I just started a new job. It is part time and will never be full time, at least as long as my career holds out. You never know. A few years ago, my dancing career took a nosedive and I wondered what would happen. I had pretty much nothing to fall back on. I can always pick up gigs as a musician, but that never paid the bills. I used to do a lot of musical theater when I was younger. I doubt that pays as much today as it used to. And there is little to no demand for a coloratura mezzo-soprano who knows all the biggest show tunes around here. It kind of amazes me that I live in a time and place where dancers easily earn more than musicians.
I have been very slowly building up my academic CV. I am not at all qualified to be a professor anywhere in the world, but I have some experience as a substitute teacher of sorts at two or three different universities. When one of them offered me a low level, part time gig, I jumped at it.
My roommate and sister from another mister, Lily, is working on a master's degree at Wenzao Ursuline University of Languages. Through her, I met a professor who taught a dialectology class, among others. After substituting for her a few times, and more importantly, after she wanted to drop the class, I threw my hat in the ring. I have no doubt there were other, more qualified applicants for the position. What I had on my side was the recommendation of a tenured professor and the approval of several students. That those students had already taken the class and would no longer be my students seems to be irrelevant. One of the worst things about Wenzao, in my opinion, is that they put entirely too much stock into what their students want. That helped me get the job, so maybe I should like it, but it seems to me that the students should never be in charge of any school. They are the customers who pay to keep the lights on, but keeping them happy has to be one of the slipperiest of slopes. And the customer is rarely right.
As of August, I am a lecturer for the Department of Translation and Interpreting, College of International Culture, Education, and Foreign Affairs. That looks great on my CV, but it is a part time job and I only teach one class. Next semester, I will only teach one class. Next year, who knows. I could be invited to go away. Or asked to teach a single class again. In Taiwan, lecturer is about as low as you can get on the ladder and still be allowed to teach a class. In the United States, I might be called an assistant professor, though I am not at all qualified to be an assistant professor here. During my first semester in Minnesota, we used to call all the teachers professor, even if they were graduate students who were little more than teaching assistants.
As of September, students in this dialectology class went from being taught by a full professor to a part time lecturer. I would see that as a serious step down if I were them. This is not a general education class that students take to get an easy A. Almost everyone in the class needs it for their major, though I was surprised by how many different majors are involved. No one has complained about their new teacher, as far as I know. Then again, no grades have been posted yet.
The hardest part about teaching this class, so far, has nothing to do with the actual teaching. Standing in front of a group of mostly young people whose minds are sponges and want to soak up my wisdom, or at least the wisdom of the textbook, is easy. I like having a captive audience. It is all the paperwork that sucks any inch of glamor out of the job. Substituting for someone else is much easier. They did all the paperwork. All I had to do was teach the class.
When my sister used to teach at a cram school in Hong Kong, it took her maybe five or ten minutes to write up her lesson plans. At Wenzao, I spent about a month preparing, as well as a few extra hours the night before each class. The big difference between our experiences, other than one was after school tutoring for children and one is a university class, is that her school pretty much left her to her own devices. My school wants to know every move I am going to make, and they are watching me closely. I assume that if I do not screw this up, they might relax a little next semester. Or they might never really trust me. I am a foreigner who works part time. You never know.
Showing posts with label Taiwan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Taiwan. Show all posts
Saturday, September 17, 2022
Saturday, July 23, 2022
Elevation Consternation
One of my building's elevators was offline for the weekend. There was some kind of maintenance issue that required people in jumpsuits coming out and making a racket for two solid days. The weekend was chosen based on the assumption that more people needed to get to work during the week. While probably true, I usually work weekends. That sort of thing might be a first world problem, but it was a bit of an inconvenience.
My building has multiple elevators. You can only get to your apartment from one. Each elevator only serves two apartments on each floor. Most of the time, that works well. The elevators are never crowded because only the people directly above or below you should be on your elevator. I also like the fact that I only have one neighbor on my floor, and that our apartments are separated by the elevator shaft/stairwell. We share no walls and rarely see each other. This is the ideal setup to have good neighbors. There are other apartments on the floor, but their walls do not touch my walls and there is no way to get from my apartment to theirs without taking my elevator down and taking theirs up.
The downside is that if the elevator is broken, which has never happened, or is being repaired, the stairs are our only option. I live on the 21st floor. From the basement parking, that is 22 floors to walk up. I like to exercise, but there are limits. Imagine carrying your Costco boxes up 22 floors. Fortunately, we were warned ahead of time that the elevator would be out of commission. My 45 pound cases of water could wait another day. Unfortunately, my neighbor is at least 80 years old. She was away visiting relatives when the elevator went offline. Getting down was easy. The elevator worked when she left. Getting her back was going to take a little more effort.
When I arrived on the scene, my neighbor was asking the doorman how she was supposed to get upstairs without an elevator. It was a good question. I was prepared for the hike. She was not. The doorman suggested waiting until the elevator was scheduled to be back in operation. That would have required spending the night elsewhere, and she was already coming back from an overnight trip. As an advanced citizen, she is a little set in her ways. Even convincing her to spend the night in a hotel would have required someone going up to her apartment to grab a few things, which most likely would have included some unmentionables that she would never want anyone to touch. Someone also would have to pay for it, because she never would have. She considered the building responsible for her predicament, despite their written warnings about the elevator closing. I have only known my neighbor to be a sweet little old lady. Like a lot of people set in their ways, she often ignores written warnings about something being different. Someone would also have to drive her to the hotel because she does not drive. Everyone over 65 has to take the driving test over again, so most older people simply stop driving.
In the end, we decided to just carry her upstairs. And by we, I mean two of the building's maintenance staff. She refused to be carried, what with all the touching of her private person, until I suggested she sit in a chair and we (they) carry the chair. While people she only vaguely recognized carried her up 21 floors, I carried her luggage. The good news for me was that she travels light. I have no idea what she had in her carry-on bag. It felt like a pillow and sounded like her hat collection.
Two relatively young men carrying a little old lady up the stairs might sound like an easy job, but that stairway was not really designed for people to walk side by side while lifting someone in a chair. They had to walk single file and make sure not to hit her head. She was convinced they were going to drop her every step of the way. I walked behind them, more for her peace of mind than for my convenience. That let me move at a leisurely pace.
Eventually, we were all at her front door. She offered to pay the young men who carried her, but they are not allowed to accept gratuities. Also, this is a culture that respects the elderly. They never thought twice about helping a little old lady get home. I did far less, and I had to walk up those stairs to get to my own apartment. She never offered to pay me. I am absolutely allowed to accept gratuities. As my neighbor, she offered me the first batch of cookies she made the next day. My roommates are not fans of hard, sugarless Taiwanese cookies, and consider hers inedible. I can eat pretty much anything. My legs and my teeth got a pretty good workout.
I doubt any formal complaints were ever filed, but my neighbor complained plenty when she came home and discovered the closed elevator. I don't remember the exact time the notice about maintenance was posted. I seem to recall having ample warning. It was a minor inconvenience that I knew about ahead of time. The building's management probably also thought we had sufficient warning.
There is currently a notice about upcoming four-hour maintenance on the elevator. In six months.
My building has multiple elevators. You can only get to your apartment from one. Each elevator only serves two apartments on each floor. Most of the time, that works well. The elevators are never crowded because only the people directly above or below you should be on your elevator. I also like the fact that I only have one neighbor on my floor, and that our apartments are separated by the elevator shaft/stairwell. We share no walls and rarely see each other. This is the ideal setup to have good neighbors. There are other apartments on the floor, but their walls do not touch my walls and there is no way to get from my apartment to theirs without taking my elevator down and taking theirs up.
The downside is that if the elevator is broken, which has never happened, or is being repaired, the stairs are our only option. I live on the 21st floor. From the basement parking, that is 22 floors to walk up. I like to exercise, but there are limits. Imagine carrying your Costco boxes up 22 floors. Fortunately, we were warned ahead of time that the elevator would be out of commission. My 45 pound cases of water could wait another day. Unfortunately, my neighbor is at least 80 years old. She was away visiting relatives when the elevator went offline. Getting down was easy. The elevator worked when she left. Getting her back was going to take a little more effort.
When I arrived on the scene, my neighbor was asking the doorman how she was supposed to get upstairs without an elevator. It was a good question. I was prepared for the hike. She was not. The doorman suggested waiting until the elevator was scheduled to be back in operation. That would have required spending the night elsewhere, and she was already coming back from an overnight trip. As an advanced citizen, she is a little set in her ways. Even convincing her to spend the night in a hotel would have required someone going up to her apartment to grab a few things, which most likely would have included some unmentionables that she would never want anyone to touch. Someone also would have to pay for it, because she never would have. She considered the building responsible for her predicament, despite their written warnings about the elevator closing. I have only known my neighbor to be a sweet little old lady. Like a lot of people set in their ways, she often ignores written warnings about something being different. Someone would also have to drive her to the hotel because she does not drive. Everyone over 65 has to take the driving test over again, so most older people simply stop driving.
In the end, we decided to just carry her upstairs. And by we, I mean two of the building's maintenance staff. She refused to be carried, what with all the touching of her private person, until I suggested she sit in a chair and we (they) carry the chair. While people she only vaguely recognized carried her up 21 floors, I carried her luggage. The good news for me was that she travels light. I have no idea what she had in her carry-on bag. It felt like a pillow and sounded like her hat collection.
Two relatively young men carrying a little old lady up the stairs might sound like an easy job, but that stairway was not really designed for people to walk side by side while lifting someone in a chair. They had to walk single file and make sure not to hit her head. She was convinced they were going to drop her every step of the way. I walked behind them, more for her peace of mind than for my convenience. That let me move at a leisurely pace.
Eventually, we were all at her front door. She offered to pay the young men who carried her, but they are not allowed to accept gratuities. Also, this is a culture that respects the elderly. They never thought twice about helping a little old lady get home. I did far less, and I had to walk up those stairs to get to my own apartment. She never offered to pay me. I am absolutely allowed to accept gratuities. As my neighbor, she offered me the first batch of cookies she made the next day. My roommates are not fans of hard, sugarless Taiwanese cookies, and consider hers inedible. I can eat pretty much anything. My legs and my teeth got a pretty good workout.
I doubt any formal complaints were ever filed, but my neighbor complained plenty when she came home and discovered the closed elevator. I don't remember the exact time the notice about maintenance was posted. I seem to recall having ample warning. It was a minor inconvenience that I knew about ahead of time. The building's management probably also thought we had sufficient warning.
There is currently a notice about upcoming four-hour maintenance on the elevator. In six months.
Wednesday, March 23, 2022
Earthquake Season 2022
Taiwan has a lot of earthquakes. Most are too small to notice. Some are big enough, but you don't notice them anyway. There was a 5.1 earthquake in the middle of the country last week. It was reportedly felt all over the island. I never knew about it until I read the news.
I was on a train to Taipei a few months ago. When the train started to slow down nowhere near a station, I assumed it was some kind of mechanical issue. Then I got a phone call asking me if I was okay.
“The train will get in late if it doesn't speed up,” I said. “But how did you know?”
There was a large earthquake between where I was and where I was going. The high speed train moved very slowly just in case there was damage to the tracks. I never felt any earthquake. You might think that was because I was on a train, but the high speed train is pretty smooth. Not Japan smooth. If you stand a coin upright, it will probably fall. But the cars were made in Japan. It is not a bumpy ride.
On Tuesday morning there was a 3.4 in Yilan, over 200km from Kaohsiung. That was too far away and too small for me to feel. Two hours later, there was a 4.8 off the coast of Haulien, just south of Yilan. I felt that one. It was like a large truck driving by. It ended before I even realized it was an earthquake.
At 01:06 on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, there was a 5.4 off the coast of Taitung. I felt that one. The epicenter was just over 100km away, and 5.4 is a lot bigger than 4.8. At 01:41, there was more shaking. At first, I thought it was an aftershock to the 5.4. Only this one felt much larger and lasted far longer. I never timed it, but it just kept going. It was like hearing “American Pie” for the first time. You think it is going to wind down after yet another chorus, but then here comes another verse. In the middle of all the shaking, my phone started screaming. The government sends out automated alert messages as soon as possible to warm people of the larger earthquakes. More often than not, you get the message a second before you feel the ground shake, or as it starts. This time, I got the message right in the middle. That either meant I was close to the epicenter or it was going to be a big one.
What I initially thought was an aftershock turned out to be a 6.6 earthquake in Hualien, 150km north of the 5.4 in Taitung. We get a lot of earthquakes, but a 6.6 thirty five minutes after a 5.4, in two completely different locations, is a little unusual.
The first aftershock to the 6.6 came exactly one minute later. It was a healthy 5.7. Less than a minute after that one, there was a 6.1 aftershock. The experts are still debating if that was an aftershock or its own earthquake. It was certainly large enough, but it was in the same area and came two minutes after the 6.6.
Between 01:44 and 12:26 there were at least 49 aftershocks larger than 4.0. Two of them managed to top 5.8. The tectonic plates are still angry as I type this, though the aftershocks are getting smaller. I can't feel any of them anymore.
So far, there are no reports of any serious damage or death. I have not heard about any freeway damage yet, though something along the east coast must have broken. Haulien and Taitung are the two least populated counties, outside of the smaller island groups. Not coincidentally, they take the brunt of most earthquakes and typhoons.
In the middle of all these aftershocks, there was a tiny 2.7 in Hsinchu, 150km away from all the action. Nobody is going to talk about that one. That was like Farrah Fawcett dying on the same day as Michael Jackson.
Most of this happened today. Some of the numbers above will probably change as the experts make their calculations.
I was on a train to Taipei a few months ago. When the train started to slow down nowhere near a station, I assumed it was some kind of mechanical issue. Then I got a phone call asking me if I was okay.
“The train will get in late if it doesn't speed up,” I said. “But how did you know?”
There was a large earthquake between where I was and where I was going. The high speed train moved very slowly just in case there was damage to the tracks. I never felt any earthquake. You might think that was because I was on a train, but the high speed train is pretty smooth. Not Japan smooth. If you stand a coin upright, it will probably fall. But the cars were made in Japan. It is not a bumpy ride.
On Tuesday morning there was a 3.4 in Yilan, over 200km from Kaohsiung. That was too far away and too small for me to feel. Two hours later, there was a 4.8 off the coast of Haulien, just south of Yilan. I felt that one. It was like a large truck driving by. It ended before I even realized it was an earthquake.
At 01:06 on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, there was a 5.4 off the coast of Taitung. I felt that one. The epicenter was just over 100km away, and 5.4 is a lot bigger than 4.8. At 01:41, there was more shaking. At first, I thought it was an aftershock to the 5.4. Only this one felt much larger and lasted far longer. I never timed it, but it just kept going. It was like hearing “American Pie” for the first time. You think it is going to wind down after yet another chorus, but then here comes another verse. In the middle of all the shaking, my phone started screaming. The government sends out automated alert messages as soon as possible to warm people of the larger earthquakes. More often than not, you get the message a second before you feel the ground shake, or as it starts. This time, I got the message right in the middle. That either meant I was close to the epicenter or it was going to be a big one.
What I initially thought was an aftershock turned out to be a 6.6 earthquake in Hualien, 150km north of the 5.4 in Taitung. We get a lot of earthquakes, but a 6.6 thirty five minutes after a 5.4, in two completely different locations, is a little unusual.
