Double Take

We awoke this morning to the sound of birds chirping and ocean waves crashing outside our room. We opened our eyes, ready for what must surely be a blissfully blue-sky day—and were greeted with an interminable cloud bank.

“Well, that’s not so bad,” I told myself. “At least it’s still warm outside!”

We stumbled downstairs to breakfast (scrumptious Western-style mini pastries with butter and jam, a hot boiled egg, and our choice of coffee, tea, or milk—guess what I chose) and learned that, in fact, it was warm—ish. A light sweatshirt still didn’t feel amiss with my shorts.

Oh well. Melanie and Alex soon joined Rachel and I in the breakfast room, and we had a nice long chat while we ate, then changed, checked out, and headed out to the tidal pools off the beach below. After a cursory view of the standard path (which was, in typical Taiwanese fashion, a true path, of rocks innovatively held together by rubber meshing), we ventured further afield, to the rock outcropping against which the blue-green waves were breaking.

As we wandered further down the shore, we happened upon a strange sight: a couple we’d met in Kinmen! Yes, that’s right, an American couple from Kaohsiung who happened to be staying at our homestay in Kinmen also happened to be visiting the same beach as we were in Taitung, and at the same time. The irony of this, of course, is that we’ve never actually seen them in the city where we all live—but we do seem to have similar instincts when it comes to breaks!

12:30 found us at the ferry terminal a full hour early, thanks to our overeager taxi driver. But the upside of that was that we were among the first people on board, and so had our pick of seats in the stabler middle back of the “Barf Barge” I’d braved before. The weather outside was worse than last time we took the ferry, which made me nervous (though mutely so—couldn’t help anything!), but as it turned out that, wind and choppy appearance aside, the seas were deceptively calm, and the hour-long ride was uneventful for all of us, even with three of us attempting it sans medicine. We weren’t exactly ready for a 10-course meal when we stepped on shore, but you can’t have everything.

A very short shuttle ride later, we arrived at our hostel/homestay/hotel—don’t really know what to call it—and about an hour later they gave us the keys to our price-included scooters. We made a nice little loop of the island, stopping off at key points I’d seen with Mom like the Civil Liberties Memorial (which I had no idea was called that until several hours later when we saw it on a postcard; we just stopped for the view), the Sleeping Beauty rock, and the beautiful Scottish-looking fen-covered point by the hot spring where we saw some (very annoyed) wild goats.

For dinner, we twisted Alex’s arm into agreeing to Taiwanese stir fry, which was so so good: Green Island’s signature venison, beef and veggies, kung pao chicken, fried noodles, empty heart vegetable, rice. I’d been craving food like that for a while, and it did not disappoint. A quick Family Mart and tea shop stop later, we returned to our rooms to “take a rest,” as the Taiwanese have it, before our night tour.

And the night tour, oh, the night tour. It was SUCH the experience! I was wishing my mom and I had been able to make it, as we stopped to observe the local wildlife in every ecosystem the island has to offer, along with Ray and Elba, two of our fellow homestay-ers from Shanghai who speak fantastic English, and two other random guys who joined up with us somewhere along the way, but who I don’t think are actually staying here. We saw all the local flora and fauna, shared some lovely moments talking about the appropriateness of our footwear, and then set out, at around 10pm, for the Zhaori Hot Springs.

There followed an hour and a half of warm saltwater bliss.

And now we’re back, and Internet-less—I’m typing this in a Word document, despite Ray’s wireless connection showing up on my list—and need to get our rest, given that it’s almost 1am and breakfast is at 7, followed by snorkeling at 8.

So ends my second attempt at Green Island—still not a tropical wonderland, but now sickness- and driving rain-free, filled instead with good food, good friends, and good fun (to borrow the cliché). Now to close my eyes and pray once again for a fresh start that involves a blue sky…

I survived the Green Island ferry!

This morning, my mom and I boarded the "barf barge." That's not its real name, of course--but it fits. After our night in Taitung last night, we were headed across the strait to Green Island (綠島), over a stretch of ocean which, as numerous people on numerous occasions warned us, has the nasty habit of making even those not prone to motion-sickness wish they hadn't eaten breakfast.


Unfortunately, it lived up to its reputation.


For me (and, based on their reactions, for a good-sized group of people on the ferry), the first 10 minutes or so were fun--as I kept telling myself, it's just like a bonus roller coaster ride thrown in with our journey! The swells were huge, but they were also pretty gentle, and their deep clear teal color was enough to keep me focused on their beauty, rather than their motion. After that, though, the water got choppier and my stomach decided it wasn't a fan of a roller coaster that goes on for an hour. From about the half hour mark onward, I spent my time fixated on a solitary dot on the front wall of the ferry (I named it Harvey, since I had to stare at it and I had no other way of entertaining myself without getting sick), telling myself that I could make it to the island without getting sick and trying to ignore the people around me taking regular advantage of the strings of clear plastic bags hanging from every other seat back.


