The Real Taiwan

Lonely Planet: Taiwan (Yes, I am that mainstream.) says that venturing outside of Taipei gives travelers “their first taste of what many consider to be the ‘real Taiwan.’” Josh and I spent five days road tripping around Taiwan on Rodney the Motorcycle for the Double Ten holiday, and Real Taiwan is certainly cooler than . . . the fake one. (?) It was a magical place where the air smelled like jasmine and pollution didn’t blot out the sun.


Day 1 – 220 km

When I was a kid, I loved the book Misty of Chincoteague. I wanted a horse with “a patch of white on her side, shaped like the United States” desperately. But horses—nationalist symbols or not—did not want me. I was that pre-teen girl at the horse-riding birthday parties whose tame, donethisfordecadeswithoutbuckinganyone mare would get distracted by some tasty morsel of grass, fall behind the group, then get spooked by my cries for help and gallop away, only to be rounded up by a not-handsome-at-all cowboy.

After spending seven straight hours on the motorcycle, I think those horses were doing me a favor. They could smell the weakness in me when it comes to chapped tushie. We wanted to get as far away from the sprawling capital in one day as possible, so we made a break for Taroko Gorge.

We passed these views along the way.

*Yilan

Taroko Gorge is the number one tourist destination in Taiwan, and it’s easy to see why. It’s basically a mini Grand Canyon except with marble walls and a river with minerals in it that make it a cloudy grey-blue.

People here have a different style of traveling—families and friends go places together, in huge groups on double-decker tour buses. That’s totally awesome until 30+ buses (For reals. We counted.) are trying to navigate the windy, two-lane road perched on the edge of cliffs through the Gorge. Normally, driving a motorcycle means you can just whip around traffic jams, but not when there are buses involved. It took us 20ish minutes to go five kilometers.

*Note: This is the widest part of the road.

Day 2 – 180 km

Back on the bike, we spent the day on Highway 9, which goes along the East Rift Valley between the East Coast Mountain Range and the Central Mountain Range. The valley makes up about 20% of Taiwan’s land mass but only 2% of its population. Basically, it’s just stretches of rice fields and fruit trees. With mountains on each side, expanses of rice fields, and wizened farmers in conical hats, it’s the Asia that people who have never been to Asia always picture.

Day 3 – 14 km

We spent Monday hiking the Walami Trail, some of the best preserved jungle in Taiwan. It was here that I learned something new about Josh: he can talk to monkeys.

There were monkeys everywhere. We had staring matches with five or six different troops. They would stare at us for several minutes, their little red faces indignant through the trees. They’d yell this single syllable squawk back and forth, (probably monkey speak for “Stranger, danger!”) and then all we’d see were the trees swaying back and forth and they swung away. Seeing monkeys in the wild was definitely a highlight.

Back to Josh’s special gift. The first time we heard their danger squawk, we couldn’t quite spot them through the dense foliage. So Josh, a monkey aficionado, mimicked their squawk perfectly and, sure enough, they jumped towards us. Then they realized they were getting lured in by that creepy guy with the dark van and did an about-face, but it was still cool.

*We didn't see any of these, but I kind of wanted to.

*The ferns were as big as palm trees!

Day 4 – 220 km

On day four, it was time to set our sails for home. We took Highway 9 back along the coast.

*Water buffalo

Day 5 – 130 km

Seeing as we had passed the Tropic of Cancer (i.e. that invisible line that keeps rain clouds at bay) the day before, the last stretch wasn’t as picturesque. But it was beautiful in its own grey way.

We stopped at my favorite place in Taiwan for seafood – Daxi Fishing Port. . .

. . . and got a bowl of fried goodness, including fried seaweed. That may sound gross to the uninitiated, but I haven’t met someone yet who tried it and didn’t become addicted.

We did other cool things too, like soaking in hot springs, and met lots of great people, like our couchsurfing host's toddler, who was obsessed with "the Germans." Now, three weeks later, winter is approaching. Soon, I’ll be enduring nonstop drizzle and cleaning mold off the apartment walls. But, even when I’m drying my face with my perpetually wet towel, at least I’ll always have the Real Taiwan.

