First Impressions of Shanghai
I'm in Shanghai now. Can't say it was easy. Just as I was getting on the plane in Taiwan, Beau messaged to tell me that it was pouring in Shanghai. I told him I couldn't wait to see him. The universe was not impressed with my nonchalance, and we ended up circling Shanghai for twenty minutes, flying halfway to Nanjing, and then turning back to Shanghai to land at the Hongqiao airport instead of Pudong to avoid the nasty weather. We spent a total of an extra hour in the airport, and poor Beau spent a total of two hours trying to get to me, not to mention quite a bit of RMB.That first moment of seeing him walking toward me in the airport was just as blissful as I anticipated. After spending ninety minutes with my eyes fixed on the entrance, I was paralyzed when I noticed he was actually striding toward me. That first embrace couldn't have lasted long enough, but we were soon on our way to the hotel.
Sidenote: Why was the guy at the information desk able to tell us that the taxi from the Hongqiao airport to People's Square would cost about ¥45, but the folks at the next desk were trying to get us into a taxi for ¥250? It's not so much that they were trying to rip us off, because only the most naive travelers don't expect someone to try to rip them off coming fresh off the plane, but why did they have a nice, official looking desk at the airport?
Overall, I have a positive impression of the place. The clerks that checked our H1N1 questionnaires and passports were among the most meticulous I've ever encountered, and the man at the information desk not only understood my choppy Chinese but also spoke excellent English; he was also very helpful in tracking down Beau. The hostel we stayed at was impressively tidy and well outfitted. The bar and restaurant there were inexpensive, the food was tasty, and it was popular with lots of folks beyond the actual guests.
Despite Beau's initial terrible luck during the apartment search--he was shown some really wretched places and was incredibly frustrated--we had the best of luck in meeting up with a real estate agent in a convenient neighborhood and by the end of the day had put down a deposit on a really lovely two-bedroom place. We signed for it this morning, and I'm posting this blog from my own little laptop at a desk in the living room.
The new landlord has so far been more than accommodating: she has been incredibly generous. We expected to pay two-months rent as a security deposit, but she only required one. We also expected to pay rent bimonthly, as we were told was normal here, but she felt that collecting the rent once a month would be more convenient. The place is also very neatly furnished with very nice pieces. You can tell that she and her family made themselves a very comfortable spot with special heat lights in the bathroom and a nifty sound system in the living room, and it's our good luck to be living here now. I'm also happy to be in the midst of a quiet courtyard and on a floor high above the noisy traffic. However, I noticed this afternoon that yet another skyscraping apartment building is being built nearby and the deafening pulse of the jackhammers was unpleasant even from the twenty-third floor.
Overall, I am ridiculously excited about living here. Taiwan was always good to me and there's no speaking ill of the beautiful mountains and beaches there, but if you're in the mood for an overwhelming metropolis, Shanghai is definitely what you're looking for. I start my new job on Monday (it's just an internship), and I'm sure that will really affect my opinion on life here, so I'll keep you posted.
Lion's Head Mountain
That last blog was supposed to include some specifics of my trip to Lion's Head Mountain, but I got a bit carried away so I decided to make separate posts.I was all ready to go by 2:15 on Thursday, and as I had intended to be ready by 2:00, I was pretty pleased with myself. But when I stretched out my map across the dining room table at 2:15, I realized I was going to have some technical difficulties. I called up the most capable man I could and waited 45 minutes for him to show up with his insight and a cold can of Coke. I left by 4:00 and after getting turned around in every town between here and the mountains, which I already anticipated, I was there by 7:00. I ought to learn how to ride a motorcycle if and when I return to the U.S. because if driving a scooter down a winding mountain road is at all comparable, I am sure that riding a more powerful and substantial bike would be ecstasy. I couldn't help but shout and squeal sometimes as I glided up the mountain. You couldn't have sold me a car even if I were sitting on a pile of money.
The temple was beautiful but the rooms were just clean and sparse. The balcony offered a fantastic view of the mountains, though, so I just enjoyed the space for what it was: a quiet place to be alone. I set right into ready V.S. Naipaul's Finding the Center as soon as I got comfortable and was surprised to realize that in my hurry to pack I had included two books by prominent authors detailing the beginning of their writing careers. I tried to get to bed early but the hard bed, firm pillow, and eerie quietude of the place kept me up. I'm used to falling asleep with to the buzz of the computer and the air conditioner, as well as an episode of a sitcom on low volume for the first twenty minutes. All I could hear there were the muffled sounds of slumber coming from the next room and the crickets pulsating outside. I woke up at 5am with the sun and when my alarm went off at 6:30 I was dizzy and uncomfortably fatigued. I made it upstairs for the vegetarian breakfast offerings but I was already feeling a little ill, so the boiled rice gruel, oily tofu and vegetables were worse than unappealing. I spent the rest of my time there dodging the proprietor's invitations to eat with everyone else. I drove down to the nearest town for a Mr. Brown coffee and when I came back I decided to put off the day's intended hike for a few hours while I took a nap. After the coffee though, I could barely sleep and hypnagogic hallucinations alternately frightened and roused me. I gave up after a few hours and decided to hit the trails.
