everyday. I felt like I kept “messing up” the timing of how things are supposed to be because of my slow and indecisive personality, and I worried that in my daily life, I was ruining God’s plan for me and so preventing Him from showing me what He wants for and from me.

Later on when I was riding the train to Katoomba, a thought suddenly popped into my head: God’s plan for me takes my personality into account. He designed the course of my life having already taken into consideration how my flaws and mistakes may interfere with it; He knows me better than I know myself. He is patient with me. Through realizing how broken I am without Him, I have finally come to understand that His grace was already and will always be enough. My mistakes still have consequences, but out of love for me, His grace extended to cover them all.

Even though I missed the deadline for on-campus student housing, I found residence from a family who only lived a 10-minutes walk away from the church I was attending. Even though I missed out on the Sydney Walking Tour, I bumped into two friends from Melbourne who I explored the city with that evening. Even though I missed out on meeting up with my friend from Vancouver and then visiting the Hillsong Church near her, I got to visit the Hillsong Church Hills Campus instead and met a group of lively, passionate students there. Just when I thought I ruined everything, He reminded me that I can still trust in Him, the One whose mercy and power redeems all.

Even now when I reflect on my university years, I see God’s grace throughout. If I had joined SFU’s Cheerleading Club any earlier or later than I did, I wouldn’t have met my close friend in university. If I had gone on exchange any year before 2017, I wouldn’t have been able to go on a field trip to Tasmania with my exchange classmates because it wouldn’t have existed yet. If I had graduated in five years instead of six, I may already be in the workforce by now, but I would have had one less year of schooling to figure out my passions. My post-grad life would have also been different because of the alignment of timing – the people I grew close with, the lessons I learned, the experiences I went through, and the time I had for self-discovery. When doing my Professional Development Program for teachers at SFU, I had the opportunity to go through the extra semester of foundation-building that did not exist for students in previous years too. It humbles and amazes me to know that God’s timing surpasses my limited, human knowledge of how timing even works. His plan is greater than any great human plan could ever be.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

Isaiah 55:8-9


(Taken on Princes Bridge, Melbourne)

Read part 1/3 and part 3/3 of the biggest lessons I learned on exchange.

To Find Myself (Goodbye Vancouver)

I recently found this journal entry I wrote before I left for my exchange to Australia:

I left Canada with a lot of questions on my mind, hoping to somehow find the answers  in Australia. Lost at the age of 22, I had an inkling that flying across the world on my own and facing the anxiety of being lost itself would do something. And that’s okay I think. It’s okay to “start over” sometimes and be built up again in a fresh way. Here is a list of questions I hope to be answered by the time I come back:

 Having been around familiar groups of people most of my life, I want to know who I am without referring to other peoples’ preconception of me. What characteristics do I have?
 How do I make friends? How do people perceive me as a person/friend?
 What am I passionate about (so I can have some direction of what I want to do after graduation…)?
 Can I face and overcome challenges on my own?
 What does it mean to be alone but not lonely?
 What does it mean to be free? / What does “freedom in God” mean?
 Where do I belong?
 What do I value?
 What is the other side of the world like?!
 How do Australians communicate and interact with one another?

I am so stoked to have a meaningful time here in Oz!

These are questions I am grateful to have been answered. Stay tuned for my upcoming posts.

The Search for True Freedom

I am a free spirit, always yearning to break free from the mundane to experience the wild. Sometimes I run to pretend that I am running away from my problems and anxieties. To me, the physical movement of running can express my desire for the emotional or mental need to move away from something. It’s a liberating feeling and the thought of it pushes me to run even harder. As I was running on the track one day though, I realized that there are two ways to look at it – “running from” and “running towards.” Am I running towards anything? Was I running towards anything during exchange?

I had always thought freedom meant escaping to somewhere far away. I went to Australia supposing that I was escaping my problems there, but as time went on, I realized that I was still stuck with them. I left Canada feeling confined in my worries and doubts, and arrived in Australia with a new set of worries and doubts. That was when my search for freedom began. From traveling into the city to be amidst the bustle to going on day trips to secluded beaches, and from sitting in coffee shops around my neighbourhood to flying to other provinces to explore their beauty – I loved it all. However, no matter where I was, I was still me – stuck with my own thoughts and insecurities. There was nothing physical that I could do to push them away. Away, away, away… That was the problem. I was always trying to run away, but never to anything. When Jonah ran away from God because he didn’t want to go to Ninevah, he ended up getting brought back to the same situation he was running away from. And that was how I felt. So, I questioned myself: which one would be more effective – “running away from” or “running towards”?

