Snow-Capped and Lonely

The scenery of snow-capped mountains never fails to captivate me. The fascination does not stem from the fact I was born and raised in a country where snow-capped mountains are “almost” nonexistent, but the notion that far away up there, there is something so different, so pure and visible but yet unattainable like a dream, is what attract me most, particularly when the mountain or chain of mountains overlook a big city. The contrast between the supposed hustle of the city and the secluded white peaks is intriguing. Pictures of cities like Seattle, Vancouver or Santiago make me wish to visit someday although I know it is not a very realizable idea.

A mesmerizing sight was the peak of Mount Fuji in a half clear day when I was in a cable car in the city of Hakone. Someone yelled that Fuji was there. I could not see it and then realized I was looking in a much lower point on the horizon. I looked up and the proud peak was there, almost in the middle of the sky. Rare are the moments that do not get overshadowed by other moments. And that was one. At that phase of my life during which I visited Fuji, I was feeling lonely. Painfully lonely. So lonely that I once picked up the receiver of the silent phone hoping to catch anyone who might have the intention to call.