Having only seen the temple in the lonely hours of the evening or the early morning, I was surprised by the crowds now milling about. They were equally surprised by a lone Western woman wandering around trying to make out the Chinese signs marking the path. I made it halfway down the longest trail but the rest of the temples proved to be disappointing--modern and dull. The trail itself was actually just a narrow, paved mountain road and the number of other folks--largely families--meandering along the path was distracting. I turned back and started in on Henry Miller's Sexus. Pornographic, yes, but as always I caught the gust of his exploration of meaning, humanity, and the universe and was lifted far and away for a few hours. I did a lot of writing in my journal but didn't attempt anything more substantial. Afterward I had a disappointing dinner at the restaurant next to the temple. It's been my experience that it's impossible to find a nice, hearty Chinese meal at any of these scenic areas. Most of the restaurants call themselves cafes and serve overpriced coffee and tea and faux Western food that is beautifully presented but barely palatable. Good gungpao chicken is severely underrated by the locals here.
I got to bed earlier the second night with a little less trouble. I woke up early, went into town for another coffee, and made it back up the visitor's center at the other end of the trail by 8:00. I had to go back over some of the path that Mel and I had already covered the previous weekend, but it was such a beautiful trail, so quiet and cool at that hour, that nothing was lost by doing it all over again. I made my way to "Seven-Star Tree" I had as my goal for the morning within forty-five minutes. I took a few pictures as proof of reaching my goal and returned just as hordes of families and their frolicking offspring were making it up the hill. I walked another length of the trail but turned back before seeing the "Shueilian Cave" when I heard a tour bus full of people cackling and squawking ahead of me. It didn't seem worth the thousand and one perfunctory head-nods and smiles I would have to exchange with all the passengers.
I somehow found my way onto a wicked back road to the lake I was trying to find to fulfill the mornings goals. It was tiny, twisted, and completely lonesome. I stopped every few hundred yards to take some pictures of the fields and houses; it struck me that I could almost just as well have been in sub-Saharan Africa as western Taiwan with the shacks and ill-maintained roads. I got lost on the way to the lake when the signage ran out; I eventually found it but couldn't find the path around it, and then I got hungry so I went back to the hotel. I had been ruminating on strawberry waffles all morning, but after a shower I got so engrossed in Sexus that I lost track of time and by the time I went to get something more substantial from the 7-11 and returned, the cafe had closed and I had missed my dessert. I consoled myself by finishing the book, journaling, and finally working on really writing a few pieces, following a version of Anne Lamott's advice in Bird by Bird and just writing some childhood memories from start to finish. So now I have a chronology of all the backyards my family inhabited throughout my childhood years. I suppose there are lots of ways to branch out from there, but there it is for now.
I slept yet more peacefully the third night, woke up early and found an isolated corner of the actual temple grounds to write. As expected, the other visitors started trickling in around 8:00 and before it was quite 9:00 I was being hounded by stares and comments from every passer-by, so I packed it up and headed back home.
Mel and I went to Lion's Head Mountain this weekend. We found the temple she had been wanting to visit for years. It was really, really spectacular. We spent the afternoon wandering along one path before we went to the temple and inquired about staying there. It would be the perfect place to completely disconnect from the phone, the internet, television shows and movies, loud music, etc. The air was actually sweet and you could hear insects humming and little lizards crashing through the underbrush. The scenery was incredible, so extravagantly lush and green that it was almost indecent. The one temple that we saw (though there are many more we missed) was also particularly ornate. I contemplated the possibility of the vibrant dragons and phoenixes actually lifting off their high perches and swooping down on us and it was frightening, which led us to wonder how "cute" became Asia's most tyrannical cultural mandate, so that thirty year-old women who are so terrified of aging think Hello Kitty is a suitable interior design theme.
As soon as we saw the room at the monastery, I felt compelled to stay there, but I knew I would have to do it alone. Mel understood; she's a painter. I hope that I will have the time and the nerve to do that before I leave.
horribly sick new year
I am pretty much sicker than I think I have ever been right now, without hugging the toilet and praying for my kidneys, if not my soul. This time, it's "just" tonsillitis and a slowly developing sinus infection, but I have slept for about 60 hours in the last 72. I have also downloaded a few bad French movies and a few scandalous Chinese (Hong Kong) movies as well, so it hasn't been all a loss.Beau and I went to Hong Kong on the weekend. It was his Christmas gift and I had been hyping it up for two weeks, only to arrive on Friday night already exhausted and cranky. I could feel myself getting pretty sick, but I thought I could get past it with a good night's rest and some RedBull in the morning. Wrong. Woke up the next morning still cranky and tired, but we did find the burger joint I was looking for (The White Spot) and we did make it to Stanley Market before I started giving in. I was not even a little bit irritable until my lovely, handsome man gave our bus fare to a passing monk and then I did roll my eyes a bit because we had to trot around and find another 7-11 to get more change. In his defense, I did appoint him keeper of Hong Kong coins without briefing him on their denominations first. All's well that end's well; we had a good stroll and shop around Stanley. I got a leather jacket I didn't even know I wanted until I saw it and he got a Thundercats' belt he was immensely pleased with and we both enjoyed Strongbows at one of those little places down on the waterfront.
