the lazy travel writer

A friend recently visited and asked how I got so lucky to be living here? Surely it must be like living in paradise.

Sometimes, I wonder the same thing as many of my days are filled with magical moments. But if there is one thing that I know, is that the so-called “magical moments” are often a matter of perspective ruled by current state of mind.

Most days I would say:

A late night ride along a deserted road on a balmy spring evening, stars twinkle as the moon rises from amongst the limestone karsts towering in the darkness. Villages are quiet having already turned in for the night. As I ride, I pierce the heavy, cool night air filling my lungs with the sweet, earthy freshness. Fireflies flit across the fields almost as if they are dancing to the orchestral sounds being bellowed into the night by frogs, crickets and cicadas. Occasional fellow nighttime-travelers power past on motorbikes, their lights drowning my faint flashlight to help guide me on my journey. We are few and I am no hurry to emerge into the urban hustle and bustle. Enraptured by nature and the life that is teeming around me, I feel a sense of invigoration and well being. In the distance, the lights of Yangshuo township glow behind the karsts. All too soon the streetlights will be upon me and the air will warm slightly as I coast down the hill. I become infinitely aware I am not a solo pioneer roaming through the darkness but just another of the many town residents heading home.

But there are some days I would say:

Shrouded in haze the moonlight is struggling to make an impact upon the darkness, stars are few and far between. Towering limestone karsts bestow dark shadows across the landscape compounding the problem, as my eyes struggle to adjust to the lack of light. Engulfed in blackness I hold my failing flashlight down in front of me so that I don’t veer off the road into one of the 3 foot deep gutters that lurk on either side. A motorcycle approaches in the distance and as it draws closer I am blinded by the brightness and intensity of his light. Slowing to almost a crawl I try to focus on the ground next to me in an attempt to stay on the road. A barrage of bugs slam into my face as I cycle into the chilly night air. The smell of buffalo shit hangs like a damp blanket in the air. More blinding motorcycle lights, more menacing bugs, seemingly endless darkness. Finally, in the distance the lights of Yangshuo town beckon like a beacon from behind the karsts. Breathing a sigh of relief as I reach the streetlights on the edge of town, a welcoming warmth in the air embraces me as I coast down the hill towards home.

A ride home through the countryside at night is what I would consider to be a magic moment, however just how “magical” truly does depend on the moment.