Life has been steady, I've weathered the initial feelings of detachment and homesickness (some might say better than most, given my previous experience teaching abroad ), and yet, at times, somber feelings threaten to engulf me if I hold to them too tightly . A person doesn't leave the joy of home, of a loving family and bonny friends, unless they are searching for something. Especially Seattle (yeah, yeah, fuck you New Yorkers, your city sucks).
But what if he doesn't find what he's looking for right away? Or worse yet, what if he has no idea what he's even looking for? Some might say that tomorrow's problems can be dealt with tomorrow. Let the answers seek themselves. Poor advice for one such as myself. I have, for a long time, grown comfortable in the absence of change. These past few years life has led me through multiple jobs, new talents, and good friends, but one defining element cuts through all of this; a startling lack of ambition. I feel like there's an ocean of awesome out there, but I'm anchored at bay, restless yet stagnating. If I truly want to find my heart's calling, only I can weigh anchor. Perhaps moving from home to home in my childhood and always being cared for stunted my self-reliance, and with it my self-determination. When you come from a broken family, you accept the natural order of things at a foster home...without argument. And because of this childhood inurement, I find it much easier to ignore problems than to solve them. Saying 'ignore' is not quite correct. What I truly excel at is convincing myself that I'm better off without something, rather than fixing the situation. Even now my computer spouts warnings about an imminent failure of the hard disk. Other than back up my documents, I've done nothing to fix my computer, only cut back its use, merely waiting for the inevitable. And why not? I've been playing too many flash games and looking at porn anyway. Is my life not better now? It's a hollow solace; I could fix my problem and work up the willpower to not while away my time on bullshit. But the Guang Hua Electric Market is kind of far away...and it's kind of a pain in the ass...
This is often the way I 'deal' with problems. What then is not the biggest problem tugging at the corners of a man's soul than how to find his place in the world? Or to prove his worth to himself?
I often think about who I would've been had I been born hundreds of years ago, eking out an existence through the honest toil of my own two hands. There would be no existential quandary, just the understanding that only through will and determination could I prosper, and the fierce joy coming from such living. Life for so many today consists of working in an office for years and years; man no longer provides for himself, does not chop his own fuel, or hunt his own food, build homes or chairs, or sew clothing. Instead they march in lock-step towards glass buildings 9-5, toiling in front of glass screens, returning home to relax in front of bigger glass screens...
I did not live then, however, so I will never know who I might have been. I can only move forward. I only know I will finish this year of teaching. Not for myself, not even to avoid the shame of sitting at home jobless, but for my students. I can't let these children build a relationship with another adult only to leave them a few months later. Although it seems that's happening anyway. I will finish my contract and then I will find what I want. Maybe in good honest work with my two hands. I think I would like that.
As I've gotten older my perspective has changed on almost everything, even something as broad as the very act of learning. Learning as a child has no motivation. Even spoiled, lazy shits are naturally curious about something. Everything needs to be justified when you're older though. When I first started learning Chinese I didn't think of it as a future vocation, yet I still applied myself. I love languages, a love instilled in me by both my parents. Junior year of high school I knew I wanted to make a career out of it, so I worked even harder, but I still had no definite idea of what that career might be. Studying Chinese wasn't a means to anything, it was the means itself. It just felt right throwing myself into something constructive, extracting every measure of knowledge with due diligence. It was an attitude that would serve me throughout college. As long as I became damn good at Chinese, the jobs would come. Now, as an adult, I find not only that my Chinese is less practical in the job market than I thought, but you need to have a more relentless attitude towards finding jobs. And I have no complaints about that, or regrets about my approach to learning; knowledge should be pursued for its own sake. The joy of every new insight gained is irreplaceable. A person who doesn't thirst to know more about the world around them touches me with a profound sadness. It's like a person who hears the chords of a song and feels nothing, or who can look upon snow-capped mountains in the horizon and feel not a whisper of anything on the barren landscape of their own soul.
I fear the same kind of blight is creeping into my own soul. Learning no longer seems the joy it used to be. Having studied Chinese so long, I find myself armed with a double-edged sword-if I'm able to understand Chinese in a natural setting then I feel no great sense of accomplishment; I should be expected to understand most anything with little difficulty, or so I've lead myself to believe. If I don't understand something flawlessly, I'm disappointed, as if all my schooling has been a waste. No amount of information can satisfy my hunger, which is not nearly as great as it sounds. I'm no longer a full-time student, so the time I spend studying doesn't follow a regular schedule. Words are often forgotten as quickly as they are memorized. Thus studying serves only to bring about a sense of backslide rather than progress. I'm reminded of the antagonists of David Gemmel's novels, massive armies that must keep conquering, sacking city after city for the gold needed to supply their growing numbers. Finally, bloated by their own success, they fall to an enemy unhindered by the constraints of a large empire, or must inevitably turn upon themselves.
