陽明山:我從擎天崗走到聖人橋 (part one)

Those of you that have heard a bit about my previous Taiwan trip might remember me talking about and/or posting pictures of 陽明山 (Yang Ming Mountain). It's a national park in Taiwan a little to the northeast of Taipei proper. From my apartment it's a few stops on the MRT, followed by a 35 minute or so bus ride up a winding road in a little bus that fits 20 or so people. Well, this is the way that I've always taken to get to 擎天崗 (qingtiangang), which as of yet is the only place I've gone in the national park area. There is a reason for this:

When you catch it on a sunny day the views of the mountains are stunning, and while civilization is really never too far, I've always had a feeling of being transported into another world when I've come here. The air is so clean, and the tall grasses have a look and a smell that reminds me a little of the Oregon coast. When there's a good breeze on the mountain, which is often, the sound of the breeze making it's way through the blades of grass has always instilled a sort of inner calm within me. 

On a day when low clouds blanket the mountain in fog, which are also numerous, it is just as amazing. Everything feels a bit more magical, and clouds move in a way where temporary clearings tease the intrepid hiker with the surrounding views, before obscuring them in a shroud of grayish-white.






Every time I go to 陽明山 I tell myself that I'll do something different. There are other bus stops along the way that have different trail heads, and other bus routes entirely that go to other parts of the park. There are hot springs, hotels, restaurants, and I have no idea where any of those things are. I get ready to go, think about where I want to get off the bus this time, and then don't get off the bus until I find myself once again at 擎天崗.

This past Sunday was no different. It was a warm, sunny day near 士林站 where I was waiting for the bus. My stomach was full from a nearby restaurant, was listening to Summoning's "Old Morning's Dawn," and thinking about where to go this time around. My thoughts were primarily turned to 冷水坑 (lengshuikeng), which is just a couple stops before 擎天崗. I'd previously noticed a couple different trails that looked interesting, and anticipated that this would be the time that I'd finally do something different.

The bus was crowded and all the seats were taken, so it seemed that it would be a standing ride for me today; though a somewhat older man looked at me and friendly tapped his arm rest in a somewhat joking invitation as a place to sit. He then turned to whom I assume was his wife to repeat this gesture and probably explain how funny he was.

As we exited the city and began the curving climb up the road to 擎天崗, the sunshine quickly turned into clouds; which then transitioned into several bursts of rain. The bursts turned into a steady rain, and I began wondering if I should have pursued something closer in that would have kept me in the sunshine. My apprehensions were mostly due to the shorts, t-shirt, and flip flops that were a part of my clothing arsenal, as well as a lack of any sort of rain deterrent. I knew it wouldn't hurt to keep going and at least see if things would calm down. I also found myself not getting off the bus until reaching the final stop and was once again in familiar territory.

The rain had stopped but the temperature was a bit cooler than I had anticipated. This was coupled with a strong breeze and grey clouds that still held the threat of another downpour. I picked up a poncho from a small store and decided that I would take a trip down memory lane and do the hike from 擎天崗 to 風櫃口 that had been my last hike here the last time around. There's a particular stretch of the hike that transitions from the grass fields and areas of dense foliage into an evergreen forest that hold smells and feelings of home. This had turned into my main motivation for covering similar ground and I was happy to be on my way. Though I began to wonder if I had picked the wrong footwear for the hike...

我在台北走走

Today I went on about a four hour walk around Taipei. I didn't aspire to new destinations, but instead went on a greatest hits tour to some of the places I like the most, including: 建國假日花市, 大安公園, 中正紀念堂. 中正紀念堂 often has great art exhibits, which is why I like going there, but it seemed that it is currently between exhibits. As I was walking, I had some thoughts going on in my head about this and that. To that end...

A week before I left for Taiwan I was able to go on a hiking trip with my two best friends, Kris and Daniel. A few years back we had a good run of four years in a row where we went on these hikes, but then life happens and it's been four years since our last hike, and we were once again embarking on a new adventure in the wilderness area around Glacier Peak. We did the Spider Gap loop and it was the most amazing hike I have ever done (I'd post pictures, but Kris was the only one with a camera, I should get those from him).

One moment in particular was sticking in my mind. On the second night of our trip, Daniel and I did a scramble to the top of a what looked like a pass of sorts where Daniel was sure we'd have a great view. Back up, before we even began the scramble I should clarify that before we started I had some wool socks and flip flops on and was hesitant to even begin climbing up the hill as I would have to at the very least take off my wool socks (I'm embarrassed to admit this, but it's how things went down). Daniel called me on my bullshit, I took off the wool socks, and up the hill we went. We made it through phase one, and were rewarded with a really great view. I was happy with this, but Daniel saw that we could actually keep going up to what looked like the top of the hill. Once again I was hesitant as there was only the merest outline of a trail that looked infrequently used and probably wasn't a real trail. On top of that, it was steep and we both only had flip flops, and the going back down is always the harder part, and holy shit, I am full of excuses. Daniel insisted, and our scramble became more of a goat scramble. It was really just a matter of minutes and were at the top of the hill.

