turning, turning

The mountains or the ocean?

Which is your choice for a relaxing getaway, an escape from your boring existence in which you regret every professional decision you ever made, always wondering what might have been had you chosen wiser, better, earlier?

Today I was reminded that my choice is the ocean, by default.

no, i haven't gone to europe, this is in taiwan

My cousin Phoebe took a couple of days off from work to take me to a mountain resort in central Taiwan known for its beautiful scenery of flaming maples, rosy cherry blossoms, and a sea of clouds in the midst of forest greens.  With names like "Monet Garden Resort" and "The Old England Hotel," the guesthouses in the region take on the style of European hotels in the Alps, sort of like an Asian Heidi visiting her grandfather in the Swiss Alps.  I had been looking forward to this trip since my return from Thailand.

However, the week long non-stop rain and the visit in February translated to naked branches of Maples and cherry trees with a wet ground full of muddied cherry blossoms.  On the drive up the mountain, we were both hoping for at least a hint of the sun to allow us a dry walk through the farm.  No such luck.  It was also at that time that I remembered one important detail about myself:  I have severe motion sickness in a car traversing through winding roads.  A couple of hours later, my stomach was violently protesting this trip.

If you've never experienced motion sickness, let me tell you that it is no walk in the park when your intestines are turned upside down and you feel as if your large intestines are making their way up toward your stomach.  Note to self:  no need to visit the mountains ever again.  I probably made the same promise the last time this happened, but memory of it has faded with the passage of time.  Perhaps a tattoo of "mountain = winding roads = puking to death" onto the back of my hand is in order.

In any case, Phoebe and I walked a couple of hours in the rain, imagining the view if the cherry blossoms suddenly stood up from the ground, bathed themselves in the rain, and flew up to reattach themselves onto the lonely branches.  What a beautiful sight to behold!

Instead, we were surrounded by misty mountain ranges and lush green vegetation, a perfect image of natural masculinity.

Who needs girly pink flowers anyway. 

Or silly hats with pink stripes and white hearts.