The first aftershock to the 6.6 came exactly one minute later. It was a healthy 5.7. Less than a minute after that one, there was a 6.1 aftershock. The experts are still debating if that was an aftershock or its own earthquake. It was certainly large enough, but it was in the same area and came two minutes after the 6.6.
Between 01:44 and 12:26 there were at least 49 aftershocks larger than 4.0. Two of them managed to top 5.8. The tectonic plates are still angry as I type this, though the aftershocks are getting smaller. I can't feel any of them anymore.
So far, there are no reports of any serious damage or death. I have not heard about any freeway damage yet, though something along the east coast must have broken. Haulien and Taitung are the two least populated counties, outside of the smaller island groups. Not coincidentally, they take the brunt of most earthquakes and typhoons.
In the middle of all these aftershocks, there was a tiny 2.7 in Hsinchu, 150km away from all the action. Nobody is going to talk about that one. That was like Farrah Fawcett dying on the same day as Michael Jackson.
Most of this happened today. Some of the numbers above will probably change as the experts make their calculations.
Sunday, March 20, 2022
Lantern Festival 2022
The Lantern Festival, 元宵節, is always on the 15th day of the new year and marks the end of the Spring Festival. This year, New Year's Day was 1 February, so the Lantern Festival was 15 February. Pretty straightforward so far.
But in Taiwan, one city hosts the Lantern Festival every year. On the actual day of the holiday, everyone all over the country can light lanterns, watch lion dances, and set off fireworks. If you want to see the big lantern display, you have to go to whichever city is hosting. To make life easier for everyone, they usually keep it going for about a month.
Last year's was in Taipei. I did not go to that one. This year, it was in Kaohsiung for the first time in ten years. That meant it was always going to be crowded. Some people will travel anywhere in the country to see it, but most are more likely to go when it is in their city. Since Kaohsiung is one of the largest cities in the country, and easy to get to from anywhere on the west coast, and it had been ten years since the last one, they decided to hold the festival in two different locations.
Site 1 was the harbor, which has plenty of room to hold thousands of elaborate displays, but very little parking.
Site 2 was conveniently in the park right outside my office. You would think that might make going to work every day a bit of a chore, what with extra traffic and everyone trying to park in my space. Oddly enough, they did not let anyone who was visiting the Lantern Festival into the parking garage, even though there are hundreds of spaces for visitors.
The parking lot where I work was built less than ten years ago. Unlike a lot of parking in Kaohsiung, they knew a little about traffic when they built this one. No matter which entrance you use, you have to turn one way for employees and another for visitors. Without an employee card, you cannot get into the employee parking. Even if they allowed parking during the Lantern Festival, I would have never been affected. I assume they closed visitor parking since there were far more visitors than spaces every night. I have no idea where everyone parked, but there are more than a few options along the MRT line.
This year's Lantern Festival was in the Fongshan District of Kaohsiung (鳳山區). Fenghuang (鳳凰) is a bird from Chinese mythology that symbolizes the sun, moon, sky, and planets. It embodies the union of yin and yang. Though this is the Year of the Tiger, the central display of this year's Lantern Festsival was the Fenghuang.
Wednesday, October 20, 2021
Bereavement Tour part 2
One of the easiest places in Taiwan to get around in the rain is Taipei. Much of it is indoors and the MRT goes everywhere, underground. Taipei is also far more foreigner-friendly than the south. There are “English” signs all over the place and more people speak at least some version of English than anywhere else in the country. Didier wisely chose to go on a day that both Lily and I were available.
Rather than drive, we took the gaotie. The drive from Kaohsiung to Taipei takes at least four hours, under the best conditions. Once there, driving is pointless and parking is expensive. The fastest train takes 90 minutes. Didier's previous train experience was on the xiaotie from Chiayi to Tainan. Otherwise, he got free rides everywhere. For him, the difference between xiaotie and gaotie was like transporting from 1980 to the early 21st century.
One of the Taipei stops is Taipei Main Station, the only gaotie station in a city center. The station directly connects to the two largest MRT lines, the main bus station, and the xiaotie station. It is also an easy walk to several museums, 228 Peace Park, and the Chiang Kai Shek Memorial. Chiang Kai Shek was a murderous dictator, but his memorial hall is one of the more impressive architectural landmarks in the country. Had it not already been on Yi Jun's list, I would have recommended it.
Lily recommended busy and bustling sights like Bopiliao and Ximending, both of which are good examples of Taiwan's culture, though from different centuries. Bopiliao (Longshan Temple station exit #3) is an old Qing Dynasty street that has been restored to its natural state, with seismic reinforcement and ample fire exits. Ximending (Ximen station exit #6) is a purely modern pedestrian street. People often claim it looks like Tokyo, but that is only because there are millions of neon lights and youngsters shopping all night. That is where the similarities end. Both streets are close to Longshan Temple (Longshan Temple station exit #1). At 300 years, it is not the oldest temple in Taiwan, but it is probably the most famous.
That would have been an easy afternoon of walking, but Didier wanted to avoid the crowds, and he had already spent a day at Fo Guang Shan. Longshan Temple and Fo Guang Shan are completely different religions, but from his European point of view, they were the same.
I suggested a few museums. They are indoors and never nearly as crowded as the shopping streets. From Taipei Main Station, the Museum of Contemporary Art is one block north, the National Taiwan Museum (NTU Hospital exit #4) is three blocks south, and the National Museum of History (Xiaonanmen exit #3) is a few blocks further south. The National Taiwan Museum is in 228 Peace Park (NTU Hospital exit #1 & #4), which is a nice little park a block away from the Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall (Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall exit #5). The National Museum of History is in the Taipei Botanical Garden (Xiaonanmen exit #3), which is a nice little garden just west of Chiang Kai Shek. Walking to any or all of the museums would be easy. Instead, we went to the National Palace Museum in Shilin, which is nowhere near Taipei Main Station. It is, however, the single best place in the world to see Imperial Chinese art. Didier liked the sound of that.
Taipei is known for its nightlife, with the most popular shopping, the most expensive dance clubs, and the most famous night markets in the country. Didier wanted to avoid everything. I find a night of dancing quite relaxing, but he was still afraid of being around too many people while his side of the world was deep into a plague. Even stranger, he was not a fan of dancing. Something he was willing to do was take the turbolift up to the top of Taipei 101 (Taipei 101 exit #4). I think the views are much better in the daytime, if it is not too cloudy, but the lights at night show how large Taipei is, by Taiwan standards, and how tiny it is compared to Tokyo.
We spent the night at the Home Hotel (Taipei 101 exit #4), a small boutique hotel about three blocks from Taipei 101. It was also the hotel I stayed in the first time I went to Taipei. I like it because it is smaller than the typical business hotel and the service is better than anywhere else in the city.
We started the next day with a morning bicycle ride through the riverside parks along the Keelung River. Morning is easily the best time to ride a bicycle in Taipei. Not so much for the weather. It is always going to be hot and humid, no matter what time of day. But afternoons and evenings along the river get far too crowded. Mornings are comparatively empty. There are almost no lights along the winding river, and the packs of stray dogs can get a bit territorial, so the middle of night might not be the best time. There are a variety of hiking options in eastern Taipei, but we did some hiking in Kenting, so Didier was looking for something a little less strenuous.
Had it just been Lily and me, we would have ridden the bicycles from the hotel to the river. It is only a ten minute ride, at most, but it requires navigating busy streets and dodging traffic in a country where right of way is an alien concept. Anyone without a firm understanding of the culture should stick with the clearly marked bicycle paths in areas where cars and trucks are physically blocked from entering. With Didier, we took the MRT to Jiannan (exit #3) and rode through the more scenic parks just north of the airport. Starting from Nangang and riding west until the river ends makes more sense, but Didier is more of a leisurely stroll bicyclist.
The Sun Yat Sen Memorial Hall (Sun Yat Sen Memorial Hall exit #4) was on Didier's list, so we went there. When there are no performances or events, the hall is little more than a large public space. There are better parks in Taipei, but it is an easy walk from Taipei 101. Before we went to Taipei, I thought Taipei Main Station would be our hub from which to branch out around the city. But since we stayed at a hotel next to Taipei 101, that became our reference point.
Just outside the Sun Yat Sen MRT station (exit #2) is a “German” bakery that I thought Didier might enjoy. Like pretty much everything else in Taiwan, it is far more Taiwanese than whatever other region it claims, but they have large German style pretzels. Lily thinks they are terrible, but she is not German. Neither is Didier, but France is a lot closer than Canada. He had been in Taiwan for a while at this point, and I know of no authentic French restaurants anywhere in the country, so a fake German bakery would have to do. Unfortunately, Didier agreed with Lily about the pretzels. But he liked the brioche.
About a ten minute walk north of the bakery is Little New York Pizza. Lily says it is the best pizza in Taiwan. It certainly looks like New York pizza, and the slices are large enough, but I doubt it tastes anything like New York. It was also not at all French, but our goal was to find food unlike the Taiwanese and Chinese Didier had been eating every day. Pizza, at least real pizza with tomato sauce and cheese, is not at all Chinese.
There are thousands of pizza places in Taipei, if not hundreds. Most of them claim to have the best pizza in the city, county or country. It is as absurd as all the “original” pizza places in New York. Unfortunately, I can say nothing about the taste, but few look like they could ever be the best. Far too many serve “pizza” without cheese or sauce, and for some reason, proofing the dough is considered unlucky. Almost all of them serve something other than pizza as a main course. Most have more traditional Chinese dishes. More than a few have various noodle and/or pasta dishes. Little New York is the only one I know about that only has pizza, aside from fries and maybe garlic bread, but those are acceptable side dishes. In my experience, the best pizza places concentrate on pizza. Anything else on the menu is an afterthought. Big Boyz Pizza in Songshan (Nanjing Fuxing exit #5) has Chicago style, which is unheard of in Taiwan, but their New York pizza looks nothing like New York, and Lily said it was criminally undercooked. If they can't take the time to cook a New York pizza, I can only imagine how the Chicago turns out.
I should probably point out that there is more than one Little New York Pizza in Taipei. The one on Yanji Street, just north of Civic Blvd, is the only one that is all pizza. The others have larger restaurant menus.
From Taipei, we went to Hsinchu. The gaotie only takes 30 minutes, but the Hsinchu station is not actually in the city of Hsinchu. Ordinarily, a trip around Taiwan could easily skip Hsinchu, but Didier heard that Hsinchu is the technological capital of Taiwan. While true, that does little for visitors, unless you want to tour a semiconductor factory. Since Lily knows someone who knows someone whose house we could stay in, we went to Zhubei, which is just across the river from Hinschu. Conveniently and coincidentally, the house was only a ten minute Uber ride from the Hsinchu gaotie station, which is in Zhubei.
I downloaded Uber onto my phone for this trip. I had thought about using it once before, but I have a car in Kaohsiung and use the MRT in Taipei. I almost never have any need for Uber, unless I am going to or coming from the airport. Then I get a ride from someone or take a taxi. While Hsinchu has plenty of taxis, I thought we would spend more time going back and forth between Zhubei and Hsinchu. Having Uber on my phone made sense.
Downloading the app was a bit of a chore. My 4-year-old phone has its original battery. I can remember a time when I would charge it two or three times a week. Now, I keep it plugged in when not in use. Downloading the Uber app sucked up the battery. I had to plug mobile devices into other mobile devices, making everything far less mobile. It was a whole production. The app works exactly as it should, and the technology is pretty impressive. I push a button on my phone and in five minutes or less, someone picks me up and takes me where I want to go. And no cash changes hands. But I have to make sure my battery is above 80% when I use it. I was at 70% when I opened the app one time, and 1% when I gave the driver a 5 star review. I might need to get a new battery.
I hate the entire “citizen critic” system that has infected every aspect of modern life. Everyone wants to give everything a review. Almost no one is qualified to be a professional critic in any given field, and most people are not nearly as nice online as they are in person. I say, unless your driver was smoking or drunk, give him 5 stars. Was the ride perfect in every possible way? Probably not. But there is no need to be a dick about it.
We did pretty much nothing in Hsinchu and spent most of our time in Zhubei. The house where we stayed was in the middle of the restaurant district. There were no French restaurants, of course, but they had a branch of a Taiwanese-Italian restaurant we have in Kaohsiung and a popular pizza place that is generally decent, but not New York.
Hsinchu was nothing like Didier expected, but he took the technological label a little too literally. He thought it was going to be some advanced city with evidence of the future in every direction. Instead, he got a typical Taiwan city that looks pretty much like every other Taiwan city. Taiwan has a lot of positive aspects, but it is definitely not known for its architecture. Go to pretty much any city in western Europe and you will see people taking pictures of random buildings. No one does that in Taiwan. I expected nothing out of Hsinchu, but found a nice little neighborhood across the river.
When Didier finally went home, he had only crossed a fraction of the places he wanted to see off his list. It was an unrealistic list. Taiwan is a small country, but you can never see it all in one visit. He is always free to come back, but I get the impression that this place is simply too depressing for him. Not because he and Yi Jun spent too much time here, but because they did not spend nearly enough.
Rather than drive, we took the gaotie. The drive from Kaohsiung to Taipei takes at least four hours, under the best conditions. Once there, driving is pointless and parking is expensive. The fastest train takes 90 minutes. Didier's previous train experience was on the xiaotie from Chiayi to Tainan. Otherwise, he got free rides everywhere. For him, the difference between xiaotie and gaotie was like transporting from 1980 to the early 21st century.
One of the Taipei stops is Taipei Main Station, the only gaotie station in a city center. The station directly connects to the two largest MRT lines, the main bus station, and the xiaotie station. It is also an easy walk to several museums, 228 Peace Park, and the Chiang Kai Shek Memorial. Chiang Kai Shek was a murderous dictator, but his memorial hall is one of the more impressive architectural landmarks in the country. Had it not already been on Yi Jun's list, I would have recommended it.
Lily recommended busy and bustling sights like Bopiliao and Ximending, both of which are good examples of Taiwan's culture, though from different centuries. Bopiliao (Longshan Temple station exit #3) is an old Qing Dynasty street that has been restored to its natural state, with seismic reinforcement and ample fire exits. Ximending (Ximen station exit #6) is a purely modern pedestrian street. People often claim it looks like Tokyo, but that is only because there are millions of neon lights and youngsters shopping all night. That is where the similarities end. Both streets are close to Longshan Temple (Longshan Temple station exit #1). At 300 years, it is not the oldest temple in Taiwan, but it is probably the most famous.
That would have been an easy afternoon of walking, but Didier wanted to avoid the crowds, and he had already spent a day at Fo Guang Shan. Longshan Temple and Fo Guang Shan are completely different religions, but from his European point of view, they were the same.
I suggested a few museums. They are indoors and never nearly as crowded as the shopping streets. From Taipei Main Station, the Museum of Contemporary Art is one block north, the National Taiwan Museum (NTU Hospital exit #4) is three blocks south, and the National Museum of History (Xiaonanmen exit #3) is a few blocks further south. The National Taiwan Museum is in 228 Peace Park (NTU Hospital exit #1 & #4), which is a nice little park a block away from the Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall (Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall exit #5). The National Museum of History is in the Taipei Botanical Garden (Xiaonanmen exit #3), which is a nice little garden just west of Chiang Kai Shek. Walking to any or all of the museums would be easy. Instead, we went to the National Palace Museum in Shilin, which is nowhere near Taipei Main Station. It is, however, the single best place in the world to see Imperial Chinese art. Didier liked the sound of that.