This was not an easy task, given that my mom was one of them. Yep, though she's never been motion sick before in her life, and she (unlike me) did the responsible thing and took her Dramamine a half hour before we boarded, there was nothing for it: the ocean won.


Let's be clear here: these are not small waves we are talking about. Though we were pretty far offshore--it's an hour ferry ride from the mainland to the island--we never hit the theoretical calm I'd heard exists after you get past the breakers. No, what we got was closer to what you'd see on an old pirate film, or a rendition of Moby Dick or some such ocean adventure story: what almost made me sick several times was not so much the motion of the boat, but the fact that, if you glanced out the window on the other side of the boat, you could watch the sky disappear entirely behind a 40 foot wall of green water, only to reemerge in a few seconds as your side of the boat sunk down. And that's when you could see out the windows at all, when they weren't thoroughly covered in seething white foam.

Though I have full faith in modern ships (I'm here to write about it, after all), the experience certainly left me with new empathy for ancient travelers, and a certain awe for those who venture out on this particular stretch of sea in the many much smaller boats we saw docked on either end.


Having survived the tumultuous journey (and having sat for a moment to let our stomachs settle), my mom and I ventured out onto the island to discover that we were in the midst of a full-out wind-and-rain storm. After quickly procuring some ponchos from a nearby bakery (yes, odd to me too, but I wasn't asking questions!) and less quickly procuring a scooter, we took off around the island.


The next four hours (It's a short gap between ferries!) we spent circumnavigating the island on the crappy, rusty scooter the guys at the scooter shop rented us for a mere $200NT, stopping at several pull-outs to admire the view, missing several other attractions (we could not, for the life of us, find where to pull off for the lighthouse, for instance), discovering that most of the island was shut down for the off season, and getting pelted in the face by tiny ice-daggers of rain that made it almost impossible to see half the time.


The chief exception to this stinging, windy stress (on my part) was our stop at Zhaori Saltwater Hot Springs, one of only three natural salt water hot springs in the world. In better weather, you can go down on the beach and sit in pools at sea level; as it was, we watched from the safety of some more elevated springs as the pools below got slammed with wave after wave. The hot water felt so good after a day of getting whipped around by rain and wind.


And then it was time to cautiously eat a light meal (half a cup of hot milk tea and half a bagel for me), take our Dramamine (WELL in advance this time) and board the ferry again. Fortunately, either because the weather was better, the boat was lighter, or we picked better seats (back-middle, as opposed to front-side), this time we weren't puking or trying not to: I took a nap, and my mom was able to read. Much more pleasant when you're not counting down the minutes every minute for an hour.


Back in Taitung, we wandered around for a bit and eventually made our way to the train station, way too early, just because we had run out of things to do. It took a bit of creative work on my part (my final solution involved my known vocabulary, old notes from my Chinese class, a borrowed Chinese-English dictionary and a bit of sign language), but eventually I convinced the man at the information desk that I had already purchased my tickets online and needed only to pick them up, and he was able to retrieve them for me.


And now we're in Hualien, at a lovely little B & B called Roseland/Rose House, depending on what sign you look at, which is absolutely adorable and was a pretty good price, too. Tomorrow, we head out for Taroko gorge, via bus and taxi, based on what the man who picked us up at the train station was able to tell us.


Today has been an adventure, to be sure, but we're surviving! Can't wait to see what tomorrow holds--on dry land.

Mud

It's become a sort of paradigm with me that, on days which I actually have something exciting to write about, I have no time in which to write about it. Today is one of those days.

In sum, I went with Karina and her LETs to mud springs, where we got to live out every kindergartener's dream: smear mud all over ourselves.

The trip there was pretty epic itself: we left my apartment at 2pm and got to the springs at 6pm, though we weren't going too far, just a bit north of Tainan; in the process, we used four different forms of communication, including MRT, walking, train (not HSR, just regular train--my first time here!), and car. In addition, both MRT and train cars were more full than we had ever seen them (looked like Taipei!), so we were standing for the entire first portion of the trip.

When we finally did reach the mud springs, though, it was fantastic. They had a bowl of mud and a mirror for you to watch where you smeared the thin, blue-gray mixture all over yourself, and then you entered the mud spring pool, which was already mud-colored and the perfect temperature in which to bask and let the mud do its glorious thing on your skin. Needless to say, a series of wonderful mud-related photos also followed. (Unfortunately, said photos are on Karina's camera, but I'll add them when I can.)

