Rivers Make it Real
But let’s get to the meat of this story: The River! The first time I went for a swim, I was actually too excited to get in that I overlooked the staircase, and instead just awkwardly scaled a small cliff that runs along the edge. This ultimately worked just fine, though I highly recommend the stairs.
Although I’ve inexplicably corona-evolved to take cold showers this year, that’s not to say that the initial shock of cold water has subsided much at all. This river is much the same — Its a river, so if it wasn’t brisk I’d be a bit concerned.
Once adjusted, though, well, again, its a river. There’s a noticeable current at some spots, considerable variation in depth which goes up to my chin, and rocks and boulders of different sizes strewn about. The river gurgles incessantly, the birds sing intermittently, the trees creak with the wind. The smell of soil, cedar, and whatever you call the scent of fresh running water permeates the air. Occasionally, and especially if you dunk your head, you’ll taste the cool, mineral-y water as it drips down your face.
Its a wholly refreshing and invigorating experience. Like many of the experiences I have had exploring akiya and inaka, it highlights one of the more difficult to enunciate issues of modernity that corona has brought to the forefront: visceral sensory interaction, or lack thereof.