(no subject)
Lychee tastes like kiwi, at least when you get it fresh.
This is why I wear an air filter over my face when I go out.
This is part of the observance of Mothers Day, a festival season which appears to take up pretty much the entire month of May in Taiwan. It's consistent with the local custom of ancestor worship. Much of daily observance here involves burning things, whether it be incense or paper or any of a number of other things. Most buildings have one of these metal grills sitting just outside the door so that when an occasion like Mothers Day comes about the occupant can go out onto the street or sidewalk or, in this case, the market, and burn what needs to be burned. At the Lunar New Year, they wrote their wishes for the year on paper and burned them. On Tomb Sweeping Day they bought fake paper money and burned that. Goodness knows what will go up in flames for the next holiday.
This is the view of Taipei from the top of Songshan Mountain.
The hike to the top was not too taxing. It's impossible in such a dense population center as the Taipei metropolitan area to get away from the ubiquitous fingerprints of humanity and so it came as no surprise that there was a neatly paved path to the top of the mountain and back down again. The trails winding through the mountains were littered with shrines and temples and now and again the distant echo of bells and ancient chants filtered through the rustling bamboo and alien birdsong.
On the path to Elephant Mountain, I saw a sign underneath the bamboo canopy. At first glance, this sign might have been mistaken for merely an informational sign like the many others that I had seen along the way, but I happened to stop to take a look and this is what the sign said:
Tender green buds, newly released,
Fresh bamboo still retains its fragrance.
Dew covered leaves gradually extend,
Clusters of young shoots elongate silently.
When I stop by the gazebo in the morning,
The shady clump of bamboo is my favorite.
Regardless of the seasons or the time of day,
no matter whether it's sunny or raining, when
you walk in this corridor of tall bamboo, slow
your pace, Feel the light trickle down the leaves
that project mottled shadows on the ground;
feel the drops of crystalline water beads on
bamboo leaves on rainy days; feel the tender
shoots erupt from the ground in the morning;
and smell the wisp of fragrance from bamboo
leaves in the air.
This is why I wear an air filter over my face when I go out.
This is part of the observance of Mothers Day, a festival season which appears to take up pretty much the entire month of May in Taiwan. It's consistent with the local custom of ancestor worship. Much of daily observance here involves burning things, whether it be incense or paper or any of a number of other things. Most buildings have one of these metal grills sitting just outside the door so that when an occasion like Mothers Day comes about the occupant can go out onto the street or sidewalk or, in this case, the market, and burn what needs to be burned. At the Lunar New Year, they wrote their wishes for the year on paper and burned them. On Tomb Sweeping Day they bought fake paper money and burned that. Goodness knows what will go up in flames for the next holiday.
This is the view of Taipei from the top of Songshan Mountain.
The hike to the top was not too taxing. It's impossible in such a dense population center as the Taipei metropolitan area to get away from the ubiquitous fingerprints of humanity and so it came as no surprise that there was a neatly paved path to the top of the mountain and back down again. The trails winding through the mountains were littered with shrines and temples and now and again the distant echo of bells and ancient chants filtered through the rustling bamboo and alien birdsong.
On the path to Elephant Mountain, I saw a sign underneath the bamboo canopy. At first glance, this sign might have been mistaken for merely an informational sign like the many others that I had seen along the way, but I happened to stop to take a look and this is what the sign said:
Tender green buds, newly released,
Fresh bamboo still retains its fragrance.
Dew covered leaves gradually extend,
Clusters of young shoots elongate silently.
When I stop by the gazebo in the morning,
The shady clump of bamboo is my favorite.
Regardless of the seasons or the time of day,
no matter whether it's sunny or raining, when
you walk in this corridor of tall bamboo, slow
your pace, Feel the light trickle down the leaves
that project mottled shadows on the ground;
feel the drops of crystalline water beads on
bamboo leaves on rainy days; feel the tender
shoots erupt from the ground in the morning;
and smell the wisp of fragrance from bamboo
leaves in the air.