🗞️ Desire Paths, Untethered Roves

Even when the COVID-19 pandemic kept us grounded, unable to embark on new adventures, my thoughts often drifted to travels—past journeys, future possibilities, and the threads connecting them all. Time often lends new perspective to past travels; fleeting scenes resurface, and their deeper meanings become clear. A journey, it seems, unfolds not just across physical distances, but through time, information, and countless other dimensions. With these reflections in mind, I want to share the story of a trip I took in January 2020—an off-season exploration of Nakhodka in the Russian Far East and its profound, historical ties to Japan.

usually consider myself a traveler on the move, rarely staying long in one place. I seldom linger even in a single city, and extended stays at the same accommodation are almost unheard of for me. Last summer, however, was different. I spent a full week at an Ayurvedic retreat in the backwaters of Kerala, South India. My goal was to intensively experience treatments in the heartland of Indian traditional medicine. Aside from some neck and shoulder stiffness, I had no particular health issues, but I secretly hoped for a mental and physical detox. Still, the place centered around traditional medicine, vegetarianism, Ayurveda, herbal remedies, and yoga—elements that carried a certain mystical, almost dubious, air. Holding onto a slight wariness, yet drawn by the allure of soaking in the South Indian atmosphere, I found myself drifting towards Kerala.

In the early days of summer, I found myself settling in for a stay in Sweden. This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment escape from Japan's sweltering heat, but rather a long journey conceived vaguely the previous winter. As a somewhat contrary traveler, I’d only ever braved the Nordic countries during the depths of winter. This time, I felt compelled to finally experience Sweden's famously brief but beautiful summer firsthand. What follows is the story of that journey, taking me through the capital, Stockholm, and deep into the Arctic Circle at Abisko National Park.

Gazing at a world map, pondering the question, "Where is the heart of Eurasia?" my eyes land on Central Asia. This is the region where the ancient Silk Road once thrived, an area that still feels open and connected in countless directions. Could this be a land of abundance, I wondered, a place where goods, people, and ideas constantly flow, converge, and meld? Drawn by this speculation and the allure of colors, sounds, and scents I had yet to experience, I decided to journey into the very center of the Eurasian continent: Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. My chariot would be Air Astana, Kazakhstan's flag carrier. This is [Part 1] of my travelogue detailing my overland journey through Central Asia.

My journey through Central Asia – Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, lands where the proverb "A sudden visitor is a guest from God" holds sway – continues. In [Part 1], I arrived in Almaty, Kazakhstan via Air Astana, traveled to the shores of the mountain lake Song-Kul in central Kyrgyzstan, experienced the heart of Eurasia firsthand, and fully recharged my travel energy. This [Part 2] picks up the narrative of this overland exploration.

Kinmen County, Taiwan. A constellation of twelve islands, including Greater Kinmen and Lesser Kinmen, floats in the Taiwan Strait. While roughly 125 miles separate them from Taiwan's main island, the Chinese mainland city of Xiamen is startlingly close—less than six miles away. This is the "other Taiwan," a Republic of China outpost positioned like a dagger aimed at the throat of the mainland.

The moment I stepped into Oslo Airport, it took my breath away. The terminal’s interior, a study in the sophisticated simplicity of Nordic design, incorporated an abundance of natural wood. Even the floor in the immigration hall was planked in timber, its beauty and warmth radiating not just visually, but up from the soles of my feet. A pleasant scent of the forest drifted through the air – a natural fragrance that seemed to tap into some primal sense of well-being. While airports worldwide utilize wood, I’d never encountered one so dedicated to achieving harmony with nature.