I found my answer one Sunday afternoon. I was sitting in Anthenaeum Theatre where Hillsong Church City Campus was held, and this one line stood out to me: “We are most free when we are in God’s presence.” Suddenly, it clicked. At the time I didn’t realize it, but now I know. (And even as I know the answer today, living it out in the different seasons of my life is still a challenge each time). I was looking for something dependable but flexible, constant but not a burden. It was a search for more than just freedom; it was a search for a way out of the mindset I felt trapped in and for an escape route from the life I didn’t feel like I was living right – answers that could only be found through a renewal of the mind and Christ-given transformation. Instead of running away from my troubles, I need to run towards God. I need to find and experience freedom internally before anything external can bring me joy.

If freedom is wherever God is, then I want to be wherever He is.


(Taken at Dandenong Ranges National Park, Melbourne)

Read part 2/3 and part 3/3 of the biggest lessons I learned on exchange.

My Solo Trip to Byron Bay and Sydney

June 22-28, 2017

Before my exchange semester, I had grown weary from consecutive semesters of schooling and desired a change to my routine. I wanted to be different and for my life to be different. My wish was later granted but in an unexpected way.

Students who went on exchange may tell you about the exciting, Instagram-worthy life they lived and as true as that may be, there are also others who struggled with belonging among strangers in a foreign land. That was me. During my first few weeks in Australia, being alone and feeling loneliness were synonymous to me. It was evident that other exchange students craved belonging too, but since I neither lived on campus residence nor was I interested in parties, I worried that there were less opportunities for me to make friends. My worries slowly faded as I developed newfound friendships and integrated into my new home, but a question continued to linger in my mind: what does it mean to be alone but not lonely? People often associate being “alone” with negative connotations, but does being alone always have to equate to loneliness? I found the answer to my question when I spontaneously went on a solo trip to Byron Bay and Sydney after my semester at Monash University finished (all too quickly). The experiences during the trip impelled me to face parts of myself which I had tried to avoid or did not yet discover, and from that, I grew to know myself.

I had spent three days in Gold Coast with a friend prior to my solo trips. When my friend had to leave on the fourth morning, I had the decision of either returning to Melbourne with her or to continue traveling on my own. The idea of solo traveling has always been daunting to me, but because I was keen to explore more of the tropical areas of Australia I had fallen in love with, I stayed behind. I booked for a spot on the express shuttle bus to Byron Bay and took a one-way trip there, planning to hop on the Greyhound that evening to get to Sydney by morning.

When I arrived in Byron Bay, I was blown away by its beauty! The beach seemed to be an endless stretch of sand caressed by the ocean waves over and over again.

There was a small island for people to climb to the top of and overlook the waters. I breathed in the magic.

Numerous surfers dotted the vast ocean, eagerly waiting for the next best wave.

I hiked along the Cape Byron Walking Track, a gorgeous coastline with spectacular views every step of the way: the Julian Rocks, Wategos Beach, and the most easterly point of the Australia mainland with an incredible lookout point across an infinite of sparkling blue.

Looking beyond the horizon, it felt as if I had reached the ends of the earth.

Up on the hill stood the Cape Byron Lighthouse, a historical site with a maritime museum overlooking the Pacific Ocean on one side and the landscape of Byron Bay on the other.

I paused to soak in the scenery around me. Throughout the day, I had been alone, but instead of feeling lonely, I had felt free – free to be conscious of my senses, the thoughts inside my head, and my emotions. There was no standard or expectation from someone else inhibiting me to be who I was.

Hiking back down, my heart was brimming with joy as I skipped across the beach, captivated by the hues of gold and orange that streaked the early evening sky. I was in paradise.

The night bus to Sydney was full of young backpackers and travelers. The ride was thirteen hours long and arrived at the silent hour of five in the morning. As I crossed the intersection to get to my hostel, the flaming orange and pink sky gradually dissolved to be replaced by lighter blues. The city was waking up from its quiet slumber and transforming into a bustling hub.

That afternoon, I visited Darling Harbour, the Harbour Bridge, and Sydney Opera House. My heart was fluttering in anticipation as photographs from travel brochures became a present reality in front of my eyes. I later bumped into two classmates and we became friends through dinner at Chat Thai.

The next morning, I took a two-hour train ride to Blue Mountains National Park in Katoomba. Looking out from Echo Point Lookout to the grand view of the Three Sisters, the depth of the mountains intimidated me, yet I kept gravitating towards them in awe and daring myself to look over the edge.

Hiking alone in the hushed woods of the Federal Pass via the Giant Stairway was both magical and terrifying. On the one hand, it was magical listening to the sweet calls of the Lyrebird accompany the rhythm of my breathing; on the other hand, I feared the silence but learned to trust my heightened senses because of it.

