Taipei in 10.

I'd felt some genuine anxiety about going to Taipei for a number of weeks.  Part of it had to do with wanting it to go well, since my last year in mainland China had been such an exercise in frustration in so many ways. I'd sworn off the idea of going to Taiwan while living in Shandong province because my main objective each holiday period was to get away from 'the china' as much as possible.  Was I wrong to discount erstwhile Formosa?

The trip to Taiwan was, in a word, great.   The entire nation, seemingly, is made up of the better-heeled parents of the students from CZSS; quiet, respectable folk with modern sensibilities.  It was palpably obvious when mainlanders were nearby (on subways, at attractions...) due to the sheer volume of obnoxious sound they tend to emit en masse.  At least they were helped to be quiet by the attendants at the Palace museum, pictured above, who walked around with signs in a number of languages reminding people to be respectfully quiet in the museum.  The museum itself was top-notch, containing thousands of pieces prudently stored away during turmoil in the mainland.  Apparently they can only ever exhibit 1% of the pieces they have in total.

There were innumerable interesting pieces, but this screen from the jade exhibition hall is something I found immediately arresting. More details in woodwork and the carving of the jade emerge the more one looks at it; it seems like approximately the least affordable dressing-screen in the world.

People wax poetic about the night markets and the variety of delicious foods you can get at them.  This photo, from NingXia market, looks at the food corridor from behind one side of it.  I like it because it shows the vendors relaxing between tides of customers sweeping through.  I would have been in better stead at the market if I could read Chinese, but I had good food nonetheless.

One of the things I was excited for was seeing a bit of the landscape of Taiwan, and the closest place to do that is in YangMingShan national park.  This is how green the place is as you climb through the forest; consistent rainfall is clearly a feature.

As you get nearer to the top of QiXing mountain, the main volcano of the park, the trees drop off due to the prevailing winds and the landscape becomes dominated by long grass and a tenacious bamboo-ish cane plant.  The wind was consistent all day, which was nice because the heat was significantly more than that offered by Seoul these days (though it is warming up here).

The next day we followed a subway line to the end and then boarded a scenic gondola (part of the transit system...pretty neat) to visit a more agricultural area called MaoKong which is famous for tea cultivation.  As the pretty amazing gondola ride continued up and down hillsides and over ravines, you'd see little pockets of water amongst the jungly terrain.  I imagine it'd be exceeding nice to jump in there after you hiked up the ravine to get to it.

 This is the view back towards Taipei from MaoKong, chosen to highlight the plants.  Curiously absent from the photo are butterflies, which live in the area innumerably.

 This is the main attraction - TieGuanYin oolong tea.  White butterflies flit amongst the rows as they slowly cook in the low altitude mountainous region.  Apparently the drainage offered by the soil is in a perfect harmony to the frequent rainfall, leading to flavourful tea which we enjoyed in (allegedly) the oldest teahouse in the area.

 Less traditional and old-fashioned was the area we stayed in Taipei - XiMenDing.  It was a largely pedestrian zone clearly influenced by Japan and mainland shopping culture, with all manner of luxurious shops to buy whatever you might want.  The sum total of my shopping was food, a pair of shorts, and treats for my workmates - most of my time was simply walking about enjoying different street scenes in the evenings.

The last picture I'm putting up here shows the food stall scene in XiMen, which was significantly more spacious than NingXia but no less crowded.  The bubble teas and pork-intestine noodles were tasty, the temperatures warm, and the people quite helpful in a non-hassling kind of way.  I'd probably choose a different neighbourhood if I returned, just to be in a bit of a quieter/darker place, but not for lack of enjoyment of XiMen.

I wish I had gone to Taiwan earlier than I did, honestly.  It shows how things could be if the thugs weren't ruining things in the mainland - everything about it felt Chinese but in a positive way, where people like the place they live and want things to remain nice.  If you want to experience Chinese culture/cities, but don't want to experience large difficulties at every turn, I can heartily recommend Taipei/Taiwan.  I might even go back again before I leave Asia - who knows?

It's been a long time.

Since the last time I wrote:

Ice covered the land.
I left the ice covered land.
I returned to and interacted with the ice covered land.
I got a new job, of sorts.