Taipei is known for its nightlife, with the most popular shopping, the most expensive dance clubs, and the most famous night markets in the country. Didier wanted to avoid everything. I find a night of dancing quite relaxing, but he was still afraid of being around too many people while his side of the world was deep into a plague. Even stranger, he was not a fan of dancing. Something he was willing to do was take the turbolift up to the top of Taipei 101 (Taipei 101 exit #4). I think the views are much better in the daytime, if it is not too cloudy, but the lights at night show how large Taipei is, by Taiwan standards, and how tiny it is compared to Tokyo.
We spent the night at the Home Hotel (Taipei 101 exit #4), a small boutique hotel about three blocks from Taipei 101. It was also the hotel I stayed in the first time I went to Taipei. I like it because it is smaller than the typical business hotel and the service is better than anywhere else in the city.
We started the next day with a morning bicycle ride through the riverside parks along the Keelung River. Morning is easily the best time to ride a bicycle in Taipei. Not so much for the weather. It is always going to be hot and humid, no matter what time of day. But afternoons and evenings along the river get far too crowded. Mornings are comparatively empty. There are almost no lights along the winding river, and the packs of stray dogs can get a bit territorial, so the middle of night might not be the best time. There are a variety of hiking options in eastern Taipei, but we did some hiking in Kenting, so Didier was looking for something a little less strenuous.
Had it just been Lily and me, we would have ridden the bicycles from the hotel to the river. It is only a ten minute ride, at most, but it requires navigating busy streets and dodging traffic in a country where right of way is an alien concept. Anyone without a firm understanding of the culture should stick with the clearly marked bicycle paths in areas where cars and trucks are physically blocked from entering. With Didier, we took the MRT to Jiannan (exit #3) and rode through the more scenic parks just north of the airport. Starting from Nangang and riding west until the river ends makes more sense, but Didier is more of a leisurely stroll bicyclist.
The Sun Yat Sen Memorial Hall (Sun Yat Sen Memorial Hall exit #4) was on Didier's list, so we went there. When there are no performances or events, the hall is little more than a large public space. There are better parks in Taipei, but it is an easy walk from Taipei 101. Before we went to Taipei, I thought Taipei Main Station would be our hub from which to branch out around the city. But since we stayed at a hotel next to Taipei 101, that became our reference point.
Just outside the Sun Yat Sen MRT station (exit #2) is a “German” bakery that I thought Didier might enjoy. Like pretty much everything else in Taiwan, it is far more Taiwanese than whatever other region it claims, but they have large German style pretzels. Lily thinks they are terrible, but she is not German. Neither is Didier, but France is a lot closer than Canada. He had been in Taiwan for a while at this point, and I know of no authentic French restaurants anywhere in the country, so a fake German bakery would have to do. Unfortunately, Didier agreed with Lily about the pretzels. But he liked the brioche.
About a ten minute walk north of the bakery is Little New York Pizza. Lily says it is the best pizza in Taiwan. It certainly looks like New York pizza, and the slices are large enough, but I doubt it tastes anything like New York. It was also not at all French, but our goal was to find food unlike the Taiwanese and Chinese Didier had been eating every day. Pizza, at least real pizza with tomato sauce and cheese, is not at all Chinese.
There are thousands of pizza places in Taipei, if not hundreds. Most of them claim to have the best pizza in the city, county or country. It is as absurd as all the “original” pizza places in New York. Unfortunately, I can say nothing about the taste, but few look like they could ever be the best. Far too many serve “pizza” without cheese or sauce, and for some reason, proofing the dough is considered unlucky. Almost all of them serve something other than pizza as a main course. Most have more traditional Chinese dishes. More than a few have various noodle and/or pasta dishes. Little New York is the only one I know about that only has pizza, aside from fries and maybe garlic bread, but those are acceptable side dishes. In my experience, the best pizza places concentrate on pizza. Anything else on the menu is an afterthought. Big Boyz Pizza in Songshan (Nanjing Fuxing exit #5) has Chicago style, which is unheard of in Taiwan, but their New York pizza looks nothing like New York, and Lily said it was criminally undercooked. If they can't take the time to cook a New York pizza, I can only imagine how the Chicago turns out.
I should probably point out that there is more than one Little New York Pizza in Taipei. The one on Yanji Street, just north of Civic Blvd, is the only one that is all pizza. The others have larger restaurant menus.
From Taipei, we went to Hsinchu. The gaotie only takes 30 minutes, but the Hsinchu station is not actually in the city of Hsinchu. Ordinarily, a trip around Taiwan could easily skip Hsinchu, but Didier heard that Hsinchu is the technological capital of Taiwan. While true, that does little for visitors, unless you want to tour a semiconductor factory. Since Lily knows someone who knows someone whose house we could stay in, we went to Zhubei, which is just across the river from Hinschu. Conveniently and coincidentally, the house was only a ten minute Uber ride from the Hsinchu gaotie station, which is in Zhubei.
I downloaded Uber onto my phone for this trip. I had thought about using it once before, but I have a car in Kaohsiung and use the MRT in Taipei. I almost never have any need for Uber, unless I am going to or coming from the airport. Then I get a ride from someone or take a taxi. While Hsinchu has plenty of taxis, I thought we would spend more time going back and forth between Zhubei and Hsinchu. Having Uber on my phone made sense.
Downloading the app was a bit of a chore. My 4-year-old phone has its original battery. I can remember a time when I would charge it two or three times a week. Now, I keep it plugged in when not in use. Downloading the Uber app sucked up the battery. I had to plug mobile devices into other mobile devices, making everything far less mobile. It was a whole production. The app works exactly as it should, and the technology is pretty impressive. I push a button on my phone and in five minutes or less, someone picks me up and takes me where I want to go. And no cash changes hands. But I have to make sure my battery is above 80% when I use it. I was at 70% when I opened the app one time, and 1% when I gave the driver a 5 star review. I might need to get a new battery.
I hate the entire “citizen critic” system that has infected every aspect of modern life. Everyone wants to give everything a review. Almost no one is qualified to be a professional critic in any given field, and most people are not nearly as nice online as they are in person. I say, unless your driver was smoking or drunk, give him 5 stars. Was the ride perfect in every possible way? Probably not. But there is no need to be a dick about it.
We did pretty much nothing in Hsinchu and spent most of our time in Zhubei. The house where we stayed was in the middle of the restaurant district. There were no French restaurants, of course, but they had a branch of a Taiwanese-Italian restaurant we have in Kaohsiung and a popular pizza place that is generally decent, but not New York.
Hsinchu was nothing like Didier expected, but he took the technological label a little too literally. He thought it was going to be some advanced city with evidence of the future in every direction. Instead, he got a typical Taiwan city that looks pretty much like every other Taiwan city. Taiwan has a lot of positive aspects, but it is definitely not known for its architecture. Go to pretty much any city in western Europe and you will see people taking pictures of random buildings. No one does that in Taiwan. I expected nothing out of Hsinchu, but found a nice little neighborhood across the river.
When Didier finally went home, he had only crossed a fraction of the places he wanted to see off his list. It was an unrealistic list. Taiwan is a small country, but you can never see it all in one visit. He is always free to come back, but I get the impression that this place is simply too depressing for him. Not because he and Yi Jun spent too much time here, but because they did not spend nearly enough.
Wednesday, October 13, 2021
Bereavement Tour part 1
Didier is still in Taiwan. There is still paperwork that needs to be filled out and Yi Jun's family is currently arguing over her life insurance. I think everything should go to her children, as she specifically requested. But it is not up to me. Didier is also trying to avoid going back home without his wife. It will happen sooner or later, but he is not ready.
Though I only met Didier once before Yi Jun died, I am the closest thing he has to a friend in Taiwan. He knows Yi Jun's family and me, though he does not know them especially well. It kind of seems like Yi Jun did not particularly want to live in Taiwan. When she was married to an American, she lived in Michigan. When she was married to Didier, she lived in France and Ohio. Yi Jun and Didier used to visit Taiwan during the New Year and special occasions, but Didier was largely unfamiliar with the culture. In me, he saw someone who knows the culture and can speak to him in a language he understands. I like to think I can speak French on a good day, but we mostly communicate in English. And I knew Yi Jun in a way that makes more sense to him. Her family knew young Yi Jun. We knew the more modern, adult version.
During Yi Jun's last round of treatment, Didier stayed in her sister's house in Chiayi and the hospital hotel. After the funeral, there was no point in staying at the hospital, and he did not want to spend any time in the sister's house, so he went to Tainan. Getting from Chiayi to Tainan is pretty easy, and Didier is comfortable with trains, but he had no idea how to get around once he was there. His phone call started our grand tour of Taiwan.
Before going back to France, and possibly never coming to Taiwan again, Didier wanted to see all the sights that Yi Jun talked about. Getting around the west coast of Taiwan is pretty easy without a car. The slow trains are not at all on time, but they go to pretty much any city you would ever want to see, and most stations are downtown. The high speed train is far more reliable, cleaner, and comfortable, but only one high speed station is in a city center. Most are not even in the largest city of their respective counties. The stations were built out in the countryside where there were large enough patches of empty land. Had Didier taken the gaotie from Chiayi to Tainan, he would have actually gone from Taibao to Gueiren. Chiayi's station was convenient, in his case, since Yi Jun's hospital and sister are in Chiayi County rather than Chiayi City, but Tainan's station is practically in Kaohsiung. I think the hospital was built close to the Chiayi (Taibao) station on purpose. Most stations have free shuttles that take you to the city, and there are ample taxis at every station, but every shuttle and almost every taxi requires at least some knowledge of the language. Foreigners are better off with the xiaotie, which has stations in the middle of each city, though all announced changes are in Chinese.
Today's language lesson: “xiaotie”™ is not a real word. I made it up. The high speed train is 高鐵 (gaotie). The slow speed train is actually 臺鐵 (taitie). Somewhere along the line, I started calling it 小鐵 (xiaotie), which is a bit of a pun, though not a very good one. 高 (gao) and 小 (xiao) are opposites, and rhyme. 臺 is short for 臺灣 (Taiwan), and does not even come close to rhyming.
Didier was going to travel around Taiwan alone. I thought that might not be the best idea. It is certainly possible, but probably not ideal while grieving and not entirely thinking straight. When I offered to help, he assumed I only meant guiding him around Kaohsiung and that he should take the train from Tainan, even though there were places in Tainan on his list. What he did not realize was that I could drive to his Tainan hotel in under 45 minutes. At his hotel, he showed me his list of all the places he wanted to go. He vastly underestimated both the size of Taiwan and the travel times by train. It is a relatively small island, but he had enough sights for a month of travel. I had a car that could reduce travel times, but I also had a job that required my participation.
I knew he was never going to see everything on his list, so I concentrated on the highlights. We were already in Tainan, so we started there. Tainan is an old city and has a great deal of historical sights. Most of them are outdoors and it was raining ropes. Didier thought it was a typhoon. It was certainly typhoon season, but this was a light drizzle by comparison. Instead of Chihkanlou, or Anping, or any of the temples, we went to the Chimei Museum. The outdoor grounds are nice, but the indoor museum is what you want to see.
I had to go to work, so I was going to Kaohsiung with or without Didier. He had a lot of Kaohsiung on his list, so he took the free ride.
I have lived in Kaohsiung for a little over a year. There are parts of the city I have yet to see myself, but I know enough to show someone around. From a French point of view, Kaohsiung is a large, crowded city. From a Chinese point of view, Kaohsiung is pretty small. To experience the culture, you have to go to night markets, food stalls, and places where people are generally packed together like lemmings. Didier is from France, where they are struggling with a bit of a plague right now, and most recently lived in the United States, which refuses to settle for anything but first place. The last thing he wanted was to be in a crowd, especially in a culture that considers it unlucky to cover one's mouth while coughing or sneezing.
So I took him to Fo Guang Shan. Outside of ceremonies and special occasions, the monastery is rarely crowded, and the museum is large enough to seem empty on most weekdays. It is also probably a pretty great place to experience right after burying your wife.
I may not be the best guide for Kaohsiung, but I know a thing or two about Fo Guang Shan. I spent some time there last year and know a few of the monks personally. I introduced Didier to my former laoshi and reminisced around campus while they talked about the meaning of life and death for a few hours. Didier still has to go home without his wife, but at least he had an experienced shoulder to cry on and heard something more meaningful than the usual platitudes most of us never adequately know how to express. Didier felt a little better, and we went to the museum where other monks gave him a tour through a few thousand years of Buddhism. When we went to the monastery, it was lightly raining and looked like there was more on the way. When we walked out of the museum, the sun was shining and birds were happy. Didier saw it as a sign. I saw it as autumn weather.
One of the places Yi Jun talked about the most was Kenting. Taiwanese love Kenting. It is the Hawaii of Taiwan. Having been to both Hawaii and Kenting, I disagree. Kenting is in a tropical monsoon climate zone, making it far hotter and wetter than Honolulu. When I was in Hawaii, it would rain for an hour at most and another hour later, you could never tell it was anything but sunny. If it is raining in Kenting, you will not see any sun that day. Hurricanes almost never hit Honolulu. Typhoons hit Kenting all the time.
But it was at the top of Didier's list and only a two hour drive. Most people go on the weekends, but my days off are during the week. We went on a Tuesday. The last time I went to Kenting was a Saturday in the middle of summer. As it turns out, the place is far less crowded on a Tuesday after the school year starts.
The beaches in Kenting are easily the most popular in the entire country. I have no idea why. There is nothing particularly wrong with them, but they are small, usually crowded, and swimming is either highly discouraged or completely illegal. Most people just go to take pictures for the Facebook. Sunset is the popular time, even though the beaches face south and east. Didier is from France, which has a few nice beaches down south and some enormous, sprawling beaches up north. He was not impressed with Kenting.
We spent most of our Kenting time at the national park. Even with the tropical climate and intermittent rain, it is an easy park to hike, with ample trails and paved staircases. You could easily spend a few days exploring the entire park, but we had a few hours. We had no plans to spend the night in Kenting, and I had to show Didier the night market.
Despite the popularity of the beaches, most people go to Kenting for the night life. Several streets downtown become a large night market after sunset. Normal shopping streets during the day take on a carnival atmosphere at night. You can play old style arcade games, like that one where you try to throw a ping pong ball into a tiny fish bowl with an opening too small to fit a ping pong ball, or the one where you throw dull darts at underinflated balloons. Most people stick to buying cheap crap. And, of course, everyone goes for the food. It is not a night market without countless food stalls selling everything from 愛玉 to 仙草. Didier avoided the night markets in Kaohsiung, so Kenting's night scene was essential.
Kenting has plenty of hotels, most of which have plenty of rooms available this time of year. But it is only a two hour drive to Kaohsiung and I was busy the next day, so we did not spend the night.
Hualien was on Didier's list, and I recommend Taroko Gorge wholeheartedly. It is easily Taiwan's best nature site. It is also about as far from Kaohsiung as you can get. Leaving from Kenting would be much easier, though not faster. Whether Didier decided to go to Haulien or not, I was unavailable. I could have put him on the xiaotie, but then he would be on his own in a place that requires some form of transportation, or at least a bicycle. The rainy season technically ends in September, but it has been dragging on longer this year, and since hiking Taroko Gorge in the rain is not the best idea, he decided against it.
I like Didier's idea of traveling around the country and seeing all the sights Yi Jun talked about, but she died at the end of the rainy season and the beginning of the school year. Most vacation days are used up by the end of summer. At any other time of year, I probably could have found people to take him to most of the places on his list.