Sun Moon Lake

Riding the subway during rush hour here is akin to being one of the first customers into Best Buy on Black Friday—by the time you leave, you’re bruised, you’re battered, and your sense of personal space has been beaten and left for dead.

But swimming across a lake with 28,000 people for 2.5 hours makes taking the MRT look like child’s play.

This past weekend was Taiwan’s annual Sun Moon Lake International Swimming Carnival (the real English name), the one day a year that people are allowed to swim in the biggest lake on the island. Crystal clear and surrounded by mountains, it’s no wonder people jump at the chance to get in (pun intended). In fact, it’s the world’s largest open water swim.

People have been doing this 3.3 km swim since 1983, and there’s always a big turn-out. At first, I thought this was odd because many Taiwanese people can’t swim. I’m not sure why, seeing as the nation is, ya know, surrounded by water. But the sport’s just not that popular.




Then I learned that there are a few safety measures for the Sun Moon Lake swim.

1. Piers with two lifeguards are stationed every 100 meters. Swimmers may stop and rest on these piers, which also have snacks like chocolate and “Friendly Biscuits” available.

- Some swimmers took this opportunity to whip out their Ziploc baggies protecting cigarettes and iPhones and take a smoke / Facebook break.

2. Every swimmer must have a floating device. And carrying it is not acceptable—it must be firmly secured to the body.

3. Swimmers must stay in the 50-meter-wide swimming lane. If one strays by even a few inches, the lifeguards will blow unceasingly on their whistles until the deviating swimmer returns to the safety of the lane.

4. Every swimmer must wear a swimming cap, which he or she may take off and wave if in need of assistance. (This serves the additional benefit of keeping gross human hair from contaminating the outdoor lake.)

5. To avoid cramps or other injuries, swimmers MUST walk the one-kilometer path to the lake to warm up for the swim.

So it’s more of the world’s safest float trip than a swimming competition.

At first, I thought the rules were overkill, but I was pretty grateful for that floatie once I had to start treading water five minutes in because there were so many people around I literally couldn’t move forward. And the warm-up was smart thinking too. Turns out, dog paddling can be taxing if you do it long enough. Thanks to the warm-up, however, the biggest injury I sustained was floatie burn – like rug burn, except under your arms.

Oh, and all that stuff you hear about Asians doing anything to avoid a tan–it’s all true. Even with the outdoorsy types, it’s true.

Summer Recap

It’s been six months since my last post. For the sake of my mental health, it’s time to stop the self-deprecation by either deleting this blog or updating it. So, here’s a summer recap.

MAY

- Visited the homeland

When I landed in Chicago, the heartland of America. Josh and I fell silent and took in the . . . magnitude . . . of everyone before he turned to me and said, “Is it just me or--”

“Yes,” I interrupted. “Everyone looks giant.”

Turns out, the idea that Asians are short is just a stereotype. Americans, on the other hand, are about three times bigger than is natural.

Many people asked if we plan to return to the US, and I said yes. I love Taiwan, but there’s something tiresome about always being the foreigner. As accepting as people are, as assuring as it is to save double what we did in Boston without even trying, as easy as it is to get from metropolis to mountain range to sea coast, I feel displaced. Not quite like a fish out of water – more like a cockroach in the sunlight. I can’t fully communicate with people in their native language, or talk about books or Dexter in the same way, or correctly order dry noodles instead of soup noodles.

Still, when we landed in Taiwan, I felt at home. When I sat down at my desk on my first day back at work, I realized that I could live here for the rest of my life and be perfectly content. But in the US, among friends and family and with the right job, I can be fulfilled.

Of course, being the fattest female I see on a regular basis over here could have something to do with that.

JUNE

- Competed in the Dragon Boat Festival race

My mother erupted into side-splitting laughter over this. Let’s just say, physical exertion has never been my forte. And it was intense — two-hour trainings four times a week – but developing arm muscles was thrilling. Not that I have them anymore, but it was fun while it lasted.

We finished 15th out of 84 teams in the first heat. Not too shabby.

- Celebrated Josh and I’s third wedding anniversary (!!!)

