夜晚的時候所有的河水看起來美麗 (aka looking on the bright side)

A quick note before I begin here. I was on the MRT today and had to stifle a chuckle when I saw the look on an old man's face when a rather eclectically dressed young man walked by. Imagine a jaw drop mixed with eyes of pure bewilderment. I got a couple odd looks myself after being unable to contain the wide grin that spread across my face. Generational gaps know no cultural boundaries.

A couple weeks ago I finally made it back to 永和區, the district in 新北市 where Andrea and I lived during Taiwan, round one. There's a part of me that will remember living there fondly, but after a quick stroll around, I'm glad to have found a new home in 大同區. The main purpose of my visit to 永和 was to reconnect with our friends who run a Korean restaurant near our old apartment. After dinner and a visit I started making my way home. At first I figured I'd walk to 頂溪站 and take the MRT. However, after twenty minutes of walking along 中正路 and observing the new and the unchanged of the last fourteen months, I realized I wanted to keep going. Walking around Taipei at night has been a source of consistent joy for me, as the heat of the day has dissipated and the city is still a flurry of activity consisting of night markets, various forms of commerce, and the seemingly never ending stream of cars and scooters carrying passengers to their intended destinations.

I continued past 頂溪站 knowing that 中正橋 was not too much further down the way. This has been one of my favorite bridges to cross at night as it provides stunning views of Taipei, and the 新店溪 transforms from a river saturated with the runoff of the city (Portland people, think of the Willamette before the big pipe after a heavy rain on a cloudy day), to a weaving line of obsidian reflecting the lights of the city. I love it.

At this point I was thinking that I could cross the bridge and walk a little bit further to 古亭站 and take the MRT from there. It would be a good walk, and I'd still get home early enough to wind down and get to bed early so that I could wake up at 6am on a Sunday morning to go play tennis. These were my thoughts as I was crossing the bridge until I saw the riverfront path beckoning me from below. Taipei has miles of paths following the 淡水河, and it's tributaries like the 新店溪; they are especially welcoming at night as they are well lit and there is a steady stream of cyclists and pedestrians, people playing basketball and tennis, and friend and family gatherings well into the evening.

Oops. Somebody hit the pause button...

...for more than seven months. I started this way back in September. At the time I was awash in the euphoria of having recently returned to Taiwan. There were few moments I enjoyed more than walking along the river late into the evening. This memory still holds a special place, as I remember actively attempting to create a narrative as I walked, in the hopes that I would remember enough to eventually write it all down later on. One area in particular was set up as a few rows of benches that looked out onto the river. There were at least a dozen couples sitting there in different states of body language, conversation, and general engagement. There were the ones with bodies turned to face each other participating in active conversation. Others had bodies turned towards the river, but with heads facing each other as a dialogue waxed and waned, only to turn and face the river again. Then, there were those who sat next to each other, but said nothing; looking straight ahead at the river, the cityscape across the water, or looking, yet seeing nothing, with eyes and thoughts gazing inwards.

The ones who said nothing I found the most captivating. A couple of them were older and I found myself composing their story as I walked past: Perhaps they were so comfortable with each other, that nothing really needed to be said; their presence together was enough. Or, maybe a physical presence was all they had; that emotionally they had completely separated, and the claustrophobia of a quiet household got them out into the night air, but couldn't get them speaking. Who really knows? But that's why I found the quiet couples so intriguing. With a door so open to speculation, I found my mind racing to create my own version of their history.

Perhaps it feels that much more relevant when your life changes course; so it's important to:
Always look on the bright side...

Where to go from here...

I love this:

For the longest time I always thought I was trying to take the path of least resistance. It was maybe the path of least confrontation, because I think I was constantly mistaking opportunity for a challenge I was reluctant to pursue. Most of the time I just waited for the next thing to land at my feet as opposed to actively seeking a path that would provide the personal fulfillment (mostly professional) that has so far felt lacking. But then I would find myself here and have fleeting moments of inspiration and clarity:

The air is warm, the sky is blue (and all the leaves are green), a vast urban landscape is laid out in a multitude of buildings, people, and experiences. It's moments like these where everything feels tangible and I want to grab hold of this moment and embrace it as a living object. Because maybe this time I won't allow myself to get too comfortable with whatever status quo I've established for myself. Maybe if I can hold this feeling and moment long enough I will try harder in life. But it's not something I can physically hold onto. I have my brief moment of clarity where I make grand declarations to myself that I know I won't follow through on. But maybe one small thing sticks, and if enough things stick over time, eventually things might change.