Increasingly, I find this attitude towards Chinese being applied to other areas where I have far less expertise. If I don't understand something to the most intricate detail then I've failed, somehow. Is that right? It shouldn't be. Any knowledge gained propels a man forward, every mote or sliver that crystallizes through effort can slowly accumulate to produce ingots of success. It's not necessary to pump out such ingots at breakneck speed, or for knowledge to be thought of only as a tool. Perhaps that's one reason for my growing discontent. Even engaged in leisurely self-study, or pleasure reading, I'm reminded by my lack of knowledge. God, I've learned so much about myself in the many hours of solitude here. Maybe I've known them all along, but lacked the moments of self-introspection to face them. Still, realization is not enough. Only by discarding this self-destructive thinking can I find true happiness. Ha, sounds like I'm at it again with my perfectionist attitude.
One thing that's been a concern lately is money. Unlike China, where I couldn't spend my $600/month quickly enough, here I'm consistently worried if I'll make it through to the end of the month without having to draw money from my back account back home. It's funny, I had no qualms about spending money when I had no job, but now that I'm living in a country where the cost of living is much cheaper I'm more mindful of trying to live within my means. It seems every month some random expense pops up: a wedding, bar visits (those really make a dent in the old wallet), a French press to replace my broken one, bills, other bullshit. These alone sap my personal coffers, but right now I'm getting $5000 NT deducted from each paycheck for the $30000 NT loan I took out. That $5000 would sure give me some breathing room, especially with an 18 hour/week schedule. And I'm still getting taxed at a crippling 19% until I've been here for six months. I'll get a huge refund at a certain point, but that does me little good now.
The first thing I showed my SA 10 class on my last day with them was a picture of the old 'Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego' game. In their student books they have a mini comic about 'the Chameleon', a master disguise-artist who travels the world stealing priceless artifacts...dressed in a long red trench coat and wide-brimmed fedora. Yeah. Good thing the copyright laws in Taiwan are so loose. Max, one of my students with a personality, immediately showed interest in the game. He loves learning about different countries, and has an international coin collection he showed me once. Hell, he's like a younger version of me. I told him I'd try to find the Chinese name of the game if it existed. Took me back to my childhood, when I used to watch the game show with my brother, back when they had game shows like that. And I remembered what unbridled joy learning used to be. Games like the Magic School Bus, an old Eyewitness interactive knight game, an illustrated Greek/Roman history book, all these various games and books flood my memory now. I did a google search back home and smiled a little at a snapshot of the old PC Carmen Sandiego game. God damn that game was hard (the game show was pretty hard too). I should thank students like Max. When I hold too tightly to these jaded musings, making them a part of me, these kids can help me look back at the golden times, and pluck them out of time's reach. In doing so, maybe I'm forced to let slack my grip on more familiar burdens. Just a little.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
A day in the life of an English teacher
Man truly is a creature of comfort. Not too long ago I was bitching ceaselessly about how the rain here has a way of ruining the best laid plans. With this recent stint of gorgeous weather, though, all I can think of is my flagging stamina walking outside. Short of directly injecting adrenaline into my veins I've adopted several countermeasures: taking cold showers, finally breaking down and turning on my AC, sitting around naked in my apartment (I actually did that back home too anyway, so it doesn't count)...you'd think keeping hydrated would be high up on the list, but I seem to have an aversion for drinking water. And yet, I'm drinking more of it than I ever have.
Walking towards work, I noticed the streets are now littered with dead cockroaches, when before you might see one or two, indistinguishable at a distance from the chewed-up husk of a betel nut. Maybe they too find this new heat unbearable in the countless underground spaces they inhabit. Or, more likely, what's unbearable is their appetite- food rots much more quickly in this heat. No longer do I stare in morbid fascination when a giant cockroach scuttles underfoot, though I doubt this will ever extend to those I find in my own apartment.
Settled at my unofficial desk I set about grading the pile of homework I had put off until my lightest work day. Before too long, I heard the pitter patter of rain steadily grow into a downpour. Thunder rumbled ominously, a mere warm up before it rent the skies above asunder. The only time I've heard louder thunder is in China, when it sounded like the gods were blowing on my windowsill. In the middle of that storm, I gained an appreciation for the attribution of weather phenomenon with godly behavior. Who's to say they were wrong?
I'd gotten to the branch early, so at this point the Taiwanese teachers staggered inside in varying degrees of wetness. Part of me was quietly embarrassed that I'd missed the storm entirely, but that's the way things are in Taiwan. The storm persisted only for about fifteen minutes before dying down to a mist-like drizzle. As I look through grated window of my prison-like balcony I see Xizhi bathed in a golden radiance, the hills in the distance shrouded in the evaporated offerings of the storm only hours before.
Today is the last day I teach my Step Ahead level 10 class. Weeks of prodding, pleading, commanding all for naught, the rapport I slowly built up washed away like a sandcastle against the tide. Schedules have been switched around to accommodate a departing teacher, and I've been caught up in the ripples of its grasp. The class was a difficult one to teach (though I hope Ryan can do a better job of reaching the students than I did), but at the same time, they were one of my first classes, so naturally I feel a connection with them. And now it's gone. Well, after I do the final oral test with them I'll tell them the news. Wonder how they'll take it. Hopefully not with practiced indifference.
