Epilogue - Rewriting Personal Myths

23.5 hours door to door. Taipei, Hong Kong, San Fran, Seattle. And business class is the only way to cross the Pacific. Completely stretched out, full-length comforter, eye pillow and edible food served upon awakening. Ahh!!! (Once I snuck into the first class bathroom. Spacious with a touch of elegance. Someone puts paper toilet seat protectors on between usages -- still wondering how they keep an eye on that.) 30 minute mob scene getting through customs (retinal scans and thumbprint analysis on non-native born). Then a choice -- slum with the riff raft in coach on a ready-to-leave flight to Seattle or hang with the upper crust for a first class seat 2.5 hours later. Back with the masses where I belong got me to Sharon that much earlier. A quick taste of Americana as the Yanks beat up on the Angels before I crashed in the 4th inning just before 7. Slept on the sofa in front of a wall of windows to watch night and day unfold. (A real treat after my windowless room in Taipei.)

And so I'm back. Unwinding at the same time my mind is trying to catalogue, organize, and make sense of everything. Suspect that will continue into the ensuing days and weeks. But today, as my Taiwan Adventure begins to recedes, here's the broad strokes I see written in the sand:

Foresight is better than hindsight. If I knew what was in store, I doubt that I would have taken this trip. Way too daunting. Way too much work. But with the blindness of foresight, I stumbled onto an unexpected richness of experience that will be available to me from here on out. Taking each step without knowing is the adventure. The learning and figuring out where those steps might lead, that comes next.

Always judge a book by its cover. My judgment about something is equally as interesting as the thing itself. Both are there to explore. There were a number of things about Taipei that were off-putting, frightening, just not right. It was those things that gave me the opportunity to become aware of my expectations, fears and prejudices, at how I think things should be. (Not that I'm going to change any of them mind you.) The trick is not to let my judgment keep me from reading the book. Then, both are lost to me.

It's a huge world after all. There is absolutely nothing small about this world. Planes might help me get there faster and technology might help me stay in touch (and I am so thankful for Skype and the Internet), but it's the diversity that makes this world so vast. And for me, especially after this trip, the wonder is in the diversity. I hope the world never gets small.

And with that my Taiwan Adventure concludes . . .

Homeward Bound

Food is coming to me. I don’t have to look for it. Noodles at Taipei airport (best bowl I’ve had), indian curry on the plane and pineapple fried rice in Hong Kong. International cuisine across the globe. And I’m eating everything. Can’t believe how hungry I am.

Mostly I’m noticing, the space, the pace and the quiet. Never thought of airports as low key. (Though once I got to Hong Kong, no one honors the “stand to the right rule” on escalators). In Taiwan I was feeling how little personal space there was. I asked my one-on-one teacher about that. She said that she understood the question – but that personal space was a “foreigner’s” idea. For her, personal space was something inside and there’s plenty of it. I'll miss those conversations.

Off to San Fran. (wonder what they are serving on the flight)

Eve of Departure

I laid down to sleep last night, and it struck me. “I’m ready! It’s time to go.” 3 days earlier than originally planned. 25 days since leaving home. A little indecision, not much, followed by a flurry of activity to confer with Sharon, change tickets and figure out what I need to do to wrap things up. Past 1 AM when my head hit pillow. Restless night with over-tiredness and anticipation taking turns keeping me awake. I like not counting the days ‘til departure (dead time in purgatory) – just get going.

So many things are done differently over here. One that I really like is that the person doing the leaving throws the party. I took my one-on-one teacher out to lunch and bought a Black Forest Cake for my classmates. (Now even the French gal and Vietnamese gal have a certain affection for me.) And I’m leaving in the nick of time. Today the teacher kicked it up a notch and left me in the dust. It was nice of them to coddle me for the past three weeks. With me in their rear view mirror, they’re getting down to business.

Comfort food for dinner at my favorite American restaurant in the ShiDa district of Taipei -- 2 eggs over hard, grilled cheese sandwich, hash browns and a coke. Breakfast and lunch for dinner! Wonderful!

