Learning to Fish: 学会钓鱼

Discovering Kunming...

2012-02-07T13:49:00.030+08:00

I ended up with nearly 2 months paid vacation from work for Chinese new year, and my trip
began with a nice visit from my buddy Andy. He came down from Fujian to Huizhou for a small trip, and Vivi and I ended up following him to Kunming, which is in the southwest province of Yunnan; a place I had previously not been to before.

The flight was quick, and upon landing, we were greeted with pleasant temperatures. Kunming is on a mile high plateau, and therefore enjoys the same temperature year round. Some call it "the land of eternal spring."

We had some awesome food, and noticed that all of the ingredients were fresh, and mostly wild

vegetables that we had never tasted before.

Later on, we found a bar that was built in a Mao era bomb shelter. It was well off of the beaten

path of the main city of Kunming, and it was cool

to explore the underground cavern that once served as a paranoid bunker to protect against Soviet/American bombings. We couldn't

get pictures inside of the shelter as it wa

s too dark.We had a few too many at the bar, and ended up playing a drinking game that Vivi had on her phone. The night ended up with us walking out of the bar covered in garbage, and we may or may not have vulgar pictures and uni-brows drawn on our faces.

The next day brought headaches and mountains. The fresh air was potent, and we hired a car to take us out to the countryside. Our driver was fairly useless as he insisted that there was nothing to see in Kunming. We could clearly see

gorgeous scenery surrounding the entire area. The rolling green of Guangdong gave way to stark cliffs and very low clouds. It was very pretty.

We ventured further out into the countryside, and the driver informed us of something very

strange coming up in our direction. He told us that there was a village of midgets, and we didn't

quite understand how something like that could exist. Later, we found out that a

government/tourism project was set up, and a village of more than 1000 midgets had been built. The midgets run everything from the shops to

the shows, and even have their own dormitory and life provided for them. They make a

bout 1000 RMB per month, and it saves them

from the certain discrimination they would face in their homes. Chinese people are not the most accepting of folk, and a statistic says that 70% of the midgets working at the "Dwarf Kingdom"

had previously tried to kill themselves. There is a tirade of politically correct people online who cry that it is degrading and terrible of them to set up an attraction where people can ogle and treat midgets as a novelty. However, what we saw puts any of that politically correct negativity to rest.

To our dismay, the tourist attraction (complete with castle and rides) was closed that day. We were very disappointed. To our surprise, we saw a few small people doing some laundry. After they finished hanging it up, they told us it was their day off, and they were going to climb a mountain. Despite being tired of tourists taking their picture day in and day out, they invited us to climb the mountain. This gesture gave us the opportunity to have a one on one interview/experience with many of the little people who worked there.

Most of the girls were dancers, and the boys did various jobs. Some ran shops, and some did acrobatics. They were very happy at their job, and they said that it was a huge improvement over the opportunity-less liv

es that they led before. Most of the little people came from

different places in China, and it was very nice to see them come together as one community.

As we hustled up the mountain, we reveled in the looks that people gave us. Imagine a remote area of China. Seeing 2 foreigners climbing the local mountain was strange enough for the local people, but 2 foreigners among a huge group of

dwarfs was something different entirely. We can only imagine the conversations that they had at the dinner table.

Throughout our climb, we found that three of the guys and girls were actually dating each other. Initial appearances led us to treat the little people as children at first, but seeing them act like normal Chinese 20-ish year olds eventually allowed us to adjust. It wasn't long before we realized that their deformities had nothing to do with their

personalities. If anything, they were friendlier than the average

Chinese person.

Their incredible athletic ability allowed them to pursue the next peak of the mountain. It was there that we decided to separate and head down the mountain to see some other things around the city.

Our driver went full retard and ended up not wanting to drive more than 20 miles out of the city, so we decided to get some food. We went to a tiny little local restaurant out of a woman's house and we ate very well. She cured her own meats, grew her own vegetables, and made her own alcohol, which she proceeded to allowus to taste. We figure most of it was medicinal, because we couldn't find one alcohol that was even remotely palatable. In fact, after sampling only a few, we ended up feeling as though we had consumed some bizarre drug. Some were made from various fruits grown out in the woman's yard, and some were made from

roots that we couldn't even come close to identifying. I don't remember much from the meal, or the car ride after that, because of how

bizarre we felt. I vaguely remember a terribly boring conversation that I had with the driver on the way up a different mountain, but that is about it.

