Zhangzhou: Camping

Line-standing zombies waiting for the ferry to Zhangzhou.

Rather tilty in the excitement of arriving.

Feathery grasses.

Beach from the cliffs.

Part of the gang on our long, arduous, difficult, wearisome, several-heptameter trek.
The Germans are exempted from the non-complaint edict under the Cultural Heritage Protection Act.

Fern-filled circular VUG (for seven points).

RAWK MONSTAR! Frwarrr!
Lying in wait, trying to look innocuous amongst the other raucous rocks.

Our tents?

Our campfire!
This would have been before the arrival of the Chinese hoards.

Enter stage left: sudden invasion of megaphone-toting trash-producing Chinese hooligani,
who set off fireworks, took part of our campfire, and half our stomping ground.
Ahem-- we're trying to camp on a quiet beach... on vacation from your frenetic,
fun-loving intentions to further the destruction of natural resources, KTHXSRSLYWTFBAI!

The hooligani light a lucky lantern, which floats up and away.
You can tell if you are unlucky by the way you start a forest fire.

Four are never enough (and not a lucky number) so they set off more.

Our bonfire winds down.

Our (actual) tents the next morning.

Breakfast of Champions! (Still-Death with Sands of Time and Shard of Pottery
Representing the Destruction Inherent in the Constructions of Mankind)

"Leave No Trace" is not in the collective (nor individual) eco-psyche of the Chinese hoards,
as evident from this cavalierly created and abandoned rubbish heap.

Not everyone minds the trashy additions.

They also char their greenbeans.

Walkway detail with spiderweb.

Giant seashell.