We went to Flavors, a Swedish restaurant, which is the first place we’ve dropped over US$100 on a meal since leaving Boston. But it was well worth it just to see Josh do snapas (i.e. shots and raw fish).

JULY

- Finished two textbooks and (almost) all of their accompanying materials

Summer is supposed to be a time of fun in the sun and tequila, but for me, work has been an ever-present demand. (In fact, when I reminded my head editor I’d be leaving for the States a few weeks before my departure date, I had to remind her that $1300 non-refundable flight tickets are absolute, regardless of met or unmet work deadlines.) Last week, I was under the delusion that we were done writing, editing, and proofing all the materials—student books, teacher’s guides, interactive CD-roms, quizzes, and worksheets—until my boss announced we had one thing left: test-writing. Which I’ve discovered is pretty much the worst thing about educational publishing. But all in all, it’s a satisfying job.



- Went to the Hohaiyan Rock Festival on Fulong Beach

The highlight: 320,000 people on a two-mile strip of beach jamming, with plenty of Taiwan Beer and food vendors to go along. I was so busy having fun I didn’t take pictures.

The downside: our group camped, which was cool, except we stayed up until 3:00 and half the campground was awake at 5:00, which was not cool.

- Finished the Hunger Games trilogy

More on that later. Hint: Katniss Everdeen is a class-A idiot.

AUGUST

- Enjoying my first typhoon holiday today

Other than a blown-out screen and lack of water pressure, no catastrophes here. We’re passing our rain-induced isolation by watching the Olympics and showering in the rain.

And now I’m off to watch the 1974 Chinatown and drink wine out of my coffee mug. This day keeps getting better.

Year of the Dragon

My Lunar New Year holiday started with a series of failures. The plan was to drive our motorcycle to a local friend's house to share a traditional New Year's meal with his family and spend the rest of the week checking out wild hot springs. After waking up late, over-packing, torrential rain, and a near motorcycle wipe-out, we nixed that idea. Instead, we shelled out for two high speed rail tickets and made a dash for the rays of Kenting Beach. Pay-offs are as follows.

Setting a trend – We pitched our tent on a beach rather than a campground. (Who wants to pay US$3/night for something that can be done for free?) Ours was the sole tent at first, but there was a small neighborhood staked down by the time we left.

Waking up to the sound of waves rolling over the shore, a mere 10 yards away from my feet

Overcoming my fear of falling off a bicycle – Learning to ride my bike as a child was downright terrifying. Since becoming legally able to operate a car or navigate public transportation, I’ve been on a bike fewer times that I’ve held a tarantula at the county fair. The last time I did ride a bike, I ran into a restaurant’s outdoor seating area right before swerving into a parked car. (Oh, the beauty of biking in Cambridge.) But this week, a rented bicycle was my main method of transportation—and I only hit one traffic cone.

Seeing two monkeys in the wild (!!!!!!)

Snorkeling, Taiwan style – You wear stiff booties rather than flippers so you kick in a cycling motion to propel yourself through the water, which is hardly efficient. I averaged like nine yards an hour. But the coral and tropical fish I saw in those 18 yards were exquisite.

Sticking my foot in my snorkeling bootie to feel a small inhabitant squirming in protest against my intruding toes – The owner of the snorkeling gear store noticed my frantic attempts to get my bootie off and briskly yanked it off herself, then caught the jumbo cockroach that shot out in mid-air. The roach’s fate: she pinched that sucker so hard its guts went kablooey all over her hand.

Being called lihai (translation: awesome) after literally falling over a laundry basket laughing about the cockroach-in-bootie incident – Apparently, this happens frequently and other customers don’t respond with amusement.

Fitting the risqué American girl stereotype for the first time ever, on two occasions – 1) Seeing as we were camping, I washed off using a public beach shower. Even though I’m assuming this shower was intended for use, the American girl lathering up in her swimsuit scandalized everyone. 2) One of the food vendors sold penis-shaped cookies. How could I resist?

The week’s grand finale: The Lantern Festival in Pingxi – The Lantern Festival is a time to celebrate the new year by writing your wishes on a giant lantern and flying it off to the heavens. My wishes:
$ for me!!!!!! (I was informed it’s basically mandatory to wish for this.)
Peace for my family
Carpe diem!