Though I only met Didier once before Yi Jun died, I am the closest thing he has to a friend in Taiwan. He knows Yi Jun's family and me, though he does not know them especially well. It kind of seems like Yi Jun did not particularly want to live in Taiwan. When she was married to an American, she lived in Michigan. When she was married to Didier, she lived in France and Ohio. Yi Jun and Didier used to visit Taiwan during the New Year and special occasions, but Didier was largely unfamiliar with the culture. In me, he saw someone who knows the culture and can speak to him in a language he understands. I like to think I can speak French on a good day, but we mostly communicate in English. And I knew Yi Jun in a way that makes more sense to him. Her family knew young Yi Jun. We knew the more modern, adult version.
During Yi Jun's last round of treatment, Didier stayed in her sister's house in Chiayi and the hospital hotel. After the funeral, there was no point in staying at the hospital, and he did not want to spend any time in the sister's house, so he went to Tainan. Getting from Chiayi to Tainan is pretty easy, and Didier is comfortable with trains, but he had no idea how to get around once he was there. His phone call started our grand tour of Taiwan.
Before going back to France, and possibly never coming to Taiwan again, Didier wanted to see all the sights that Yi Jun talked about. Getting around the west coast of Taiwan is pretty easy without a car. The slow trains are not at all on time, but they go to pretty much any city you would ever want to see, and most stations are downtown. The high speed train is far more reliable, cleaner, and comfortable, but only one high speed station is in a city center. Most are not even in the largest city of their respective counties. The stations were built out in the countryside where there were large enough patches of empty land. Had Didier taken the gaotie from Chiayi to Tainan, he would have actually gone from Taibao to Gueiren. Chiayi's station was convenient, in his case, since Yi Jun's hospital and sister are in Chiayi County rather than Chiayi City, but Tainan's station is practically in Kaohsiung. I think the hospital was built close to the Chiayi (Taibao) station on purpose. Most stations have free shuttles that take you to the city, and there are ample taxis at every station, but every shuttle and almost every taxi requires at least some knowledge of the language. Foreigners are better off with the xiaotie, which has stations in the middle of each city, though all announced changes are in Chinese.
Today's language lesson: “xiaotie”™ is not a real word. I made it up. The high speed train is 高鐵 (gaotie). The slow speed train is actually 臺鐵 (taitie). Somewhere along the line, I started calling it 小鐵 (xiaotie), which is a bit of a pun, though not a very good one. 高 (gao) and 小 (xiao) are opposites, and rhyme. 臺 is short for 臺灣 (Taiwan), and does not even come close to rhyming.
Didier was going to travel around Taiwan alone. I thought that might not be the best idea. It is certainly possible, but probably not ideal while grieving and not entirely thinking straight. When I offered to help, he assumed I only meant guiding him around Kaohsiung and that he should take the train from Tainan, even though there were places in Tainan on his list. What he did not realize was that I could drive to his Tainan hotel in under 45 minutes. At his hotel, he showed me his list of all the places he wanted to go. He vastly underestimated both the size of Taiwan and the travel times by train. It is a relatively small island, but he had enough sights for a month of travel. I had a car that could reduce travel times, but I also had a job that required my participation.
I knew he was never going to see everything on his list, so I concentrated on the highlights. We were already in Tainan, so we started there. Tainan is an old city and has a great deal of historical sights. Most of them are outdoors and it was raining ropes. Didier thought it was a typhoon. It was certainly typhoon season, but this was a light drizzle by comparison. Instead of Chihkanlou, or Anping, or any of the temples, we went to the Chimei Museum. The outdoor grounds are nice, but the indoor museum is what you want to see.
I had to go to work, so I was going to Kaohsiung with or without Didier. He had a lot of Kaohsiung on his list, so he took the free ride.
I have lived in Kaohsiung for a little over a year. There are parts of the city I have yet to see myself, but I know enough to show someone around. From a French point of view, Kaohsiung is a large, crowded city. From a Chinese point of view, Kaohsiung is pretty small. To experience the culture, you have to go to night markets, food stalls, and places where people are generally packed together like lemmings. Didier is from France, where they are struggling with a bit of a plague right now, and most recently lived in the United States, which refuses to settle for anything but first place. The last thing he wanted was to be in a crowd, especially in a culture that considers it unlucky to cover one's mouth while coughing or sneezing.
So I took him to Fo Guang Shan. Outside of ceremonies and special occasions, the monastery is rarely crowded, and the museum is large enough to seem empty on most weekdays. It is also probably a pretty great place to experience right after burying your wife.
I may not be the best guide for Kaohsiung, but I know a thing or two about Fo Guang Shan. I spent some time there last year and know a few of the monks personally. I introduced Didier to my former laoshi and reminisced around campus while they talked about the meaning of life and death for a few hours. Didier still has to go home without his wife, but at least he had an experienced shoulder to cry on and heard something more meaningful than the usual platitudes most of us never adequately know how to express. Didier felt a little better, and we went to the museum where other monks gave him a tour through a few thousand years of Buddhism. When we went to the monastery, it was lightly raining and looked like there was more on the way. When we walked out of the museum, the sun was shining and birds were happy. Didier saw it as a sign. I saw it as autumn weather.
One of the places Yi Jun talked about the most was Kenting. Taiwanese love Kenting. It is the Hawaii of Taiwan. Having been to both Hawaii and Kenting, I disagree. Kenting is in a tropical monsoon climate zone, making it far hotter and wetter than Honolulu. When I was in Hawaii, it would rain for an hour at most and another hour later, you could never tell it was anything but sunny. If it is raining in Kenting, you will not see any sun that day. Hurricanes almost never hit Honolulu. Typhoons hit Kenting all the time.
But it was at the top of Didier's list and only a two hour drive. Most people go on the weekends, but my days off are during the week. We went on a Tuesday. The last time I went to Kenting was a Saturday in the middle of summer. As it turns out, the place is far less crowded on a Tuesday after the school year starts.
The beaches in Kenting are easily the most popular in the entire country. I have no idea why. There is nothing particularly wrong with them, but they are small, usually crowded, and swimming is either highly discouraged or completely illegal. Most people just go to take pictures for the Facebook. Sunset is the popular time, even though the beaches face south and east. Didier is from France, which has a few nice beaches down south and some enormous, sprawling beaches up north. He was not impressed with Kenting.
We spent most of our Kenting time at the national park. Even with the tropical climate and intermittent rain, it is an easy park to hike, with ample trails and paved staircases. You could easily spend a few days exploring the entire park, but we had a few hours. We had no plans to spend the night in Kenting, and I had to show Didier the night market.
Despite the popularity of the beaches, most people go to Kenting for the night life. Several streets downtown become a large night market after sunset. Normal shopping streets during the day take on a carnival atmosphere at night. You can play old style arcade games, like that one where you try to throw a ping pong ball into a tiny fish bowl with an opening too small to fit a ping pong ball, or the one where you throw dull darts at underinflated balloons. Most people stick to buying cheap crap. And, of course, everyone goes for the food. It is not a night market without countless food stalls selling everything from 愛玉 to 仙草. Didier avoided the night markets in Kaohsiung, so Kenting's night scene was essential.
Kenting has plenty of hotels, most of which have plenty of rooms available this time of year. But it is only a two hour drive to Kaohsiung and I was busy the next day, so we did not spend the night.
Hualien was on Didier's list, and I recommend Taroko Gorge wholeheartedly. It is easily Taiwan's best nature site. It is also about as far from Kaohsiung as you can get. Leaving from Kenting would be much easier, though not faster. Whether Didier decided to go to Haulien or not, I was unavailable. I could have put him on the xiaotie, but then he would be on his own in a place that requires some form of transportation, or at least a bicycle. The rainy season technically ends in September, but it has been dragging on longer this year, and since hiking Taroko Gorge in the rain is not the best idea, he decided against it.
I like Didier's idea of traveling around the country and seeing all the sights Yi Jun talked about, but she died at the end of the rainy season and the beginning of the school year. Most vacation days are used up by the end of summer. At any other time of year, I probably could have found people to take him to most of the places on his list.
Friday, July 30, 2021
The Wettest Drought in 50 Years
Way back in May, before the rainy season started, Taiwan was struggling with its most severe drought in 50 years. The government was thinking out loud about ways to ration water. It looked like we might have to live without indoor plumbing one day each week. That would have been inconvenient. When the drought kept droughting, they started talking about two days a week without water. That sounded entirely unacceptable. Having no water does not mean no water in the bathroom only. It would have also meant no doing laundry or washing dishes. I suppose we could have used bottled water, but that would get expensive pretty fast. Outside of the home, they were going to close all the car washes. Bathing your car is not as important as bathing your body, but my car is new. The idea of not washing it felt wrong. Maybe in ten years we can let ourselves go, but we are still newlyweds.
Then the rainy season started. The drought was washed away, almost overnight. It rained enough to fill the lakes and reservoirs. And it kept raining. It rained enough to flood the lower level streets. Why there is not a better drainage system in a hilly city with annual tropical rain, I have no idea. We are on the coast. Piping rain water into the ocean should be easy. I am lucky enough to live by the river. When it rains for a month or two, all that water flows into the river. Some people live at the bottom of hills. Water tends not to go uphill.
We moved to Taiwan just before the start of the rainy season last year. It looks like it might be raining more this year, but that might only be because of the drought. There could be the same amount of rain as last year, or less, for all I know. The biggest difference for me is that I drive to work. Last year, I took the MRT to work at the beginning of the rainy season. I like rain, and recognize the good it does, especially after a drought. But taking the MRT to work during a monsoon is not ideal. I had to walk in the rain to the station, walk down the wet steps to get into the station, walk up the wet steps to get out of a different station, and walk to my building. I don't know what it is or why, but pretty much every stairway in Taiwan is wrong. They are either too narrow, too crooked, too small or too loose. Getting them wet is not an improvement. The only good thing about all the defective stairs in Taiwan is that I have ample experience with all the defective stairs in China. This is all probably a first world complaint, but falling down stairs, wet or dry, could be hazardous to my career.
Driving to work in the rain is much easier. I get into my car in my apartment building's underground parking and get out in my work's underground parking. My shoes never have to touch wet ground. In fact, I can wear whatever shoes I want, rather than my weatherproof Timberland boots. Driving in heavy rain is more dangerous than walking to the MRT station, but driving in Taiwan is inherently dangerous, regardless of weather conditions.
During the drought, my swimming pool with a gym opened a new gym with a swimming pool. But the pool was closed because of the drought. Once the drought ended, they opened the pool. But it is an outdoor pool, so they immediately closed it due to heavy rain. In July, the sun started to come out. And I say it's all right. It is still the rainy season. Blue skies can turn gray faster than the south seceded. White clouds can turn black faster than Al Jolson. But we have had a few hours here and there without rain.
My problems quickly turned from meteorological to logistical. My preference is to swim at the gym in the morning and exercise later at night. When the swimming pool was closed for the drought, I mostly rode a bicycle or ran in the morning, on the rare mornings it was not raining too heavily. When it rains, I can always ride a fake bike and run on a treadmill at the gym. But I still could not swim. When it stopped raining as much, I thought that would solve everything. But when they opened the swimming pool after the drought, they decided it should only be open from 09:00 to 18:00. That does not work for me at all. My morning ride/run/swim is usually around 05:00. I think the pool should be open whenever the gym is. They disagree. Somehow, I went from a swimming pool with a tiny gym that I never used to a gym with a pool I will rarely use.
It is supposed to rain tomorrow, so I doubt I will do anything outdoors. But at least the worst drought was one of the shortest.
Then the rainy season started. The drought was washed away, almost overnight. It rained enough to fill the lakes and reservoirs. And it kept raining. It rained enough to flood the lower level streets. Why there is not a better drainage system in a hilly city with annual tropical rain, I have no idea. We are on the coast. Piping rain water into the ocean should be easy. I am lucky enough to live by the river. When it rains for a month or two, all that water flows into the river. Some people live at the bottom of hills. Water tends not to go uphill.
We moved to Taiwan just before the start of the rainy season last year. It looks like it might be raining more this year, but that might only be because of the drought. There could be the same amount of rain as last year, or less, for all I know. The biggest difference for me is that I drive to work. Last year, I took the MRT to work at the beginning of the rainy season. I like rain, and recognize the good it does, especially after a drought. But taking the MRT to work during a monsoon is not ideal. I had to walk in the rain to the station, walk down the wet steps to get into the station, walk up the wet steps to get out of a different station, and walk to my building. I don't know what it is or why, but pretty much every stairway in Taiwan is wrong. They are either too narrow, too crooked, too small or too loose. Getting them wet is not an improvement. The only good thing about all the defective stairs in Taiwan is that I have ample experience with all the defective stairs in China. This is all probably a first world complaint, but falling down stairs, wet or dry, could be hazardous to my career.
Driving to work in the rain is much easier. I get into my car in my apartment building's underground parking and get out in my work's underground parking. My shoes never have to touch wet ground. In fact, I can wear whatever shoes I want, rather than my weatherproof Timberland boots. Driving in heavy rain is more dangerous than walking to the MRT station, but driving in Taiwan is inherently dangerous, regardless of weather conditions.
During the drought, my swimming pool with a gym opened a new gym with a swimming pool. But the pool was closed because of the drought. Once the drought ended, they opened the pool. But it is an outdoor pool, so they immediately closed it due to heavy rain. In July, the sun started to come out. And I say it's all right. It is still the rainy season. Blue skies can turn gray faster than the south seceded. White clouds can turn black faster than Al Jolson. But we have had a few hours here and there without rain.
My problems quickly turned from meteorological to logistical. My preference is to swim at the gym in the morning and exercise later at night. When the swimming pool was closed for the drought, I mostly rode a bicycle or ran in the morning, on the rare mornings it was not raining too heavily. When it rains, I can always ride a fake bike and run on a treadmill at the gym. But I still could not swim. When it stopped raining as much, I thought that would solve everything. But when they opened the swimming pool after the drought, they decided it should only be open from 09:00 to 18:00. That does not work for me at all. My morning ride/run/swim is usually around 05:00. I think the pool should be open whenever the gym is. They disagree. Somehow, I went from a swimming pool with a tiny gym that I never used to a gym with a pool I will rarely use.
It is supposed to rain tomorrow, so I doubt I will do anything outdoors. But at least the worst drought was one of the shortest.
Thursday, May 13, 2021
Burn You Up, Burn You Down
Way back in the olden days of January, I joined a gym near my house. I did not join for the gym. That part of the building was unimpressive. I joined for the swimming pools. Specifically, the lap pool with a dozen lanes, the ample hot tubs, and the water massages.
Before the swimming pool, I would jog or ride a bicycle every morning. I was thinking about buying my own bicycle since I always use the city bikes that are parked all over town. Having my own bicycle would save me NT$40 a day, and even though the city bikes are well maintained, anything I bought would probably be a better quality.
After I joined the gym, I mostly swam every morning, and ran or biked maybe once a week. Buying my own bicycle was no longer a priority. Though I did miss riding along the river in the morning. I love swimming, but the pool was indoors, so riding a bicycle outdoors was always a nice change of pace. And the more I thought about it, the more convenient the city bikes were. When I want to use one, I go to any one of a number of stations, scan it out with my MRT card, and return it to any station when finished. Every bicycle has a locking system, but parking and security are not much of an issue when you only have it with you while riding. I never have to oil chains, find a place to keep it, and best of all, I have never had to fix a flat tire. NT$40 is literally spare change. I have no idea what coffee costs, but NT$40 could buy two bottles of water from 7-Eleven.