Neither of us had a camera, so there is no picture to document this moment. The sun was setting behind jagged peaks, glacier peak was to the north (I think) and we had a 360 degree view of the Washington Cascades in all their majestic glory. I wish I could describe it better than that, as it was one of the greatest views I have ever experienced. I could really only stare in awe at the scene around me and then I waited for all of the amazing feelings to kick in...and waited...

This is what brings me to what I was actually thinking about while walking around today. As I stared out into the vast expanse of mountains all around me, I felt like I should feel more. Fuck that, I wanted to feel more: Why wasn't I feeling more? What's wrong with me? Doesn't my body sense how amazing this is? Why can't it catch up with what my eyes are seeing? Give me some immediate gratification here; stupid body.

Instead of enjoying the view for what it was, and that I was there with a great friend, I was instead feeling perturbed that my body wasn't kicking in some mad endorphins so that I could get high off nature. I was turning myself in circles trying to absorb the whole view and wanted to really feel something powerful...

I do that a lot. I have a great experience and instead of allowing myself to let it be what it is, I get wrapped up in my head about how I think I should be feeling about something instead of letting things happen naturally. The same thing happened the first time I came to Taiwan to teach abroad. I got here and wanted my mind to be totally blown on an hourly basis. I wanted to write home about all of the amazing things I was feeling and how my life had completely been changed. Instead, I used a blog (this blog) to write sterilized documentations of a handful of events and experiences. I was having a great time living in a new city and country, teaching, learning a new language, and checking out a small part of Taiwan. Shouldn't that be enough? I enjoyed myself the most when I stopped putting pressure on myself about what the experience should be, and just let it be what it was. An experience is the some of it's parts. It wasn't until I was heading home that I could see in greater detail how I grew and changed as a person and just how important the experience was for me.

A year later puts me back in Taiwan, and I have the above life lesson to guide my way. I'm so happy to be back, and I'm letting that be enough.

...it was getting darker so Daniel and I realized that we'd better start our trek back down the hill. I took one last look around and kept my subtle disappointment at not feeling more than what I was feeling to myself; at first that is. We began heading back down and a couple mintues later the floodgates opened and the rush kicked in; delayed gratification seems to be my modus operandi. I immediately thought: Yes! This is what I wanted to feel. What took so damn long? I certainly can't keep this to myself.

Thus, Daniel became the recipient of what had mostly been an inner monologue for the first couple days of our hike, and I proceeded to blab about all my feelings down an approximately 800 foot decline in elevation back to Image Lake.

Moral of the story: Always listen to Daniel. Or something like that. Here are some pictures.

 

Until next time.

Train rides and cycling paths...

I think I will come to terms with the fact Andrea is destined to be the blogger of the household. Seeing the time and effort she puts into each of her stories is a sight to behold, and one that I'm just not capable of duplicating. I hypothesize that I probably treat my blog like I did pretty much every paper I've ever written during my years in school. I wait until a night or two before the deadline and then write my first and final draft and call it a day. Herein of course lies the problem. It's a blog, there is no deadline, and can then be put off indefinitely. Perhaps this is the irony of the title of my blog. The goal is to escape old habits, maybe document the progress, yet perhaps my procrastination is destined to be the last to go. I've had some thoughts rolling around in my head though, so I would never call the blog dead, just a little lame and probably needing to be shot. Before I do that though...

Danny Ohlsen recently became our first visitor to Taiwan. It was great to see a familiar face, and have the chance to be a tour guide around this city that we are starting to know so well. I also had two weeks of vacation for Chinese New Year, so his visit was also a chance to finally escape Taipei and take in a whole new Taiwan experience away from the crowded, bustling city.

Due to Andrea's school obligations (taking Mandarin full-time for those not in the know) it was just going to be the two of us for a few days, and so we decided to take a three hour train ride down the east coast to the coastal town of Hualian. I have loved taking trains ever since my European adventure over 10 years ago (I actually can't believe it's been that long), and so I was definitely excited to take a train ride that would showcase some of Taiwan's more natural beauty.

The train ride definitely didn't disappoint:

The biggest reason to go to Hualian is its proximity to Taroko Gorge, which is one of Taiwan's most spectacular natural destinations. We checked it out, and it was incredible, but it ended up playing second fiddle to what ended up being my favorite part of our three day jaunt to the south. Before I get to that though, I must back track for just a moment.