Happy year of the dragon!

A Taiwan Christmas

Josh and I didn’t make it to the States for Christmas. The realities of airfare cost and a work deadline for me deterred us from that Christmas miracle. But even though the holiday was different from traditional family Yules of old, it was bright and merry all the same.

*Our Christmas tree, giving Charlie Brown’s a run for its money

We haven’t cooked much in our 6 x 4 kitchen, seeing as it doesn’t hold much more than its single burner and a water boiler. But we were set on having blueberry pancakes for Christmas breakfast. Locals don’t seem too keen on baking, so to obtain ingredients, we dropped by one of the city’s international grocery stores—C!ty Super. They stock everything from spicy Mexican salsa to Swiss cheese that's actually from Switzerland. And two days before the big day. . .well, as Josh put it, “Got foreigners?” Despite the crowds, we found everything on our list, but baking powder is pretty hard to describe when the only related word you know in Chinese is bake and the only English word the staff knows is cake. Three different employees had to powwow before determining what it was we needed. But that’s the beauty of the Taiwanese—they don’t give up until they’ve helped you.

Christmas Eve’s main events were 1) taking ol’ Rodney (our motorcycle) out for a spin and screaming Merry Christmas! at every passerby and 2) attending the Holy Family Catholic Church for midnight mass (or rather, the English service held at 10). It was the first English church service I’ve attended since moving here, so I was excited to be able to fully participate. It was pretty great until I passed out during the homily.

*People buzzing outside the church - including a female SANTA!

Sunday morning we put that baking powder to delicious use and exchanged gifts. I supported Josh’s beer snobbery with a few imported brews while he fed my Tina Fey obsession with a 30 Rock mug displaying a quote from the show.

Liz: Why are you in a tux?
Jack: It’s after 6pm. What am I, a farmer?

While dinner was far from my mom’s traditional Christmas fare of ham and yams, it was delish. We tried a new restaurant called Nonzero Kitchen, which is reputed for its simple healthy cooking. We splurged on a set meal apiece—nutty bread with olive oil, salad dressed in the restaurant's own balsamic vinegar, creamy nutmeg soup, risotto topped with scallops, and a fruit and cake tray for dessert. The style was modish too—multi-colored wood paneling, mismatched wooden tables and chairs, and a middle-aged hipster sporting a red head scarf wandering around.

*Dessert platter

But perhaps best of all, the shoes I recently purchased for an animal print-themed birthday party doubled as festive Christmas flats. Not gonna lie, they pretty much made my outfit.

8 Things I Hate About You

Dedicated to Taiwan, my super cool country-of-residence

I hate the way you drizzle all day
And the way it ruins my boots
I hate the way you have hordes of ants
And how they eat my fruits

I hate your big dumb mosquitoes
And the way they chomp on my flesh
I hate your jungles for causing me to sniffle
And making my allergies a mess

I hate the way your climate is humid
And how that makes my house dusty
I hate it when you make my clothes mold
Even worse when you turn my pots rusty

I hate that your sky is usually hazy
And the fact your locals consider me tall
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you
Not even close. . .
Not even a little bit. . .
Not even at all

PS - My clothes really are molding though.

I hate going to the doctor. This isn’t an original aversion, I know, but it developed when I was a kid. I was sick with the flu, and my mom asked me if I wanted to go to the doctor. This freedom of decision had never been granted me before, so it warranted the following thoughtful reasoning: change out of my Beauty & the Beast jammies to drive 20 minutes to the pediatrician’s office to sit in the waiting room for 30 minutes to have the doctor with cold hands reeking of sterilization jab me in the stomach and poke coarse wooden sticks down my throat to determine that yes, I did have the flu so I should drive back home to take Tylenol out of Mom’s medicine cabinet.

No sugar-free sucker is worth that.

Since then, I’ve been to the doctor a handful of times. In Boston, a doctor with no ethical qualms about calling in prescriptions for his friends lived in my building, so I only had to schlep myself up the stairs to receive medical attention.