We fell asleep on the bus on the way home, or rather he did because at that point I was high on caffeine but still irritable and sick. I got to watch the Filipina chick in front of me pluck her eyebrows and do all of her makeup with a cell phone stuck to her ear for the 45-minute ride, though. That was a treat. I had to beg for an hour to myself to nap and try to pull it together, and beau obliged and wandered around Central by himself. I awoke for dinner and he and my best friend from high school were standing outside the door. We all went to dinner a nice Korean restaurant in Causeway Bay and then did a spin around TST looking for some friends from Taiwan that were also coincidentally in HK for the weekend. We didn't find them there, but we did take a walking tour of Chungking Mansions and OHMYGOD I don't think I will ever stay there. It was really creepy. Maybe just because I wasn't expecting it at all, maybe because I had pictured it rather differently in my imagination, but I was wholly unprepared for that scene. There were foreigners from every different region of the earth lurking in the innumerable corners made by vendors and shops inside this giant building...there were elevators....signs....eventually we found a bathroom...it was all very confusing. I suppose had I come with some friends looking for a cheap place to stay it would have seemed more inviting, but just passing through looking for two Brits, it was kind of intimidating and not very friendly.
We eventually met up with our buddies in Lan Kwai Fong. It was an absolute circus there that my beau had not predicted, so we were chilling outside 7-11 enjoying a couple of cold ones while he tried to wrap his head around the throngs of drunk people cavorting in the streets. It was a madhouse that made me giggle and made him wish he had a weapon. We only had to stand there a few minutes before we espied our two fair-haired friends and we joined forces in drinking. It was a good time 'til we all had to go home.
Needless to say, I was useless the next day. I wasn't exactly hungover, but my head hurt and my throat was dry and painful and I my body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I whined and nursed my ailments til 11 but I felt so terrible for wasting even a few of the precious hours that we had in HK that I got out of bed and we made it to the Star Ferry and had a final jaunt around TST and Causeway Bay. Once we were on the flight home and it was safe to be sick, I passed out. We got back to my house at 8:45 and I was in bed by nine. I missed work the next morning, and left early after I went in the afternoon. I slept all day Tuesday and put in my early hours at kindy but still went home before buxiban.
It's New Year's Eve now and I should be getting ready for our year-end banquet and the night's festivities but I am still hoping I can get to the doctor before they close and grab some sinus medication. Apparently, there is going to be a concert at the empty parking lot across the street. I don't even think the dude right now is speaking English or Chinese. It doesn't sound like a mic check, it sounds like a dental check--"aaaaah, aaaah, aaaah." The group before him was murdering some horrible rock version of the Hallelujah chorus...next up, Taiwanese love songs.
On Cambodia
My mom and I recently returned from a six-day trip to Cambodia. I was especially excited to go on this trip because while I have spent lots of time overseas, most of my traveling consists of living and studying or working in foreign countries, or visiting friends and family abroad. This was the first trip where I just booked the tickets and bought the Lonely Planet guide. For one who has spent so much time on airplanes and in passport control lines, I was surprised at how nervous I was about embarking on this kind of open-ended adventure. As a result of my anxiety, I did little by way of preparing for the trip except leafing through the guidebook and dog-earing a few pages. My mom was of course proportionally stressed out by my lack of planning, but by the time we deplaned in Siem Reap, we had managed to decide on a hotel.I laughed aloud when I saw the airport. It was a long series of brown pagodas stretched out across the runway. We had to pay US$20 for our visas to get into the country, and because we neglected to bring passport-sized photos, we were fined and additional US$1 each. A comfortable cab brought us to the hotel for US$7, and the cabbie was eager to secure our patronage for our trip to Angkor Wat the next day. In expectation of our adventure, neither my mom nor I had slept much the night before, so we took the afternoon to explore the small town of Siem Reap. I was initially intimidated by the map in the guide book, but as it turned out, Siem Reap was tiny and very easy to navigate. I was really impressed by the English-language ability of all the locals, from the street kids trying to sell me straw bracelets and postcards to the tuk-tuk drivers to the vendors and the salesclerks. I know I can't be too hard on Taiwan because they haven't had to whore themselves out to the tourist industry like Cambodia has, so most people don't feel the necessity of learning a foreign language like they do in Siem Reap and Phnom Penh, but it was so refreshing to walk into the coffee shop and be greeted professionally instead of watching the baristas dive behind the bar, trembling, giggling, and smacking each other on the shoulder in a complex ritual to determine who speaks the best English. (I always think: "I can order coffee in Chinese, friends--we'll get through this.")
