The winter wind in Beijing is a cold fact of the season.
It has a way of piercing the skin, no matter how many layers you wear. As I hiked the Yudushan scenic spot in Yanqing district, where even the waterfalls had frozen mid-flow against the shaded cliff faces, glowing pale blue under the sun, I was chilled to my bones.
What little warmth the sun could spare was stripped away by the wind — dry, furious and thorough.
I walked on, each step a fight.
My body passed through one winter while my consciousness held a passport to another.
It was the same time, but a year earlier. The winter wind in Hong Kong carried the warm, damp weight of the sea. It gently lingered around me as I wore just a hoodie.
I was hiking with a friend along the coastal trail in the southeastern part of Hong Kong Island, the sun resting on my shoulders, the South China Sea stretching below like a vast sheet of glistening blue.
That day, we had planned a route that was easily accessible, with little elevation, yet offered a rich mix of experiences, including coastal walks, hill climbs, and a bit of cave exploration, from Dragon's Back to Cape D'Aguilar.