On this adventure, I was so ill-prepared for my conscious objective – learning to speak Chinese in a Chinese city – and so well prepared for my unconscious objective – watching myself experience a situation for which I’m so unprepared. Both have left me a little ragged. My early departure makes good sense – I’ll need more than a weekend to decompress before re-engaging in work on Monday.

Another 24 hour trip ahead. I appreciate my foresight in splurging travel miles on Business Class. I may post entries in airports along the way if there’s something to be said. And will wrap up the blog with an epilogue upon my return to hearth and home.

Eating Out - An Early Retrospective

In my constant search for a meal that I can & will eat. I’ve come to realize that Taipei has more eating establishments per capita than anywhere else in the world (warning – unsubstantiated fact). A statistically insignificant number of discussions with those few that can understand me suggest that everyone in Taipei is way to busy to cook, so a good number of them eat every single meal out. It appears that free market economics has jumped in to meet that demand. From an MBA’s perspective (which of course I'm not), here’s the market segmentation of food suppliers to the Taipei market:

The mundane: Department stores (yup!), 7-11s, MacDonalds, Pizza Hut, Mos Burger, Starbucks, and Pastry shops (who knew about Taipei’s sweet tooth. And the number of these shops would rival any French city).

Transient push cart vendors: Like those that sell roasted chestnuts and hot dogs on the streets of New York. Seen everywhere from alley to boulevards. Grab and run. Egg-meat breakfast buns, noodles, sweets, sandwiches. Constantly morphing depending upon time and taste.

Semi-permanent open-air stalls: A set-up akin to our county fairs. Mostly in the lanes and alleys. Seating on wooden crates, plastic chairs or not at all. Cauldrons of red, green and yellow broths bubbling up who knows what (I don’t ask – they don’t tell). Half chickens stripped and hung. Hands mincing vegetables, meats and fish.

Thread Bare basic dining: The heart and soul of Taipei indoor eating. Some cafeteria buffet style, others not. Quality food without ambiance. Family owned and run. Curb appeal that scares away most foreigners – but it’s the mainstay of the natives. Menus broad as taste buds. (Can’t think of anything in the States that compares.)

Restaurants – like you’ll find in any city. Prices from reasonable to excessive. Menus following ethnic lines with fusion thrown in. Strongest gravitational pull for westerners.

At some I like to dine. At others I wish I hadn’t.

There's No Place Like Home

The new Taipei.

It took me 3 weeks, but I found it. Reminds me of downtown Bellevue, just a tad bit grander. Polished marble and glass buildings rising out of the sugar cane fields of yesteryear (the 1980s). Too many to count, and some not willing to share a city block. Open space. Greenery. And a 16 theatre multi-plex. (I’m thinking of cutting class one day this week.) Not a single lane or alley so characteristic of this city. A youth group putting on a street fair promoting healthy living – balloons, speakers blaring, dancing and pavilion tents. Everything so clean and tidy.

The beacon is the 101 story, Taipei 101. Tallest building in the world, at least until the one in Dubai is christened. This one comes complete with an attached 6 story enclosed mall, that doesn’t open until a very fashionable 11:00 (I got there at 10:10). Pretty much all the stores were familiar. Would only know this was Asia by the scale and the food court. Shopping in a tux wouldn’t be overdressed. Headed to the food court with hopes of good ol’ American grub. But the pickings were slim. I couldn’t help myself, I went for Subway. And they make the exact same bad sandwich over here. Very unsatisfying.

Going back to the hotel, I walked through the area in which I got lost on my very first day. I remembered sweating profusely, map in hand and no landmark did I see. How could I miss it? 4 blocks away, spiring into the heavens like Jack’s Beanstalk was Taipei 101. Amazing what you see with different eyes.

Full Circle

There's nothing like getting out to the country. I felt the wind find its way through me. Heard birds, rippling leaves, water over rocks. Took off my shoes and soaked my legs in a hot spring. Refreshing for body and soul. Didn't realize I was so tight. Big city life takes its toll.