I fell in love with Siem Reap by the end of the first day. It was dirty, but not like the industrial, polluted dirty that I've grown accustomed to here in Chungli, but a poor kind of dirty, with rotting fruits and stray dogs and a light film of dust covering everything. Who would have thought that funk of rotting flesh of fruits and meat would have made me nostalgic for the places I lived as a child instead of repulsed and nauseous as they did back then? It was strange breathing in the odors of the markets and being reminded of places my family lived in Africa. During my first year or two here, I used to joke that I liked Taiwan best in the summer because then I could pretend I was in Thailand, but I was reminded that of that observation while walking around Cambodia. Similar to Thailand, the air was hot and thick, but I've been here long enough that I notice it without being too uncomfortable. The people were also very friendly and full of smiles, as are Thai people, but I can't travel to poor countries like that without lugging my guilt for being a comparatively wealthy white American woman around with me everywhere I go. We gave away loads of money and fruit all over Siem Reap and Phnom Penh but the problem of poverty there, of rebuilding a nation after the massive genocide and terror wrought by Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge is just so huge and it's so complicated to give money to kids who beg--yeah, people should be working for money, but there's no jobs and no social security system, so how are they going to eat everyday? It's a monstrous task and no matter how many small bills you throw at the children, you aren't making a drop in the bucket.
Angkor Wat was breathtaking. The thrill of finally laying eyes on something you've only seen in books and on postcards is unbeatable. I was surprised at the number of foreign tourists crawling all over the ancient temples like so many monkeys, but it was somehow heartening to see folks from around the world paying homage to an ancient site that left us all awed and not a little inspired. I was again impressed by the Cambodian guides leading tour groups in Chinese, Italian, English, French, and Japanese. The temples were massive and magical. My favorite was, of course, Ta Prohm. I hear that it's the one featured in Angelina Jolie's "Tomb Raider," but believe me when I say I wouldn't know. We got there early after watching the sunrise over Angkor Wat, so the light was still soft and there were mystical spots of light and shadow playing under the branches of the ancient trees that are slowly reclaiming the temple grounds. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...
I would not have been at all surprised if little Khmer fairies started flitting around us. As it was, we only encountered little children selling books and wooden bangles. There was a line around the temples that they knew better than to cross, but more than once my own wandering mother would cross it and immediately we would be set upong by women and children begging and peddling scarves, magnets, paintings, t-shirts, and the like. It was like in a video game when you wander into the lair of the zombies and they all begin moving and twitching toward you moaning the same indecipherable cry, but as soon as we crossed the line they dissipated and disappeared back into the row of vendors selling cold drinks and local food. We did buy some souvenirs, more than we intended to of course, and then we had to buy knock-off North Face bags to take it all home. Both Phnom Penh and Siem Reap were riddled with pirated bookstores, and to that I say, "Thank you and amen." If you're going to illegally copy and distribute something, let it be books, ideas, knowledge, the opportunity for dialogue, growth and change. That was just a little bit of heaven for me, and I even bought two French textbooks that motivated me to start studying French again.
I can't close this without mentioning our visits to Tuol Sleng and the killing fields. I need to pay my respects by telling you that my mom and I did go to these places, we did see the pictures and hear the stories, the same as I we had to visit them to pay our respects to the 2 million-plus killed during the genocide that rocked that beautiful country only 30 years ago. But I won't even attempt any eloquence or depth of emotion because I don't think I can come close to an appropriate response to the things I saw and heard there. Suffice it to say that it is overwhelming to consider that ever Khmer citizen in their 30s or older survived, somehow, and it has fallen to them and their children to try to rebuild a livable country and a disfigured culture.
I only spent a few days there, but I was so impressed by the people and the countryside that I started concocting plans to return right away. Chinese New Year is always an option, as is teaching there when I am done here, or maybe even partnering up with someone better equipped to open a coffee shop or a restaurant in Siem Reap or Sihanoukville. The people there were so clever and so friendly, I felt safe there, and the weather was great. It's definitely an option I want to explore.
adventures
I went on a 10km hike in the mountains along the east coast today and that wasn't even the hardest thing I did. That was invigorating and affirming, as well as being thoroughly enjoyable because of the beautiful views of Taiwan's green mountains and sparkling oceans. There were also tons of butterflies of every shade and lots and lots of spiders larger than a man's hand on webs the size of a window in your house. I am normally frightened of spiders, but suspended there on the side of the trail, silently waiting for an unlucky insect to get stuck in their web, they didn't bother me and I was able to take a few pictures without losing my head.In the beginning, I was pretty disgusted with myself for the physical condition I'm in. I recently lost some weight, so I feel like I look better, and I got a tan and that always helps, but I am not that fit. Apparently, when the guidebook says "somewhat strenuous" and the the signs say "challenging" they means lots of fucking stairs up a mountain.
Notes to self:
1. If the Lonely Planet advises against doing this hike in the summer because you'll roast on the top of the mountain, then do it in the fall or you will roast on top of the mountain. I thought I was going to die.
2. Even though the white Adidas with the black lace stripes are cooler than the gray Adidas that make you look like you shop at Wal-Mart, you should wear the gray ones because they fit.
3. No matter how long the the train ride is, you do not need to bring three books with you on a mountain hike. Bring more water. Proust does not want to take a trip.
4. Always wear sunscreen. And bring a damn hat. And your expensive sunglasses that you couldn't live without and never wear.
5. Don't be a smartass. Nobody goes on a hike after eating four bites of fried turnip cake and drinking some cold coffee from 7-11.
6. You have not worked out for a year and you have been smoking almost a pack of cigarettes a day for the past two months. Of course you're going to hurt.