But then we moved here, and my body decided it’s too wussy to adjust to Taiwan’s autumn without an illness. I tried tricking it into feeling better by still going to work, but my manager sent me home because I “wasn’t in my right mind.” Here, however, there is no hassle-free prescription connection. There is no mother to enforce a doctor’s visit. Josh tried, but he lacks the iron fist. He is, however, a gifted nagger, so after a few days, I relented.

I still don’t enjoy going to the doctor, but I love Taiwanese healthcare.

Upon entering Wanfang Hospital, located just a short drive down our mountain, I was greeted by the intrinsically healing aroma of fresh bread and coffee, wafting from the bakery and neighboring Starbucks next to the door. (My initial thought was, “Why can’t they have these installed in US hospitals? Then it wouldn’t be so obnoxious to visit sick friends.” Then my conscience fainted.) I walked up to the registration desk, in clear sight of the entrance, and was asked to fill out one sheet of paperwork. The process took five minutes, despite the fact that I didn’t have a Taiwan ID yet and thus, wasn’t registered for national health insurance.

The clinic was a quick escalator ride upstairs. The doctor saw me after 15 minutes, fluently examined me in English, and diagnosed me with the flu. But instead of offering lame advice I could find on WebMD, he prescribed three different types of medication: an antibiotic, pain killers, and cough medicine. When I reminded him that coughing wasn’t one of my symptoms, he responded, “I know. But you’ll start.” And he was right. I still sound like a chain smoker. Pre-emptive prescriptions—love it.

There was even more to love. The pharmacy was downstairs. Plus the prescriptions were ready by the time I arrived at the desk. Then I simply paid at the cashier’s desk for both the appointment and drugs. Total: $11.54 USD. And that’s without health insurance.

Let’s compare this to the experience a Taiwanese girl I met had with US healthcare. She was in the States with no health insurance, got sick, went to the hospital, was treated rudely by the staff due to her poor English (which I had no difficulty understanding), and was then sent a bill totaling $1,200 USD. She couldn’t afford this astronomical fee and had to leave the country.

If this be socialism, let socialism be served.

Road Trip - Taipei & Yilan Counties

As you may have seen on FB, Josh and I purchased a motorcycle a few weeks ago. The first drive through Taipei’s hectic traffic alongside monster buses and hordes of scooters was literally heart-stopping. But there’s nothing more refreshing than taking Rodney (Yes, I named it.) for a spin outside of the city, zipping through clean mountain gusts and fresh ocean breezes. Two weekends ago, we took a road trip through Yilan county, and it was incredible!

To beat it out of the city, we took Provincial Highway 9. This road cuts through some breathtaking mountains.

At some points, we were so high that we were literally driving above the mountains’ cloud cover.

And of course, there were some impressive temples to see along the way.

Hwy 9 connects to Provincial Highway 2, which is renowned for spectacular coastal views. It didn’t disappoint.

There are several fishing villages sprinkled along the coast that make for a great pit stop. We alighted in Dali and got a tub of fried seafood for $100 NT. It was scrumptious. And seeing as we lived in Boston before this, we’re pretty much fried seafood connoisseurs.

The fishing market we ate at overlooked the docks, and you could see fishermen lugging their wares up the hill and selling them to the stand owners right in front of us. This stuff was FRESH.

Here’s the map!

Or at least, that’s the route you’re supposed to take. Scooters and motorcycles under 550 c.c. are not allowed to drive on major highways in Taiwan. We knew this – kind of – but still wound up taking the 62 expressway back to Taipei. It was an accident – kind of. Do not do this. The police will stop you, and you will have to resort to acting like dumb American tourists to avoid a ticket. Or maybe we weren’t really acting. After all, we are amateurs.

Since moving to Taipei, something’s been bugging me, and I feel the need to mention it: Americans are way too concerned about “protecting” their native language.