I was lucky to be in Katoomba that day, for it was their Winter Magic Festival. Numerous street stalls selling food, trinkets, and other possessions crowded the roads. Fireworks illuminated the night sky, and as I stood in the middle of a vacant road eating a Souvlaki wrap while watching the explosions, I suddenly felt a wave of contentment even amid the emptiness. The streets were loud but my heart was quiet with peace.

On the third day, I walked the stunning Bondi to Coogee Beach Coastal Walk. For tourists and locals alike, the path is popular for its dramatic scenery, water activities, and eateries along the way. Being on my own, I was able to admire the views with wonder and capture snapshots of them around every corner at my own pace.

I had sushi doughnuts fresh from the Sydney Fish Market the next day with a girl also visiting from Melbourne I had come to befriend at my hostel. We later trekked the lengthy but worthwhile Spit Bridge to Manly Beach trail, a hidden gem among the locals with harbourside and Sydney skyline views. As we walked through beautiful bushland, we bonded through good conversation and laughter. We were no longer strangers by the end of the hike.

I took the ferry back to Circular Quay after dinner and while gazing at the Sydney Opera House for the last time by the waters, I still could not believe that I was where I was in that moment. I was so fortunate to be living my dream.

On the last day, I explored The Rocks, a neighbourhood of cafes in laneways, and signed up for a surf lesson with a group of strangers at Bondi Beach.

Surfing was exciting. I quickly learned the amount of strength it takes to surf and its demand for courage and determination became a lesson in itself.

As I boarded the plane back to Melbourne that night, I whispered goodbye to Sydney as the plane took off. I knew I had experienced Sydney to my fullest potential then because I had embraced it all – the highs and lows of my circumstances and moods – without fear or time restraint. The orbs of street lights grew smaller and smaller until they became glistening specks.

My solo trips to Byron Bay and Sydney will always be precious memories to me. Traveling alone offered experiences that traveling with others may not have. In exchange for stepping out of my comfort zone, I gained friendships with strangers, a renewed appreciation for the little things, a better understanding of who I am, and fresh perspectives on life and living. I allowed my curiosity to guide me in my adventures and in my discoveries of how the world is designed. Most of all, I learned what it means to be alone but not lonely – to be comfortable in my own skin and with my own thoughts. It was inspiring and liberating. (I think sometimes we are scared to be alone because we do not want to be stuck feeling emotions and thinking thoughts we attempt to suppress, but it is exactly these that we need to conquer or accept). In a country of strangers, no one could define me before I defined myself. I also became more conscious in how I was experiencing God. For the times when I craved company, panicked to beat the clock, or was frightened of danger, God was my most loyal companion, and in times of silence, He spoke to me.

So, to the ones traveling alone, preparing to travel alone, or scared to be alone, you are not lonely. There is a God up there who is always with You, and there is someone else faithfully waiting for you to love and understand them too – yourself.

Pre-departure Thoughts

February 5-7, 2017

What’s it like to leave everything I’ve known and loved for almost half a year on my own? I had received my acceptance letter to go on exchange in the spring semester of 2017 at Monash University in Melbourne, Australia and was finally leaving. There was a heavy mixture of excitement and nervousness the days leading up to my departure. Even when I was saying goodbye to some of the most important people in my life, it was only starting to hit me then that I was leaving for a while. It felt odd to utter sentimental words of a farewell because although I knew I would miss them, how was it possible to mean those words completely when I couldn’t even believe that I was leaving.

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Backpacking in Taiwan (Day 1): Waterfalls, Sky Lanterns, and Gratitude

Credit: Grand Escape (Reimagined Version) by RADWIMPS ft. Toko Miura (Cover by AVIAND)

I spent years obsessing over, Apple of My Eye, a well-loved Taiwanese film about a pair of high-school sweethearts. Then, with only two days of planning, my sister and I finally had time in summer 2015 to travel to the famous filming location in Pingxi, New Taipei City to participate in the popular activity of releasing lanterns, an imitation of a scene in Apple of My Eye and a cultural practice of pleading for peace. We were reunited after a month of completing separate programs as overseas students, with her program being lessons in Chinese and mine being English-teaching in the rural town of Fuguang. The spontaneity of the trip excited us, but our lack of research resulted in several mistakes, arguments, and dangerous situations. Ultimately, though, we learnt to take care of and appreciate one another.

The air was thick with humidity the morning we left. We walked over to Tsinghua University from our aunt’s apartment in Hsinchu to catch the Kuo-Kuang eBus, a frequent shuttle bus that took us to Taipei City in 45 minutes. Then, we took a train to Badu Train Station to transfer to Pingxi via the Pingxi Branch Rail Line towards Jingtong, which took approximately two hours. During the three-and-a-half hours’ journey, my sister and I caught up about our past month. There was so much to say that even the lengthy ride did not allow enough time.