Beitou is the site of natural hot springs. During their occupation in the early 1900s, the Japanese commercialized it into public baths. After their departure, the buildings fell into disrepair until a high school field trip came upon them (no kidding), petitioned for historical status and everything was revitalized in the 1990s. Now it’s promoted as a resort town calling itself Xin Beitou (New Beitou). They send a Disneyland-ish subway car to the main line to pick people up and bring them to town.

Xin Beitou sports a green-built library (first one in east Asia), the original Japanese-built public bathhouse (restored as a museum), public hot spring baths and numerous hotels, as well as dense commercial and residential infrastructure that seems omnipresent wherever I go. 5 minutes walk outside town is a small lake (pond actually). Hot enough for people to hard boil eggs - and they do - though now it's discouraged as too many people fall in and burn themselves (but that may be an urban legend).

So little time – so much to do. Since I may never make it to India or Nepal, I spent the waning afternoon at a Buddhist temple of some renown back in Taipei. The Longshan temple. Originally built in the early 1700s (before the great USofA was even on the map). Has been destroyed and rebuilt after fires, earthquakes and US bombing at the end of WWII (suspected the Japanese were hiding armaments inside). I stumbled onto a worship service. Felt voyeuristic, but what a sensory experience!!!

The temple is a walled, very small oasis surrounded and dwarfed by the looming metropolis of Taipei. The architecture is visually stunning. Japanese flowing drain-tile roofs with ornate, bright colored swirls and dragons. A large, almost empty courtyard inside the first gate, bounded by pond & garden on one side and on the other, a 20 foot high rock face visible beneath a thin, cascading waterfall. Through the second gate . . .

An inner courtyard, teeming with worshippers, kneeling, sitting, standing and moving towards an alter prominently displaying a golden Buddha. Many holding lit incense sticks – 2 feet in length, some by the dozen, and bowing (at interval of their own choosing). Others lighting red candles, thick as dynamite, to be placed on pedestals. (A little tricky to move through this crowd without getting singed). Some with hands pressed together in prayer and others with an open chant book. Tables to hold offerings (flowers, fruit, cakes, etc.) randomly arranged. And almost everyone chanting, but with one voice – one rich, earthy voice. Not loud or strong, but solid and grounding. I’ve heard about resonance, I understand the principle, but I’ve never felt it before. As I walked amongst that crowd, the rhythm of the chant found its way inside of me. I felt the chant as if I was chanting, but I wasn’t. I was mesmerized – almost thoughtless but aware. Just like the morning wind in Xin Beitou, the chant found its way through me and, for a while, stayed.

Life on the Streets (Specifically Zhong Xiao Dong Lu)

A current of people. Non-Stop. Constantly. Always in motion. Some diverting into stores, others lost to the alleys. Replaced. Instantly from who knows where.

Goods for sale. Splayed out right there on the sidewalk, a makeshift table, or a platform jury-rigged to the back seat of a scooter. Every day different stuff in different places. Earings and bracelets, flip flops, umbrellas. Sweaters and kids back packs. Magnifying glasses and hair brushes. You name it. If it's not here today, it will be tomorrow or one block over. Five and dime quality. Some better. Claiming real estate outside a chic boutique or a high end department store.

Homeless, virtually absent. In all my walking, I've only seen two (that fit my stereotype) and always in the exact same place unless it's raining. Then to the protection of a close by eave or overhang. Unobtrusive, never asking for money. It's the buddhist monks who beg. In khaki, grey or orange robes, bowing and chanting. With shaved heads and bronze bowls.

The maimed and grossly disfigured. Faces scared with burns or features absent. The limbless. And the even more heart wrenching. Fetal development gone horribly wrong but born anyway with the breadth of life. And all of these are selling. Gum, toothbrushes, combs.

And the current moves in, between and through all of this. Mindless and mindful. All the time