Life is fascinating. Going places, experiencing people, letting nature take your breath away. The best moments never feel long enough, and looking back feel even shorter. Some of the best I can remember like yesterday, and some have to be conjured from the recesses of memory by stories told by friends. Having entered an entirely new stage of life makes me want to embrace these memories that much more. To me, they are the most important currency. At this point they feel like the best kind of savings that I have, making them that much more precious to hold onto.

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...

我買了兩本書/Moby Dick

Between work and home I spend too much time in front of the computer. Sometimes I don't even know what it is I'm trying to find. I'm just looking for any random thing to keep me occupied, and it's one of those habits that I would like to remedy. Because of this, I have no reservations about being a smart phone hold out, as the last thing I need is another reason to stare at a screen.

As a solution, I decided to brave the rainy weather and go to a book store yesterday to find something good to read. My initial goal was tracking down A Dance with Dragons (update: found it, read it, it was awesome. Now I have to wait who knows how long for the next one), book five in the A Song of Ice and Fire series. I wanted to find it used and so my first stop was Whose Books near the 公館 MRT station. A couple different blogs recommended this store as having the best used English book section in Taipei. Turns out it wasn't big enough to fill half an aisle at Powell's Books.

I did not find my intended purchase.

My next best chance was the much larger book store across the street. As far as finding my initial book choice it was a bust, but they did have a decent selection of HarperCollins classics on the cheap. After perusing my options I decided upon Moby Dick and Fitzgerald's The Beautiful and the Damned, both of which I've never read. For some reason the clerk decided to give me a discount even though I said I wasn't a student (it's near 台灣大學, so students get a discount), and so I walked away with my two new books for $8. Sweet.

I was also hungry and really wanted a burger, so with my purchases in hand I walked off in pursuit of California Grill on 永康街 (a touristy street with abundant restaurants, tea shops, and other shopping opportunities), a little burger place that Andrea and I went to a couple times previously. I thought I knew where it was and after a futile hour or so of trying to track it down, went into a random place that had what looked like Spanish and African cuisine inspired sandwiches. I placed my order and started reading Moby Dick. By the second page I was already hooked, but a passage on page four really struck me with how little things have changed within the human condition since the book was published in 1851:

"Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then. however the old sea-captains may order me about--however they thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way--either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content."

Damn, if that isn't powerful. I made a good choice.

生日快樂/33

I originally wrote this on my birthday. It has been changed. Immediately after finishing it I thought it was the best thing I ever wrote. The following morning told me otherwise. It had some good sentiments so I've decided to keep most of it, but decided to make some changes to make it a little more coherent. Perhaps that ruins the spirit (get it?) of "the sauce" inspired ramblings, but I couldn't bring myself to leave it as it was.

Today marks year number 33. I'm 33 years old and I have no idea what that means whatsoever. My dad was 33 when he married my mom and the result of that was Gina, me, and Raymond. My birthday also coincided with Teacher Appreciation Day in Taipei (or Taiwan, I'm not sure if it's countrywide), so I was also treated to a banquet. While this was by no means a celebration of my birthday, I still received a great happy birthday chorus from my fellow 蓬萊 staff, friends, students, and family, and it was amazing. It's hard not to feel happy that people care.

People care. It's a wonderful thing.

I am fascinated by everything about my life. Also, it's my birthday, and I've been drinking, and that makes everything even more fascinating. Every time I sit and write a blog I end up thinking and thinking and thinking. I don't know how to really express myself, or how to express this experience, or even what it was the last time around. Sometimes I wander around new streets and just stare up and try to imagine the history around them. There's a department store called Carrefour near my school and directly across the street are some of the most run down homes I've ever seen. I look at those and imagine just how much the property that those apartments sit on must be worth (I'm pretty sure it's a lot). I've walked by them so many times, and I can't help but wonder how much longer they'll be there. It's one of those interesting dichotomies where you can see the new and the old in direct confrontation, and it seems the new eventually wins out in the end.

