Hernando's Travel Memory

June 21

With a thick travel guide in hand, I've finally set off on my journey around the world.

The light outside the porthole felt a little hazy. Every time I opened the tray table, I instinctively reached for my laptop to check work emails—only to remember the true purpose of this trip.

The airplane meal tasted better than I expected, especially the ham salad.

The sunlight outside was lovely, too. Through the clouds, I could see the vast land stretching far below.

What is that place? Could it be the ancient city of Zapacapa? The winding ridges, the walls line up like cubicles... I remember my mother telling me as a child that Zapacapa was built in such a place because the intersecting fault lines created natural channels and drainage systems...

I don't know why I still remember all that.

October 30

During my time in the Western land, I met some fascinating people and had a few encounters worth remembering.

Among them was a cowboy named John. He always wore a wide‑brimmed hat, and the printed bandana around his neck changed to a new pattern every day.

Out of curiosity, I once asked him, "Why are cowboys called 'heroes on horseback'?" It sounded a bit contradictory, after all.

To my surprise, John got really worked up. Waving his coffee cup, he said, "Hey, listen up, friend! The name 'cowboy' comes from herding cattle, not what we ride! Even if I flew a plane to round up the herd, I'd still be a cowboy!"

Well... alright.

Actually, John's a lovely friend. Would've been even lovelier if he hadn't accidentally spilled coffee all over my shirt.

I had originally planned to leave today as scheduled, but John told me there would be a Grimkin Night celebration tomorrow evening, and that I'd regret it if I didn't stay for the experience. I pointed to a white‑bearded man by the roadside performing puppet shows and magic tricks, and asked if that was the kind of thing he meant. He burst out laughing and said those were just for kids.

Haven't you had enough of those childish tricks when you were a kid?

Haha, I never really did when I was a kid. Back in my hometown, things like "Grimkin Night" have only become popular in recent years.

Still, I decided to stay. To be honest, what appealed to me more than John's so‑called fancy masquerade ball were the local specialty snacks—like Witch's Finger Cookies and Grimkin Pumpkin Pie.

The problem now is that the carefully planned page layout of my travel journal has been thrown off, and it's a bit of a headache to fix.

But strangely... this feeling isn't all that bad.

December 4

This time I arrived at the Caucasus Mountain, which lies to the northwest of the New World.

I had prepared everything for the climb according to my travel guide—crampons, ice axes, a cold‑weather helmet, and even a wilderness survival kit. I thought it was foolproof. But before I could even enjoy the thrill of conquering nature on foot, an unexpected snowstorm disrupted all my plans. Local safety officials arranged for us to ride snowmobiles, then switch to cable cars, and return to the village at the foot of the mountain to rest. Of course, that was all back when I first arrived here.

But today, after nearly a week of trekking, I finally completed the traverse of the Caucasus Mountain and conquered my own challenge.

Standing above the snow line, gazing out at the vast white sea of clouds and breathing in the crisp, pure air, I felt how small I truly was. The snow‑covered wilderness stretched on endlessly, with tiny houses barely visible beneath the white—only their faint lights glowing through.

I couldn't help reaching out to touch the rocks—each uniquely shaped, yet all so solid. I imagined they must have seen countless climbers like me, from the distant Solar Era—or even earlier—witnessing everything this planet has been through.

I picked up a stone and brought it back. Scraping off its rough black surface revealed a silvery‑white core. Iron ore? Mica? I don't know. But I think I'm beginning to understand what those rock samples my mother brought home after each geological expedition truly meant to her.

I brought this stone back from my journey. It cannot speak, feels dull, and grows smoother bit by bit. Within its body lies the silence of all worlds.

As I wrote these words from memory, I only then realized they were from a poem by Pablo—the one my father used to read most often.

It turns out the world I once tried to avoid had long taken root deep in my memory, holding onto me tightly in moments I least expected. Can a person not even empathize with their past self? No, I don't think that's it. It's just that we—and the world itself—are constantly growing and changing.

Well, this is supposed to be a travel journal. I'm getting a bit off track.

Of course, not everything on this trip has been perfect. Take this afternoon, for example. While climbing the mountain, I saw someone trying to take a so-called "artistic" photo with a firework longer than a broomstick. Luckily, before they could light it, other angry climbers stopped them.

Phew. What a relief.

March 9

This time, my travels have brought me to Waset, the fabled "City of the Scepter" nestled in the golden desert.

Legend has it that during the Solar Era, this was once the heartland of a mighty dynasty. But a war over power reduced everything to ashes, leaving behind only the ruins of vast palaces and temples.

Walking along the grand avenue, I was flanked by enormous columns covered in murals. Venturing further in, I caught sight of two neighboring temples and a palace, with an obelisk standing between them. Carved upon it were the inscriptions and reliefs of the dynasty. They say that at dusk, the setting sun spills westward across the stone‑paved path like oil paint on canvas.

But to experience the hot‑air balloon ride, I saw Waset at sunrise instead. From high above, the green farmlands and golden desert stood in sharp contrast, with rivers winding through the morning mist like ribbons. The whole city stretched out before me. Flying lower, I could even see early‑rising villagers waving at us from the riverside—people living on this ancient land, ready to welcome a new day with their hard work.

August 2

I had originally planned to go to Chi, but somehow my travel route has been drifting off course. Where to next? Maybe I should try breaking free from the plan and just go wherever I feel like.

Hmm... much like the giraffe that just poked its head through my window as I'm writing this.

Haha, I'm currently staying at Kenya's most famous Giraffe Manor. In such pristine nature, every moment of life feels like a pleasure. Push open the window, and you'll see green lawns, zebras grazing quietly, monkeys leaping about playfully, and hippos lounging lazily in the river not far away.

They say the great animal migration I've been looking forward to will begin in just a few days. Just thinking about it gets me excited!

November 15

Whale Island is a magical place, quiet and peaceful, and so are the people who live here.

As for how I ended up here... After wandering through so many bustling places over the years, I just wanted to find a quiet little town to stay for a while, take a break, and then continue on my journey. After all, the meaning of travel has changed for me. It's no longer about running away, but about discovering beautiful landscapes and meeting interesting people. And luckily, this place has it all.

July 17

Is there something special about today? A great many new residents have moved into the town, said to be fated souls drawn here by the call of the Astralis.

Speaking of the Astralis, I did hear about it from Miss Ka Ching at the general store when I first arrived. But so far, I haven't actually seen it even once.

Still, with all these Astralis-blessed ones gathering here... does it mean that the legendary moment is truly drawing near?