It's about time for me to get going. I picked up a box of Japanese sweets from the wedding. I could easily devour them myself, but I get the feeling my fellow teachers would appreciate them more than I. These things are gourmet, and fancy food has always been wasted on me.
Walking towards work, I noticed the streets are now littered with dead cockroaches, when before you might see one or two, indistinguishable at a distance from the chewed-up husk of a betel nut. Maybe they too find this new heat unbearable in the countless underground spaces they inhabit. Or, more likely, what's unbearable is their appetite- food rots much more quickly in this heat. No longer do I stare in morbid fascination when a giant cockroach scuttles underfoot, though I doubt this will ever extend to those I find in my own apartment.
Settled at my unofficial desk I set about grading the pile of homework I had put off until my lightest work day. Before too long, I heard the pitter patter of rain steadily grow into a downpour. Thunder rumbled ominously, a mere warm up before it rent the skies above asunder. The only time I've heard louder thunder is in China, when it sounded like the gods were blowing on my windowsill. In the middle of that storm, I gained an appreciation for the attribution of weather phenomenon with godly behavior. Who's to say they were wrong?
I'd gotten to the branch early, so at this point the Taiwanese teachers staggered inside in varying degrees of wetness. Part of me was quietly embarrassed that I'd missed the storm entirely, but that's the way things are in Taiwan. The storm persisted only for about fifteen minutes before dying down to a mist-like drizzle. As I look through grated window of my prison-like balcony I see Xizhi bathed in a golden radiance, the hills in the distance shrouded in the evaporated offerings of the storm only hours before.
Today is the last day I teach my Step Ahead level 10 class. Weeks of prodding, pleading, commanding all for naught, the rapport I slowly built up washed away like a sandcastle against the tide. Schedules have been switched around to accommodate a departing teacher, and I've been caught up in the ripples of its grasp. The class was a difficult one to teach (though I hope Ryan can do a better job of reaching the students than I did), but at the same time, they were one of my first classes, so naturally I feel a connection with them. And now it's gone. Well, after I do the final oral test with them I'll tell them the news. Wonder how they'll take it. Hopefully not with practiced indifference.
It's about time for me to get going. I picked up a box of Japanese sweets from the wedding. I could easily devour them myself, but I get the feeling my fellow teachers would appreciate them more than I. These things are gourmet, and fancy food has always been wasted on me.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Dahu Park- 大湖公園
Got up just before noon on Sunday. Last night still fresh in my mind I do a quick mental check. Monica Bellucci still boner inducing? Check.
Brian's hurtin', but not from any hangover. He has a weird abdominal pain that afflicts him every now and then. I remember asking how long it'd been going on, explaining to him that I usually get something checked out if it doesn't get any better after a month.
"About two years," he says with an embarrassed grin.
"Two years? Are you fucking retarded?"
Well, yeah it's acting up, and acting up bad. He's trying to laugh through the pain, but he's in no condition to walk around, much less ride bikes or do something outdoorsy. We eat breakfast and then bum around at his apartment. I'm doing no good sitting around keeping Brian up, but I have no idea where to go, especially have gotten up this late. Brian decides for me:
"I'mma pick a random place for you on the MRT. You're going to Dahu Park. On the Brown Line."
I check the place out, actually looks pretty sweet. Big expansive park right next to a big lake ('Dahu' literally means big lake). I've got nothing better to do, and it wouldn't be worth it to go out of the city.
The ride to Dahu Park is a long one, requiring multiple transfers. I think I've only been on the Brown Line once, and by the time the train swings around to Neihu, I'm thinking to myself, goddamn what a ritzy part of town. Swanky looking malls, beautiful greenery, nice clean apartment buildings. When I finally get into Dahu Park I'm disappointed to see part of the park undergoing maintenance, or some kind of reconstruction. A statue of Sun-Yat Sen pokes its head from above the metal fencing, but otherwise I'm cut off. Soon though, I'm distracted by the rest of the park. I chose a good time to go, the weather is fair and cool right by the lakeside. I still that sort of nebulous feeling in between hung over and completely recovered, so I take my time meandering through the pathways, sitting down by the lakeside and enjoying the cool rain-free breeze. I have yet to mount the steps of the prominent bridge in the center.
I can never resist the urge to run up steps, and it's no different here. The view from the top is great; looking out past the park I see buildings with Romanesque facades and fancy metal gates, and the MRT track winds like a snake around the mountain to my immediate right.