I don't where I fit in that. Do I want to follow the societal and technological trends or be a perpetual confrontation/luddite?  Am I making choices that move me forward, or am stuck moving in perpetual circles? Have I isolated myself by living abroad again? I don't know. What I know is that today I turn 33; and all the societal/internal noise feels insignificant because I can close my eyes and return to these places (or just look at pictures on the computer):

 

What to do when there's so many wonderful things around me, and yet this beauty is drowned out by news headlines that are perpetually frustrating. It is while reading things like this that I feel my greatest conflict. I'm abroad; I should stop caring. Obamacare, guns, Ted Cruz, Iran, Israel, drones, terrorists, massacres, civilian casualties, Islamic extremists, the religious right, apparently now there's an atheist "church," progressive, conservative. Sensationalist stories about people, places, events and the labels we place on ideologies create an incredible din, it seriously never ends. I feel an increasing desire to distance myself from all of it because every day; every day, it's this: Who's fighting who? Is America going to bomb another country? More people were shot. The U.S. political system appears broken.

Then I see young kids getting into metal, and a teacher creating great opportunities to play and record music for his students, and I feel inspired to keep caring.

Most of all today, I think about the people that matter most to me. I wish I could embrace you all, and tell you all how much I love you. This reminds me of a story about drinking and wanting to tell everybody about my feelings. Years ago, probably around the year 2000, I spent a lot of my time with some Klamath Falls folk (you all know who you are) that had migrated to Portland. I had a habit of drinking too much and wanting to share my feelings. I also had a habit of drinking so much that I would nod off here and there. Anyways, one evening after some merriment Cory was taking Andrew and I back home in his truck. I was blabbing about this and that and then proceeded to finish with: "I just love everybody so much." And then promptly fell asleep. Good times. 

These are my thoughts entering year number 33. I have felt a lot of love from amazing people; I am very lucky.

To lift their voice/龍山寺

One of my goals since I've arrived in Taipei is to go on a walk everyday. Today's goal was to walk from my apartment to 龍山寺 without checking any maps or planning any sort of route beforehand. This is roughly the route I took, which include a stop at 青山宮, a temple that Danny Ohlsen, Andrea, and I visited during his visit, and I ended up encountering again somewhat by accident.

從我家去龍山寺 (be sure to click on including the map)

龍山寺 is one of the oldest temples in Taiwan, having originally been built in 1738. It is also one of the most touristy, and with good reason; it is amazing.

There are usually a lot of people there, but today I was surprised with something entirely unexpected. It was more crowded than usual, and a large number of people had songbooks in their hands and were singing in unison with a lone hand drum, and maybe a cymbal keeping the beat. A song would finish, and then a voice would pierce the break in the chorus and identify the new song and melody that was to begin. After the one solo line, the collective whole would begin again with an awe inspiring cohesiveness. It was so unexpected and sounded so uplifting that for a moment I felt tears well up in my eyes. I did a loop around the temple soaking it all in. As I did this I noticed something. I would walk by various people and at times observed just how off key some of them sounded. However, I'd take a couple more steps, and they would blend into the harmonious whole.

It serves as a reminder that it's so easy to point out individual faults, whether self-reflective, or pointing the finger elsewhere. Yet a community working together can quickly compensate for individual imperfection and create something meaningful.

I know this is an obvious allegory to create from this experience, but it feels relevant because I have left my community. I've put myself back into an environment where I am definitely the "other." It's easy to get used to feeling anonymous in Portland as one of many tall, gangly, bearded dudes walking and biking around. However, throw those three adjectives on a foreigner in Taipei and the pool of eligible applicants shrinks exponentially. The result? Sometimes people stare. It can feel a little awkward, especially since I understand enough Chinese that after walking by people and then hearing them say something about the 外國 or the 白人, I know that they're talking about me. That's usually as far as I get though as far as understanding.

So then what is it about? Is it because I'm a tall, white guy? Have a beard? Both? Because I'm just so good looking? (joking) Because you feel annoyed that I'm here? Because you're wondering why I'm just sitting next to the river watching the sunset by myself?

This is not a complaint at all. I had some of the same thoughts during my first transition to living in Taipei, and I don't feel surprised that they've made a second appearance. The first time they went away and I imagine they will once again. To bring up my point from earlier, is that having left Portland, I no longer blend in. At this point, I am just a solo voice with all its imperfections, and thus feel as though I stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.

