Dalongdong and some birthday...fun?- 大龍峒, 生日快樂...嗎?

I've been disappointed with the trend I find myself slipping into.  Before I got to Taiwan I was determined to turn around my atrocious sleeping schedule, something I'm sure my many years in the food industry is partly responsible for.  Early to bed and early to rise, to take advantage of the hours in the day, that would be my mission.  Well, that worked for the first few weeks, but lately I find myself reading deep into the night, then struggling to roll out of bed before noon.  I could blame the eating schedule Taiwan and teaching have forced me into, or the excellent writing of David Gemmell.  I could blame my proximity to a pond and the sudden frog orchestras that erupt deep at night, or the train that dutifully rattles by early in the morning.  I could blame many things, and each one would be so much easier than blaming myself.

Perhaps, writing this, I gain some measure of accountability to a crowd of virtual readers, an incentive to change this habit.  I've always managed, in the past, to change things around for a little while, but always my will fails and I start to notice, with chagrin, that my alarm clock reads later and later as I turn off my night lamp.  There are too many things to see, to read, to think about, and apparently night's the time to do them.  It doesn't help that my job allows me the luxury of sleeping in almost every day.

As I sit here and write this in my apartment, sweat beads at my forehead, and the faux leather back of my chair sticks to my naked back.  The humidity here is draining; even a five-minute walk from my branch at the end of the day leaves me exhausted sometimes.  I don't agree with the AC being on full-blast in every store I walk into, and yet I'm forced to admit that the effect of stepping into these walk-in fridges is...revitalizing.  Summer's not yet upon us-how am I ever going to survive?  I'm betting Taiwan has rules about public nudity, but there's only one way to be sure...

I figured I'd celebrate my birthday on Friday in the most festive way possible, by buying a bottle of cheap wine (which is expensive in Taiwan) and drinking it while I played flash games.  By myself.  That's what my schedule on Friday does to me, leaves me drained and unwilling to exert the necessary energy to do anything constructive.

I wake up much later than I intended to the next morning, and decide to check out the Dalongdong area, owing to an attractive tourist pamphlet I picked up last weekend.  I'd actually been to this area the first time I visited Taipei, but my first trip was a series of surgical strikes, choosing likely targets well in advance of stepping foot in Taiwan.  Now that I'm living here, I want my day trips to be more like leisurely carpet bombings- checking out large swaths of area by foot (and later bike).  It was interesting to see how little the area had changed since the last time.  It is the conceit of man to think that his environment should suffer great changes along with those momentous shifts in his own moral landscape.  In this way, he can put things into perspective.  But sometimes he must admit that while he has changed, for better or worse, the land around him has failed to notice, or even care.  Man is impossibly small, and yet the only animal that thinks he holds center stage.

Maybe I hoped to pick up small details previously gone unnoticed, or some tourist attractions that we had walked past.  I hadn't been to the Confucius Temple before, so that was as good a place as any to start.  The whole compound is fairly modern, replacing the original temple that was destroyed during a rebellion under Japanese occupation.  There's a bunch of exhibits to check out, including the development of mathematics, the writing system, an interactive charioteering game (pretty limited, but it's a nice effort), and a 3-D video on the etiquette of archery.  All in all, the exhibits make up for the otherwise lackluster grounds.  Images are usually frowned upon in Confucius temples; while understandable (homage is being paid to the teachings of the man, not the man himself), the effect is a temple that feels unfinished, and the relative austerity is striking when you compare this place with nearby Bao'an Temple.  Maybe that's part of the appeal to some: a focus on the simplicity of scholarship.  Gazing down at the spotless courtyard, hearing only the rhythmic scrape of a worker's broom, you can almost imagine sitting down in some shaded study, tackling the classics- until a jet roars across the sky to touch down at nearby Songshan Airport.

The unassuming front gate to Confucius Temple

Before Chinese characters there were Chinese knots, used to record goods.

The back of the Wall of Supreme Knowledge. That mythical beast is a 'qilin'. According to legend it heralded the birth of Confucius.

Walking past the gift shop and some sort of '4-D' theater I gazed out across the street at the old retirees playing Go, Bao'an Temple in the background.

The view from the back of Confucius Temple.  Dead ahead lies Bao'an Temple

A brief jaunt through Linsheng Temple and I was at the entrance to Bao'an Temple.  Longshan Temple gets the most praise out of all the temples in Taipei, probably due to its large crowds and impressive architecture, as well as proximity to a cool neighborhood.  Bao'an is the perpetually underrated younger brother.  A plaque inside the grounds that reads Honorable Mention UNESCO 2003 highlights this fact.  Just like with all the temples in Taiwan there isn't much history to this place.  When a temple has stood for at least a thousand years, like those in China, it's inevitable that a myriad folk stories and legends will crop up: men and woman healed of incurable disease, miraculous survival through fire and lightning, visitations by men of enlightenment.  So I could talk about the modern history of the place, but I'll let the pictures do the talking. 

