Somewhere I Have Never Travelled

In a small lazy port town in southern Taiwan, Ah-gui and her cousin Ah-hsian dream of escaping their drab lives. They use humor and imagination to cope with a world that feels colorless and dull. The bond between them is the seed of a journey that will blur fantasy and reality.

Ah-gui's father, in a drunken stupor, brings home naked mannequins to replace the wife who left him. The bizarre domestic scene underscores a household consumed by loss and fragility. Ah-gui begins to sense that the world is not as simple as she wishes.

The grandmother takes Ah-gui to a local shaman to understand why her world feels so difficult. The shaman proclaims that Ah-gui's spirit has gone and will return only as she grows older. This reading of fate casts her adolescence in a mythic light.

Tests at the school reveal that Ah-gui is completely color-blind, adding another layer to her sense of separation from the visible world. The diagnosis intensifies the adults' confusion about her differences and her own frustration. School life becomes a constant negotiation of identity.

Ah-hsian, a brilliant storyteller, imagines distant places through his travel guides and bookshelf. He invites Ah-gui on imaginary journeys that carry her beyond their drab town into a world of strange people and wonders. Their shared fantasies become a lifeline against monotony.

Ah-hsian brings mosquito repellant to a Japanese tourist staying overnight in an extra room at the local school, and Ah-gui witnesses part of the intimate moment. The scene shatters the boundary between fantasy and real-life desire. It marks a turning point where secrets begin affecting their relationship.

After the tourist departs, Ah-hsian seems different, as if the encounter has awakened his romantic side. Ah-gui watches with a mix of wonder and unease as the dynamic between them shifts. The change complicates their plans to escape their town.

Years pass and Ah-gui enrolls in cosmetology school, battling the demands of a disability that makes color perception a constant obstacle. Instructors berate her and Ah-hsian teases her, yet she clings to the hope of leaving their gray world behind. Her determination to dream big remains intact.

Ah-hsian arranges an all-night harbor date with his new boyfriend, and Ah-gui reluctantly accompanies them, pretending to be asleep as they talk. The scene exposes jealousy, longing, and the fragile ties that bind them to their shared dream. It foreshadows the emotional costs of their pursuit of escape.

The next day, Ah-gui hacks the hair from her practice head in a burst of anger. She tries to borrow a thousand dollars from Ah-hsian to replace the mannequin, but he demands repayment by referencing New York rents, prompting her to tell him to keep his money. The two clash over money, independence, and the illusion of a shared future.

While delivering dinner to her uncle, Ah-gui discovers a hidden stash of money in one of his hiding places. The money gives her the means to plan a future beyond the town. The moment underscores how small discoveries can catalyze big life movements.

She consults a travel agent to plan a pilgrimage to a small Pacific island where color-blind people fit in. The travel plan represents a beacon of hope, even as obstacles and feelings complicate the path. The dream of belonging becomes a tangible goal.

Ah-hsian's boyfriend is found with another person, triggering a fight that leads to a long, controversial confession in a church confessional. Ah-hsian delivers a nearly perfect English soliloquy quoting a famous love poem, portending a sad ending. The moment crystallizes the fragility of their dreams and the heavy weight of truth.

News of a suicide arrives; Ah-gui rushes to the hospital and learns Ah-hsian is in a coma. She expresses disappointment and questions who will take her away now. The scene seals the sense of loss as she sits by his bedside and speaks to him in hope.

Back at home, Ah-gui's grandmother makes umbrellas, and in a symbolic gesture she gives the grandmother a blue umbrella while keeping the yellow one for herself to twirl. Looking toward the horizon, she proclaims, Look a rainbow, signaling a fragile, personal hope amid tragedy.