Scene: Green Island

One hour from the mainland across a rocky, black sea. Several bags of barf and a stomach full of gassy worms. On a rickety bicycle squeaking along the coastal road even as the winds threaten to blow me off my pedals. 

Up and down the hills I climb, following taut electric cables that spill over majestic hills in view of seas foaming life onto the rocks.

Past a lighthouse where the sign says “No visitors allowed.” but its dressing – like a Grecian virgin – tempts us past the wooden gates. A rented scooter stands at its doors. Surely it must be receiving guests?

I spy a lonely life buoy hung on a stake. It faces a little islet that ebbs with the tide. It forms the theme for the rest of my ride – quietude and windy gusts with a smattering of age.

This deer will be chopped up, filleted, dried and eaten. Yum. After all, it has to uphold Green Island’s reputation for good deer meat.

A window in a concrete wall on a windswept plain of grass. Beware rattlesnakes and animal dung.

But it’s got nothing like this brave man and his fishing rod against the black sea. Only seen on Green Island.

Scene: Taitung

Taitung city isn’t the best place to stay in. Having said that, people were straight-forward, helpful, and didn’t rip me off.

Something something chicken

Aborigine cook

Bamboo rice.

The best place to be in the city is at the old railway station. Rails overgrown with grass and dandelions, blue skies and a yellow train.

The train at the old train station

Indonesian grocery store