In Portland, a bicycle had been my primary mode of transportation. When I got to Taipei, I assumed it wouldn't be too long before I picked one up and started using it as my main means of transport to and from work. Then I saw that I would be competing with thousands of scooters, erratic taxi drivers, and plenty of people that view changes in traffic lights more as suggestions than obligations. There are certainly ways to circumvent Taipei's busy streets, and if I was really motivated I could have begun a daily bike commute. However, then I'd also be competing with humid 90+ degree weather and torrential downpours in the summer, and chilly saturation in the winter. The bottom line is that Taipei's MRT system proved to be a suitable alternative, and thoughts of bike ownership and commuting eventually faded.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, and I hadn't so much as sat on a bike for almost six months. I think the last time I went that long without riding a bike was when I was a teenager with a newly acquired '85 Ford LTD. So Danny and I are trying to figure what to do for our second full day in Hualian, and we eventually settled on renting bikes and seeing where the day and our bikes would take us. I picked out the biggest bike they had, which was still way to small, jacked the seat up, and we were on our merry way.

It wasn't too long before we found a bike path that followed a little stream through the city:

  

The goal was to make it the short ways from this path a different one we had seen that followed the ocean for awhile. That all happened pretty quickly:

Ah, having some good times:

We had the wind at our backs and were cruising so we decided to keep following the coast to see where it would take us. At one point in time we thought we were heading towards the highway that would take us further along the coast, but that proved to be a dead end, as the path had not reached its ultimate stage of completion. After turning around we decided to follow a different bike route that took us inland for a bit. A few turn here and there and we found ourselves looking at a map that showed the extent of our biking options. Liyu Lake...sounds nice. With an idea of our general direction plotted, we kept going...and going...and going. Every once in a while pausing for a photo here and there:

 

When I first arrived in Taipei, I was constantly thinking about how much certain aspects of the city reminded me of the big cities in Central America. I think it was a mix of the humidity, sooty buildings, constant activity, and power lines any and everywhere. The longer I was here the less I ended up feeling that way, but being out in more rural Taiwan, all those feelings came flooding back. The people looked more indigenous and weather worn. Old couples tended to their rows of vegetables, and kids rode around on their old bikes with rusty wheels and chains. At certain points if someone had told me I was back in Central America, I would have had little reason to think otherwise. 

I think the biggest similarity though was the dogs. Old, ragged dogs; the females obviously having nursed countless puppies, with nipples that practically dragged along the ground. I had seen them in every town in Central America, and Danny and I passed plenty lying lazily along the bike path that took us ever further away from our Hualian starting point. After about three hours we finally decided it was time to take a break and have some water and snacks:

 

After a twenty minute break we decided to press on, thinking that the stream passing under the bridge must surely have a lake source nearby. We continued on for another thirty minutes or so and then took another water break and did a time check. It was already past four! Our proximity to the equator means pretty short days, and we were already looking at a pretty good ride home in the dark; something neither of us was very excited about. Our hopes of actually making it to the lake had finally dimmed, and so we decided to call it a day, our destination unreached. It was not a great moment, and our faces showed the agony of a dream deferred festering like a sore:

 

After riding a few minutes away from the direction of the lake we passed a sign that said "2 km." While heading towards the lake the km markers had grown into the low 20s. Could it be that the lake was really only 2 km away? We decided to turn back around and make the final push towards the lake. It proved to be a wise decision. Another ten minutes and we found the lake spreading out before us. We made it! Hopefully it won't be another six months before I hop back on a bike.

Of all the days to not have a camera...

As many of you already know, Andrea is currently in China advancing her knowledge of Chinese medicine. Perhaps unknown is that we currently only have one camera and it is currently in her possession. This is OK as I had the camera for the first several weeks I was in Taipei and was able to take a lot of pictures. What is unfortunate is that today is definitely a day that I wished I had a camera (this is an exaggerated misfortune. I'll have other opportunities to take the necessary pictures in the future).

I have now been in Taipei for over two months, and while I'm embarrassed to say it, today was actually the first time that I left the house with absolutely zero agenda about my final destination. I've done bits of wandering here and there, but it usually was tied to some eventual goal. Wait a second. Even leaving the house without an agenda is technically an agenda. It's just a little less specific.

"I will leave the house with no destination. I will just walk."

Sounds like an agenda to me. With a liberal bias I might add.

Since I have been in Taipei, I have been relatively content with my walk to the MRT station, to work, and back. So today, I walked down a street I had never walked, looked down alleys I have yet to walk, crossed a bridge I had never crossed and found myself in what was for me, uncharted territory. What was interesting about this uncharted territory, is that as soon as I crossed the bridge, I found myself back on the street that passes right by my apartment (Zhongzheng, which is also another name for Chiang Kai-Shek) and crosses a different bridge. I decided to walk down this street and see where it lead.