UPDATED 11/18: PHOTOS!

Bekah: "I can't believe I'm actually doing this..."    Karina: "I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M ACTUALLY DOING THIS!!!"

When we recovered from our childhood ecstasies of playing in mud, we moved on to the other pools (which did not have mud in them), our favorite of which was tinted blue-green and smelled like tea, or lemongrass, or some such herbal mixture. It was heavenly.

After the mud springs, we headed down the most adorably quintessential Chinese/Taiwanese street on a winding street which reminded me, by turns, of Huangshan in China, the area around the Great Wall in China, Kenting in Taiwan, and Maokong in Taipei. (Please note that only one of those links shows what I really mean: a twisty green road with little shops along either side--same at the Great Wall, and also at Maokong, with tea shops.) It was all of these things and none of them, a mystical place shrouded in mist and serving up some delicious roasted chicken and fried rice, once we picked a restaurant. Fabulous.

Well, after all that, our long journey back began; I walked in the doors to my apartment a little after 11:30pm and, of course, I have class tomorrow. So, epic day though it was, that's all for now! It's just one of those days.

***
Bonus moment: I've had this song stuck in my head in the best possible way, and feel like sharing it with ya'll:

The Little Things

Two meanings hidden in the title, there. The first one is quite prosaic: this blog will be a "little thing." The other is more contemplative, though cliche: it's the little things in life that make the difference.

Again, a double meaning: little details are often those that make any given day memorable and special, and little details are often those that cause, for me, a pang of homesickness.

To elaborate briefly on the latter. This weekend in Taipei has been full of little reminders of home, little things which remind me of different features of the Northwest, or of people there whom I love. The rain and clouds, and the cooler temperature: Oregon and Washington. Hiking in the rain: family camping trips with Mom. Hot springs: Belknap, and Dad's inability to overheat.

A pot of hot milk tea: an afternoon in Anna's cottage in Seattle with homemade Chai. A crazy bohemian shop full of tie-die: downtown Eugene with Erin and Sarah. Modern Toilet: Melanie made me promise to eat there while I was here. "Jar of Hearts" on Tom's phone: Elizabeth and Annika. Taken together, it's amazing how a vibrant, bustling Asian metropolis can consist of so many small reminders of life in the Pacific Northwest. I've noticed this phenomena in Kaohsiung, too, but this weekend has had more moments like this than normal. I haven't hit any real culture shock since I've been here, and I haven't hit any homesickness ruts, but I have had a constant smattering of these little moments that remind me of the people and places I've left behind for a while.

But the little things work for the positive, and for the here and now, as well. The smell of waffles haunting our stroll down by the river at 淡水 (Tamsui); Karina's notebook of quotes from the weekend; our awkward foreigners-in-two-piece moments at 新北投 (Xinbeitou Hot Springs); debating when (and where) the sun would set while riding the gondola up 貓空 (Maokong); eavesdropping on the ladies switching between Mandarin and Taiwanese at the table next to us at dinner as we admired the gorgeous night view of Taipei; finally getting our waffles at the tea house on top and almost missing the last gondola down; Tom almost getting caught in the closing MRT doors (his face made it funny, not horrific, I promise); Karina running into a descending metal gate as Rachel and I yelled that it was closing; realizing that, in a mere two days, we'd used up our $400NT EasyPasses by riding the MRT lines from end to end.

And that was my day, in a nutshell. Tomorrow is the National Day, and we have stuff early in the morning, so now it's off to bed for me--since yet another little thing that I treasure is sleep.

Touristy Things

Given my well-documented love of mornings, especially on the weekends (please sense the sarcasm), it was just wonderful to be out of the house this morning by 9am, ready to catch a train at Zuoying by 9:55. But that's what happened! We (Rachel, Karina, and I) were in Taipei by 11:30, ready to check in at our hostel (a full 8 hours ahead of what we told them originally) and do some serious exploring.

One of the from-the-train vistas

And that's what we did. Armed with several guidebooks, Karina had put together a list of things to do in Taipei, and after a bit of conversation (including where I could go to buy shoes) we had a game plan: go to 陽明山 (YangMingShan), do a little hiking, check out the hot springs there, then come back into the city and go to 士林夜市 (Shilin Night Market), which is the most famous night market in Taiwan (and which, incidentally, sells shoes). We had lunch, got a call from Tom, who we invited to join us, and then set out for the mountain. The sky was cloudy as we descended into the Guting MRT station.

