What my eyes see as fairy-tale-esque, the camera screen shows as flat. Three verdant mountains rising up in my left, one behind the other, their sides dotted with clusters of white tong flowers. The mists swirl around their peaks, alternately revealing the greenery for a moment then hiding it again. In front and to the right the valley opens up, lighter greens and more white flowers, another mist shrouded mountain in the distance. I take a sip of my tea then pick up the camera again, readjust the settings and put my eye to the viewfinder. Let's see if I can capture that magical atmosphere this time.
stripe repeating over and over. The beige floor and white tiles in the ceiling, florescent tube lights at regular intervals. Off to my left are the offices of the managers, frosted glass in aluminum frames separating them from the rest of us. The managers have all gone home, their rooms are dark and empty. I'm all alone here. I know there are people in the assembly hall and warehouse but they might as well not exist. There's always some noise in the office, a phone conference in one corner; someone walking by with a cup of coffee, a couple people chatting at their desks, the clatter of people typing emails; but now it's completely quiet save for the ambient hum from the server room. Half of the ceiling lights are off, my section still has light but the far ends of the room are enveloped in shadow. It feels so bizarre to be here, like I'm in an abandoned building but I know it's not. Like the daily routine has been put on pause and I'm here like an outside observer, seeing what's left behind when the workers leave.
The road is narrow, barely more than a car’s breadth, nature closing in on both sides, a ribbon of cracked and broken asphalt zigzaging its way through the forest. In a car I’d be taking it slow here, but now I’m going as fast as I dare, leaning from corner to corner, fully focused on the road ahead. Shift down, counter steer, accelerate out of the corner, green trees whizzing by. Shift up for the straight, just a few seconds, patches of blue up above then eyes back to the tarmac, ease it down for the next corner. Just me, … Read the rest
I don’t think my photos can accurately show how steep this is. It’s more like rock climbing than hiking. The trail is a jumble of rocks and exposed roots, polished smooth by thousands of hands, thick knotted ropes trailing along the sides for you to hold on to. Climbing is strenuous work: two steps forward, take a deep breath, step over a jutting out boulder, take a deep breath, grab on to some roots and haul yourself up, take a deep breath, a few meters of flat ground then at it again. This is exactly the kind of hiking that … Read the rest
I try a few times but it seems impossible to take a decent picture and my son, sitting in the carrier on my back, is impatient, I don't have time to fiddle around with the settings. Instead I put down the camera and take a moment to memorize the details. In front of me is a large steel ring, maybe two meters in diameter, suspended in the air between two trees. In the middle of the circle is a trio of LED lights. A series of nozzles all around the ring are spraying a fine mist into the air. As it falls, floating slowly down to the ground, it catches the light from the LEDs, cascades of orange, purple and white that spread out and drift into the darkness. The colorful mists envelop the little grove of trees, creating a fairy-tale-esque atmosphere and you forget for a moment the ring of nozzles and the LEDs.
Despite the name, this isn't actually a road. It's more like a hiking trail that's possible to ride with a motorcycle...Well, barely, the trail is so narrow the plants growing along the sides keep whipping my legs as I go along, and the ground is treacherous with patches of loose gravel interspersed with large rocks. I go bumping and skidding down the trail as it winds its way through the forest, my eyes focused on the ground in front of me, my mind fully concentrated on riding, my muscles almost vibrating as I'm constantly adjusting my course. I would like to go slow but I find it's easier to navigate this terrain if I keep the speed up, so I go fast as I dare, the forest flowing past me within arm's reach; it's simultaneously scary and exhilarating. Right here, right now, this is the feeling of adventure I always long for.
The fog is so thick, I can barely see the road ahead of me, it's like driving through paint diluted in water. All I can see is the red glow from the tail lights of the car in front and the swirling mists, lit up by my head lights, bright white against inky darkness of the forest. Dry leaves keep falling from the branches above, mixing in with the fog as it flows around the car like smoke in the breeze, sweaping up and over windscreen or creeping along the sides, only just revealing the next few meters of asphalt. I concentrate, focusing on what little I can see of the white lines along the edges and that glow up ahead in order to not go flying off the road. Part of me thinks thi is crazy, wants to slow down, but part of me wants to stick to that other car, let it guide us through this soup like an ever moving beacon. I choose the latter and keep a steady pace, that red glow at a constant distance, but one thought keeps spinning through my mind: this is just ridiculous.
I'm on what I believe is the main shopping street in the city, it's wide but free of cars with shops and restaurants all along the sides. Despite being a fairly sizable city, all the shops are closed; the lights are on but the doors are locked and not a soul inside. Out in the street there are a few stragglers but otherwise it's deserted. At this hour, when the light has started to fade but the street lights have yet to turn on, the feeling of emptiness becomes profound, like the entire city is dead. And there, for a few moments, I flash back to the deserted airport with its long corridors and waiting halls nearly devoid of people. In the back of my mind I know that this is normal for Germany, but for a brief moment I can't help but think that this is due to the pandemic.
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