I had planned to visit Kinmen for a long time. Early this year, I had my travel permits and endorsements ready, but a few demanding projects kept me tied down. I procrastinated until the endorsements eventually expired.

One day in September, on a sudden whim, I drove to Wutong Ferry Terminal to renew them. After all, Kinmen is only a 20-minute ferry ride from Xiamen—so close it feels like a “distant land” just across a river. I managed to snag a standby ticket during the National Day holiday and finally set off. I intended to have a “Zen-like” relaxed trip, but the moment I stepped onto the island, my “lone wolf” persona reverted right back to “Special Forces” mode (intensive sightseeing).

Since I didn’t take the earliest ferry, it was already noon by the time I dropped my luggage at the guesthouse. A colleague once warned me: “In Kinmen, arrive on the earliest boat and leave on the last.” I did book the last return ferry, but if I had chosen the earliest arrival, I probably would have had to wake up at 3 or 4 AM to pack.

Following the guesthouse owner’s recommendation, my first meal was the local Kinmen beef noodles, followed by 50 Lan bubble tea and Monga fried chicken—all staples of the local food scene.

In the past, I rarely sat down for proper meals while traveling. I was like a photographer on a deadline, “checking off” one destination after another. Whether in Wuhan, Changsha, or Japan, I was merely an executor on a “scenic spot assembly line.” It wasn’t until last year in Dotonbori, Osaka, while waiting two hours in line for a bowl of ramen, that it finally clicked:

Travel shouldn’t just be about the scenery; it should be about the flavors, the tempo, and becoming a part of the local life.

The first day was a textbook “Special Forces” itinerary: Chen Jinglan Western-style House → Ever Rich Duty Free → Livestock Research Institute → Juguang Tower → Model Street. It was non-stop.

I had seen a cute little otter plushie on Xiaohongshu and wanted to buy one as a backpack charm for my sister. I scoured several shops on Model Street that evening, but they were all out of stock—the only minor regret of the trip.

At night, the streets of Kinmen were nearly deserted; the sound of the wind replaced the chatter of people. Looking across the water, the CBD of Guanyinshan in Xiamen was brilliantly lit. It’s hard not to feel the weight of the contrast, but looking at this quiet little island, I thought to myself: the people in Kinmen must have their own kind of happiness.

The wind at night was so strong it made the windows rattle incessantly. I barely slept. At 5 AM, I simply got up, hopped on an electric scooter, and rode to the nearest FamilyMart. I ordered a coffee and sat by the window. That moment reminded me of a scene from last autumn, watching fallen leaves outside a Starbucks near the Kyoto Kaikan. I realized then that “unplugging” feels exactly like this—the moment your heart finds stillness in the early morning of a foreign place.

On the second day, I visited National Quemoy University, Shuitou Village, and the Kinmen Bridge. I’ve noticed a habit of mine—whenever I visit a city, I always wander through the local university. Wuhan University, Hunan University, Kyoto University… perhaps we long most for what we feel we lack.

Around 10 AM, while standing by the Kinmen Bridge, I received a call from the guesthouse owner. He told me that ferry services would be suspended after 2:30 PM due to weather.

I had a ticket for the very last boat, so I had to rush back to the pier immediately to try my luck. When I got back to the guesthouse, the staff was already packed and ready to escort me to the pier, but I was still waiting for the owner to return with two bottles of his private-label Kinmen Kaoliang liquor.

When the owner finally arrived, he laughed and said, “You’re really something! The staff was ready to take you away, and here you are still waiting for me to bring the booze.”

In the end, thanks to the help of a lady staying at the same guesthouse who was also heading back to Xiamen, I successfully secured a standby spot on an earlier ferry. If I hadn’t made it, I might have been stranded in Kinmen for another three or four days.

The trip to Kinmen was actually two weeks ago. My procrastination kicked in late, but the memories remain fresh. After working for so long on various projects and reports, even a brief escape is a form of healing.

Whether it’s a high-intensity “Special Forces” trek or a “Zen-like” slow life, the meaning of travel likely lies in this: allowing yourself to temporarily step out of the inertia of daily life and take a breath of fresh air.

Work is a necessity, but so is living.

PS: More photos of Kinmen are available in my Moments section.