Eventually I head back to the MRT station, eager to climb up one of the four trails marked in the vicinity. I literally have nothing but coins on me, so I'm forced to use my YoYo Card to resupply (metro pass that you can also use as a debit card at any 7-11). I keep following the signs for one of the trails, and fail to find it. So I just continue to walk along the street, the elevated MRT track on my left, and the mountain practically hugging the street on my right. I pass through a downtown area and get to a tunnel. Hmm. I'm about to turn back when I notice a street that leads up. Surely there must be a trail branching off up the mountain? Well, I find one, but by this time the setting sun tempts me to keep going, naively searching for a place where the buildings break away. I wonder if I'm making a mistake not climbing up the mountain. Wandering aimlessly can have its charms, but from what I've seen on the web I passed up some pretty scenic spots. The good news is that the path loops back around, and before I know it, I'm right back at the lake's edge. Again I sit at the water's edge, watching the sky darken to a midnight blue. Lights brighten Moon Bridge. An old Taiwanese man starts belting out some tropical tunes in English. I linger and listen, then reluctantly pack up and take the MRT down to Nangang. Another week, another weekend.
Brian's hurtin', but not from any hangover. He has a weird abdominal pain that afflicts him every now and then. I remember asking how long it'd been going on, explaining to him that I usually get something checked out if it doesn't get any better after a month.
"About two years," he says with an embarrassed grin.
"Two years? Are you fucking retarded?"
Well, yeah it's acting up, and acting up bad. He's trying to laugh through the pain, but he's in no condition to walk around, much less ride bikes or do something outdoorsy. We eat breakfast and then bum around at his apartment. I'm doing no good sitting around keeping Brian up, but I have no idea where to go, especially have gotten up this late. Brian decides for me:
"I'mma pick a random place for you on the MRT. You're going to Dahu Park. On the Brown Line."
I check the place out, actually looks pretty sweet. Big expansive park right next to a big lake ('Dahu' literally means big lake). I've got nothing better to do, and it wouldn't be worth it to go out of the city.
The ride to Dahu Park is a long one, requiring multiple transfers. I think I've only been on the Brown Line once, and by the time the train swings around to Neihu, I'm thinking to myself, goddamn what a ritzy part of town. Swanky looking malls, beautiful greenery, nice clean apartment buildings. When I finally get into Dahu Park I'm disappointed to see part of the park undergoing maintenance, or some kind of reconstruction. A statue of Sun-Yat Sen pokes its head from above the metal fencing, but otherwise I'm cut off. Soon though, I'm distracted by the rest of the park. I chose a good time to go, the weather is fair and cool right by the lakeside. I still that sort of nebulous feeling in between hung over and completely recovered, so I take my time meandering through the pathways, sitting down by the lakeside and enjoying the cool rain-free breeze. I have yet to mount the steps of the prominent bridge in the center.
I can never resist the urge to run up steps, and it's no different here. The view from the top is great; looking out past the park I see buildings with Romanesque facades and fancy metal gates, and the MRT track winds like a snake around the mountain to my immediate right.
Eventually I head back to the MRT station, eager to climb up one of the four trails marked in the vicinity. I literally have nothing but coins on me, so I'm forced to use my YoYo Card to resupply (metro pass that you can also use as a debit card at any 7-11). I keep following the signs for one of the trails, and fail to find it. So I just continue to walk along the street, the elevated MRT track on my left, and the mountain practically hugging the street on my right. I pass through a downtown area and get to a tunnel. Hmm. I'm about to turn back when I notice a street that leads up. Surely there must be a trail branching off up the mountain? Well, I find one, but by this time the setting sun tempts me to keep going, naively searching for a place where the buildings break away. I wonder if I'm making a mistake not climbing up the mountain. Wandering aimlessly can have its charms, but from what I've seen on the web I passed up some pretty scenic spots. The good news is that the path loops back around, and before I know it, I'm right back at the lake's edge. Again I sit at the water's edge, watching the sky darken to a midnight blue. Lights brighten Moon Bridge. An old Taiwanese man starts belting out some tropical tunes in English. I linger and listen, then reluctantly pack up and take the MRT down to Nangang. Another week, another weekend.
 |
| I saw people looking at like an idiot as I was taking pictures. Gee sorry, I just don't see shit like this in Xizhi. |
 | |
| On a trail near a small park by the mountain. |
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| Clean streets, azaleas everywhere, big houses. Damn, I'll gladly live here someday. |
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| First time I've seen blue like that in Taiwan in a while. |
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
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.
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.
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.
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.
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:
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.
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.
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.
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| The unassuming front gate to Confucius Temple |
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| Before Chinese characters there were Chinese knots, used to record goods. |
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| 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.
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| The view from the back of Confucius Temple. Dead ahead lies Bao'an Temple |
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| Got a picture right before the guy looked back suspiciously at me. |
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| 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. |
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| Entrance to Bao'an Temple |
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| Can't get enough of that gold lacquered woodwork. |
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| Eight Immortals traversing the ocean, fighting some...turtle people. Yeah, I don't really know much about them. |
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| View from the complex overlooking the temple. |
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.
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| Guess I was drunker than I thought. |
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| Always with the finger. |
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:
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| 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.