In the beginning, there were no clouds, no breeze, and no tree cover on the trail, which was mostly slate stairs. I didn't make it very far before I started reconsidering my whole commitment to the plan, but I pressed on and found my rhythm, and before I knew it I was in an enchanted forest so full of huge butterflies that I was dodging them, only to remember myself when I was staring at a spider bigger than my face on a web alongside the path. The view was spectacular on the top when I finished the first section, and having just enjoyed a nice little 5km walk through the woods, I decided to press on to the second section.
That might have been a mistake. The entire rest of the path was literally on top of a series of mountains alongside the east coast. It was beautiful and you could indeed see the ocean and I even got some pictures of water buffalo, but there wasn't a bit of shade except for the occasional gazebo full of Chinese people staring at my white, sweat, solitary ass panting along the hill. I don't know why when I remember enjoying things I did when I was 18 I automatically assume I can do them again after a diet that is largely comprised of things that are harmful for me (nicotine, caffeine, alcohol, and greasy local food) and almost a complete lack of exercise.
It took me six hours, but I finished, mostly because I didn't have a choice. There was no way down except to follow the path back to the train station in Dali. I originally intended to complete the entire trail, but that was 20km, and not even I am that insane. And I ran out of water.
Then, the fun began. I got a ticket for a train, waited half an hour for it to show up, and luckily got a seat. I was almost in ecstasy imagining a shower and some food. As we got up north, an old man got on and everyone else just looked at their toes, so I gave him my seat. At the next stop, the train pulled to a halt and a mass exodus began. I overheard some people chatting in Chinese and I asked them what was going on. There had been an announcement to the effect that there weren't enough people on the train going to Taipei, so we had to change trains. Since this emptied pretty much the entire train, I wasn't sure what was going on, but what can you do? I only live here. I started shuffling with the crowd toward the underpass to get to the next platform when a man started yelling at us to hurry up and started blowing his whistle. It was incredible. All these nice people that had been on the train started shoving each other through the narrow gate and down the stairs of the underpass. I emerged just in time to see a train stop and we all ran--literally ran--to get on board. Then the train sat there for ten minutes. And it sat there for another ten minutes at the next stop. Then it made it through another stop or two before sitting there again. And then when we were one stop away from Taipei Main Station, it sat there for about 15 minutes before I decided to get off and get a taxi. I was laughing inside at all the folks who were running to catch the train and so happy to see it still sitting there. "Fools! Haha!" I thought to myself.
After a prolonged conversation with the taxi driver who did not understand what I meant when I said I wanted to go to the bus station next to Taipei Main Station (It is not nearly as complicated as it sounds. There is a bus station next to Taipei Main Station, and I wanted to go there.), we got underway. He dropped me off at the far end so that as soon as I entered I saw the line for the Chungli bus extending to the back and around the corner and I couldn't see the end. I went to get my tickets and found four massive queues.
All in all, it took me about five hours to get home when it should have taken two or three tops. That was on top of the hike and having to stand the entire time on the train, and then wait in line for 45 minutes for the bus. It was incredible. I am really annoyed with the public transportation system here. It's not like we like in Burkina Faso or something. Grrr! Time for a drink, a smoke, and a very deep breathe.
on the road
I set out early Tuesday afternoon to drive around the island. I have to admit that I procrastinated for a few hours after waking on Tuesday because I wasn't sure about how to get out of Chungli and onto the roads that would take me along the north coast and then down east. For the average adult driver with a map, this probably isn't a very large hurdle, but as much as I've moved, I don't like being disoriented in unfamiliar territory. I always like to know where I stand, so to speak.It turned out to be incredibly easy. I just headed toward a beach that I know on the west coast and from there followed signs for the West Coast Seaside Highway, then signs for Keelung in the north and then made it onto Highway 9 without issue. It was exhilarating to be cruising on my own wheels through towns that had seemed eons away when I flip through the Lonely Planet guide. I am easily amused; these places were never more than a few hours away. The view in the north was very beautiful; in some places, rounding a rising curve in the road, a town set into the oceanside cliffs would look very Mediterranean, if you squinted a little. I made it to Fulong, Dasi, Yilan, and Luodong--towns before that had always been accessible to me by train--without any trouble, and I enjoyed the mix of forest, mountain, and ocean that makes Taiwan so beautiful. It wasn't until I got to Suao and then sun was setting that I ran into trouble. I made a few loops around Suao trying to find my way to Hualien and finally stopped at a gas station when I realized I was heading back north toward Yilan. I have no inner compass--it's a liability on road trips. With far more words than I could understand, the matronly gas station attendant was able to set me straight, but as I was talking to her I got a message from a friend who had promised to make himself available to me if I ran into any trouble. He warned me against going from Suao to Hualien at night because that was the most dangerous road in Taiwan and traversed five mountains. I told him I was just going to orient myself and then I would find a hotel, but I didn't see the sign for Hualien that I had been looking for until I had already started up the first mountain.