The mountain was our last attempt at getting our driver to heed our wishes. We got so

frustrated that we ended up forcing him to park and wait for us while we explored on foot. We

ended up finding a really beautiful mountain covered in flowing grass, karst stones, and fading mountain scenery in the distance. We built a

small fire, and we watched the sun go down. The fire ended up being a bad idea, as it was so unbelievably dry up there that we could have set the whole mountain ablaze with a single spark. We ended up staying so long at the peak, exploring, that we had about 5 missed calls from the driver who was anxious to get back. It was unfortunate, because we were hoping that he would just get frustrated and leave without us

paying him. Too bad he was waiting at the bottom when we descended.

Our Kunming adventure ended up in a night market full of delicious, bizarre snacks. We were

surrounded by the minority population of Kunming selling their native dishes. Kunming is home to the majority of China's 56 minorities, and it wasn't hard to find them in the market. You could find everything under the sun here, and we

were on a mission to find some insects. I have had

insects cooked into things when I went to Thailand, and I had sampled some sort of huge

pulsating cocoon thing while living in Inner Mongolia, but I had never had plain bugs. We

found a stall selling grubs and grasshoppers, and we jumped on the opportunity. The locals tried to take me for a ride, and rip me off, thinking I was some sort of foreign tourist going on a bizarre foods adventure (I guess I was, wasn't I?). In the end, I ended up pitting the different insect

sales people against each other, and lied about

how much each one was charging me. We ended up getting two big plates of bugs for next to nothing, and snacked on them over a couple beers. The flavor was nice. I can't really describe the grubs.

They were kind of oily, creamy, and crispy at the same time. The flavor was kind of like nuts and milk. The grasshoppers were crispy and tasted like potato chips or roasted nuts. Overall, not a bad deal.

Our send off and departure ended with some dog meat. Andy had never tried it before, and we order up some ribs. Not surprisingly, it was delcious again, and I really recommend that people get over their fears and stigmas and give it a try. Dog, and donkey meat are two of the best meats I have ever tasted. Give it a try.

After Andy headed back to Fujian, Vivi and I made our way south to the untouched jungle region of Xishuangbanna, on the border with Laos. More to come...

A China Apart...

2011-11-19T14:08:00.006+08:00

Please click the album for all photos from the Bameng and Ningxia trip

ALBUM

Ba Meng and Ningxia Province

Sunrise
Xinjiang girl (brown hair and green eyes)
Hui boys grilling corn on the harvest fire
Drying corn in the Hui neighborhood
Hui girls at a strict Islamic school
Hui boy running to get to an open prayer spot
Chatting with some Hui men in Yinchuan at the biggest Mosque
The main Mosque in Yinchuan

On the way from our trip to North Western Inner Mongolia, we departed and headed south, to the Islamic Autonomous Province of Ningxia. It is home to one of the most well known of the 56 Chinese minorities, the Hui people.

Ningxia was originally a Muslim province of China, but was incorporated into Gansu province in 1954. In 1958, Ningxia regained it's independence. Ningxia lies in an arid region that has only been made arable through extensive irrigation of the Yellow river.

Ningxia was taken over by the Qin Dynasty around the 3rd century, and Mongol take over followed in the 13th century. Around the 19th century, an influx of Turkic language speaking Muslims came to Ningxia from the west, and Arabic can still be seen on all road signs.

Ningxia remains a place of mystery, and much of it's ecosystem has yet to be studied.

Though it's religion is interesting, history is vast, and the people wonderful, it was really a love of Hui food that brought me to this place. I eat Hui food on a daily basis, and without trying, my diet has steadily become Halal. The way they incorporate my favorite flavors (sour and spicy) into every dish so perfectly has allowed this cuisine to quickly become of a favorite of mine in this land of deliciousness. Also, no other place in the world does lamb and goat better than Ningxia. I'll stand by those words until proven wrong.