Got a picture right before the guy looked back suspiciously at me.

Linsheng Garden's a cool place to just sit and stare at the fish.  Not many people were in the park...seems like a lot of time put into something for the amount of visitors it gets. 

Entrance to Bao'an Temple

Can't get enough of that gold lacquered woodwork. 

Eight Immortals traversing the ocean, fighting some...turtle people.  Yeah, I don't really know much about them.

View from the complex overlooking the temple.

After Bao'an Temple I walked down the Street of 44 Shops (what an awesome name) and was supremely disappointed.  Maybe I just didn't know which shop to go.  Nothing really stood out to me, looked like any other street in Taipei.  I walked back towards the MRT, holding the water in my hand like a lifeline, sweat pouring down my face.  I decided to check out the Expo Park near the station and damned me if I didn't randomly find a British Pub.  I walked in, intending to stay for just a drink or two.  Seven drinks and two sets by a New Orleans trumpeter later I was making my way over to Brian's apartment to head to another bar.  Apparently I would be piggy-backing a celebration for Chris's new job (he got fired from Hess).  Danger of deportation had been staved off, at least for a short time.  Honestly Chris is such a fuck-up I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't last long at this new place either.  We met up with Ethan and took a cab over to the place (we always take cabs with Ethan, the price of which quickly adds up).  We walk into the place and it's your typical foreigner bar: lots of shady characters who'd have trouble getting laid back home, expensive drinks, slutty chicks.  Ok, so not much different from home.

Chris kept on loudly reminding us that there was a 20% discount on everything we ordered, clearly reveling in his mostly imagined VIP status.  He had no trouble buying shots for people with his imagined money too.  However, while usually mind-numbing, Chris's unintentionally funny banter was at least worth the price of a shitty shot of whiskey. 

Chris: "Yeah I met with one girl, and it was awful.  I felt like I was the one doing all the talking."
Me: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, what a surprise!"
Chris: "Yeah, haha, fuck you."

I'm feeling more and more belligerent as the booze from before wears off and I'm forced to realize I've come to a shitty bar.  I almost want to keep drinking to keep the buzz going, but I know with depressing certainty that nobody's doing me any birthday favors (unfair of me, I think Brian and Ethan both got me a drink), and even the price of a Heineken is so inflated that I'm loathe to continue looking at the menu.

Some other teachers from Hess filtered in, both Taiwanese and foreign.  One guy out of the same area as one of my friends showed up, and I had the following brief conversation with him:

Me: "Oh, are you the super religious guy?"
Him: "Is that what [your friend] says about me?"
Brian (aside): "That was the stupidest thing you could've said."

Yeah, not too bright of me.  Pretty sure that guy ignores me for the rest of the night.  There's only two people that person could've possibly been and both suck, so fuck him.  He could've owned his religious background (which I honestly had no problem with), but chose to get butthurt about it instead.  Chris launches into his next conversational masterpiece, trying to convince us why offering a girl the present of a whole, uncut pineapple is a good idea:

Chris: "Dude, those things are expensive in the Midwest, like $8 or $9.  Paul, tell them how expensive pineapples are."
Brian: "You do realize you're in Taiwan now, right?"
Ethan: "What is she supposed to do with a whole pineapple?"
Chris: "I dunno."

Chris continues to brag up his new job, how the workload is less, the teachers were impressed with his demo, and he'll have $50,000 NT by the end of the month.  Chris is also a compulsive liar and hemorrhages money like a trophy wife at Juicy Couture. 

At this point I'm completely sober.  I can count the number of hot chicks on a fingerless hand, and I've expressed little interest in the people I didn't originally come with.  Chris gets down on bended-knee and hands a pineapple he brought with him to the waitress he's courting.  Some people on the next table think he's proposing and descend into mad fits of giggling.  A vein starts to throb in my forehead.  In anticipation of the next moment of hilarity cameras are brought forth, and group photos are inevitable.  I am repeatedly told to "open my fucking eyes," as if doomed to relive high school...and college, and last year.  By other Asian people.  Brian stuffs money down a girl's low cut top for safe-keeping, and I start snapping my own photos.  Two girls grin and thrust their middle fingers out towards me brazenly.  Keepers, both of them.

Guess I was drunker than I thought.

Always with the finger.