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| We're in a gay bar! |
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| Showing off our moves |
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.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Shitty Weather
Saturday I was supposed to cover Ryan's (another one of the English teachers) classes because of Sports Day, but I woke up to pouring rain and the certainty that the event would be cancelled. I struggled out of bed anyway to return his books, and because I wanted to get my HW corrections out of the way- since I wouldn't be doing anything important today anyway. It was really coming down, harder than I'd seen since riding around in Fulong a month ago, and knowing Taipei, it'd be the same weather tomorrow.
Fuck. What a waste of a weekend.
I'm sitting here writing this after cleaning my apartment (much needed), and buying some more living essentials from Carrefour...but in all honesty I'd rather have gone out and done something exciting and come back home to my usual dirty, disorganized shit-pile. I've heard people who've been living here say they used to have a new adventure every weekend (sound familiar?) but now that they've settled into the life here they kind of bum around and relax. I guess when you decide to make Taiwan your new home and treat teaching English as a legitimate profession, not a means to travel around, you probably just fall into the swing of things. I'd like to keep myself in the middle..live here for another year at least and understand the way of things, but I don't want to ever lose that feeling of wanderlust and adventure. There's so much shit to do here- I could limit myself just to Taipei and New Taipei and there'd be a different thing to do and see everyday.
Anyway, with the heavens opening up, I decided to take a trip to the hippy library in Beitou, right next to the hot spring I always go to. I'd been wanting to make a trip, but since I'm always in Beitou at night, naturally the library's always closed. This is supposed to be a super green library, with lumber taken from managed forests in North America (logging is effectively banned in Taiwan, probably due to the extensive cutting the Japanese engaged in when they colonized and modernized Taiwan). It's also energy efficient. Here's a link if you guys are more interested:
http://www.culture.tw/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=242&Itemid=157
Anyway, all that stuff sounds cool, and the interior wood layout pleases the eye, but this place really isn't worth visiting for itself. You could potentially poke your head in and give it a walk around, on the way to the much more interesting Beitou Hot Spring Museum, but even that's stretching things. It's one of those things that tourists would shake their heads at but locals really appreciate. I admit, it was nice to look out over the lotus-covered pond through the wide windows and admire the beautifully worked wood...but if I had anything better to do I'd be somewhere else in a heartbeat.
One can only study for so long, and after a couple of hours I was sitting on the MRT again. Except I had no idea where I wanted to go. I damn well wasn't going back to Xizhi, where my ennui would find even less of an outlet. So I looked at a map and decided that Zhishan was the closest MRT stop to the river (don't know which one, any river looked good at that point). I'd walk along the river until the path stopped, and then I'd turn back.
In the end, this didn't end up being a bad idea. The riverside park that stretched along the river was deserted, at least of people. Black-crowned Night Herons, stockier than the ones back home, glanced up at me suspiciously as I walked past, wondering perhaps if I was encroaching on their prime frog-hunting territory. All around me I heard the chorus of the river, frogs the main voice yes, but others joining in to drown out the sounds of city life, drawing me closer to nature. The river was sluggish, bloated from the sky's recent offerings, though the farther I walked from Zhishan, the more the current picked up, until it was clipping along at a fair pace. The rain was barely a fine mist, and it felt good to feel the cool wind on my face. It hadn't all been a waste then.
On the way back I strolled along the road that ran parallel to the river. Strains of music, this time of human origin, caught my ear and I walked towards a park. Two metal children dressed in suburban clothing from 50's America sat together, perfect smiles molded on their faces. The song...it sounded like it matched their clothing- where had I heard it? It sounded so familiar. Looking down the placard, I saw the name of the last song- Moon River. As an instrumental the song lacked a bit of the wistfulness that the original had, sounding rather schmaltzy. Maybe that was the point. I could just envision an older Taiwanese couple dancing a slow two-step within the nestled confines of the park, smiling at some memory conjured from the loudspeaker.
All along the walk back I saw murals depicting all the attractions of Ming Li Shan, the community I was passing through. Some of them seemed pretty desperate bids to fill the necessary quota of tourist sites, but some definitely left more than a passing interest. It'll be an interesting bike trip once I pick one up. Until then, I'm left, like that old imagined couple, with the memory of a song to hold me over, and to place a smile on my face.
Fuck. What a waste of a weekend.
I'm sitting here writing this after cleaning my apartment (much needed), and buying some more living essentials from Carrefour...but in all honesty I'd rather have gone out and done something exciting and come back home to my usual dirty, disorganized shit-pile. I've heard people who've been living here say they used to have a new adventure every weekend (sound familiar?) but now that they've settled into the life here they kind of bum around and relax. I guess when you decide to make Taiwan your new home and treat teaching English as a legitimate profession, not a means to travel around, you probably just fall into the swing of things. I'd like to keep myself in the middle..live here for another year at least and understand the way of things, but I don't want to ever lose that feeling of wanderlust and adventure. There's so much shit to do here- I could limit myself just to Taipei and New Taipei and there'd be a different thing to do and see everyday.