We met Tom and hopped a bus for the mountain top, but as we boarded we noticed something: raindrops. As it turns out, we seem to have a personal raincloud following us on our travels, much as you might see in an old Looney Toons production, but without all the moping. (It was our own fault, we decided, we'd jinxed it: getting of the train this morning I'd said it would be a good weekend if, just once, I got cold, and Rachel wore her bathing suit under her hiking gear) By the time we reached the place to change buses, it was really coming down. By the time we made it to the top (standing in the back of both buses for most of the time, balancing precariously on our feet as they weaved back and forth on crazy switchbacks), the mountain was also completely engulfed in fog. 

So, naturally, we decided to go hiking. We'd already trashed our original idea of hiking to the hot springs, so we were instead in the volcanic region of the park, at the dormant volcano's peak--or near it. To get to it, we'd have to hike 1.6km up the side of a mountain, in the rain, in the wind, on a slippery rock path, surrounded by sulfur, with no just-in-case hiking supplies. This, naturally, is what we set out to do.

We made it about halfway before we realized that we wouldn't have time to complete the hike before the last bus left the mountain, and so turned back, still in the rain, to catch another series of buses down. But before we did, we had a momentary lapse of cloud cover, and could at least catch a glimpse of the crater across the parking lot! But, all too quickly, it was gone.

Quick, clarity!

Out the bus window

So we were back on the bus again. We'd given up on the hot spring idea for the day entirely (which saddened me to no end, given that we were now wet and cold), but soon we were warm again and roaming about the night market. After what I can only describe as the easiest, fastest, and most painless shoe shopping experience of my life, we had accomplished our only hard-and-fast objective and were just taking in the sights like the other swarms of tourists.

And then we went to dinner--at Modern Toilet. For the uninitiated, Modern Toilet sells food and ice cream--in toilet shaped bowls. I wasn't feeling great at this point, so I ordered just ice cream and orange soda (thought it was water, but oh well). The drink came out first (an oddity in Taiwan), and it was in, well, a blue urinal.

Then came the 'ice cream.' Turned out that the ice cream I thought I was ordering, the simple pile of soft serve they are famous for, was not what I had ordered. What I had ordered was this:

Shaved ice with kiwi sauce,  chocolate soft serve, vanilla ice cream, raisins, mango pieces, and kiwi jellies, with random marshmallows etc sprinkled on it

 For a size comparison, here it is (a little depleted) next to what I meant to order, and which Rachel got after her meal:

Aww, look, the cute little baby toilets are gathering around the mama!

Anyway, after that we walked around some more, did a (very little) shopping in some of the stores around the market (one of which smelled and looked like it belonged in downtown Ashland, OR--smoky, tie-died, faux-exotic, belly-dancing...), and even managed to run into Emily, Lydia, and Samia, who were doing the same. Another fun moment came when we saw a stream of illegal street vendors running away from a police officer--and by running, I mean they were quickly but precisely wheeling their entire livelihoods down the middle of a crowded walkway, while a police officer strolled after them several blocks behind. (Clearly, they're really serious about this whole endeavor...)

We were all ready at this point to call it a night. So, after a brief stop-in at one of Tom's regular places, where he ordered stinky tofu (which we all then had to watch/smell him eat), we headed back for the hostel. Here, we discovered it had been taken over by middle-aged and older Taiwanese people, which was a bit of a shock given that hostels are normally for the young and are usually dominated by out-of-country people. I'm guessing, though, that at this point all the hotels are booked, and you take what you can get!

So that's it for now. Tomorrow we're going to chase Karina's ritual of taking photobooth pictures in every Asian country she visits, then actually go to the hot springs. Undetermined after that--we might meet up with another alum from my high school, but who knows--but hopefully the weather will realize we don't live in a cartoon, and hold for whatever we end up doing. 

Which will, inevitably, be touristy things.

More Rain

On the assumption that the weather would be better today, our plan was to wake up at 7:30 this morning and head straight over to the hot springs so we could get one more thing out of our trip. But when we woke up at 7:30, we found our window being pelted by rain and wind, even worse than yesterday.

So we went back to sleep. And we tried again at 10:30. And went back to sleep. And again at 11:30--when we finally decided to get up, considering that check-out was at noon, and our scooters had to be back by 1:30.

Of course, the rain had only gone from bad to worse in this time, so in the six or so blocks from the hostel to the rental place, we were absolutely, completely, totally drenched. My raincoat did next to nothing at this point, and I was just glad I'd packed my laptop next to my back and beneath several layers of towel and clothes. If I hadn't, I probably wouldn't be typing on it now.

Back in Kaohsiung, it was still raining, and I had my last cup of coffee from my first pound of Zoka's coffee I brought with me from Seattle. Wishing I'd brought more, but I guess I'll see what my options are when I actually run out, probably towards the beginning of December.

So it's been a slow, rainy day in all, with nothing to report but a constant dampness and some travel. Hopefully next Kenting trip will have better weather and the cool stories!