Then everything changed. As it often does. The current drought closed the swimming pool, which upset pretty much every member of the gym. Almost no one went there for the exercise equipment. Everyone was in it for the pools. Since we were all members, and we had all paid our fees in advance, the gym was in a sticky situation. Giving everyone their money back would probably destroy the gym financially, and doing nothing was not an option. Taiwanese culture encourages complaining, even more than Chinese culture. Since most of the members were in a high enough tax bracket to usually get what they want, legal action was on the table. The government that forced the gym to close the swimming pools probably would have sided with the members over the gym.
Fortunately for all concerned, they were already working on opening a new facility. The timing of the drought was not ideal, but droughts rarely are.
About two years ago, the company that owns the swimming pools started building a new gym. Everyone agreed that the gym in the pool building was a waste of space, but there was no possible way to add onto the building without the neighbors volunteering to abandon their properties. Instead, they built an entirely new building on a separate site.
The new gym is maybe one hundred times larger. That sounds like a ridiculous exaggeration, but the old gym was tiny and the new one is pretty big. The gym above the swimming pool was no bigger than a standard business hotel gym, with two treadmills, two exercise bikes, some light free weights and a couple of yoga mats. The new gym is five stories, with an entire floor of treadmills and exercise bikes, including a few recumbent bikes. It also has a wide variety of machines for each muscle group, including more than a few machines I have not figured out how to use yet.
Most importantly, there is a swimming pool. It does not have as many lanes as the old pool, but it is long enough for laps. Unlike the old pool, it is outdoors, which might be a challenge in an environment like Taiwan. The fewer hot tubs are smaller and indoors, and segregated by gender. I like that part. Unfortunately, the pool and hot tubs are just as closed by the drought as the old pools. When they designed and built it, there was no drought. By the time the gym opened, they were not allowed to use enough water to fill them. They look like they will be nice to use someday.
The old pool was a quick walk from my apartment. The new gym is a quick drive. So far, there is more than enough parking. That will probably change as membership increases. But I have already found a solution to a future problem that may or may not ever occur. My apartment is close to a river. Along the river are a series of parks with bicycle paths. One particular path can take me from practically my front door to within a block of the gym. There are city bicycle stations all along the river and one in front of the gym. Since the city bikes are free for the first 30 minutes, I can ride to the gym for the same price as walking, and get there much faster. At this point, I see no reason to buy my own bicycle.
Since the new gym is much larger, so are the showers and locker rooms. At the old pool, every member could put a lock on any available locker and leave it there indefinitely. Not having to drag all your crap in every day was pretty convenient. At the new gym, all lockers are expected to be empty by midnight. I have no idea what they do with anything anyone leaves overnight, but I have decided to follow their rules and not find out. Carrying a gym bag to the gym is a pretty standard activity.
Something I could not help but notice right away was the amount of public nudity at the new gym. At the old pool, you could hang out in the locker room all day and never see anything more scandalous than someone in a bathing suit. Everyone kept things in their locker, showered in the shower cubicles and changed in the changing cubicles. At the new gym, there are no changing cubicles. I would assume that most Taiwanese, being a fairly modest and shy people, would change in the showers. Instead, everyone changes at their lockers. And since the segregated saunas are adjacent to the locker rooms, some casually walk from one to the other as naked as dolphins. When I lived in China, I used to say that if you were a 12-year-old boy with the super power to turn invisible, China would be a disappointing place. As it turns out, a Taiwanese gym would be just as good as a 1980s teen movie.
At the old pool, no towels were allowed beyond the locker rooms. I never understood that rule. At the new gym, using towels with the machines is encouraged, though most people walk around without one. Gym etiquette is a little different here than anywhere else I have worked out. Rather than let a towel catch your drippings, everyone lets whatever comes out of their bodies onto the machines. But there is always a spray bottle full of isopropyl alcohol near every machine. Instead of wiping off a machine after use with a towel, everyone sprays alcohol on the machine before use. A wide variety of disinfectants have been pretty much everywhere since the last SARS outbreak, and no one thinks twice about spraying and/or wiping surfaces on a regular basis. I don't know anything about the gym's maintenance schedule, but I have seen employees practically hose down machines with alcohol when not in use.
With the loss of the old swimming pools and the addition of the new gym, I went back to jogging or riding a bicycle outdoors in nature every morning, or at least the closest thing we get to nature around here. And now I go to a real gym at night. Someday, I will be able to swim at night, or in the morning, but for now, I climb onto strange machines and push weights around while listening to music on a telephone. Just as nature intended.
Before the swimming pool, I would jog or ride a bicycle every morning. I was thinking about buying my own bicycle since I always use the city bikes that are parked all over town. Having my own bicycle would save me NT$40 a day, and even though the city bikes are well maintained, anything I bought would probably be a better quality.
After I joined the gym, I mostly swam every morning, and ran or biked maybe once a week. Buying my own bicycle was no longer a priority. Though I did miss riding along the river in the morning. I love swimming, but the pool was indoors, so riding a bicycle outdoors was always a nice change of pace. And the more I thought about it, the more convenient the city bikes were. When I want to use one, I go to any one of a number of stations, scan it out with my MRT card, and return it to any station when finished. Every bicycle has a locking system, but parking and security are not much of an issue when you only have it with you while riding. I never have to oil chains, find a place to keep it, and best of all, I have never had to fix a flat tire. NT$40 is literally spare change. I have no idea what coffee costs, but NT$40 could buy two bottles of water from 7-Eleven.
Then everything changed. As it often does. The current drought closed the swimming pool, which upset pretty much every member of the gym. Almost no one went there for the exercise equipment. Everyone was in it for the pools. Since we were all members, and we had all paid our fees in advance, the gym was in a sticky situation. Giving everyone their money back would probably destroy the gym financially, and doing nothing was not an option. Taiwanese culture encourages complaining, even more than Chinese culture. Since most of the members were in a high enough tax bracket to usually get what they want, legal action was on the table. The government that forced the gym to close the swimming pools probably would have sided with the members over the gym.
Fortunately for all concerned, they were already working on opening a new facility. The timing of the drought was not ideal, but droughts rarely are.
About two years ago, the company that owns the swimming pools started building a new gym. Everyone agreed that the gym in the pool building was a waste of space, but there was no possible way to add onto the building without the neighbors volunteering to abandon their properties. Instead, they built an entirely new building on a separate site.
The new gym is maybe one hundred times larger. That sounds like a ridiculous exaggeration, but the old gym was tiny and the new one is pretty big. The gym above the swimming pool was no bigger than a standard business hotel gym, with two treadmills, two exercise bikes, some light free weights and a couple of yoga mats. The new gym is five stories, with an entire floor of treadmills and exercise bikes, including a few recumbent bikes. It also has a wide variety of machines for each muscle group, including more than a few machines I have not figured out how to use yet.
Most importantly, there is a swimming pool. It does not have as many lanes as the old pool, but it is long enough for laps. Unlike the old pool, it is outdoors, which might be a challenge in an environment like Taiwan. The fewer hot tubs are smaller and indoors, and segregated by gender. I like that part. Unfortunately, the pool and hot tubs are just as closed by the drought as the old pools. When they designed and built it, there was no drought. By the time the gym opened, they were not allowed to use enough water to fill them. They look like they will be nice to use someday.
The old pool was a quick walk from my apartment. The new gym is a quick drive. So far, there is more than enough parking. That will probably change as membership increases. But I have already found a solution to a future problem that may or may not ever occur. My apartment is close to a river. Along the river are a series of parks with bicycle paths. One particular path can take me from practically my front door to within a block of the gym. There are city bicycle stations all along the river and one in front of the gym. Since the city bikes are free for the first 30 minutes, I can ride to the gym for the same price as walking, and get there much faster. At this point, I see no reason to buy my own bicycle.
Since the new gym is much larger, so are the showers and locker rooms. At the old pool, every member could put a lock on any available locker and leave it there indefinitely. Not having to drag all your crap in every day was pretty convenient. At the new gym, all lockers are expected to be empty by midnight. I have no idea what they do with anything anyone leaves overnight, but I have decided to follow their rules and not find out. Carrying a gym bag to the gym is a pretty standard activity.
Something I could not help but notice right away was the amount of public nudity at the new gym. At the old pool, you could hang out in the locker room all day and never see anything more scandalous than someone in a bathing suit. Everyone kept things in their locker, showered in the shower cubicles and changed in the changing cubicles. At the new gym, there are no changing cubicles. I would assume that most Taiwanese, being a fairly modest and shy people, would change in the showers. Instead, everyone changes at their lockers. And since the segregated saunas are adjacent to the locker rooms, some casually walk from one to the other as naked as dolphins. When I lived in China, I used to say that if you were a 12-year-old boy with the super power to turn invisible, China would be a disappointing place. As it turns out, a Taiwanese gym would be just as good as a 1980s teen movie.
At the old pool, no towels were allowed beyond the locker rooms. I never understood that rule. At the new gym, using towels with the machines is encouraged, though most people walk around without one. Gym etiquette is a little different here than anywhere else I have worked out. Rather than let a towel catch your drippings, everyone lets whatever comes out of their bodies onto the machines. But there is always a spray bottle full of isopropyl alcohol near every machine. Instead of wiping off a machine after use with a towel, everyone sprays alcohol on the machine before use. A wide variety of disinfectants have been pretty much everywhere since the last SARS outbreak, and no one thinks twice about spraying and/or wiping surfaces on a regular basis. I don't know anything about the gym's maintenance schedule, but I have seen employees practically hose down machines with alcohol when not in use.
With the loss of the old swimming pools and the addition of the new gym, I went back to jogging or riding a bicycle outdoors in nature every morning, or at least the closest thing we get to nature around here. And now I go to a real gym at night. Someday, I will be able to swim at night, or in the morning, but for now, I climb onto strange machines and push weights around while listening to music on a telephone. Just as nature intended.
Tuesday, May 11, 2021
Walk Through the Fire
Taiwan is in the middle of a drought. The news is calling it the biggest drought in 50 years. But they always say things like that. Every single year, they dramatically announce that one day in January is the coldest day of the year, even though the year just started, and the coldest day of every year is always in January. If some white supremacist “patriot” assassinates Biden, it will be the biggest American assassination of the 21st century. None of the cable news channels will point out that it was also the first presidential assassination of the 21st century.
I would be amazed if the US Secret Service reads this blog, but just in case, I want to point out how ironic I would consider it if Biden were assassinated. Then a black woman would become president. That is not exactly what the white supremacists want, but are any of them astute enough to figure that out? To be safe, they could take out both the president and vice president. That would be dramatic enough to get them the attention their parents obviously never gave them as children. But then the speaker of the house would become president. All those brave patriots might want to hold off on the killing spree, at least until the next election.
Whether our drought is the most dramatic event in the history of the world or a bit of an inconvenience, it has people talking, complaining, and vowing to make changes. Though most of the country is a subtropical forest, the entire west coast was deforested generations ago. The east coast still gets more than enough rain every year, but almost everyone lives on the west coast, and for reasons a lot of people do not understand, there is no system to transfer water from east to west. There used to be a time when the large mountain ranges between the coasts hindered transportation, but 21st century technology must have a way to get water around mountains.
Taiwan is entirely responsible for turning the lush west coast into steel and concrete, but other countries, mostly China and the United States, are responsible for the lower rainfall every year. But as long as today has record profits, who cares about tomorrow, right? We moved to Kaohsiung during typhoon season, so we saw plenty of rain when we first got here, but it has rained little since. It was only when people started talking about the drought that I noticed how seldom it was raining. Since I came from Hong Kong, I liked how I could leave the house without an umbrella. Typhoon season is coming up, so people are expecting more rain soon, but it will have to pour like there is no tomorrow to flood the drought. We need a large typhoon with all of its water to hit us directly, rather than simply pass by and give us its wind.
As is often the case, there will be some changes made because of this drought. Rather than think ahead, the people in charge of this country, just like the people in charge of every country, react to the complaints of their constituents more than they anticipate a disaster and solve it before anyone threatens to vote for someone else. Taiwan has handled this virus issue much better than most countries. But not because the leaders had the foresight to expend considerable resources on a future emergency that might never come. Taiwan's leaders were fully prepared for SARS 2 because of experience gained from SARS 1. If American leaders are smart, they will learn from their current situation and prepare for the next one, just as Taiwan did. If history is any indication, one political party will show the other who is the boss, and screw over the people.
One of the best things about Taiwan is that one political party does not dismantle everything done by another party. If the people in charge now can find a way to prevent future droughts, the other parties will keep everything in place when they take over. But first, someone has to find a way to prevent future droughts.
I would be amazed if the US Secret Service reads this blog, but just in case, I want to point out how ironic I would consider it if Biden were assassinated. Then a black woman would become president. That is not exactly what the white supremacists want, but are any of them astute enough to figure that out? To be safe, they could take out both the president and vice president. That would be dramatic enough to get them the attention their parents obviously never gave them as children. But then the speaker of the house would become president. All those brave patriots might want to hold off on the killing spree, at least until the next election.
Whether our drought is the most dramatic event in the history of the world or a bit of an inconvenience, it has people talking, complaining, and vowing to make changes. Though most of the country is a subtropical forest, the entire west coast was deforested generations ago. The east coast still gets more than enough rain every year, but almost everyone lives on the west coast, and for reasons a lot of people do not understand, there is no system to transfer water from east to west. There used to be a time when the large mountain ranges between the coasts hindered transportation, but 21st century technology must have a way to get water around mountains.
Taiwan is entirely responsible for turning the lush west coast into steel and concrete, but other countries, mostly China and the United States, are responsible for the lower rainfall every year. But as long as today has record profits, who cares about tomorrow, right? We moved to Kaohsiung during typhoon season, so we saw plenty of rain when we first got here, but it has rained little since. It was only when people started talking about the drought that I noticed how seldom it was raining. Since I came from Hong Kong, I liked how I could leave the house without an umbrella. Typhoon season is coming up, so people are expecting more rain soon, but it will have to pour like there is no tomorrow to flood the drought. We need a large typhoon with all of its water to hit us directly, rather than simply pass by and give us its wind.
As is often the case, there will be some changes made because of this drought. Rather than think ahead, the people in charge of this country, just like the people in charge of every country, react to the complaints of their constituents more than they anticipate a disaster and solve it before anyone threatens to vote for someone else. Taiwan has handled this virus issue much better than most countries. But not because the leaders had the foresight to expend considerable resources on a future emergency that might never come. Taiwan's leaders were fully prepared for SARS 2 because of experience gained from SARS 1. If American leaders are smart, they will learn from their current situation and prepare for the next one, just as Taiwan did. If history is any indication, one political party will show the other who is the boss, and screw over the people.
One of the best things about Taiwan is that one political party does not dismantle everything done by another party. If the people in charge now can find a way to prevent future droughts, the other parties will keep everything in place when they take over. But first, someone has to find a way to prevent future droughts.
Monday, February 22, 2021
Year Of the Ox
My first New Year in Taiwan was not all that different from New Year in China. Technically, they both last 15 days, from New Year's Day to the Lantern Festival. In China, banks and schools close for the first three days, and people count the weekend before or after as part of their holiday vacation, even if they always get weekends off. In Taiwan, banks and schools close on New Year's Eve, the first three days, and a few extra days to make it a true vacation. Since the main days were on the weekend this year, the days off were the Wednesday before New Year's Eve to the following Tuesday. For some people, that gives them a full day to prepare and a day or two to wind down after all the hoopla has passed.