I figured it was too late to turn back so I just pulled back on the throttle but I realized how foolish I was being after just a moment. The curves were sharp, the mountain was steep, and the road was very narrow. To my right was a deep, wide gutter running along the rigid side of a mountain. To my left was a lane of rushing traffic, comprised in large part of semi-trucks carrying loads of rocks and would-be Tokyo drift drivers. On the far side of that lane was another cliff that ended in the ocean. I knew that because I had ridden in a van alongside this very road once a year ago, but I couldn't have otherwise guessed it in the pitch black night. I stopped off on one shoulder to throw some pants over my shorts but I could feel little moths, real or imagined, crawling inside my t-shirt and my pants, drawn as they were toward my feeble headlight. I tried taking the road as fast as I had sped along the previous highway and caught myself spinning into the other lane or coming perilously close to the mountainside and its gutter, so when the road wound through a small town on the other side, I stopped and found a hotel room for the night. I was trying to embrace my loneliness when I got a message from a second friend who told me to tell him if I ran into any problems. I might not be able to find anyone to join me when I get a little stir-crazy, but I still have some really solid friends that I shouldn't take for granted. I journaled and watched half of two stupid Keanu Reeves movies and had some fried rice.
The next morning, I was driving a little more sensibly and enjoying the view of the ocean when I could catch it over the concrete barrier to my far left, but my progress was hindered when I came upon a road crew cleaning up a landslide. For half an hour, dozens of other cars, trucks, buses and I baked in the hot sun, or choked on the air inside the tunnel made poisonous by all the cars that refused to sacrifice their air-conditioning for breathable air. Luckily, being on a scooter meant that I could go to the front of the line. I bolted as soon as the yellow tape was lifted and made it to Hualien without incident.
Highway 9 had been lovely in its own right, but I have heard so many things about Highway 11 that I was really eager to drive it. It was even more fantastic than I had imagined. Winding down mountains lined with tropical trees, the air was thick with flowers and everything was verdant and pristine. The road was completely serpentine coming down the mountains, curving in S's back upon itself all the way. When I got to the ocean, the air was salty and clean and the vegetation was coarse and hardy. The entire route, I felt like going too fast was sacrilege, like I should stop and enjoy the sites and scents, but I also loved to watch my needle wiggle at 100kph and tear up the open road with my two wheels like I was hellbent on being nearly-airborne. I stopped to take pictures of some cows, to drink a coffee and write in my journal, and I was stopped again for an air raid drill in some little BFV town on the way to Taitung. I passed by all the sites the Lonely Planet promised me I would see but I only stopped at the Tropic of Cancer, out of respect for my man Henry Miller.
I wanted to make it to Kenting last night. I had visions of a night walk on the beach and waking up for a delicious local Western breakfast at a restaurant I've enjoyed before. I wasn't sure how realistic I was being, but the scale of the massive map I was relying on was deceiving; Taiwan is just a small island. As the sun was setting, I hit the Shangliou Forest Area and enjoyed the best drive of the whole trip. The beautiful scenery was comparable to Taroko Gorge outside Hualien City and the roads were wide open and smooth. I must have finally mastered taking the mountainous curves at high speed because I was giddy flying down the road, passing trucks and minivans and SUVs. It was already dark when I got out of the mountains at 7 o'clock, but I was greeted by a well-lit highway bearing signs for Kenting, so I pressed on. I almost cruised past the entire strip before I realized I had reached my destination an hour later, so I turned back to find the cutest hotel I know on the strip and overpaid for a room that could have comfortably slept four. I stretched, showered, and had a meal of chicken enchiladas while I dove into the first pages of Swann's Way.
I got up early this morning thinking I could make it to Chungli by nightfall if I kept up the pace, but I was thwarted when my favorite restaurant was closed for breakfast. I made my way down to the beach but it was littered with garbage and natural refuse. Unimpressed, I grabbed my bags and got back on my scooter, but it took me four or five hours to get to Kaohsiung after trying to pick my way past a boring road that was made all the more tedious by the incessant red lights. I got lost in PIngtung and then I got lost in Koahsiung, and before I found the highway I was looking for I found the train station, and I decided enough was enough. My bottom was sore and I was hot and grumpy and fed up with trying to decipher my map. I had nothing left to prove to myself; I obviously could have driven home if I had to, and I didn't care what anyone else thought, so I put my scooter on the slow train and I took the high speed rail home. I will definitely be able to make it to French class now. :)
Overall, I'm glad I took the trip. I'm always hesitant to drive my scooter in unknown areas but I am pretty confident now that it's basically impossible to get lost. The island is just too small. One downside is my tan lines--I'm now about four or five different shades of white and brown from my different shirts and shorts, and I have flip-flop tan lines (which are cool) and a watch tan line (which is not so cool). I've already talked to one of my friends about returning down south to the Shangliou Forest Area to camp or at least cruise around and check out the trees, and I wouldn't be opposed to getting some bicycles to Fulong or even Hualien and trying out some bicycles along the road there, as I saw lots of other folks doing. It was a fun trip and a good use of a few days time, and now I still have some time to rest up, get some work stuff done, and maybe even take a hike this weekend.
