Film Memories｜My Altay Part 3

The journey through Altay in 2022 is one that lingers in my heart, especially the three months spent in the serene Hemu Village. From the vibrant greens of summer to the golden hues of autumn, these memories are immortalized through the lens of my beloved film camera—a trusty companion that unfortunately met its end as the chill of autumn began to settle in. Yet, before its untimely demise, it managed to capture some of the most breathtaking moments, forever freezing in time the beauty of Altay.

Arriving in July, Hemu Village was a place where time seemed to slow down. The world was painted in lush greens, with wildflowers dotting the meadows like colorful brushstrokes. The days were long, filled with the sweet scent of pine and the soothing sounds of the nearby river. Every morning, I would wake up to the gentle rustling of leaves outside my window at Sasa's Time Garden Inn, the cozy little homestay that became my sanctuary during those three months.

Sasa's Time Garden Inn was more than just a place to stay; it was a haven of peace, where each day unfolded like a carefully crafted scene from a movie. The inn itself was a reflection of the surrounding nature, with its wooden structure blending seamlessly into the landscape. Inside, the rooms were simple yet warm, filled with natural light that made the wooden floors glow. It was here that I found inspiration to capture the essence of Altay through my film camera.

Throughout the summer, my film camera and I were inseparable. I took it with me on every hike, every walk through the village, and every moment of stillness as I sat by the river. The photos from those summer days are filled with life—children playing in the fields, elders chatting by the roadside, and the ever-changing sky that seemed to be in a constant state of flux. The colors were vibrant, almost surreal, as if the film had absorbed the very spirit of Altay.

As August turned to September, the village began to change. The once-green meadows started to take on shades of gold and amber, and the air grew crisp with the promise of autumn. The transition was slow but beautiful, a reminder of the cycle of life that governs even the most remote corners of the world. I continued to document the changes, eager to capture every fleeting moment before the winter snows arrived.

It was during one of these late September days that my camera suddenly stopped working. I remember the exact moment—the sky was overcast, the wind was beginning to pick up, and I was about to take a photo of the first yellow leaves falling from the trees. The shutter clicked, but the film wouldn't advance. My heart sank as I realized that the camera had given up, perhaps worn out by the constant use and the changing weather.

But despite this setback, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the memories I had managed to capture. The last roll of film held images from those early autumn days, a few precious photos that marked the end of summer and the beginning of something new. I took it as a sign that my time in Hemu Village was coming to an end, and soon enough, I found myself packing up and saying goodbye to the place that had been my home for three months.

Looking back, the photos I have from that time are more than just pictures—they are a testament to the beauty of Altay and the peaceful life I lived in Hemu Village. Each image is a portal to a moment in time, a reminder of the joy and serenity I found in those hills and valleys. Even though the camera is gone, the memories remain, and I know that I will always carry a piece of Altay with me, no matter where I go.

If you like my content, please remember to give it a thumbs up.