The first three pics were captured at the stop while we were waiting for the bus to Alishan:
The pic above is, I suppose, the most basic form a pickup truck can take. Looks like the fellow could use a little more air in his rear tire...
The first three pics were captured at the stop while we were waiting for the bus to Alishan:
As indicated already in several posts from this series, the railroad is a big draw for tourists in the Alishan region. This is where we caught the train to go to Chiayi, some hundred miles away, and this is where we saw the indigenous lady described in yesterday's post.
During the wait for our train, we observed something odd: The other travelers decided to occupy themselves by PLAYING ON THE TRACKS. Yes, here's an idea - while we wait, let's go and take pictures as we PLAY ON THE RAILROAD TRACKS before our train comes barreling down one of them to pick us up! Young and old, everyone joined in this activity to pass the time. I was shocked. Even saw a group taking pictures of each other laying down on the tracks, head resting on one rail and legs over the other. Wasn't fast enough with the camera to capture those.
Everyone cleared the way as the train rounded the bend in its time with no harm done, however, and we were on our way...
One can't help but compare them to the Native Americans that we have here in the U.S. - a population driven from their homelands to settle in the places allotted to them by force. There is yet another parallel, and that is how they handle alcohol. Indians here are famously prone to alcohol addiction, something I witnessed firsthand working in the slaughterhouse at IBP; very few of the Navajoes who live in the area worked more than a few weeks because they kept showing up drunk to work, no matter the shift. And years ago during a visit to Hualien, a coastal city on the East Coast of Taiwan, I was on a morning walk and saw one of their natives sitting on the sidewalk, already drunk at 8:00 a.m. There are definite similarities.
But I'd never really interacted with one in Taiwan or got to witness much more than that brief encounter in Hualien. Partly because they live in such remote areas, and partly because they generally don't speak Mandarin...only Taiwanese or another native tongue, leaving me with little hope of understanding anything. Thus in time the mystique behind their culture grew in my mind, increasing my sense of curiosity about them.
So imagine my excitement when I saw this lady, clearly from a native tribe way up in the boonies. She was at a train station with all her stuff - the perennial bag lady, Eastern style.
She obviously was used to being gawked at, and very wary of the Bigger Cahoona. Try as I might to be discreet at a distance, every time it was lifted she turned her head so as not to expose her face to the camera. I sat on my perch long enough, however, to grab a couple of shots that captured the exotic facial features that you see in the shots below. My gosh, where did this look come from? What race were her ancestors? Are there entire communities nearby that have that same look? Don't get me wrong - not really bad looking...I thought she was even pretty, if only she would smile. But she obviously originated from a very different gene pool.
Her visage was always exceedingly sad, never smiling or making eye contact with any of the touristic multitude constantly passing her by (and ignoring her). Where was this girl from? Where was she going...was she even going anywhere? She was at a train station, after all. Is she smart? Had she attended school in her lifetime? Does she have children somewhere? Is she the exception to the rule of her racial makeup, or are her relatives and neighbors as destitute and sad as she appears to be? All of these questions entered my mind as I stayed in my place, trying to look but not stare.
Sort of reminded me of a time at a church service in Querétaro, Mexico. There was a lady in attendance, the mother of one of the members, that was from such a remote area that she did not even speak Spanish. For obvious reasons she didn't talk much, so I didn't get to hear her Maya or Aztec or whatever it was that she spoke.
Of course I didn't get to hear this pretty girl speak either, but think it would have been very interesting to compare it to Mandarin or even Taiwanese.
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“Man, you’re full of s#@!”
Those are the first words I heard after giving a talk to a room full of cops, lawyers, judges, and non-profit executives. Who was I, anyway? What is this suit from the city doing coming into town telling my officers and my county what to do? Yes, I must have been full of s#@!
Those words came from the elected sheriff of Fort Bend County, Milton Wright. A very highly respected, even venerated, no-nonsense man surrounded by rough edges. Not surprising, considering his pedigree. Sheriff Wright spawned straight from a line of Texas Rangers, and became one himself very quickly after joining DPS in 1960. He was nearly an old man now, but still full of vinegar with enough energy to whip and keep a very fast-growing county in line.
But those things are not what was most interesting about this man. As a 23-year-old Ranger, he was assigned to serve as one of the greeters as President John F Kennedy arrived in Dallas for a campaign stop, then drive the third car behind the president in the motorcade that wound through downtown. Yes, this was November 22, 1963, and he was one of the VIP drivers in the fateful motorcade when all hell broke loose in Dealey Plaza.
All police officers are taught to drive in adverse situations, but the Rangers know how to drive very, very well. Wright had no trouble keeping up with the presidential limousine as it careened at up to 80 mph through the downtown streets, and he in fact arrived at Parkland Hospital just as it stopped at the ER. Without missing a beat or even thinking, he ran up in time to cover the gore that once was Kennedy’s head with his coat, and helped load the already-dead president onto a waiting gurney. It was thus that Milton Wright became a footnote in history. But he did not talk at all about that terrible event, or his role in it, until after his retirement when he gave an interview to KHOU Channel 11 here in Houston. In the meantime everyone that knew him knew not to ask.
But that is not the end of this story. If you’ll remember, he said I was full of s#@! This was during a short break between my talk and the focus groups, when those of like profession gathered in small groups to discuss what they were going to communicate to the Governor’s Office regarding the law enforcement needs of the county. After receiving the sheriff’s assessment, I made certain that I would be at his table and among his top brass during this phase of the meeting. By the time it was done I had held my own, and Milton Wright apologized in front of everyone for saying I was full of s#@! We weren’t pals afterwards, but there was a grudging respect that I’m proud to have gained at the end of the day.
The pic below is another portion of the same mosaic:
Check this link for other mosaics featured in this blog...
Somewhat cropped below:
Speaking of Photoshop, I decided to bite the bullet and re-subscribe to the latest and greatest. I'd been working more than a dozen years with CS6, but realized that it can't go on forever. So I've adjusted and now feel more comfortable working with PS 2024. In fact, due to the advances in the software, there is a reduced workload in post-capture adjustments.
The most famous of these is the "three generations tree", with signs everywhere pointing out how to get to it. Thus it was almost always crowded, but I did manage to get a few people-less pics, including the two below:
Alishan is famous for its huge trees, as can be seen here and in the pic below. Thousands of these were exploited by the Japanese during the occupation, but there were enough left over for later generations to enjoy.
Next stop: Alishan