In Taipei, many people speak English, even though their island society could function just fine without it. But in an attempt to market themselves to the Western world, they learn. Not only do they learn, but they also use their knowledge to help little lost foreign girls (exhibit 1: me). I’m never standing on a street corner looking perplexedly at a map for long before a local is at my elbow, offering to help. What makes this even more indulgent of them is that Americans are not their first, not their second, but only the third largest group of international visitors in Taiwan. In other words, they’re not assisting me for the tourism revenue; they’re just doing it to be nice. In fact, out of deference to English-speaking foreigners, many signs are in English. (And by “many signs,” I mean every sign related to public transportation or any road sign.) I can count on one hand the number of times someone here has gotten frustrated with my inability to communicate. The first time it happened, I have to admit, I was offended. But I mean, I guess I am living in their country, eating their food, earning a salary from a local business. It’s only fair that I learn their language.

And then I realized that those lines sounded familiar.

Oh yeah. It’s like, every American’s mantra about Spanish-speaking immigrants.

I’ve never bought into the whole let’s-make-English-the-national-language battle. But now that I’m experiencing the foreigner’s side, I realize just how miserly that mentality is. If native Chinese speakers can learn English, which is an overwhelmingly dissimilar language, I think Americans can learn some basic Spanish. Despite the fact that the U.S. was built on the backs of immigrants, we can’t subtitle a few simple road signs in Spanish? We begrudge them the Mexican bakery that now fills the empty building down the street? We refer to any neighborhood populated by Latin Americans as “the bad part of town”? Please. The most shocking thing is that my Christian friends are the most stringent supporters of this movement. Jesus went through some pretty inconvenient stuff for slaves, for women, for all the outcasts of the day. Shouldn’t we do the same?

For those of you who find it irksome to press 1 for English: stop being selfish in the name of nationalism. If Lady Liberty had pose-able thumbs, she would beat the bejeepers out of you.

Taiwan - Finally!

When Rachelle and Brittany, two friends from my hometown, returned from a two-week trip to China this summer, I asked them to give me the low-down on Asia. Out of the many tidbits they shared, the point they emphasized the most was that generally, bathroom facilities are not equipped with toilets. Instead, they use “squatty-potties,” which are basically porcelain-coated holes in the ground into which you relieve yourself. At first, I assumed they were exaggerating. Or, at the very least, this couldn’t be an Asia-wide standard. After all, Josh had been living in Taiwan for six weeks, and surely would have thought to mention such a…umm…cultural difference.

They were not exaggerating. And Taiwanese bathrooms absolutely include squatty-potties.

I first experienced these in the Tokyo airport bathrooms during my layover. The stalls were labeled “American Style” and “Japanese Style,” which instantly raised a red flag. Feeling a little panicky, I nudged open a “Japanese Style” stall…and proceeded to stand awkwardly in the doorway, my mouth gaping open at the rounded-rectangle of porcelain set into the floor. Why had Josh not warned me of this?! I could have spent part of the summer practicing, you know, doing squats and lunges and stuff. This isn’t a huge deal (I tried to reason with myself), but it does affect an activity I do multiple times a day, not to mention a significant muscle group. Surely he would have also found this a bit unusual and made some sort of comment. I mean, good Lord, Rachelle and Brittany couldn’t stop talking about it.

Then I remembered: he’s a man. I’m not passing judgment; it’s just that peeing on the ground makes things more convenient, and actually, the porcelain is an added luxury.

Although, when I asked Josh why he didn’t mention it (Yes, I asked. Quite indignantly, in fact.), he made an excellent point: it’s pretty gross to sit on a toilet, seeing as God knows how many people’s butts have been planted in that exact spot.

So yeah. I just dedicated a substantial part of my first blog post about Taiwan to the particulars of using the toilet. I can sense my mother’s horror from here.

Despite the squatty-potty issue (Which, by the way, is a horrible term, obviously created by some vulgar American.), Taiwan has been an amazing experience thus far. The Taiwanese are uber friendly, and there is so much to do and see – dazzling temples, beautiful jungle hikes, lively night markets… Plus eating has become my new favorite hobby. Dumplings are the bomb, shaved ice/fruit desserts are delish AND hydrating, and bubble milk tea is literally manna from heaven. Seriously, I wouldn’t be surprised if researchers someday discover that “milk and honey” stuff the Israelites were raving about was really milk tea.

Also, I discovered a website that streams 30 Rock for free in Taiwan, so basically I’m all set on American TV. Tina Fey is just funny – it doesn’t matter where you are.