I did a poor job at creating a community the first time I was here, and so most events since I've arrived have been a solo exercise. I guess this brings me to my big point. I want to try harder to find good people, and build something meaningful with those around me. It also make me realize how quickly my year in Portland came and went, and how I dropped the ball on being more present before making another exit. So to friends and family I want to say that I love you all so much. Thank you for being you, and for being a part of my life. I miss you!

首兩個星期/找房子

Coming to Taiwan to work in a public school as a licensed teacher definitely has its perks: plane ticket reimbursement, paid vacation, being able to come on a resident visa (and thus not having to do visa runs, which I've heard about from other people and sound stressful). Then again, I come to Taiwan on a resident visa, which means I have 15 days to apply for my ARC card (basically an ID card that lets you come and go from Taiwan and verifies your legit status as a foreign resident; size of a driver's license), and to apply for my ARC card I have to have an apartment with a lease from a landlord. And so the apartment search began...

But before I fully get into that, I need to say that the first five days I was in Taiwan were amazing. Not because I did anything that exciting, but because I was back in Taiwan.

During my lunch break today I walked down to 大稻埕碼頭, a scenic park-like area down by the Danshui River, and while I was there began trying to figure out why I like Taiwan so much. The first year I was in Taiwan, 大稻埕碼頭 was under a lot of construction and wasn't really all that great. The bike path was closed and there were some relatively unattractive sheets of green fencing blocking off the parts of the park that they were working on.

Bringing things back into the present; the work there was done and what I saw this time was an entirely different experience. Everything looked new: new tennis courts, basketball courts, shaded benches with a nice view of the river, a nicely paved bike path, the mountains/hills around Taipei in the near distance, etc. I rested my arms on the railing and looked at the river and thought: "this is nice." Then I started making some inevitable Portland comparisons.

Portland has some nice walkways along the river; Portland is surrounded by nice looking hills/mountains; Portland has better food; better beer; cleaner air; come on now, why did you have to leave, what really makes Taipei or Taiwan that much better? Why are you here?

The answer actually came to me pretty quickly: quiet. 

Taipei proper is smaller than Portland by about a quarter, with more than four times as many people. At any given stoplight during rush hour there is an insane build up of cars and scooters; you always have to be on the lookout to make sure some random taxi driver or scooter isn't going to run you over. There are people everywhere. It can be loud. But I'm not talking about external quiet.

The voyage into adulthood has not been without its hiccups. Really, I've always felt a little behind the curve. Late to finish college, aimless at times, restless, bouncing around; what does my place in the world look like? Teaching; yeah that sounds good. I'll be a teacher; or will I; substitute teach; that's ok for now; no, this actually sucks; remember when I really wanted to teach abroad? Oh, that thing I've wanted to do ever since 2003? Yeah, that thing. Now it's 2011, and it happened, you got to teach abroad, this is fucking rad. But maybe the timing wasn't right, and now you're back in Portland. My mind is screaming at me. What are you fucking doing? What the fuck is Inside Track? Is this the direction your life is heading?

So, remember when I said that this about my apartment search and my first two weeks in Taiwan. That's coming. However, a linear thinker I am not.

I mentioned those first five days in Taiwan. They were glorious. I put on headphones, soaked in my surroundings, took pictures, and walked with a subtle, yet perpetual, smile on my face.

And then I realized that I needed to find an apartment. Not applying for your ARC on time results in $75-350 fine, and while I was enjoying my time at the Taipei Fun House, because they are awesome and anyone that comes to visit or that ever goes to Taiwan should stay with them, I did need a place of my own.

So I looked, and looked, and looked...

At first I thought that living in a larger apartment with other people could be good. I would be able to live cheaply, have a big living space, kitchen, and maybe meet some cool people. Checking out one apartment in particular cured me of that idea. I walked in and saw my potential roommates and immediately thought: "living with people would actually suck." It wasn't them, it was me.

I started feeling a little stressed out.

I began looking for my own place. Predominately using the http://www.591.com.tw/ website to browse apartments. And so I browsed, a lot. I probably scanned close to 5000 apartments, clicked on at least 500 of those to learn more, and felt even remotely excited about exactly 1 of those. Yes, I was being picky. My last apartment was big and cheap. That should have been great. Unfortunately, it also had big spiders, big cockroaches, a big uncomfortable couch bench, big rats running around above us, mold, and felt isolated from a lot of the city. This time, I really wanted to picky. I wanted to be fucking stoked about where I was living, but still do that on a budget. I was really beginning to feel like a stuck up and privileged asshole; the antithesis of my ideal self living abroad; or my ideal self in general; who even knows. 