On Thursday, New Year's Eve, I went to dinner at a friend's house. It was a big family dinner, but guests are always welcome at Chinese dinners. Despite being New Year's Eve, it was nothing like a party atmosphere. We ate an entirely too large meal and played some card games. This particular family is fond of gambling, so more than a few bills changed hands. I won more than I lost, but I did not win too much to ever get invited back.
As often happens, this family was surprised that I can speak their language. Inevitably, I was asked how long I have lived in Taiwan. Everyone is amazed when I tell them I have only been here for nine months. Then they are less amazed when I point out that I moved here from China. At that point, most people just want me to tell them that I like Taiwan better than China. That is a big issue around here.
Another difference between what I think of as a New Year's Eve party was that it ended long before midnight. I was home before 22:00. Rather than a rowdy New Year, I knew it was midnight when I was reading on the sofa and heard an invasion's worth of fireworks outside. The year of the rat was now the year of the ox.
Friday, New Year's Day, was temple day. You are supposed to go to your local temple and honor your dead ancestors. I have none in Taiwan, and my grandparents would have considered burning incense and leaving food on a table as strange. My grandmother would say, “Dead people don't need to eat. That's a waste of perfectly good food.” But anything left at temples is donated either to the monks or to whichever organizations they sponsor. Nothing is wasted. Burning fake money for the dead, on the other hand, is just silly.
Dinner was with another friend's family. No gambling this time, but more than enough food for several families. The first day of the new year is when older family members give red envelopes to younger family. Generally, adults give to children, but older adults can also give to younger adults if they are not married. I was surprised when a few people gave me red envelopes. I am definitely not married, but older than most people of red envelope age. It was more of a welcome to our home on this special day kind of thing.
One of the biggest differences between China and Taiwan was made the most obvious on this day. In most of China, it is pretty illegal to light your own fireworks. Big cities like Hong Kong have enormous, organized public shows. In Taiwan, anyone can blow things up in the street. And they do. There were explosions all week, but nothing as loud or constant as on New Year's Day. Taiwan also has a large stray dog population. I don't know how they react to a week of fireworks.
Saturday, the second day, is when adult daughters go back to visit their parents. Traditionally, when a girl got married, she went from being her parents' property to her husband's property, so she spent holidays with her husband's family. The second day of the New Year was set aside so she could see her parents. China is a bit of a large country, so before planes and bullet trains, some daughters would only see their parents one day a year.
Taiwan is much smaller than China. You can fit over 250 Taiwans inside China. The fastest high speed train can get from one end of the country to the other in about 90 minutes. You can fly from Kaohsiung to Taipei in under an hour, but with all the time spent at the airport, the train is faster. Taiwanese women also put up with a lot less bullshit than Chinese women, so they don't need a special day to visit their parents.
I had another dinner with a friend's parents. She sees them all the time, but this was still a special day for them. The food was different on each day, but they were also with different families. One thing they all had in common was that they made entirely too much. I can appreciate being an invited guest into someone's home, but I can only eat so much. Chinese culture, much like so many other cultures, insists that you eat until you vomit. At least during special meals. A normal dinner on a normal day is typically pretty small. No matter the occasion, I simply do not eat all that much. I realize that I offend most hosts by not gorging myself, and they all assume I am eating less because I do not like what they have made, no matter what I say to the contrary, but I am selfish enough to think that I should have the right to determine how much I can tolerate.
By Sunday, the third day, no one really cared about the holiday anymore. There were plenty of fireworks in the street, but no more big family dinners. Probably because they all started celebrating on Wednesday. By Monday, it was business as usual, though banks and schools were still closed. Everything else was open and ready to make that sweet ox money.
The New Year ends at the Lantern Festival on February 26. I have no idea how or if anyone is going to celebrate that. It was always a big deal in Hong Kong. We will see what happens in Taiwan.
On Thursday, New Year's Eve, I went to dinner at a friend's house. It was a big family dinner, but guests are always welcome at Chinese dinners. Despite being New Year's Eve, it was nothing like a party atmosphere. We ate an entirely too large meal and played some card games. This particular family is fond of gambling, so more than a few bills changed hands. I won more than I lost, but I did not win too much to ever get invited back.
As often happens, this family was surprised that I can speak their language. Inevitably, I was asked how long I have lived in Taiwan. Everyone is amazed when I tell them I have only been here for nine months. Then they are less amazed when I point out that I moved here from China. At that point, most people just want me to tell them that I like Taiwan better than China. That is a big issue around here.
Another difference between what I think of as a New Year's Eve party was that it ended long before midnight. I was home before 22:00. Rather than a rowdy New Year, I knew it was midnight when I was reading on the sofa and heard an invasion's worth of fireworks outside. The year of the rat was now the year of the ox.
Friday, New Year's Day, was temple day. You are supposed to go to your local temple and honor your dead ancestors. I have none in Taiwan, and my grandparents would have considered burning incense and leaving food on a table as strange. My grandmother would say, “Dead people don't need to eat. That's a waste of perfectly good food.” But anything left at temples is donated either to the monks or to whichever organizations they sponsor. Nothing is wasted. Burning fake money for the dead, on the other hand, is just silly.
Dinner was with another friend's family. No gambling this time, but more than enough food for several families. The first day of the new year is when older family members give red envelopes to younger family. Generally, adults give to children, but older adults can also give to younger adults if they are not married. I was surprised when a few people gave me red envelopes. I am definitely not married, but older than most people of red envelope age. It was more of a welcome to our home on this special day kind of thing.
One of the biggest differences between China and Taiwan was made the most obvious on this day. In most of China, it is pretty illegal to light your own fireworks. Big cities like Hong Kong have enormous, organized public shows. In Taiwan, anyone can blow things up in the street. And they do. There were explosions all week, but nothing as loud or constant as on New Year's Day. Taiwan also has a large stray dog population. I don't know how they react to a week of fireworks.
Saturday, the second day, is when adult daughters go back to visit their parents. Traditionally, when a girl got married, she went from being her parents' property to her husband's property, so she spent holidays with her husband's family. The second day of the New Year was set aside so she could see her parents. China is a bit of a large country, so before planes and bullet trains, some daughters would only see their parents one day a year.
Taiwan is much smaller than China. You can fit over 250 Taiwans inside China. The fastest high speed train can get from one end of the country to the other in about 90 minutes. You can fly from Kaohsiung to Taipei in under an hour, but with all the time spent at the airport, the train is faster. Taiwanese women also put up with a lot less bullshit than Chinese women, so they don't need a special day to visit their parents.
I had another dinner with a friend's parents. She sees them all the time, but this was still a special day for them. The food was different on each day, but they were also with different families. One thing they all had in common was that they made entirely too much. I can appreciate being an invited guest into someone's home, but I can only eat so much. Chinese culture, much like so many other cultures, insists that you eat until you vomit. At least during special meals. A normal dinner on a normal day is typically pretty small. No matter the occasion, I simply do not eat all that much. I realize that I offend most hosts by not gorging myself, and they all assume I am eating less because I do not like what they have made, no matter what I say to the contrary, but I am selfish enough to think that I should have the right to determine how much I can tolerate.
By Sunday, the third day, no one really cared about the holiday anymore. There were plenty of fireworks in the street, but no more big family dinners. Probably because they all started celebrating on Wednesday. By Monday, it was business as usual, though banks and schools were still closed. Everything else was open and ready to make that sweet ox money.
The New Year ends at the Lantern Festival on February 26. I have no idea how or if anyone is going to celebrate that. It was always a big deal in Hong Kong. We will see what happens in Taiwan.
Thursday, January 21, 2021
Membership Has Its Privileges
I wanted a pool photograph, but have surprisingly few.
This is the Bali villa where I stayed a few years ago.
I love to swim. Anyone who knows me, knows that about me. People who barely know me, know that about me. If you are a time traveler and want to warn me about something that is going to happen in the future, whatever you do, don't use my love of swimming as a way to convince me that we will know each other. That would be like telling me I can breathe a mixture of mostly nitrogen and oxygen.
Special note to all you time travelers out there: You already know what to say to convince me because I will tell you later.
When I lived in Hong Kong, swimming pools were few and far between. My last apartment was a few blocks from a sports complex with a public pool. There was also a YMCA at the Cityview Hotel, but I have no idea if they had a pool. Farther south was Kowloon Park, which has an outdoor swimming pool. I always found that ironic since Chinese people hate the sun. Almost all swimming pools are indoors.
The problem with public pools in Hong Kong was never really the pools. It was the public. The first time you see a child standing at the edge of a pool, his mother holding his penis and pointing it directly into the pool so he can relieve himself, you think that is odd, and more than a little horrifying. The third time you see it, you wonder if this is some Chinese tradition for baptizing pools. Who needs a bottle of champagne when the urine of young boys is an infinite resource.
I try not to blame an entire culture whenever a single person does something insane. If we did that, where would it leave the United States? But I will definitely look for a different pool after I see it used as a piss bucket. When I saw a grown adult man use a swimming pool as a toilet, and not just for fluids, I vowed to never set foot anywhere near a Chinese swimming pool again. The only positive to any of these encounters was that I was not actually in the water at the time. I would still be in the shower if I had been.
My only safe haven for swimming in Hong Kong was the big house at Clear Water Bay. That was a private swimming pool at a private residence. The only people who ever used the pool were the owners, who probably never used it, and mostly me when we took our annual visits. The owner and his wife are an older couple who do not strike me as particularly active. For them, the pool is more likely a status symbol than a means of exercise. Having your own swimming pool at your house is something you can brag about in Hong Kong.
When I moved to Taiwan, I was wary of public pools. Taiwan is not in China, but the culture is more or less the same. Hongkongers say that Mainlanders act like wild animals, but Taiwanese say the same about both. I don't remember anyone in China saying much of anything about the Taiwanese. Unfortunately, we know no one in Taiwan who has their own private pool in the backyard. Or even a backyard.
There is a gym close to my apartment. The actual gym part is pretty half-assed, and they have yoga classes I have not taken yet, but I went to check out the swimming pool. The only way to swim without becoming a member is to pay a high visitor fee. I liked that because, in Taiwan, the people most likely to abuse the pool are least likely to pay the highest prices to get in. There are plenty of public pools around town that are far cheaper to use and require no membership. I paid too much to use the pool and immediately became a member.
The swimming pool has a dozen lap lanes, ranging from 1 meter deep to 5 meters. The weakest swimmers always stay away from the 5 meter lanes. No human alive today can touch the bottom of that one. There is a separate children's pool that does not come in contact with the lap pool, so I can easily ignore any shenanigans in the children's area. Next to the lap pool is a large hot tub area with two 10-person hot tubs, three 4-person hot tubs, and several individual hot tubs. So far, I have tested the larger hot tubs and a few of the singles. They all seem to have different temperatures and jet levels. There is also a shallow pool that is entirely too hot. Taiwan is a hot springs culture, and while none of the water here is from a natural spring, some of it is on the hotter than necessary side. Since all of the pools are indoors, in one large cavern of a room, even the coldest pools stay warm. The pool area is a bit of a steam room. Anyone not used to Taiwan's humidity might think the place is too humid, but I find it pretty mild. There are also literal steam rooms, segregated by gender.
Near the hot tubs are a wall of water massages. High pressure water drops down two meters. People sit or stand under them and let the water massage their heads and shoulders. I found the pressure too high and would never get my head anywhere near any of those jets, but older people love it. I have never seen anyone under 50 under those things.
Since this is Taiwan, there are more than a few rules. No shoes can be worn past the lobby. Between the lobby and the women's locker room, there is a smaller room where everyone can take off their shoes and put on their slippers. I assume the men's locker room has a similar setup. Not wearing shoes indoors is pretty common around here, and not wearing shoes in a swimming pool makes perfect sense.
Everyone has to wear bathing suits past the locker room. That seems reasonable. Taiwan is not exactly famous for its public nudity. But that also means parents who want to watch their children in the kiddie pool also have to wear bathing suits, even if they have no intention of touching the water. Everyone also has to wear swimming caps, which I could do without. That seems to be a nationwide rule. Taiwanese would be just as shocked to see a swimmer without a swimming cap as they would without a bathing suit.
Not only are no street clothes allowed in the pool area, which makes sense, but no towels are allowed past the locker rooms. I do not understand this one. When you get out of one pool or another, you have to go to your locker, dripping wet, before you can get your towel. This is probably one reason the locker room floor is always soaking wet. They have those rubber jigsaw pieces to keep everyone from falling down, but there is no dry floor anywhere near the lockers. This makes changing at your locker impossible, unless you want to get your clothes wet. Not that anyone in Taiwan would change in front of their locker. Everyone changes in private, and dry, changing cubicles. So to avoid any hint of nudity, we walk dripping wet to our lockers and get whatever we need, bring everything to a wet shower cubicle, bring everything to a dry changing cubicle, and then go back to the wet locker to put away whatever we want to leave at the gym.
The good news is that every member has their own dedicated locker. That means we do not have to bring a gym bag with us every time we go. Some people might keep a bag in their car, but since I walk to the gym, it is nice to have everything I need already there. No advanced planning is required.
The entire gym is open 24H, except during lunch. You can go there at 3 o'clock in the morning, but not at noon. I asked them when they clean the pools and was shown their maintenance schedule. The good news is that they clean the pool daily and completely empty it once a week. The bad news is that it is obviously not open 24H. Even the half-assed gym closes for cleaning. I don't have a problem with any of this. I think regular maintenance is a good thing. But maybe they should not advertise as being open 24H when, at most, they are open for 19.
The strangest part about the entire operation is that there is ample parking. That is rare in Kaohsiung. Unless, of course, I can walk to it. I don't need to park since I can walk from my apartment in ten minutes. This seems to be a theme in Kaohsiung. Overall, it is difficult to park in this city, outside of shopping malls and the main train station. But the places I can easily walk to always seem to have plenty of parking.
Friday, September 25, 2020
A Few Differences Between Hong Kong and Kaohsiung
I lived in Hong Kong for almost ten years. To some expats, that makes me an expert. I disagree. I think it takes a lifetime to fully understand a place like Hong Kong. Maybe after 30 or 40 years, I could claim to know something about the city.
I have lived in Kaohsiung for four months. That means I know almost nothing about the place. I know how to find my apartment and how to get to the places I need to go. I know where to get food and how to pay bills. I know where the best parking lots are and on which streets it is impossible to park. I can look like I live here, mostly because I do, but I cannot tell you about the heart and soul of Kaohsiung.
But I can recognize some of the differences between Hong Kong and Kaohsiung. I realize that this kind of thing would be better after I have been here for a few years and know more about Kaohsiung, but I also realize that after a few years in Kaohsiung, I will find it less exotic and I will probably talk more about other places. When I first moved to Hong Kong, every blog post was about Hong Kong. Everything was new and different. In the end, I rarely mentioned Hong Kong. When you live anywhere long enough, it is simply where you live.
