The view was, in a word, breathtaking. Not full-on sublime, mind you. There were no majestic mountains, just a few tall hills, which most likely had some nice hiking trails. It was just a bay, not a deep but alluring void of sea with surf-worthy waves that would stretch on forever, hiding who knows what, though you are sure there is, in fact, life beneath those blue ripples. It was foggier earlier in the morning, but the mist has receded, just completely disappearing now.
This was not a scene where nature showed off its beautiful chaos in some secret valley untouched by man. The small stone building, which was said to just be around for a few centuries now, was well kept, completed with its bright red roofs and stone fence, most likely just to keep out any flooding. There was no great wind tousling your hair, just cool summer breeze caressing your figure. The trees, of the darkest green in the morning light, were just long and narrow, obviously having been pruned by whatever caretaker the higher ups hired to make it look presentable for the tourists.
You, for one.
Of course that didn’t mean you had to look like tourist: no flashy Hawaiian or sleek, upper class shirts; just an old fashioned, long sleeved but breathable, white top and faded blue jeans. A lightly embroided beige bag hung at your side: better than just taking the stretching, plastic bags that always break. You didn’t bother getting a fancy camera, but just a simple digital camera did well, tucked into your pocket. Your wallet, which was also just some simple pieces of leather zipped together, was hidden in your other pocket.
This place was far from crooked and corrupt, but you’ve always been a cautious person.
Since forever, it seems…
There was no one else out this early, many some shop owners setting up inside their stores, but besides them it was just you. You took out your camera, focused it, stepped back, and snapped a picture of the scene. As you’ve mused before, it was not a secret piece of heaven where nature ruled, just a simple building and a bay. But you supposed the area’s simplicity was its charm. Between the blue water and sky, accompanied with the green trees, shrubs, and hills, the stone building had just the right balance of blending in but standing out on its own.
You’ve been told similar things by your friends, the type who could blend right in, but had something that made you stand out at certain times. Of course, you would say thanks and play innocent. You were sure just what that something was, but would never tell anyone.
… You must give it to that building. Even though the brochure said that it was built just less than two hundred years ago, it really did accompany the centuries old trees and the millennia aged landscape as though the building and fence itself just grew right from that spot a long, long time ago.
It was a bit envying, you couldn’t help but admit. After years of living in a whole other continent, with strange customs and ideas of trends, styles, and beauty, you thought returning to the area would provide to you a sense of familiarity, the land of your roots, where you were born and bred.
Things just change, though…
At least back home, you could just blend in on the outside, even if, for a long time, you have felt alone or too different to be comfortable in most situations. Especially when you talked and your thick accent gave others doubts of your fluency. While you mostly adapted to the clothing styles, you were always just a bit behind and had your age mistaken several times. Not that you don’t mind hanging out with older people, but having friends within one’s own generation was encouraged.
But of course, that was just impossible nowadays.
Here, it felt even more pronounced. Kids and even the adults walked around with short and dyed hair, the new neon styles of shirts like walking flags. It felt like your simple, monochromatic clothes was a mini black hole, sucking just a bit of their brightness away.
The shops themselves were coloured and dazzled up. Most of the older styled houses have been bulldozed over, the rest, like the stone building, only stay for historical or scenery purposes. Any of the newer buildings would definitely clash with the scenes.
Of course, that’s just your opinion.
Sure, maybe the people you used to know would agree with you. You’re sure that witch would be pissed knowing the area she gave to her descendants probably just handed over the deed, allowing the location of her hut to be wrecked and replaced by some fast food joint. A hut she had built herself, fought hard to stay in the village, and wished for it to last forever and ever, until her lineage ended.
But those are just your thoughts.
You’re sure that if your old friends were alive today, they would be just begging for her to curse this area. Perhaps a curse to make the old houses stay where they were set up, keep the clothes as their natural and mild earthly tones that they were. Just make everything everlasting. The witch was feared, but not totally hated, and she could certainly make places or people immortal, so she wished.
You got that from just some book, though.
Yes, this may be the place of your roots, but it is not your home. Even that was destroyed a long time ago, replaced by the stone building with red roofs. Later on, the people at the shops tell you about their new clothes. You say that you just prefer your neutral tones, but ask if there is a place that sells older clothing styles. They just give you directions to an antique shop, because you don’t know the place.
After all, you’re just a tourist.
~~~
Wrote this after I read an article about a Korean-American traveling to Korea and learning about Korean beauty. I can’t find the article, but at first she was happy to go the place of her roots and maybe feel like she could fit in better there, where her features weren’t a minority. However, she was disappointed to find that, even there, she didn’t fit into the Korean beauty standards. That sense of looking for a place of familiarity only to feel even more alienated certainly gave this story, which was just going to be a description of the prompt picture, a more bittersweet feeling, huh?
I’ll let the readers decide on the protagonist’s past and who they are, but hopefully I’ve given enough hints to build up on.
Critiques are appreciated. –Monos DOA
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