This last weekend (8/31-9/1) brought both serious doubts about my return to Taiwan and a fortunate turn of events.

As the stress of the apartment search, and my expectations around it began to build, the first five days of elation sank into a distant memory. My questioning of one thing resulted in a questioning of all things. Here I am, away from friends, family, my wife, trying to build what? What the fuck are you doing? Why are you here? What is the point of this? What are you working towards? Yeah, not so quiet.

And then things worked out. My former co-worker Dan (apparently the golden child of foreign teachers living in Taiwan, no joke) connected me to his former landlord (who loved him and said to me "Dan 比你說中文好"), who had a place that I didn't want because it had no cooking capability. However, because I was Dan's friend, she decided to connect me to her friend, who happened to have a place less than a ten minute walk away from my school. Of course, she also loves Dan. 

But she liked me too, and now I have my little apartment box, and I love it. Ten minutes to walk to work. Five minutes to walk to 迪化街, or down to the river. Pretty much in the middle of everything. I definitely feel pretty lucky with how things turned out.

I got my rental contract, applied for my ARC, got my bank account, got some money in the bank, and then...quiet. The noise that began to build had been superficial. It was part of a transition to returning to a new country and trying to get settled. I had begun to feel frustrated about the apartment search, and panic about not getting situated within the required time frame, but I realized that I had never questioned my place here, just become impatient with the process. Now that the transition processes are complete, most of the calm and contentment has returned, and now classes start next week.

Pictures:

 Doctor says i need a backiotomy.

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.

Blog updates and the return of the beard...

Hey, blogger has a new interface. You can now expect visually dynamic masterpieces full of pictures and keen insight into daily happenings in Taipei, starting with this one.

I also decided to rename my blog. Unlike the new interface, it probably won't make me a better writer, but I do feel it has given me a clear theme to draw ideas from. It also represents an approach to the world that I would like to embrace. I feel that I often become very narrowly focused on one thing, and in the process proceed to ignore so much of what's going on around me. Coming to Taiwan to teach is a perfect example. I convinced myself that I merely needed to idle away my time until I left, and missed out on a lot of opportunities to make life more interesting while wrapping up my time in Portland (and perhaps more financially stable).

A narrow focus is also something I would like to avoid while having such an amazing opportunity here in Taipei. Already I've caught myself falling into too much of a routine, and putting up the blinders while on my commute to and from work. There's a lot here to absorb and experience, and it would be a pity if I closed myself off to it.

I'm also growing back my beard. It has inspired this haiku:

Oh beard, you were missed
How naked my face had felt
Make me whole again

Wow, that's terrible! If I had more sense I would just erase it now...

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?

My day in pictures...

Breakfast: Rice crackers with peanut butter and jelly. Cereal has recently taken it's place. But I meant to post this a long time ago.












Perhaps a cup of tea to go with it. This is a chrysanthemum pu er tea, and it is amazing. It is also super cheap. A box of 40 tea bags is around $4.















Now it's time to go down the apartment stairs, and off to work...














...through the alley outside my apartment...

















...down De He Rd...














...through the park...













...past the library...













...to Yongan Market MRT station...















...onto the MRT...













...down Minsheng West Rd (not a lot is open at this time of day, though there are a lot of breakfast places)...



















..."Good morning, Steve!"...













..."Good morning everybody! Lovely to see you all today."...














...and then I have a seat at my desk. I don't actually teach,
I just watch videos about teaching...












...OK, that's not true. Here we are in the clothes store scenario...











...and now it's time for lunch. I never thought I'd eat school lunch, and yet here I am. It's actually not half bad, though I decided to pursue lunch options outside the school for the month of October (if you want school lunch you have to pay for the month in advance. It's pretty cheap, maybe $25 or so for the month).






After some more teaching it is back to the MRT to start the journey home...













...down Zhongzheng Rd...













...through the produce stand...













...back into the alley...























...back up the stairs...
















...and then a little dinner. Tonight's selection is an egg, tofu, kimchei mishmash. Yumm!















Anti-climactic? Perhaps. Thoroughly enjoyable? Most definitely. Good night!