Time for another day trip. Fresh from Strategic Management Theory class, where presenters put 250 words on a single Powerpoint slide and then read them out loud, I decided that what was needed was a few hours on a motorcycle with Johnny Z from The Real Taiwan. Otherwise I was going to be just another murder-suicide statistic….

John took me to the wreckage of a former military village, now slated for development as upscale housing.

Squatters lived in the few buildings still left partly intact.

Outside in the streets all was quiet.

Her former home? Contemplating land development?

What? Where’s master’s house?

Like a bombed out city.

Nearby homeless people lived in the park.

A window of opportunity, if you’re into development. Or recycling.

In some of the small shops nearby people still lived and worked…

New apartment buildings dominate the area.

Is it bad luck if it just sits there…?

Kingdom of the Butterflies.

After that depressing experience, John took me over to another former military community, where the high-ranking officers once lived.

Here walls enclosed large spaces filled with buildings and the leftovers of people’s lives.

There’s a ladder deep down in there…

Most of the yards were overrun with former garden plants…

A well? Outhouse? Swimming pool?

The neighborhood was empty, save for seniors on motorcycles looking for things to salvage.

A park area near a market.

Another military village, also going under the wrecking ball.

Scavengers pick at the bones of the past.

John grabs a shot.

As we imagined the photographic possibilities — the place cried out for a nude model or two — if anyone feels like volunteering for nude modeling, let me know — Air Force jets practiced formation flying overhead.

Treasures in every pile of trash.

Who once lived here?

Once these were shops and homes.

Because abandoned buildings just weren’t depressing enough, John drove me over to a local graveyard.

Many of the tombs had old photographs, done on tile and inserted into the concrete.

I panned one of the nearby graveyards.

As we drove along, whistling past the graveyard, we encountered a goatherd and his herd of goats, which apparently numbered in the millions.

He waited for an opportune moment, then shooed them across the road to a cemetery on the other side, where plenty of grass stood to be eaten.

Here the banks of a small stream were lined with graves as far as the eye could see.

Overhead wingman and flight leader practiced their skills.

I panned the area just for fun.