Since the day was still too bright to set off lanterns, we agreed to start exploring from Shifen, the second last stop on the railway line, and travel backwards. Walking along the train tracks through the bustling Shifen Old Street, we marveled at the low pitch roof houses and little shops selling cultural artefacts, traditional souvenirs, and street food. Never had I imagined the outskirts to be so charming; I was in awe. My favourite local delicacy was an ice cream and peanut wrap, a dessert inspired from the original run bing (spring roll).

Our first stop was the Shifen Waterfall. My sister and I took a detour to hike up it after reading signposts of its must-see beauty. It was a strenuous one-hour walk, but we admired the stone houses, hanging bamboo chimes, and danced in the middle of empty highways on the way up to relieve our minds. The unoccupied road had us assuming that the destination would be quiet, but our encounter with crowds of tourists, who we later found had taken taxis and tour buses up, proved the contrary. We watched the graceful cascades of the broadest waterfall in Taiwan plummet into the Keelung River, as the cool air refreshed our sweating faces. Boulders surrounded the river and there was a steep stairway on one side that led to different vantage points for observation of the waterfall.

After treating ourselves to pineapple slush and exploring the pathways near Shifen Waterfall, my sister and I caught the train to our next stop, Wanggu, a strangely quiet region. The landscape seemed to whisper secrets of the past. Over the train tracks towered the destroyed Qinghe Suspension Bridge, historically used for coal mining. Since the train only came once an hour, we wandered around aimlessly. Had we done more research though, we would have discovered the Wanggu Waterfall hidden next to the station. Nevertheless, my sister and I spent the hour laughing and singing, our voices ringing in the desolate wild. It felt like the world was ours.

There was still an hour left before the sun went down, so we hopped on the train and headed to Jingtong. We weaved in and out of numerous shops including the Jingtong Railway Story House, fascinated by the handmade objects sold and the small-town vibe of the Old Streets. We were amazed at the spectacular view beyond the village too – a mountain of trees and vertically rectangular houses enveloped in fog. There was a path to walk down and a love bridge strung with bamboo tubes of written wishes below that arched across a gently trickling river. The bamboo tubes sounded like windchimes when the breeze knocked them together. Time escaped our minds… and that was when we missed the train.

Not wanting to wait another hour, my sister suggested walking to Pingxi, which was fortunately just a station away. On the train tracks we walked – past the huge Jingtong Mining Industry Life Pavilion, secluded farms, and lonely houses – as the sky grew pitch black. I was frightened and weary, but we talked and sang into the distant skies to have our echoes keep us company.

Finally, we arrived at Pingxi. We hungrily ate wraps for dinner just before the shops closed for the night. It was only 7pm, a time when Taipei city would have just begun stirring with commotion, but it was bedtime for the rural town. Still, my sister and I persisted with our daydream to set off sky lanterns.

When we reached Pingxi Sky Lantern Story House, one of the many shops that sold lanterns, the compassionate shopkeeper kindly agreed to handcraft two more multi-coloured lanterns despite near closing hours. What I had imagined to be an experience with a crowd was now an experience solely shared with my sister. We talked about our dreams and filmed each other writing them down on the lantern as we struggled printing with the calligraphy brushes. An hour later, we were ready to release our lanterns. We couldn’t help shouting with joy, as we sent our wishes into the stars. Watching them float away was beautiful – two lone lanterns flickering in the night sky. It was truly a dream-come-true.

After thanking the shopkeeper for staying an extra hour with us, we hurried on to check the train schedule and were relieved when it read that there was one more train departure left. By now, me and my sister were the only individuals left in the whole village. 9pm felt like midnight as we sat waiting, fearful and exhausted, for what felt like forever. When we arrived at Ruifang Station, however, we were horrified to learn that we may be homeless for the night. The hostel we had planned to stay at had no entry sign and the manager’s direction to meet him downstairs in a building sounded risky. As for the other hostels nearby, they were either occupied or required an earlier check-in time. Calling one hostel after another, we were almost in tears until a manager offered us safe residence for the night. Although the price was two times higher than our budget for accommodation, we accepted the consequences of our ill planning and thanked God for his protection.

The journey to Pingxi has been me and my sister’s most unforgettable trip to date. I can still recall the rhythm of the waterfall and the bamboo tubes, the chipped paint of the old houses, the honest faces of the local citizens, the desire to understand the secrets of the wild, and the mixture of excitement, fear, and bliss I felt during the time of. Moreover, there is something about spontaneity – the danger and adventure of it all with no itinerary, set timetable, or destination – which has given me renewed gratitude for who I was traveling with: my sister. Throughout the ups and downs of life’s many more adventures, there is no one else I am happier to share them with than her.

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