Anyway, with the heavens opening up, I decided to take a trip to the hippy library in Beitou, right next to the hot spring I always go to. I'd been wanting to make a trip, but since I'm always in Beitou at night, naturally the library's always closed. This is supposed to be a super green library, with lumber taken from managed forests in North America (logging is effectively banned in Taiwan, probably due to the extensive cutting the Japanese engaged in when they colonized and modernized Taiwan). It's also energy efficient. Here's a link if you guys are more interested:
http://www.culture.tw/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=242&Itemid=157
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| Enjoying the great weather |
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| A reader's paradise on the third floor. |
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| Main floor |
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| Stairs down to the children's floor |
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| Hot Spring Noodles, name of the place. Really evoked the feeling of 1950s-60s Japan with all the posters and decorations it had up. Didn't overdo it though. Cool little place. Noodles weren't bad either |
One can only study for so long, and after a couple of hours I was sitting on the MRT again. Except I had no idea where I wanted to go. I damn well wasn't going back to Xizhi, where my ennui would find even less of an outlet. So I looked at a map and decided that Zhishan was the closest MRT stop to the river (don't know which one, any river looked good at that point). I'd walk along the river until the path stopped, and then I'd turn back.
In the end, this didn't end up being a bad idea. The riverside park that stretched along the river was deserted, at least of people. Black-crowned Night Herons, stockier than the ones back home, glanced up at me suspiciously as I walked past, wondering perhaps if I was encroaching on their prime frog-hunting territory. All around me I heard the chorus of the river, frogs the main voice yes, but others joining in to drown out the sounds of city life, drawing me closer to nature. The river was sluggish, bloated from the sky's recent offerings, though the farther I walked from Zhishan, the more the current picked up, until it was clipping along at a fair pace. The rain was barely a fine mist, and it felt good to feel the cool wind on my face. It hadn't all been a waste then.
On the way back I strolled along the road that ran parallel to the river. Strains of music, this time of human origin, caught my ear and I walked towards a park. Two metal children dressed in suburban clothing from 50's America sat together, perfect smiles molded on their faces. The song...it sounded like it matched their clothing- where had I heard it? It sounded so familiar. Looking down the placard, I saw the name of the last song- Moon River. As an instrumental the song lacked a bit of the wistfulness that the original had, sounding rather schmaltzy. Maybe that was the point. I could just envision an older Taiwanese couple dancing a slow two-step within the nestled confines of the park, smiling at some memory conjured from the loudspeaker.
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| Wow, look at that line-up. |
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Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Guanyinshan- 觀音山
I realized it on the train towards Taipei. Fishing around for my cell, I realized something was off. Frantically I waggled around my fingers. No, it definitely wasn't there. A familiar sinking feeling blossomed in the middle of my chest and started to work its way down towards my gut. It was the same feeling I'd had when I knew, with no small amount of certainty, that I'd lost my cellphone in the taxi.
I'd left my camera at home.
How is that even possible?! I'd checked to see if my camera had a full battery before I left- how I could I then forget to put it in my pocket? Might as well leave the keys in the door...fuck.
I was so pissed at myself I almost considered turning back. And then realized how ridiculous that thought was. My blog would survive one entry without my own photos, and slavish thoughts towards a piece of cyberspace would not be tolerated. It'd be a chance to soak things in without having to dig my camera out every few steps- a nice change. I would hearken back to the time of adventurers like Marco Polo, who transmitted their tales of foreign locales without the aid of digital photography...and who often lacked the evidence to back their exaggerated claims or fabricated stories.
The words I had uttered to Brian in Danshui last week were not spoken lightly- gazing out across the water at the mountain that dominated our vision.
"I don't know what the hell mountain that is. But I'm going to climb it."
And as I sat around on the train ride back from Wulai, a line my mom likes to drop popped into my head: "Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?" always delivered with a chiding irony. It was decided; the unknown mountain would wait no longer. The day of our climb would be tomorrow then. We would scale the figure of Guanyin lying in repose across the shore, ascend her verdant slopes, and gaze out across the water beyond Danshui to the northern coast. It would be glorious.
And it was.
We met up outside the Luzhou MRT station and waited around for an hour for the Orange 20 to haul our asses partway up the mountain. The guide I'd read suggested we take the bus to the last stop (Ling Yun Temple) and climb the rest of the way up the trail. Well, I started to get worried that most of the hike would get taken out of the equation when we passed markers for the trail, so we flipped a coin...and it told us we were sitting tight until the last stop. As we wound up the mountain road I committed unspeakable blasphemy- I disobeyed the coin. The next stop we alighted in Guanyin Village, and it's a good thing we did, because that coincided almost directly with the temple stop the guide suggested (somehow the bus system has changed since). Had we rode all the way to the last stop we would've gone directly to the visitor center, a road much well-traveled, and from there barely a hike at all to the top. Hah! Screw you coin!