Brian and Ethan keep me sane, and I genuinely enjoy their company.  Chris, for all the shit I've given him, is a lively, interesting guy.  But I want to leave this place.  Even that privilege is denied us, as our bill is painstakingly recounted by the 16 yr-old bartender, a light-dusting of downy growth marking his first contact with puberty.  Brian tries unsuccessfully to make a withdrawal from his boob bank; apparently there's a non-negotiable self-entitled bitch fee.  The bill finally comes back and Chris explains to Brian the meaning of friendship:

Chris: "Yeah, sorry dude.  I know I said I'd get those drinks, but I don't have any money on me."
Brian: "Nah, it's cool dude."
Me: "Hahaha, what kind of apology is that?  You don't offer to buy drinks for people when you don't have any fucking money."

Not only is there no 20% discount, but Brian is overcharged for his tab.  He patiently explains this, and tab is passed around back and forth like a cheap 2-penny whore, drinks unaccounted for and drinks never drunk.  The limbo of our departure stretches on and Ethan's eyes are tearing up from trying to keep calm.  Not normally a patient man, I glance over at the bartender, of half a mind to lay into him.  He is paying us no attention, concentration fully on two bills, brow furrowed slightly.  I remember my own time as a bartender and admit defeat; the unwritten law of the food industry bars me from speaking an ill-word to him, a fact I well know.  Brian finally convinces the chick to dig around and relinquish his $500 NT.  He is forced to listen to some ridiculous tripe about treating girls nicely before evenly demanding his money back.

While we wait, it is decided that we are going to a gay bar.  I'm no longer in the mood to drink but I figure the night can't get any worse, and the thought of a gay bar delights with myriad possibilities.  Ethan knows two places, and the coin decides for us.  He declares confidently that he is getting me laid, and with sweet assurance, I know I'll be spending the night sprawled out on Brian's couch.  Alone.  That line never fails to disappoint, no matter who it's uttered by.  The more I turn that thought over in my mind, the more I feel I'm not genuinely disappointed, one night stands and forays with strangers have never appealed to me.  I don't think that will ever change.

We finally receive our change and hurry on out.  Before I step through the threshold I turn back to mark this place in my mind.  It probably won't matter anyway, but I want to make sure.  I want to make sure I never set foot in this shithole again.

On the cab ride over there, we count our remaining money.  It is depressingly low.  Ethan says I will have to work my mixed-blood charms to procure free drinks.  I declare the idea has some merit, but shudder inwardly.  Chris asks Ethan to check up on the waitress for him:

Chris: "Can you make sure she's not in trouble about the tab thing.  I kind of like this one."
Me: "Big of you."

We finally get to the place and the others buy some Taiwan Beer at 7-11.  Except for Ethan, who buys one of those sugary pink lychee beers.  I call him a pussy.  He offers no rebuttal.  A group of gay men stand in front of the store to the right of us.  I have flashbacks to the first time I'm in Capital Hill, running through a mob of gays and losing my shit.  I remember my friend catching up with me, offering me this sound advice:

"You can't run dude, they'll smell your fear."

The others finish their beers and we pay our cover and step in.  Yep, this is a gay bar alright.  I suddenly feel under dressed in my shorts and t-shirt.  People crowd the dance floor, weakly shaking their hips in a laughable imitation of dancing.  Passing by a few couples making out, we find a seat behind the dance floor.  I'm cracking up as I sit down, just watching all the gays around me.  Ethan is totally committed to trying to pass us off as gay men, and Brian picks up some of that vibe:

Oh yeah, always what I wanted!

We get out on the dance floor and blow things up- not difficult, since it seems most of the people would have trouble keeping up with patients in a geriatric ward.  I'm not sure this is a stereotype I can blanket apply to Taiwan though because Ethan's a great dancer.  Brian and I have fun making exaggerated feminine moves, our wildly distorted view of gay culture laid bare on the dance floor.  After a few songs, some guys call us out:

Gay Asian: "Are you really gay?"
Me: "Uh...yeah.  Yeah!  Pffsh, I mean, yeah, I'm totally gay.  Why wouldn't I be gay?"
Gay Asian: "Prove it.  Kiss me."

Uh.  How do I get myself into this shit.  This would be a theme that would run throughout the night.

I kiss him chastely on the cheek.

Me: "See?  Totally gay."
Gay Asian: "No, kiss me with tongue."

Ok, fuck this.

Me: "What?  Ew, no."
Gay Asian: "See, you're not gay."
Me: "Yep, you got me."