One of my dear friends in Baotou is a Hui Muslim, originally from the capital of Ningxia, Yinchuan. His brother still lives in the capital, and he took us to all of the famous Mosques, and also some fantastic places to eat. Yinchuan was a surprisingly fantastic city. The downtown area was pulsating with energy, and it made me wonder why Baotou couldn't be the same way.

The climate was fantastic as well. The air wasn't dry like Baotou, and the temperature remained a comfortable 15-20 degrees nearly the whole duration of the trip.

In order to access some of the more restricted Mosques in the city, we donned our Hui hats, and proceeded to lie to everyone that asked if we were Muslim. They got a kick that a couple of Muslims from America decided to make the trip to come down to see the Ancient home of a people that are widely unknown to the rest of the world.

At the biggest Mosque in Yinchuan, we listened to the haunting chants of the cantor, and watched everyone get down to say their prayers. The city boomed with the echos of daily prayers, and it was again, a truly foreign experience in a country that I feel I know so well.

Although Mandarin Chinese is spoken in daily life among the Hui people, it is heavily accented, and I had a very difficult time understanding what was said. Arabic was spoken in the Mosque, and nearly everyone we met could read and write in the beautiful script.

After we were satisfied with the showcase city of Yinchuan, we headed south to experience what Ningxia was really like. We made it down to the city of Wuzhong, and noticed that everything became a whole... lot more Muslim. There were Mosques dotting the countryside everywhere we went, and more and more people sported the traditional clothing of Islam.

Our driver followed a sect of Islam that originated in Yemen. The leader came to China a few hundred years ago, and brought his flavor of Islam to Ningxia. There have been six leaders since then, and we had the honor of meeting the current leader. He even allowed us to see the tombs of the previous leaders, and told us that no outsider has ever been allowed to see them before. He explained that the surrounding villages received no government aid, and everything was provided to them by the Mosque if they were in need. It actually turned out to be more of a commune than anything communism in China had ever been able to produce. Turns out nationalism is always trumped by faith and community. In the end we were touched, and felt a real warmth coming from the leader of the religion. He was a real, genuine spirit.

We hired a driver who took us to some of the more remote areas of the province, and saw some of the most beautiful rural life we had ever scene. Neighborhoods of Hui houses were lined with grape vines, date and nut trees, wolfberries (the provincial specialty) and corn drying in the sun. People invited us into their homes left and right, and cut juicy, sweet melons for us to enjoy while they told us stories. We ended up getting a tip that there were two strict/radical Islamic schools that were 30-40 km off of the road, and if we wanted to see what real Islam looked like, we would have to take the dirt roads for a few hours.

When we arrived, we noticed hundreds of boys in robes preparing for daily prayers. A large bearded man came to greet us, and only let us in after we told him Salam Alikom (the Arabic for "may peace be with you") and telling him that we were Muslims as well. The students at this Mosque only studied from the Quran, and were only allowed to speak in Arabic. It was strange to see such devotion in a nation with such little religious tolerance, but I don't know if the government really touched that region yet. It was so off of the beaten path, I doubt too many people had actually seen it before. An hour from the male Mosque, we found the female Mosque. The leader was happy to show us around, and we watched the girls giggle and scamper away as we approached.

After soaking up all of the Islam we could, we headed back through the sunset to watch all of the farmers finish up their day's work. It was lovely to see the woman with scarfs tending the sheep, and picking the corn.

To be honest, Ningxia was interesting, eye opening and frankly surprising, but in the end, it turned out to be one of the most organized, peaceful, quiet, and altogether, nicest places I have been to in China. The weather was mild, the streets were wide, and the food was some of the best I have ever had.

It was a place where people believed in something higher than the government, and it felt almost like an oasis of faith and morality in a country that sometimes feels like it's going "nowhere" fast.

Life in the Country...

2011-10-19T16:30:00.009+08:00

Laurence's grandma (102)
Fishing
Vivi on the lake
Fisherman
Muslim in training
Sheep grazing in the valley
Donkey time
Shepard leads the sheep to eat near the mountain
Farm bikes
Mud huts
The family home
The home and Jade mountain
Jade ore from the mountain
The crew

It's been a fairly smooth couple months. The semester has begun, and the fresh faces of my freshman have made things just dandy. Some classes are uber enthusiastic, and it proves that every inch of life hasn't been beaten out of them from the mandatory military training at the beginning of the semester.