We started up some steps, and despite the awesome view we envisioned, it looked like the hiking was going to be standard Taiwan fare- climbing up flights of stairs...not really what one would consider hiking. Before long, however, I noticed to one side of the trail a bunch of ropes strung up between trunks, leading up a much steeper slope than our paved walkway. It looked reminiscent of Sifenwei.
Needless to say, we ditched the manicured path and started scrambling over moss-covered rocks and gnarled roots. In some parts the ropes proved helpful; other times, they were tactfully ignored. We tasted our first vistas at the top of Jian Shan and Divination Peak, the trail becoming steeper, reaching through the jungle and breaking forth with a stunning view of the valley before us, the Danshui River, and the Datun Mountain Range before us.
Up near the top of one peak we found a recreational area in use by a group of older hikers. Noticing the pots and cookware laid out, I inquired if this was a restaurant. They laughed and invited us to tuck in to their leftovers. Well, more accurately two of the guys asked us to sit down for a drink and there happened to be food too. I don't know why all these old guys think drinking and hiking go together. Probably because they're mostly retired and living the good life. One of the guys brings out a bottle of Johnny Walker Green Label that stares at me enticingly before I succumb to one pour. Of the guys we're talking to, one's retired and the rest are, in their words "bosses" (this word in English). And every weekend they come out here, hike a mountain, then get boozed up and enjoy a delicious repast of beef shank, fried fish, pig trotters and mountain greens. Living the good life indeed.
After a good half-hour we made our farewells, promised to come see them again, and headed off towards Ying Han Peak, the highest peak and our ultimate destination. On the way we saw a semi-fenced in structure, what looked to be an observation tower. The weeds around it were overgrown and the tower looked disused, but the gate opened easily to the touch-as good a welcome as any!
We walked into the main structure and discovered that the staircase was locked by a tall metal door. This we easily circumvented by grabbing hold of the metal fence on the second floor and pulling ourselves up. I have a thing with heights in non-enclosed spaces so I asked Brian how we were going to get down?
"Eh, we'll deal with that when we have to go back down."
I went down the stairs and examined the lock for the metal door. Simple latch lock. Opening it, I pushed the door. I felt like a 1st-lvl rogue opening his first chest. Suck that, no climbing down for us now! But seriously, what was this place? Gate open, no 'trespassing prohibited' signs posted up, yet this odd structure was obviously abandoned and the steps up to the top were locked off. It's not like we had to do some hunting to find this place, it lay right off to the side of the trail. What purpose had it served before? Why wasn't it being pressed into service as a scenic viewpoint?
Looking out from the mesh-link green fence we could see a spoiler of what the view at the top of the tower would be. Up on the third floor we saw there were a series of green girders connecting together to form a raised square above us. We got on top, green dust sticking to our asses and looked out before us. It was a magnificent sight...one blessedly free of haze. Taipei stretched out towards our left, 101 jutting phallus-like between the shapely green mounds behind it. To the left we could see out past Danshui to the NW coast as it looped back around towards the east, while the peaks of the Datun Range ahead were swallowed up in a blanket-like mist. Behind us, we could see down all the way to the docks at Bali. If at any moment during the hike I most regretted leaving my camera at home, this was it. Positioning ourselves strategically around the top, we were able to get some great pictures with Brian's i-Phone.
When some people called out to us, I wondered if we might in fact be trespassing. We lingered a moment longer before taking the steps down. I scooped my backpack off the ground where I'd left it and we left this enigma behind us. The only two people we encountered around the area, hikers like ourselves, smiled at us. Nope, no one really did care about this place. And they were missing out.
From this point, it was back to paved steps and many more visitors. One of the good things about Taiwan is sometimes people can't stare at you anymore than they already are, so we hauled ass up the stairs, past the sauntering multitudes. This bragtastic stunt definitely earned us some grit points. A brief interlude at an official viewpoint, complete with facilities and pavilion, but not really outshining our own private retreat, and we were shuffling down more stairs towards the visitor center.
The original plan had been to walk from Yinhan Peak to the Bali ferry, then take the boat across from Danshui. Well, we'd miss the fork that was supposed to lead us down in that direction. The woman behind the desk, eager to help us out, pointed out the lay of the land, and told us that the trails towards the wharf from Guanyinshan weren't really well-marked...awesome. It would be over an hour to walk along the road to get to the ferry, and by that time we both knew we'd be wiped out after the ferry ride. So we quickly caught the bus down and headed towards Semen. I mean Ximen. Iron Man 3 awaited. And blessed seats.
I'd left my camera at home.
How is that even possible?! I'd checked to see if my camera had a full battery before I left- how I could I then forget to put it in my pocket? Might as well leave the keys in the door...fuck.
I was so pissed at myself I almost considered turning back. And then realized how ridiculous that thought was. My blog would survive one entry without my own photos, and slavish thoughts towards a piece of cyberspace would not be tolerated. It'd be a chance to soak things in without having to dig my camera out every few steps- a nice change. I would hearken back to the time of adventurers like Marco Polo, who transmitted their tales of foreign locales without the aid of digital photography...and who often lacked the evidence to back their exaggerated claims or fabricated stories.