On Spring Scream in Kenting
This is just a short note on the trip I took to Kenting, the southernmost town in Taiwan, last weekend.After making plans to leave Friday night and hit the beach early Saturday morning, I was interrupted at dinner Thursday with news that my traveling buddies were actually intending to leave Thursday night. I raced home, threw my clothes and my sleeping back in an over-sized backpack and was on the bus a few hours later. It was a pretty miserable bus ride, being dog-tired from working all week and not being able to get comfortable in the stiff armchairs with a snoring elderly Taiwanese man in the seat next to me. Still, when we got off the stale, air-conditioned bus and were confronted by the sunshine and gentle warmth of the early morning in Kenting, I felt refreshed. We serpentined across the main road from hotel lobby to hotel lobby looking for a hotel room for the night, only to receive bemused grins and responses of "Mei you, mei you." We heard later that some hotels had already been booked by the beginning of the year; hence the hotel owners' incredulity. We trooped down the road with our heavy gear to the campsite where a place to sleep could be had for a mere NT$100 a night. That translates, in my mind, to about US$3. Sweet, we set up camp and headed straight for the beach, where I promptly got sunburned while enjoying the cool, gentle waves.
After a few hours in the sun, we made our way back to the tents for a nap, then a heavy Western meal at Smokey Joe's. We never actually made it to Spring Scream--isn't that funny? We partied that night on the beach and slept in the next morning. Saturday was just more of the same--beach, sunburn, and beer. Partying on the beach was excellent. There were hundred of people sitting in small circles around candle torches under a black sky by a black sea. Then some brilliant folks started setting of firecrackers. That's one thing that I might never get used to about living here--the locals' totally cavalier attitudes toward gunpowder. Back home, the way fireworks are regulated and the way your mom always predicts you're going to lose a limb makes you take pause before mixing booze and explosives, but out here, it's only funny that drunk people are lighting fireworks on a densely crowded beach, not scary. I just went with the flow and wandered around, trying to have conversations in between the blasts.
It felt so unbelievably good, so surreal and beautiful, to be in the water. I'm not a strong swimmer but I felt like I was a dolphin. The sun was intense and my skin was no defense against it. I had sand everywhere even after taking a shower and my throat hurt from the saltwater. It even felt good to lie in the stuffy tent and listen to the birds chirping. I don't suppose I would get too romantic about it if that were my everyday reality, but living in Chungli, you'll never take the natural world for granted.
I also really enjoyed spending the weekend with some guys that I usually only see at the bar or in the office. It was a rather spontaneous decision to go with some folks that I don't usually spend my time with, but It was excellent to realize that I have more options than sitting at home wishing my friends didn't play X-Box/watch TV so much. Also, conversations with new friends tend to be really engaging because you haven't heard all their stories before and you are open to letting them be who they are. Intimate, long-term friendships are really important and provide some sanctuary from the insanity of the world, but new friends are just more open, more flexible, more spontaneous and I had a really great time hanging out with some people I might have otherwise overlooked.
On My Vacation, Exploring Kenting
We arrived safe and sound at the Mei Fong hotel via the random taxi driver that brought us all the way from Kaohsiung for NT$300 each. For only NT$1,600 a night, we had a really clean and cozy room on Kenting Road, just a short walk away from the beach. Tired and lazy, we spent the whole day lounging around the room enjoying the temperatures that were considerably higher than they were in Chungli. Around 9pm, we made our way down to the "strip" and allowed ourselves to be carried along by the considerable crowd of people streaming past vendors selling all sorts of beach related-trinkets, flip-flops, board shorts and swimsuits.
What really struck me was the amount of goods being sold bearing inscriptions from "South Beach, CA," "Miami Beach, FL," "Thailand," and "Japan." There were tacky little toothpick holders made from seashells of the variety you can find at any shop on a beach along the east coast in the States. All the lovely lamps, candles, and bags had tags that said, "Made in Thailand." I had to look to find T-shirts that were printed "Kenting, Taiwan," but I didn't buy any because they were printed with tacky Wal-Martesque prints of sharks, sea shells, or kittens and said "Vacation of Kenting" on the front, in the typical, ungrammatical Taiwanese style. My friend's wife told me there were indeed shops that sold art from local Kenting artists, but she said it was very expensive and I never found such a place. It seems strange that such a thriving beach town wouldn't have its own unique identity that could be marketed and sold through souvenirs. I know from local Taiwanese people that Kenting is known for its onions and oranges, as evidenced by the dozens of stalls selling onions along the highway into town, but I would expect something more like keychains or postcards. All in all, it was predominantly the same kind of junk and cheap toys that you could find at any nightmarket anywhere in Taiwan.
We rented a scooter the next day to take the "must-see" trip to Jialeshui. The road was mountainous and winding, but the scenery was fantastic. We stopped along the way to check out the scrubby cliffs and beaches.
Jialeshui itself is a beautiful rocky beach. You can take a short ride on an uncomfortable and crowded tour bus to view the volcanic rock formations that look like a menagerie of animals. The tour was in Chinese, but it's only a few minutes along a very narrow road to an area where you can clamber over the rocks yourself. The huge rocks being assailed by the rough waves were a very beautiful sight indeed, and we also saw some pretty interesting little crabs and fish in all the nooks and crannies.