The weather in Hong Kong and Kaohsiung is pretty much the same. They are practically at the same latitude and both in humid tropical zones. It rains more in Hong Kong and is hotter in Kaohsiung. The biggest difference is that Kaohsiung is more prone to typhoons. Both cities face the South China Sea, which receives every Pacific typhoon that does not swing north and crash into Japan. But Hong Kong is largely protected by the Philippines and Taiwan. A typhoon has to fit through a narrow corridor to hit Hong Kong directly. Most storms hit the Philippines, Taiwan and/or Fujian, bringing only rain and wind to Hong Kong. Taiwan is only protected to the south by the Philippines, and is wide open to the east. Kaohsiung is on the southwest coast, which is directly in the path of every storm that hits Fujian or turns north from the Philippines, but the overwhelming majority of typhoons hit Taiwan's central east coast, which is one of the reasons that area is sparsely populated. Since I moved during typhoon season, I have seen more rain in Kaohsiung than sun, but I am told that most of the year, Kaohsiung is far sunnier than Hong Kong.
The language is the same, more or less. Legally, the official languages of Hong Kong are Chinese and English. Realistically, most of the people who claim to speak English do not know it as well as they think. And Chinese is a jumble of a hundred different dialects, most of which are well represented in Hong Kong. When Hong Kong was occupied by the British, most of the Chinese population was from Guangdong. Since then, people have flooded in from all parts of China, bringing their dialects with them. You can easily find university classes taught in Cantonese, Wu, Min, Hakka, and more often than not, Putonghua. Cantonese might be the most popular dialect on the street, but Putonghua is the language of academia.
The official language of Taiwan is Chinese. Most people do not even pretend to understand English, though it is one of the most popular foreign languages taught in schools. As an island that was never really important to China, Taiwan developed its own aboriginal languages. Japan had a major impact during their occupation, but only the oldest generation remembers being forced to learn Japanese. According to the government, everyone speaks Chinese and/or Taiwanese. In Taiwan, Chinese is Putonghua, which is terribly convenient for me. But Taiwanese includes several different languages and/or dialects. Pretty much like Chinese. On paper, the overwhelming majority of people in Taiwan speak one or two languages, but you could easily fill a room with people all speaking different dialects.
In my limited experience in this country, Chinese works pretty well. I have yet to run into anyone who could not understand me, though I speak in a heavy accent to them and they speak in an unfamiliar accent to me. Several people have told me that I have a Shanghai accent, which I find odd since I have spent almost no time in Shanghai. If someone speaks Hokkien, Hakka or any other Taiwanese to me, I have no idea what they are saying. Fortunately, they are all the same in writing. There are some differences in grammar and syntax, but if you can read one dialect of Chinese, or Taiwanese, you can read them all. It is pretty much the same with English. Two people from Alabama and Australia might not understand each other in conversation, but they can read the same printed words.
China and Taiwan use a different system of measurements, other than volume, which is something to get used to since the words are the same. One 尺 is one foot in both China and Taiwan, but 1 Taiwan 尺 is 30.3cm, while 1 China 尺 is 33.3cm. One US foot is 30.48cm. Taiwan's 斤 is 600 grams, while China's 斤 is 500 grams, and 605 grams in Hong Kong. Moving from China to Taiwan means adjusting to different lengths and weights, but if you move from Japan to Taiwan, everything is the same since the Japanese converted Taiwan to their measurements during the occupation. You simply have to say the words in Chinese rather than Japanese.
The cultures of Hong Kong and Kaohsiung are the same if you go back far enough. Everyone came from China originally. But as an island that was never really important to China, Taiwan has a long history of foreign invasion and occupation, with each occupier trying to force the population to do everything their way. There is also a lot of island culture that you do not find in most of China. Hong Kong was always Chinese, until the British wanted to turn the Chinese into opium addicts. Today, any major city in Taiwan looks almost the same as any major city in China, except that China has more money and Taiwan is more relaxed.
The food in Hong Kong and Kaohsiung are night and day. Guangdong is one of the four compass points of traditional Chinese cuisine. As a British territory for almost the entire 20th century, and a more open city than most of China, Hong Kong became the modern center of Guangdong, or Yue, cuisine. When people in North America and Europe think of Chinese food, they are mostly thinking of Yue style Chinese, which is usually called Cantonese in English since Canton is the English name for Guangdong. Most American Chinese food is nothing like Chinese food in China, but the cooking style, spices and sauces that Americans know about are all Guangdong.
Taiwanese cuisine comes from Hokkien, Hakka, Japanese and a mix of southern Chinese. The ingredients are more or less the same as Hong Kong, but come from different places. Hong Kong imports a great deal of whatever it does not pull out of the ocean, while Taiwan grows almost all of its own food. The basic staples of rice and noodles are the same, but I see a wider variety of fruits, vegetables, herbs and spices in Taiwan.
Since Hong Kong is a single city, you can get the same food anywhere you go within its borders. Taiwan has different specialties in different counties. Street food is similar in that they are both cheap and fast. Hong Kong is the better place to get dim sum. Taiwan is better for dumplings. Hong Kong desserts often have a western influence, especially from France, for some reason. Taiwan desserts are far less sweet.
Hong Kong's MTR goes almost everywhere, from Aberdeen to Shenzhen, the airport to Starfish Bay. If the MTR does not reach some place, a bus or boat probably does. My transportation was 90% MTR, 8% bus, 1% boat and the rare taxi. A car in Hong Kong is both unnecessary and difficult to park.
Kaohsiung's MRT red line covers 25km north to south in a city that is 120km long. The orange line covers a 12km stretch from east to west downtown. Both lines make sense in where they go. The problem is in all the places they do not go. Hong Kong has 23 lines and over 160 stations. Kaohsiung has 2 lines and 38 stations. They are planning additional lines, but no one knows if or when they will exist.
Hong Kong has 7.5 million people crammed into 2755 square kilometers. Kaohsiung has less than 3 million in almost 3000 km2. You could say that Kong Kong is more crowded.
In Hong Kong, I mostly shopped at CitySuper and ParknShop. Wellcome is kind of a dump. Kaohsiung has Carrefour and Jasons. I never liked Jasons as much as CitySuper, but Kaohsiung Jasons is different from Hong Kong Jasons. That makes sense since Taipei CitySuper is almost nothing like Hong Kong CitySuper. My main store now is Carrefour, which does not exist in Hong Kong. I went into a Kaohsiung Wellcome to compare. It was kind of a dump.
I have lived in Kaohsiung for four months. That means I know almost nothing about the place. I know how to find my apartment and how to get to the places I need to go. I know where to get food and how to pay bills. I know where the best parking lots are and on which streets it is impossible to park. I can look like I live here, mostly because I do, but I cannot tell you about the heart and soul of Kaohsiung.
But I can recognize some of the differences between Hong Kong and Kaohsiung. I realize that this kind of thing would be better after I have been here for a few years and know more about Kaohsiung, but I also realize that after a few years in Kaohsiung, I will find it less exotic and I will probably talk more about other places. When I first moved to Hong Kong, every blog post was about Hong Kong. Everything was new and different. In the end, I rarely mentioned Hong Kong. When you live anywhere long enough, it is simply where you live.
The weather in Hong Kong and Kaohsiung is pretty much the same. They are practically at the same latitude and both in humid tropical zones. It rains more in Hong Kong and is hotter in Kaohsiung. The biggest difference is that Kaohsiung is more prone to typhoons. Both cities face the South China Sea, which receives every Pacific typhoon that does not swing north and crash into Japan. But Hong Kong is largely protected by the Philippines and Taiwan. A typhoon has to fit through a narrow corridor to hit Hong Kong directly. Most storms hit the Philippines, Taiwan and/or Fujian, bringing only rain and wind to Hong Kong. Taiwan is only protected to the south by the Philippines, and is wide open to the east. Kaohsiung is on the southwest coast, which is directly in the path of every storm that hits Fujian or turns north from the Philippines, but the overwhelming majority of typhoons hit Taiwan's central east coast, which is one of the reasons that area is sparsely populated. Since I moved during typhoon season, I have seen more rain in Kaohsiung than sun, but I am told that most of the year, Kaohsiung is far sunnier than Hong Kong.
The language is the same, more or less. Legally, the official languages of Hong Kong are Chinese and English. Realistically, most of the people who claim to speak English do not know it as well as they think. And Chinese is a jumble of a hundred different dialects, most of which are well represented in Hong Kong. When Hong Kong was occupied by the British, most of the Chinese population was from Guangdong. Since then, people have flooded in from all parts of China, bringing their dialects with them. You can easily find university classes taught in Cantonese, Wu, Min, Hakka, and more often than not, Putonghua. Cantonese might be the most popular dialect on the street, but Putonghua is the language of academia.
The official language of Taiwan is Chinese. Most people do not even pretend to understand English, though it is one of the most popular foreign languages taught in schools. As an island that was never really important to China, Taiwan developed its own aboriginal languages. Japan had a major impact during their occupation, but only the oldest generation remembers being forced to learn Japanese. According to the government, everyone speaks Chinese and/or Taiwanese. In Taiwan, Chinese is Putonghua, which is terribly convenient for me. But Taiwanese includes several different languages and/or dialects. Pretty much like Chinese. On paper, the overwhelming majority of people in Taiwan speak one or two languages, but you could easily fill a room with people all speaking different dialects.
In my limited experience in this country, Chinese works pretty well. I have yet to run into anyone who could not understand me, though I speak in a heavy accent to them and they speak in an unfamiliar accent to me. Several people have told me that I have a Shanghai accent, which I find odd since I have spent almost no time in Shanghai. If someone speaks Hokkien, Hakka or any other Taiwanese to me, I have no idea what they are saying. Fortunately, they are all the same in writing. There are some differences in grammar and syntax, but if you can read one dialect of Chinese, or Taiwanese, you can read them all. It is pretty much the same with English. Two people from Alabama and Australia might not understand each other in conversation, but they can read the same printed words.
China and Taiwan use a different system of measurements, other than volume, which is something to get used to since the words are the same. One 尺 is one foot in both China and Taiwan, but 1 Taiwan 尺 is 30.3cm, while 1 China 尺 is 33.3cm. One US foot is 30.48cm. Taiwan's 斤 is 600 grams, while China's 斤 is 500 grams, and 605 grams in Hong Kong. Moving from China to Taiwan means adjusting to different lengths and weights, but if you move from Japan to Taiwan, everything is the same since the Japanese converted Taiwan to their measurements during the occupation. You simply have to say the words in Chinese rather than Japanese.
The cultures of Hong Kong and Kaohsiung are the same if you go back far enough. Everyone came from China originally. But as an island that was never really important to China, Taiwan has a long history of foreign invasion and occupation, with each occupier trying to force the population to do everything their way. There is also a lot of island culture that you do not find in most of China. Hong Kong was always Chinese, until the British wanted to turn the Chinese into opium addicts. Today, any major city in Taiwan looks almost the same as any major city in China, except that China has more money and Taiwan is more relaxed.
The food in Hong Kong and Kaohsiung are night and day. Guangdong is one of the four compass points of traditional Chinese cuisine. As a British territory for almost the entire 20th century, and a more open city than most of China, Hong Kong became the modern center of Guangdong, or Yue, cuisine. When people in North America and Europe think of Chinese food, they are mostly thinking of Yue style Chinese, which is usually called Cantonese in English since Canton is the English name for Guangdong. Most American Chinese food is nothing like Chinese food in China, but the cooking style, spices and sauces that Americans know about are all Guangdong.
Taiwanese cuisine comes from Hokkien, Hakka, Japanese and a mix of southern Chinese. The ingredients are more or less the same as Hong Kong, but come from different places. Hong Kong imports a great deal of whatever it does not pull out of the ocean, while Taiwan grows almost all of its own food. The basic staples of rice and noodles are the same, but I see a wider variety of fruits, vegetables, herbs and spices in Taiwan.
Since Hong Kong is a single city, you can get the same food anywhere you go within its borders. Taiwan has different specialties in different counties. Street food is similar in that they are both cheap and fast. Hong Kong is the better place to get dim sum. Taiwan is better for dumplings. Hong Kong desserts often have a western influence, especially from France, for some reason. Taiwan desserts are far less sweet.
Hong Kong's MTR goes almost everywhere, from Aberdeen to Shenzhen, the airport to Starfish Bay. If the MTR does not reach some place, a bus or boat probably does. My transportation was 90% MTR, 8% bus, 1% boat and the rare taxi. A car in Hong Kong is both unnecessary and difficult to park.
Kaohsiung's MRT red line covers 25km north to south in a city that is 120km long. The orange line covers a 12km stretch from east to west downtown. Both lines make sense in where they go. The problem is in all the places they do not go. Hong Kong has 23 lines and over 160 stations. Kaohsiung has 2 lines and 38 stations. They are planning additional lines, but no one knows if or when they will exist.
Hong Kong has 7.5 million people crammed into 2755 square kilometers. Kaohsiung has less than 3 million in almost 3000 km2. You could say that Kong Kong is more crowded.
In Hong Kong, I mostly shopped at CitySuper and ParknShop. Wellcome is kind of a dump. Kaohsiung has Carrefour and Jasons. I never liked Jasons as much as CitySuper, but Kaohsiung Jasons is different from Hong Kong Jasons. That makes sense since Taipei CitySuper is almost nothing like Hong Kong CitySuper. My main store now is Carrefour, which does not exist in Hong Kong. I went into a Kaohsiung Wellcome to compare. It was kind of a dump.
Friday, September 11, 2020
Tour Of Taiwan
South To Kaohsiung
With a choice of two freeways, driving straight from Chiayi to Kaohsiung should never take more than an hour. Unless you are stupid enough to hit Tainan at five o'clock. The best thing about having Tainan and Kaohsiung so close together is that it is easy for everyone to go from one to the other. The worst thing about having Tainan and Kaohsiung so close together is that everyone goes from one to the other. Usually right after work. We always planned on leaving Tainan long before rush hour, but we still had a few things to see.
The westernmost point in the country is in Tainan, but it is different from the other points. The north, south and east lighthouses are proper white brick and mortar cylinders on rocky capes. Guosheng Lighthouse is just a steel tower near the beach with a big light on top. Instead of a cape, the western tip is a large sand dune. That might be why they built a steel tower rather than a brick house. The beach is pretty big, but like most beaches in Taiwan, it was deserted and did not look like the kind of place anyone ever visits. Even with a sand dune, which is rare in Taiwan, there were no people around. I don't think the government has figured out a way to make it a travel destination. It was pretty disappointing, but at least I can say I have been as far north, south, east and west as you can go on the island. For whatever that's worth.
For obvious reasons, Tainan is not famous for its lighthouse. Instead, people go for the temples. If you live in Taiwan, you are bound to see a temple or two. Some are enormous. Some are tiny. Some are old. Some are slightly less old. My apartment is about a kilometer from the second largest Buddhist temple in the city and five kilometers from the largest Confucius temple in the country. There are over a thousand temples in Kaohsiung, but pound for pound, Tainan is the temple capital of Taiwan, with everything from Buddhist to Taoist to Confucian. Tainan claims to be the oldest city in the country, and unlike larger cities like Taipei and Taichung, they did not tear down most of their temples as they expanded over the centuries. That might be one reason it is the smallest 直轄市.
As the oldest city in the country, there are a few museums. Easily the most surprising is the Chimei Museum, named after a plastic manufacturing company. Built in a European neoclassical style, it looks nothing like any museum in Taiwan. Rather than a museum of art or museum of natural history or museum of antiquities, it is dedicated to 13th to 20th century paintings, prehistoric to modern weapons, ancient Greek and Roman sculptures, and European musical instruments. It is best known for having an El Greco and the largest collection of violins in the world. The main entrance has a life-size replica of Versailles' Le Bassin d'Apollon.