The words I had uttered to Brian in Danshui last week were not spoken lightly- gazing out across the water at the mountain that dominated our vision.
"I don't know what the hell mountain that is. But I'm going to climb it."
And as I sat around on the train ride back from Wulai, a line my mom likes to drop popped into my head: "Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?" always delivered with a chiding irony. It was decided; the unknown mountain would wait no longer. The day of our climb would be tomorrow then. We would scale the figure of Guanyin lying in repose across the shore, ascend her verdant slopes, and gaze out across the water beyond Danshui to the northern coast. It would be glorious.
And it was.
We met up outside the Luzhou MRT station and waited around for an hour for the Orange 20 to haul our asses partway up the mountain. The guide I'd read suggested we take the bus to the last stop (Ling Yun Temple) and climb the rest of the way up the trail. Well, I started to get worried that most of the hike would get taken out of the equation when we passed markers for the trail, so we flipped a coin...and it told us we were sitting tight until the last stop. As we wound up the mountain road I committed unspeakable blasphemy- I disobeyed the coin. The next stop we alighted in Guanyin Village, and it's a good thing we did, because that coincided almost directly with the temple stop the guide suggested (somehow the bus system has changed since). Had we rode all the way to the last stop we would've gone directly to the visitor center, a road much well-traveled, and from there barely a hike at all to the top. Hah! Screw you coin!
We started up some steps, and despite the awesome view we envisioned, it looked like the hiking was going to be standard Taiwan fare- climbing up flights of stairs...not really what one would consider hiking. Before long, however, I noticed to one side of the trail a bunch of ropes strung up between trunks, leading up a much steeper slope than our paved walkway. It looked reminiscent of Sifenwei.
 |
| I look pretty unimpressed right here. Don't believe my expression. People in high school always said I looked high too and they were wrong. No, really. They were wrong. |
 |
| Yeah, things are getting more interesting now... |
 |
| Forging ahead |
 |
| Yes, we will make a habit of this. |
 |
| Thanks for the Green Label and camaraderie! |
We walked into the main structure and discovered that the staircase was locked by a tall metal door. This we easily circumvented by grabbing hold of the metal fence on the second floor and pulling ourselves up. I have a thing with heights in non-enclosed spaces so I asked Brian how we were going to get down?
"Eh, we'll deal with that when we have to go back down."
I went down the stairs and examined the lock for the metal door. Simple latch lock. Opening it, I pushed the door. I felt like a 1st-lvl rogue opening his first chest. Suck that, no climbing down for us now! But seriously, what was this place? Gate open, no 'trespassing prohibited' signs posted up, yet this odd structure was obviously abandoned and the steps up to the top were locked off. It's not like we had to do some hunting to find this place, it lay right off to the side of the trail. What purpose had it served before? Why wasn't it being pressed into service as a scenic viewpoint?
Looking out from the mesh-link green fence we could see a spoiler of what the view at the top of the tower would be. Up on the third floor we saw there were a series of green girders connecting together to form a raised square above us. We got on top, green dust sticking to our asses and looked out before us. It was a magnificent sight...one blessedly free of haze. Taipei stretched out towards our left, 101 jutting phallus-like between the shapely green mounds behind it. To the left we could see out past Danshui to the NW coast as it looped back around towards the east, while the peaks of the Datun Range ahead were swallowed up in a blanket-like mist. Behind us, we could see down all the way to the docks at Bali. If at any moment during the hike I most regretted leaving my camera at home, this was it. Positioning ourselves strategically around the top, we were able to get some great pictures with Brian's i-Phone.
 |
| Christo Redentor makes an appearance over Taipei. |
 |
| Trying not to look like a scared little girl. |
When some people called out to us, I wondered if we might in fact be trespassing. We lingered a moment longer before taking the steps down. I scooped my backpack off the ground where I'd left it and we left this enigma behind us. The only two people we encountered around the area, hikers like ourselves, smiled at us. Nope, no one really did care about this place. And they were missing out.
From this point, it was back to paved steps and many more visitors. One of the good things about Taiwan is sometimes people can't stare at you anymore than they already are, so we hauled ass up the stairs, past the sauntering multitudes. This bragtastic stunt definitely earned us some grit points. A brief interlude at an official viewpoint, complete with facilities and pavilion, but not really outshining our own private retreat, and we were shuffling down more stairs towards the visitor center.
The original plan had been to walk from Yinhan Peak to the Bali ferry, then take the boat across from Danshui. Well, we'd miss the fork that was supposed to lead us down in that direction. The woman behind the desk, eager to help us out, pointed out the lay of the land, and told us that the trails towards the wharf from Guanyinshan weren't really well-marked...awesome. It would be over an hour to walk along the road to get to the ferry, and by that time we both knew we'd be wiped out after the ferry ride. So we quickly caught the bus down and headed towards Semen. I mean Ximen. Iron Man 3 awaited. And blessed seats.
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