This is not the last time I see this fucker.  If I had been quicker on my feet I might've tried something like, "You're not my type," or something more demure, like "Sorry, men with pizza faces turn me off."  Ethan comes up and tells me and Brian we're not dancing gay enough, too much jumping and wild movements.  Apparently, Chris is fine.  Brian decides that the gay men here suck at dancing and I concur.  Ethan shrugs and tells us that gay men love gay acting anyway, so we're doing fine.  I'm suddenly concerned as to why I should care whether gay men love me or not.  Then I realize this night is as much about Ethan as it is me.  Ethan is my friend, gay, and clearly eating this shit up.

We're in a gay bar!

Showing off our moves

More dancing, more staring, no women.  Chris ends up leaving early, making good use of the cover fee we paid for him.  I'm exhausted from all the walking around I did in the afternoon, so at intervals I just stop and look around me.  When you're in the thick of it, you don't really notice anything, but as I slow down and observe I start to feel the urge to get away.  An isolated event, like two men walking down the street hand-in-hand doesn't really bother me, but here, I can't look away.  I'm surrounded by men dancing close, men looking deep in each other's eyes.  This experience ceases to be novel and starts to feel unsavory; I'm merely a spectator, I have no proper place here.  There is no diplomatic way of saying this-the density of gayness is invading my pores.  I pick through my thoughts, determined to weed out any impulses of bigotry; I do not presume to tell gay people what to do, what is right, or how to live their lives.  I do not prejudge anyone on hearing they are gay.  All I know is how I myself feel about this place, and the whole scene feels alien and unnatural.  It is late, and I'm tired.

I go to the bathroom, and the guy who tried to get me to french kiss him is standing by.  I guess the bathroom is as good a place to set an ambush.  The guy seems genuinely attracted to me, so thinking it rude to blow him off, I engage him in conversation.  He attempts to flirt with me by disbelieving my ethnic heritage.  More repeated attempts to get me to kiss him.  I'm starting to sympathize with all the girls I ever tried to drunkenly kiss, and understand all the karmic implications thereof.  Out of politeness I ask him where he's from.  He says from Canada, but he'll be going back to France, where he studies.  I decide that the poetic implications of him wanting to french kiss me are too much, and decide to just get this shit over with.  I agree to kiss him.  He spreads his lips open like a guppy and I fight a moment of revulsion before I take the plunge.  Funny how kissing a woman can feel so right, and this feel so wrong.  I pull away almost instantly.  It's not just that this sucked, but it felt like an act completely devoid of any emotional attachment whatsoever; I might as well have kissed a horse.  I'm cringing just writing this now.  The guy seems disappointed, but I've had enough of this fucker.  Even though I initiated the kiss (I'll be man enough to admit it) it fucking sucked and it's not happening again.

I meet up with the other guys, now near the exit and tell them what happened.  They predictably throw shit in my face and laugh it up.  Ethan has a chat with the Canadian guy, obviously very jealous (I'm kidding Ethan, jesus).  I wish I had recorded the conversation we had sitting outside in front of the 7-11, comments questioning my sexual orientation/manliness.  Funny shit.  After a marathon of slamming my face into the concrete, we eventually grab a taxi and get out of there.  After the taxi to Brian's place I look down in my wallet and see only coins.

Awesome.

Disclaimer: Those of you who come here for my usual logs about interesting places might have been put off by the last bit of this entry.  However, this is foremost a diary about my experiences in Taiwan, wholesome and otherwise.  I can't help having certain opinions about the gay bar experience, though I don't see myself as bigoted or gay-bashing.  Writing this entry was not an exercise in pissing off any gay people out there.  I could've easily left out that part, or me kissing a dude, and I was actually talking to one of my friends here about that.  Here's what he had to say:

Tyler: "I think if you leave in the parts bashing other people, then you kind of have to write about that shit.  It's funny, and it makes fun of yourself."
Me: "Yeah, you're right."

Thanks Tyler.  I can't even believe I considered doing it any other way.  In fact, that's the very essence of being a hypocrite.  One thing I've always questioned is why my friends stick by me.  I can be a dick sometimes, calling people out, busting their balls.  But I think it's because I do exactly what Tyler suggested: I throw myself in the mix, and people can appreciate that.  No mercy for anyone, not even myself.  People see that and they know if they bash you things will be ok: I'll laugh and keep going.  That's why I write these stories.  This shit is funny precisely because it's happening to me, a person who likes to rip on other people.  Karma never fails to serve up some nice comeuppance, and when it does, I'll never fail to report it.  Why else do you think I tell people the story about how I got my gooch scrubbed by a bath worker in a speedo?

At the same time, I didn't come to Taiwan to go bar-hopping every weekend.  In fact, I'm pretty much done with bars.  I didn't leave home (where the bars are superior anyway) to go and piss my money away on shitty drinks and half-assed locales.  So if you're eager for more stories like this, sorry to disappoint.  You probably won't be getting them.