The fountain is your first clue that everything about this museum is an imitation of a different place. Since it is nowhere near Europe, and more humid than anywhere in Europe could get, all the artifice only serves as a reminder that this museum is pretending to be something it is not. There is no rule that says all Chinese museums have to look like they were built in the 8th century. The Southern Branch of the National Palace Museum in Chiayi looks like it was built in 2015, but it is most definitely a Chinese art museum. Who would go to the Louvre if it tried to be Indian? It is unapologetically French, as it should be.
Outside of temples and museums, Tainan is interesting ecologically. Not only is there a sand dune, but northwest of downtown is all wetlands and mangrove forests. Much of it is a national park right next to the city. Technically, we went into the park when we went to the lighthouse, but we did not spend much time exploring the wetlands. Tainan turned out to be another place where we could have easily spent a few days, but we had to get home eventually.
I knew that Tainan was the most popular city for expats before I moved to Taiwan, but I never understood why. Several cities have more jobs and better public transportation, but Tainan seems to appreciate its long history and has a wide variety of things to do in a more compact space than the larger municipalities. Taipei has an extensive metro network, but in Kaohsiung or Taichung, you are much better off with a car or scooter. Tainan has more of what you want in a big city, with a small town feel. It is yet another place I have to put on my list of places I need to get back to when I have more time.
With the short drive from Tainan to Kaohsiung, we had circumnavigated Taiwan, counterclockwise. We drove through every county on the mainland. We spent the night on the west coast, up north, east coast, and about as far south as you can get. We drove up mountains, past volcanoes, over rivers, through forests, across plains, and up to beaches. Our streets were national highways that span almost the entire length of the country to tiny village roads, and everything in between. We stopped for gas in large cities, small townships, and at least one gas station on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. We drove 2,164 kilometers, which is five times the length of the country, if it were possible to drive in a straight line from one end to the other. We ate 15 meals and more snacks than either of us care to admit. We stopped at 7-Eleven and/or FamilyMart at least a dozen times, and noticed that while 7-Eleven easily dominates the west coast, there seem to be more FamilyMarts on the east coast, especially in Yilan.
Taiwan is a relatively small island. We went to every corner and deep into the middle. But we still barely scratched the surface.
The westernmost point in the country is in Tainan, but it is different from the other points. The north, south and east lighthouses are proper white brick and mortar cylinders on rocky capes. Guosheng Lighthouse is just a steel tower near the beach with a big light on top. Instead of a cape, the western tip is a large sand dune. That might be why they built a steel tower rather than a brick house. The beach is pretty big, but like most beaches in Taiwan, it was deserted and did not look like the kind of place anyone ever visits. Even with a sand dune, which is rare in Taiwan, there were no people around. I don't think the government has figured out a way to make it a travel destination. It was pretty disappointing, but at least I can say I have been as far north, south, east and west as you can go on the island. For whatever that's worth.
For obvious reasons, Tainan is not famous for its lighthouse. Instead, people go for the temples. If you live in Taiwan, you are bound to see a temple or two. Some are enormous. Some are tiny. Some are old. Some are slightly less old. My apartment is about a kilometer from the second largest Buddhist temple in the city and five kilometers from the largest Confucius temple in the country. There are over a thousand temples in Kaohsiung, but pound for pound, Tainan is the temple capital of Taiwan, with everything from Buddhist to Taoist to Confucian. Tainan claims to be the oldest city in the country, and unlike larger cities like Taipei and Taichung, they did not tear down most of their temples as they expanded over the centuries. That might be one reason it is the smallest 直轄市.
As the oldest city in the country, there are a few museums. Easily the most surprising is the Chimei Museum, named after a plastic manufacturing company. Built in a European neoclassical style, it looks nothing like any museum in Taiwan. Rather than a museum of art or museum of natural history or museum of antiquities, it is dedicated to 13th to 20th century paintings, prehistoric to modern weapons, ancient Greek and Roman sculptures, and European musical instruments. It is best known for having an El Greco and the largest collection of violins in the world. The main entrance has a life-size replica of Versailles' Le Bassin d'Apollon.
The fountain is your first clue that everything about this museum is an imitation of a different place. Since it is nowhere near Europe, and more humid than anywhere in Europe could get, all the artifice only serves as a reminder that this museum is pretending to be something it is not. There is no rule that says all Chinese museums have to look like they were built in the 8th century. The Southern Branch of the National Palace Museum in Chiayi looks like it was built in 2015, but it is most definitely a Chinese art museum. Who would go to the Louvre if it tried to be Indian? It is unapologetically French, as it should be.
Outside of temples and museums, Tainan is interesting ecologically. Not only is there a sand dune, but northwest of downtown is all wetlands and mangrove forests. Much of it is a national park right next to the city. Technically, we went into the park when we went to the lighthouse, but we did not spend much time exploring the wetlands. Tainan turned out to be another place where we could have easily spent a few days, but we had to get home eventually.
I knew that Tainan was the most popular city for expats before I moved to Taiwan, but I never understood why. Several cities have more jobs and better public transportation, but Tainan seems to appreciate its long history and has a wide variety of things to do in a more compact space than the larger municipalities. Taipei has an extensive metro network, but in Kaohsiung or Taichung, you are much better off with a car or scooter. Tainan has more of what you want in a big city, with a small town feel. It is yet another place I have to put on my list of places I need to get back to when I have more time.
With the short drive from Tainan to Kaohsiung, we had circumnavigated Taiwan, counterclockwise. We drove through every county on the mainland. We spent the night on the west coast, up north, east coast, and about as far south as you can get. We drove up mountains, past volcanoes, over rivers, through forests, across plains, and up to beaches. Our streets were national highways that span almost the entire length of the country to tiny village roads, and everything in between. We stopped for gas in large cities, small townships, and at least one gas station on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. We drove 2,164 kilometers, which is five times the length of the country, if it were possible to drive in a straight line from one end to the other. We ate 15 meals and more snacks than either of us care to admit. We stopped at 7-Eleven and/or FamilyMart at least a dozen times, and noticed that while 7-Eleven easily dominates the west coast, there seem to be more FamilyMarts on the east coast, especially in Yilan.
Taiwan is a relatively small island. We went to every corner and deep into the middle. But we still barely scratched the surface.
Wednesday, September 2, 2020
Tour Of Taiwan
South Central Chiayi
The drive from Taipei to Sun Moon Lake is almost entirely on the west coast, which is city upon city, rather than any kind of country scenery. Taipei suddenly becomes Taoyuan, which dissolves into Hsinchu. The cities get smaller after Hsinchu, but they never separate. Until you are back in a large city, the second largest in the country, Taichung. There might be some interesting things in Taichung, and I should probably go there someday, but we wanted to go to Sun Moon Lake, which is more natural than the second largest city in the country. You almost have to go through Taichung to get to the lake. There is little to no scenery on the drive between Taipei and Taichung, but at least there is the choice of two freeways, running parallel. After a few days of winding mountain roads, letting loose on a freeway made my new car happy.
From Taichung, Nantou is due east into the mountains. Once you hit Nantou, Sun Moon Lake is a curved, mountain road south. The scenery was better than the west coast freeway, but that winding mountain road really slowed things down. It took an hour and 15 minutes to drive the 160km from Taipei to Taichung. It took almost the same amount of time to drive 75km to the lake.
Everyone in Taiwan says you have to go to Sun Moon Lake. It is the largest and most famous lake in the country, and home to one of the smallest indigenous tribes in Taiwan. Someone told us it is the most popular tourist sight, though claims like that have to be taken with a large block of salt. Everyone in Taiwan seems to think their best thing is the most superlative thing in the country. But as a large lake with its own tiny island in the middle, almost in the dead center of the country, surrounded by scenery and hiking trails, Sun Moon Lake is likely one of the more popular sights. Summer is supposed to be the most crowded time, but the typhoon probably made a difference.
There are plenty of boats to take people across the lake and/or to tiny Lalu Island, but I think the best way to get around is on the bicycle paths, some of which were built directly over the water. Like most scenic or recreation areas, renting a bicycle is easy and inexpensive. Also common are the temples all over the place. Since Lalu Island is sacred to the Thao people, it only makes sense that the Japanese and then the Chinese would build temples in the area. Unfortunately, Lalu Island was mostly destroyed by an earthquake in 1999, so it no longer has the sun and moon shape. Unlike a lot of places in Chinese-speaking countries, the English name “Sun Moon Lake” is a literal translation of the Chinese name, 日月潭. Now that Lalu Island is basically a large rock in the water, the name makes less sense.
There are plenty of hotels near Sun Moon Lake, but we had other plans. It is a nice enough lake, and we could have easily spent the night, but we come from Manitoba and Minnesota. Lakes are not extraordinary to us.
From Sun Moon Lake, we drove southwest instead of west back to Taichung. We were headed to Chiayi, and taking the mountain roads to the freeway was faster than taking the small Nantou freeway. We passed through Yunlin, the poorest county in the country, and the one place where no one has ever advised us to go. Since it is on the west coast, which is all about cities, there is less scenery, and Yunlin suffers from no cities that anyone seems to want to visit.
Just south of Yunlin County is Chiayi County. Chiayi City is smack dab in the middle of the county, and where the freeway goes, but we were headed to Taibao, just west of Chiayi. Rather than spend the night in another themed B&B, we stayed at a friend's house. That was really the only reason we went to Chiayi.
There were no national parks or hiking trails in Chiayi, but just like the government buildings in Taipei, the government buildings and museum in Taibao turned out to be a good place to ride a bicycle. Just north of the museum is a cultural park, with plenty of bicycles, and a long path that went pretty much nowhere. The flat plains of Chiayi were not nearly as challenging as a mountain trail, but the bicycle paths were separated from the streets, making them infinitely safer to ride.
The plains were also the easiest place to teach Lily how to drive my new car. She knows how to drive, of course, but that right hand drive steering wheel intimidated her. Most of the trip before Chiayi was mountain roads and Taipei, not the best places to drive an unfamiliar car. It also helped that Chiayi is tiny. I have never seen a single street in Kaohsiung without other cars, but Taibao is a little smaller. It is technically a 市, but it feels like a 鎮. Kaohsiung has about 7500% more people. The street from the front door of the museum to the back door of the high speed train station was empty, by Taiwan standards. The area around the train station also turned out to be a good place to practice driving. The street at the front of the station was essentially a parking lot, with taxis and relatives competing for the best spots to drop off their passengers while blocking the most traffic. But the other side of the station was a small neighborhood of absolutely nothing but short streets and empty fields.
The deserted roads only went to two different streets that headed to the station, but they were wide. Two of them were three lanes in both directions. The palm trees were trimmed and the empty fields were manicured. Someone clearly thought there would someday be something more in the neighborhood than a train station. I can't predict what will become of the area in the future, but for our purposes, it was ideal. The streets were too short for Lily to see what a Porsche can do, but she would have never been comfortable with speed anyway. Our goal was to get her used to the right hand drive. The lane markers in the road made it easy for her to position the car, even when she wanted to veer left. She quickly adjusted, as I knew she would. It is not that complicated. But she was never comfortable enough to drive on streets with traffic. That had more to do with the horrid driving habits of Taiwan than the car's steering wheel.
She has no driver's license, so we should probably stick to empty roads whenever she is behind the wheel.
From Taichung, Nantou is due east into the mountains. Once you hit Nantou, Sun Moon Lake is a curved, mountain road south. The scenery was better than the west coast freeway, but that winding mountain road really slowed things down. It took an hour and 15 minutes to drive the 160km from Taipei to Taichung. It took almost the same amount of time to drive 75km to the lake.
Everyone in Taiwan says you have to go to Sun Moon Lake. It is the largest and most famous lake in the country, and home to one of the smallest indigenous tribes in Taiwan. Someone told us it is the most popular tourist sight, though claims like that have to be taken with a large block of salt. Everyone in Taiwan seems to think their best thing is the most superlative thing in the country. But as a large lake with its own tiny island in the middle, almost in the dead center of the country, surrounded by scenery and hiking trails, Sun Moon Lake is likely one of the more popular sights. Summer is supposed to be the most crowded time, but the typhoon probably made a difference.
There are plenty of boats to take people across the lake and/or to tiny Lalu Island, but I think the best way to get around is on the bicycle paths, some of which were built directly over the water. Like most scenic or recreation areas, renting a bicycle is easy and inexpensive. Also common are the temples all over the place. Since Lalu Island is sacred to the Thao people, it only makes sense that the Japanese and then the Chinese would build temples in the area. Unfortunately, Lalu Island was mostly destroyed by an earthquake in 1999, so it no longer has the sun and moon shape. Unlike a lot of places in Chinese-speaking countries, the English name “Sun Moon Lake” is a literal translation of the Chinese name, 日月潭. Now that Lalu Island is basically a large rock in the water, the name makes less sense.
There are plenty of hotels near Sun Moon Lake, but we had other plans. It is a nice enough lake, and we could have easily spent the night, but we come from Manitoba and Minnesota. Lakes are not extraordinary to us.
From Sun Moon Lake, we drove southwest instead of west back to Taichung. We were headed to Chiayi, and taking the mountain roads to the freeway was faster than taking the small Nantou freeway. We passed through Yunlin, the poorest county in the country, and the one place where no one has ever advised us to go. Since it is on the west coast, which is all about cities, there is less scenery, and Yunlin suffers from no cities that anyone seems to want to visit.
Just south of Yunlin County is Chiayi County. Chiayi City is smack dab in the middle of the county, and where the freeway goes, but we were headed to Taibao, just west of Chiayi. Rather than spend the night in another themed B&B, we stayed at a friend's house. That was really the only reason we went to Chiayi.
There were no national parks or hiking trails in Chiayi, but just like the government buildings in Taipei, the government buildings and museum in Taibao turned out to be a good place to ride a bicycle. Just north of the museum is a cultural park, with plenty of bicycles, and a long path that went pretty much nowhere. The flat plains of Chiayi were not nearly as challenging as a mountain trail, but the bicycle paths were separated from the streets, making them infinitely safer to ride.
The plains were also the easiest place to teach Lily how to drive my new car. She knows how to drive, of course, but that right hand drive steering wheel intimidated her. Most of the trip before Chiayi was mountain roads and Taipei, not the best places to drive an unfamiliar car. It also helped that Chiayi is tiny. I have never seen a single street in Kaohsiung without other cars, but Taibao is a little smaller. It is technically a 市, but it feels like a 鎮. Kaohsiung has about 7500% more people. The street from the front door of the museum to the back door of the high speed train station was empty, by Taiwan standards. The area around the train station also turned out to be a good place to practice driving. The street at the front of the station was essentially a parking lot, with taxis and relatives competing for the best spots to drop off their passengers while blocking the most traffic. But the other side of the station was a small neighborhood of absolutely nothing but short streets and empty fields.
The deserted roads only went to two different streets that headed to the station, but they were wide. Two of them were three lanes in both directions. The palm trees were trimmed and the empty fields were manicured. Someone clearly thought there would someday be something more in the neighborhood than a train station. I can't predict what will become of the area in the future, but for our purposes, it was ideal. The streets were too short for Lily to see what a Porsche can do, but she would have never been comfortable with speed anyway. Our goal was to get her used to the right hand drive. The lane markers in the road made it easy for her to position the car, even when she wanted to veer left. She quickly adjusted, as I knew she would. It is not that complicated. But she was never comfortable enough to drive on streets with traffic. That had more to do with the horrid driving habits of Taiwan than the car's steering wheel.
She has no driver's license, so we should probably stick to empty roads whenever she is behind the wheel.
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