As always in Taiwan, there were a lot of other people there with us climbing the rocks, taking photos, and trying to catch the crabs with small nets. A few small shops sold seashells and hermit crabs, but we didn't buy any because I've heard that the local reefs and waters are being totally ravaged by such vendors.
Winson's Hostel is also out near Jialeshui, where you can stay the night for a few hundred NT, surf and also get surfing lessons. We watched them for a while and I really want to take lessons for a day or even just rent a board and try it out. The surfing is supposed to be really good there, but on that particular day, the waves didn't look very large at all and it totally seemed within the realm of possibility that I could do such a thing. It's strange, I'm 26 so I feel like it's too old to try, but then if my mom wanted to try, I would totally encourage her to do it and wouldn't let her use her age as an excuse. I guess there's nothing to be done except to give it a go myself. Once it's warmer though.
On the way back to Kenting, we stopped at Taiwan's Southermost Point, but it wasn't all that exciting except to know that we were standing on Taiwan's Southernmost Point.
We also made it out to Baishawan for a morning with some friends that were also staying in Kenting. They were staying in a hotel with their little baby, but all their stories about camping and partying on the beach for days at a time had me riveted. I've never really been that kind of spontaneous person but I think I could be.
All in all, we got some much-needed R&R, enjoyed some great food at the restaurants along the strip, and saw some really beautiful places that I hadn't seen before. It was a really good trip, and one I hope to repeat in a few months when the weather is warm enough to swim.
On My Vacation, One Night in Kaohsiung
I have been intending, for weeks, to drive my scooter around the island during this Chinese New Year holiday. Marc's vacation is different than mine, he hates being cold and wet, I don't want to go alone, some friends are going to be in Kenting, my Chinese teacher gave me the number for her cousin who owns a hostel in Jiaoshi, so we decided instead to take the high-speed train to Kaohsiung and make our way to sunny Kenting for a few days.The high-speed rail is Taiwan's latest engineering feat. The trip from Chungli to Kenting by bus can take 3-6 hours, but it only takes a comfortable hour and forty minutes by HSR. The tickets are pricey in terms of Taiwan dollars at NT$1,300, but I doubt I'll ever be up for being stuck on a bus with at least a dozen other strangers for four hours now that I've taken the train. It doesn't even feel like you are moving very fast, and they also serve refreshments and sell HSR souvenirs onboard. It does take two hours to get from Taipei to Zuoying, but I thought it was a little unnecessary to cart around 7-11 snacks.
We hadn't made hotel reservations in Kaohsiung, but I figured since it was technically the weekend after Chinese New Year, we wouldn't have any problems. I fumbled the Chinese phone call very badly, but the woman at the Hua Hong hotel managed to make it clear that there were rooms available and I should go there. We got accosted by an old man who took us to his taxi and drove us to the Hua Wong hotel, which looked very lovely, but was not actually the place we had in mind. The doormen there were very kind and very professional and helped us catch a taxi to the right place. So much for the Chinese lessons...I need to study harder.
As for the Hua Hong hotel, the 2007 Lonely Planet talked it up as a cheerful place with brightly colored walls and good for the price. We spend $2,200 and it was pretty bare bones. I didn't realize its chief advantage was its proximity to the bus station until the next morning when we had to get the bus to Kenting.
We spent the day wandering around Kaohsiung with my friend Page from work. He's from Kaohsiung, but he didn't really know his way around the city, so we still relied on the Lonely Planet to find our way to Love River. Kaohsiung is really huge, with much broader and busier streets than even Taipei. We spent a long time watching traffic with gaping mouths as lane after lane of car ignored the stop lights and drifted into oncoming traffic, locking up everyone in the intersection while the police idly chatted at their vehicles. By the time we had walked all around the city, we were just in the mood for a quiet dinner and drinks. We went all the way back out the Zuoying to eat at the Lighthouse, another place recommended by our trusty guide. The food was good and Western, but it was pretty similar to the kind of stuff we eat at our own River here in Chungli. We finally had a cup of coffee at a large outdoor cafe aptly called the Outdoor Cafe while a Taiwanese group sang covers of Black-Eyed Peas and Justin Timberlake that unfortunately came out as "Let's Get Restarted" and "I Bring My Sexy Belt."
At the Outdoor Cafe, where we sipped tepid lattes later that evening.
A photo of me and an obliging Afro Boy.
The next day, because I again missed something when the receptionist at the hotel tried to explain to me in Chinese where the 85°C was, Marc and I took a walk around the neighborhood trying to get a cup of coffee. I don't think we would ever make a very good team for the Amazing Race or anything, trying as we were to passive-aggressively snatch the map from each other and pass off my idiotically large bag of clothes. When we finally oriented ourselves to the map, we realized that the hotel was actually half-a-block away from the bus station. When we went there, another old man accosted us and offered us a ride to Kaohsiung in his mini-van for NT$300, NT$42 less than even the bus fare, so we accepted. It's always a little unsettling to find myself so trusting of random strangers in Taiwan, but when you're traveling, you trust your instincts, and I feel safer in Taiwan than in almost any country. That being said, you still have to trust your instincts. I did, and we had a very pleasant and uneventful drive to our hotel on Kenting Road.