Secrets on a beach

by Nandita Bhatnagar (New Zealand)

I didn't expect to find Taiwan

“I hear there’s a Secret Beach around here.” I say the sentence hesitantly, almost with embarrassment, because I know I’m asking for something I’m not allowed to speak about. The first rule of the Secret Beach: don’t talk about the Secret Beach. It’s is prohibited you see; the beach is private property, and its waters very dangerous. You can’t access it from main roads, you can’t find it on a map, in every sense of the word the beach should not exist. And yet it does. It’s the most beautiful beach in the city; Kaohsiung’s best kept secret, and it’s waiting for me to find it. It seems particularly dark the night I finally venture out, as if the moon and I are both waiting with bated breath to see what is to come. The path to get there isn’t easy; walking through abandoned buildings, climbing into ditches, navigating rock clusters, the excitement of the journey has me forgetting all instructions on how to get there. The only things guiding my way are my flashlight and the distant thrumming of ocean waves. Even now, months later from thousands of miles away, if I concentrate I see the waves crash down just in front of me, as if greeting me home when I finally reach the sand. Sea spray kisses my face; with my lips parted in wonder, I can taste it. If I concentrate a little harder, when I clench my feet, soft black sand seeps between my toes. The sand is pierced with salt flecked, barnacle covered boulders throughout the length of the beach. At the nearest one, a crab scuttles down towards a large crack in the rock. As I poke a finger towards it, it pauses as if in silent surprise at company, before hurrying away with increased urgency. The Secret Beach may be prohibited to the likes of me, but it stays filled with life. I’m a guest here tonight, and I have things to do before I leave. The air smells salty - it’s cold tonight - a fact reaffirmed by the howling wind begging my whipping jacket to part with me. I comply. Against better instincts, my satchel drops to the ground. Shortly after follows my jacket, my woolly hat, my dress. My shoes and socks have been long abandoned. Soon I stand in nothing but my bathing suit, but even this is unnecessary. For I am at the Secret Beach and it’s midnight. Here there is no one but myself and my wits for company. I turn towards the black waters, specked with gold from the lights of ships anchored on the horizon. Despite the darkness, despite the alarming heights of the waves, the ocean is inviting. Getting this far was challenging, sure, but it was finally time to play. As the waves pull back, I dive in and swim out away from shore. The currents are strong, the waves ripple around my body, protesting at my arms for breaking their movements while I swim parallel to the shoreline. The water is warmer than I’d predicted; I’ll stay here the night. That night, I’d gone out to find a legend. What I found instead was a gift, passed on from generations of the past to those of the future. A beautiful, protected, alive Secret Beach. I’d gone out to find a legend. I wasn’t expecting to find so much more.