Ice has a way of covering the land in Seoul.  It stays improbably warm for significantly longer than you think - I vividly remember walking around Osan air force base (where I'd gone to play volleyball with my club) in November wearing shorts and a golf shirt - and then it's over.  The air starts moving out of Russia and you break out the scarf and gloves.  This winter the weather has taken the unusual step of snowing a number of times in a couple of weeks which, combined with various sun-blocking buildings/trees/hills/etc has led to indomitable pockets of snowy/icy death that periodically deposit you horizontally as you go about your business outside of the house.  At least my apartment this year is cheaper energy-wise, so I'm not experiencing pain at home as well as when out and about.

We all limped to the finish of December classes secure in the knowledge that we were going to get out of the Siberian aura permeating the land of morning calm.  I chose my holiday spot about 8 months in advance, based on the possibility of it being my final year in Asia; the inner 8 year old Indiana Jones wanted to go to see monumental ruins, the inner 32 year old Nathan Drake wanted to clamber about looking for secret passageways, and the inner 16 year old punk wanted to go where they get things done. I went for a holiday in Cambodia.

I elected to spend the maximum time out of country this year, after returning early last year from Vietnam to a blizzard of bills, cold, and comprehensive annoyance.  Cambodia was warm in a way that Seoul never approaches...there was almost always some moisture in the air, which changes the way you experience heat.  Sweating became the new normal, with a side dish of marvelling at the Khmer guys' abilities to not sweat while wearing tailored and often intriguingly embroidered shirts.

The temples of Angkor completely deliver on the premise, continually pulling you back to contemplation of the amount of labour required to pile them up.  We visited there for 3 consecutive days, taking in various sights and acquiring a rhythm - leave early, wrap up by 11:30am, return to lower temperature in pool, siesta, then head to town to look at curios and be impressed by Khmer food.  Siem Reap is one of the most tourism-based cities I've ever been, but the presence of Angkor demands tourists.  It's on the flag for a reason.

Getting back to work in January had everyone in a bit of a rut, I think, as we muscled towards the end of the first semester and the New Year break I'm currently watching fade away. I went straight from overseeing exams/collecting depressingly large stacks of paper I need to mark, however, to escaping the city entirely, yet again.

High 1 resort was the destination for a few of my volleyball/teacher friends from Seoul and myself for a chance to hit the slopes.  The resort itself was uncrowded due to a savvy choice - attending on a holiday most Koreans are homeward bound to spend time with family. We had as many runs as we wanted, never waiting more than a couple of minutes for a lift.

It's a curious place for a resort because, as you can see from the photos, it doesn't really snow there that much.  It relies almost entirely on snowmaking, the products of which stick around because it never stops being cold (see: Siberian air). We were all able to get in all the turns we wanted, more or less avoid the local novices on the slopes, and generally exhaust ourselves without depleting our wallets to an undue degree.  Then, we went to our accommodation.

We stayed in a pension which, while comfortable enough in a rustic, water only occasionally stops working, kind of way, wasn't set up for 6 North American men.  I called dibs early on a spot on the lone bed, hoping against home that the others would rather sleep on the heated floor and/or drink enough beer to forget about the bed, but was disappointed to find myself with hulking company between the sheets.  Resigned to a lack of leg-sprawling room I turned in, ready to sleep with a vengeance after the day's sporting activities/bbq-feasting.

It quickly became apparent this was unlikely to happen, as almost every one of the guys snored in a different, incredible way.  Some were laudable in their inconsistency - rising to remarkable decibels one moment while falling precipitously into silence the next - while some continually emitted chortling idles ranging from low, kakapo-esque hoots to ascending revs that topped out sounding like unanswerable questions.  It was amusing for a number of minutes to my bunkmate and I, before he dropped off to add his own chorale to the mix, complete with occasional jolting and a tendency to fling an arm over so a meaty hand would come to rest on top of my head.  The second night was the same, but with occasional salvos of flatulence punctuating the cacophony like improvisational saxophones at irregular intervals.

I got back to Seoul a tired man, and embraced not having to do much for a week while our school holiday whiled on.  I return on Monday to continue my new post as Vice-Principal, necessitated by the sudden departure of my school's old Principal and an immediate need for somebody to attend meetings and listen to Koreans speak to other Koreans in Korean.  It should be a wonderful return from holidays, complete with PTA meetings, kids unbelieving of their exam results, and increasing amounts of sunlight.

Given the relative infrequency with which I write about life outside of Canada it's likely to be t-shirt and shorts weather before I pen again (i.e. mid March), which will mark an emotional turn (I hope) for me back to a version of the land that irritated me beyond any other.  I've got an island to visit, and I better start dusting off that Mandarin.