Inara Pey: Living in a Modemworld

Open for the Autumn period (or spring, for those living in southern latitudes) is Where Our Journey Begins (I’m assuming the “begings” apparent in the name at the time of our visit is a typo), a Homestead region  designed by Vivian Ewing and Dream Shadowcry.

Offered as a place to relax and take photographs (which can be shared through the region’s Flickr group), it’s a setting that appears to be caught in a forever sunset, quite the romantic time of day (although admittedly, I opted to run my own daylight settings while visiting), and which is visually impressive both in its layout and for one or two ideas it might give to those who like to fiddle with their own homes.

Where Our Journey Begins sits with a north-south orientation as a horseshoe shaped island, the open end of which looks westward towards the lowering Sun. Cupped within the arms of this horseshoe is a deep inlet, no doubt cut by the waters falling from the high curtain of rock that forms a major part of the island’s eastern aspect, the falls within it sitting as a series of high steps down which the waters tumble to reach the curved bay.

The open end of this bay is spanned by a broad stone bridge that connects the north and south aspects of the island and provides visitors with a landing point. Whatever traffic this bridge once witnessed has now largely passed: its stone surface is now the home of long grass and even young trees have gained a foothold at either end of it’s span. As well as being the landing point, this bridge offers a place to sit and the first opportunities to take photographs within the region as it is subject to the periodic sweeping gaze of the off-shore (but still within the boundary of the region) lighthouse.

The northern and southern arms of the island offer places to visit and appreciate. To the north, the bridge leads visitors to where a flat-topped table of rock thrusts out from the much higher curtain of waterfalls. A path curls up the side of this table, the easiest way to reach the top. As it does so, it passes the flat toes of the cliffs, a place of long grass shaded by autumn-shaded willows and green fir trees and is the home of a old carousel and its ticket booth and pipe organ.

The top of the table presents a summer house set within its own grounds (but open to the public) and with plenty of detail within and without – I admit to particularly liking the manner in which a glass-walled pavilion has been converted into a cosy outdoor bathroom warmed by its own wood-burning stove.

Stone steps guarded by old concrete gate posts point the way down from the terrace behind the summer house to a broad lip of rock that offers a secluded hideaway and place to sit. A second path just to the right of the one that rises up the the plateau, slopes gently down to where a small meadow sits under the arms of two huge oak trees and sheltered by a rich growth of the bushes, the home to a wooden gazebo warmed by a stone-built fireplace.

The southern end of the island presents a further table of grass-topped rock, this one lower than the one to the north. It is home to what may have once been farm outbuildings – a windmill and a couple of barns. However, while one of the barns still provides shelter for sheep, this area now looks to be more of a garden space; the second barn has been converted into another little summer house / music room, three of its walls now fitted with windows, the space between it and the other barn fenced as a little wild garden.

From this southern spur, it is possible to walk down to the island’s shoreline and the shingle beaches that border three sides of it. Two of these beaches offer further places to sit – an open deck to the south, and a little beach house with canvas sides and roof and extended deck to the west. Looking towards the lighthouse, this beach house is fronted by an old pier, matched by one at the foot of the lighthouse, both of them suggest a route between island and lighthouse, although sadly, there is no rowing bone to traverse it. However, you can cam-sit yourself onto the boat tied-up at the lighthouse pier – a method that also lets you avoid the disapproval of the seagulls who have laid claim to both of the old piers!

I’m not sure how long Where Our Journey Begins will remain open to the public. As noted, it’s About Land details indicate it is available for public visits for the “Fall season”, so I presume that as it has apparently only opened recently, it’ll remain available to the public until at least mid-to-late October – but don’t quote me on that!

Overall, the region makes for a photogenic and engaging visit, although some adjustment to viewer settings might be required to get the best FPS when wandering (I had to switch to a lower draw distance to keep my FPS at least in the teens). It’s a setting that is well put together and offers a lot to discover and appreciate.

SLurl Details

• Where Our Journey Begins (Santa Iria, rated Moderate)

Lotus Mastroianni and Fred Hamilton (frecoi) are back with another region design that will likely be around for a month(ish) for people to enjoy. Their most recent builds have tended to have an urban design rooted in the physical world, starting with their take on a Brazilian favela back in May of 2020 (see:  Visiting A Favela in Second Life), and this latest design continues this theme, appearing to be inspired by a part of a place that lies very close to my heart.

With A Thousand Windows, Fred and Lotus seems to take as their inspiration the tight-knit tenement blocks located in the Mong Kok district of Hong Kong’s Kowloon peninsula. Mong Kok is a place I’ve visited on numerous occasions in my life (notably as a result of once living in Hong Kong many, many, years ago). I say this because, while there is no outright pointer to Mong Kok within the build, parts of it appear to pay clear homage to the district.

Take the 737 airliner passing overhead, for example; to me, it sits as a reminder that the district once lay beneath one of the approaches airliners had to make in order to touch-down at Hong Kong’s former airport at Kai Tak, a short distance away.  An approach that had aircraft practically scraping the roofs of the tenements, as made famous in many a photograph.

Elsewhere, in fairness, the region could have been inspired by any number of densely-packed housing units in the orient, but for me, Mong Kok is the place it brings to mind, even if Kai Tak did cease operations more than 20 years ago, having been replaced by a much larger, purpose-built facility built (much like Kai Tak) on reclaimed land, but out at Chek Lap Kok island, sitting off the north coast of Lantau. However, the focus of the build isn’t airlines or airports, but rather the densely-packed nature of the old tenements and the lives that go on within them.

There is a huge world out there, but what happens behind all those windows? what lives and worlds are hiding there? How many eyes peer into the fleeting reflections of so many lights?

– About Land, A Thousand Windows

This is actually a question I can remember asking myself, both as a youngster living in Kong Kong, and as an adult tourist who has made many return visits. With their shoebox sized (by western standards) living spaces, stacked one atop the next in grey, slab-like concrete towers cut through with narrow roads and alleys set back from the broader through routes of places like Yua Ma Tei occupying the main thrust of the Kowloon peninsula, parts of Mong Kok always struck me with a sense of mystery as to what was going on behind the blinds-shouded windows and narrow verandahs strung with laundry that so often formed the face of the squat tor blocks as they looks at the world.

All this is marvellously captured with Lotus and Fred’s design, which has been ideally set within a twilight environment to emphasise the volume of windows representative of people packed into so tight a space.

Set within four façades representative of five floors of apartment blocks, the region presents a number of tower blocks of similar height with narrow streets and alleys running between them. Neon signs hang from the sides of buildings and laundry hangs from verandahs – again a common sight I remember from Mong Kok. Most of the buildings within the setting are shells, although one or two contain interiors, making exploration worthwhile.

As well as the narrow streets sitting within their concrete canyons, the region offers elevated walkways from which the view can be appreciated, as well as offering the way to some outdoor spaces. And if you look hard enough, you might find an elevator leading up to the rooftops of one gathering of blocks, a couple of seats located just a across the roof from the elevator top from which to admire the view of the 737 passing overhead – and the visitors passing below.

Opportunities for photography, either by day or night, can be found throughout – as can be seen in the Flickr stream Lotus and Fred use for their builds. I admit to finding the sound scape accompanying the build a little odd – particularly the loud buzzing of flies (although that could perhaps be hornets of wasps, both of which could be a summertime nuisance in Hong Kong when I was little) but this can easily be ignored, leaving one to remain fully immersed in the setting.

All told, another enticing, attractive build. And just in case you haven’t seen photos of airliners over the actual Mong Kok district, I’ll leave you with the following.

SLurl Details

• A Thousand Windows (You and Me, rated Adult)