ORMASURA

The mountains will always call my name. I think I have a genetic predisposition toward loving mountains — and forests — because for as long as I can remember I have felt a spiritual longing toward them, a comfort in their shrouded topographies and a sense of protection next to their mass.

The French Alps were the middle leg of a larger “tour de France”, part of a trip that involved proposing to my then-girlfriend in Paris. The trek into the Haute-Savoie ended up being a literal high point of the trip. We stayed in Annecy and made day trips to Chamonix and Yvoire. Annecy is a smaller town with medieval foundations, sitting adjacent to Lake Annecy; it was a welcoming place to hike in the surrounding territory, especially after Paris. The town center is picturesque and curious, with its historic Palais de l’Isle — which once served as a prison — arising from Le Thiou.

In a country defined by its dynamic culture and bustling mega-cities, our pinnacle experience was found in a sleepy town by the coast, relaxing in an onsen overlooking the ocean.

Perhaps it is the contrast of extremes that provided the richness of this time. Stepping off the high-speed train — an obvious high-tech contrast — into this walking and bicycling town in a valley defined by its tributary leading into the expansive Pacific. Kawazu, a name lacking poetic adornment, is translated as river port from its kanji 河 (kawa/ka), meaning “river,” and 津 (zu), meaning “harbor” or “ferry crossing.” The town is home to hot springs endemic to this region, one of which has regular pressure releases akin to a geyser — which, unfortunately, we missed.

I must admit that I never had a strong interest in visiting France. Perhaps it was too well-known and oft-lauded. Perhaps I thought the language was too presumptuous in being called the “most romantic”. However, I can see now that these descriptors are well earned. France’s cities and towns are a treasure for the eyes and the mind, full of beauty and history. The charming polished stone rues in Avignon and Nîmes leave me envious that I can’t pick up and spend a few years living in a medieval apartment overlooking a courtyard, busying myself with the simple pleasures of frequenting cafes and studying le parler.

Eggleston Avenue and Third Street lie below a tangled web of bridges that demarcate the Ohio River and Downtown Cincinnati proper. A flaw of design that seems to be the target of remedy in coming years, to better connect the northern industry with the southern riverfront parks. This particular area will remain hopelessly labyrinthine. An acoustic assault greets pedestrians as they traverse beneath U.S. 50, Columbia Parkway, and Interstate 471, along with numerous exit ramps from these respective ever-active expressways.

The multi-layered bridges and the buildings underneath create an echoing din that reminds me of Blade Runner 2049. Built into that soundtrack are reverberating engine-revving synths that blend effectively into the movie as music. It wasn’t until I left the theater in 2017 and walked to my car in the parking garage that I realized it could have been recorded directly from life. Eggleston and Third transports you to this cyberpunk world that can only partially be captured by photography. Alas, I am not the first to make note of this part of town — one of the local denizens has already tagged a name on one of the bridges: Hades.