Well, it lead past a lot of businesses, and a park, and buildings, and then it ended. I hadn't anticipated walking this major road to its eventual conclusion, though I have to admit there is something satisfying about it. I had noticed early on that it did lead toward some rather attractive looking forested hills, and so I wasn't disappointed when I reached its end.

For those unaware of Taipei's geography, a brief word. Taipei is a vast metropolis that has gradually absorbed surrounding towns and is composed of the original city and New Taipei (the surrounding areas that make up Taipei County). If you are viewing this area from higher ground, it looks like an almost endless urban landscape surrounded by mountains. This is actually one of Taipei's most charming attributes. No matter where you are, if you want to get into a little bit of nature, it's really not that far away.

So once I reached the end of Zhongzheng Rd, I found myself at the foot of what looked like a rather impressive hill (mountain). I wanted to climb up that mountain but was not sure if there was a good route to take. I made a couple attempts by going up a couple of Taipei's seemingly infinite alleys, but was thwarted both times. Eventually I just decided to walk down the major street parallel to the mountain to see what would happen. At first, not much. But right as I was about to give up, I discovered the entrance to a little hiking trail that ended up being less of a trail, and more of a stair master. Really, it was just a bunch of stairs. A bunch of stairs that took you up almost 2000 feet in elevation in about a mile.

Taipei is a city of contrasts. This is exemplified by tall, new buildings next to building that look like they could have been torn down years ago. These same old buildings are also interspersed in the most luxurious shopping areas you can imagine. The view I find at the top of my short and steep hike was also one of contrasts.

If I looked one way, I had an amazing view of the seemingly endless urban sprawl that makes up Taipei and New Taipei. It's not a bad view. I have long been a fan of big cities, and there is something awe inspiring about all the pieces that must come together to make a large city work.

However, looking the other way was truly breath taking. Before I came to Taiwan, the non-urban image of SE Asia that I had composed from movies and pictures was one of layered, rolling mountains shrouded in mist and mystery. This was my other view, and what was amazing about it was that all I had to do was look left rather than right. I had my layered, rolling mountains covered with a thick green forest; what looked like tea fields; and the ethereal haze that added something extra to the whole panorama.

After making my way back down the trail of stairs, I made my way to the riverside bike and pedestrian trail that I had also yet to explore. This further added to my joy of Taiwan's natural beauty (and dismay of not having a camera) as I was treated to the sun setting behind forested hills with the small batches of clouds lit up with colors of pink, red and orange and the sun's rays reflecting on the river.

As I walked down the riverside trail the view of the river was eventually obscured by tall reeds, though every once in awhile you'd get a glimpse of a little garden that someone had made after making a small path through the reeds.

Have I mentioned that I really like Taiwan?

For those unaware, a brief history on how I discovered an interest in teaching abroad:

In the spring of 2003, Andrea and I went on the first of our trips to Central America. While we were there we happened to meet an Australian girl named Melanie (I might be wrong on that, but for this story it's going to be her name). She was traveling solo overall, though at the time she happened to be in the company of a guy from Portland named Victor who Andrea happened to meet shortly before we went on our trip (a different story I suppose, though not worth telling, as he was kind of a douche). She proved to be far superior company, and it was during our conversations with her that I found out that she was traveling on money she had earned after spending a year teaching in South Korea.

As soon as she mentioned having taught in Asia, the proverbial light bulb went off above my head. I knew at that moment I would at some point in my life do something similar. Melanie related some of her experiences teaching and her general impressions of Korean culture, and I was sold, I was going to teach in South Korea. While Melanie was the first person I met who had taught abroad, meeting her seemed to release the flood gate, and over the last eight years I have consistently run into people who have done similar teaching excursions. Each time it reaffirmed my interest in doing something similar, and it proved to be motivating enough to get me back into school to finish my bachelor’s degree (which was required in South Korea) so that I would be on my way to a jet set teaching lifestyle.

While I had originally intended on teaching abroad shortly after finishing college (2005), that is not how things ended up working out. However, considering that time involved a stint living in Austin, a second trip to Central America, going back to school to take a stab at a more traditional teaching career, Andrea becoming an amazing practitioner of TCM, and watching the circular nature of life as people left Portland, only to return, and some to leave again, I would have to say my previous intentions were ill-timed. In addition, South Korea proved to be incompatible with our life’s trajectory, and was replaced by Taiwan as the eventual destination. I usually feel dissuaded from touching on abstract notions of fate, but my own experiences have led me to believe that things usually work at as they are meant to, and so it seems that 2011 was destined to be the year that my (and Andrea’s) journey abroad was to begin…