October 1st was national day. It's a day to don red, and sing the praises of the founders of this hypocrisy that we know all too well as the Communist Party of China. While some Chinese fire off copious amounts of fireworks, I took advantage of the 9 days off to go have myself a journey.

Vivi flew up to the capital city of Hohhot, about 2 hours from Baotou. She was under the impression that I would be able to pick her up, which ended up not happening. It turned out that all train and bus tickets had been sold out 10 days before. Seems like everyone else was going to take advantage of the 9 days off as well. How clever of me to prepare?!

I assured her that she would be able to find a way to Baotou once she arrived at the airport. Turns out that she didn't. Most hotels in Hohhot were booked that day, and her only option was to share an illegal taxi.

Illegal taxis are driven by farmers (or con artists and thieves) on busy holidays. They run beat up old cars or vans to make a quick buck when people are desperate to get somewhere. Unfortunately, illegal taxis have a nasty reputation in Inner Mongolia for treating their passengers to a face rag full of chloroform, and stripping and robbing them before tossing them out in the middle of no where. This is particularly unnerving because the middle of no where in Inner Mongolia is really the middle of no where.

Back to the story. Vivi ended up taking an illegal taxi, and despite the driver being stopped by police (and successfully bribing them twice), and also a hit and run, he managed to deliver Vivi in one (albeit shaken) piece.

The next day, we took up my buddy Laurence on a trip to his hometown. Laurence comes from a shady upbringing, as he had to do many bad things (think mafia) to take care of his family in the countryside. He's managed to do well, because after the 2 hour drive, his parent's house had plaster walls, electric lights, and even a solar panel heated water tank. In comparison to the mud huts with no windows that his neighbors had, it was a surreal improvement.

Life in rural Inner Mongolia was full of beautiful, dry, simplicity. The menacing Jade mountain shadowed the village, and it's presence was felt everywhere. Corn dried around the mud huts, and curious folk drove by on motorcycles hanging together with a piece of wire and string.

We were treated like real family, and it was nice for me and my buddy Dustin to finally not be subjected to the stereotypes of my country. People in Laurence's village actually seemed to be more impressed that we came from the big city of Baotou than our home country of America.

We ended up at Laurence's childhood stomping grounds, and we played near a small lake. The scenery was breathtaking. It was so easy to get lost in something around you. The sky was the bluest I had ever seen. Donkeys grazed near the water. Sheep returned home after a long day in the pasture.

Eventually we came across an old fisherman. He was so delighted to see foreign faces, that he took us out on his fishing boat as he hauled in the catch of the day. It was haunting to see him pull in the nets in such a pure setting. There was no wind that day, and to see the huge dome of blue covering the strange landscape, surrounded by pure, still water was something of a drug.

After a great day of meeting his whole family (his grandma was 102 years old!), we returned back to Baotou for our overnight train journey that we were taking the next day.

Uncharted Territory...

2011-08-19T11:41:00.016+08:00

"Please click the slideshow for the whole album!"

A failed job attempt led me away from my dream provinces of Hunan and Guizhou, but thanks to my University teaching schedule, I had a lot travel opportunities this summer.

Before heading home to the USA, I ended up taking the new high speed train from Guangzhou, Guangdong, to Changsha, Hunan. The train got up to 300 km/h, so it wasn't quite as quick as the one in Taiwan, but unbelievably convenient nonetheless. The scenery that flew by the window was breathtaking. I kept wishing I had the power to stop the train at any spot to take pictures.

The endless fields of rice, the wispy fog covered mountains. The industry of Guangzhou ended quickly and gave way to this stark contrast of life in the countryside. As we passed through each area, an announcement came over the loudspeaker to introduce each area. It was handy if I am ever to go back there on a motorcycle.

Arriving in Changsha messed with the senses really hard. It's as if I was seeing Mao's pride and joy; his creation, up close and personal. All of the lush greenery gave way to a jungle of concrete that made Guangzhou look like the Amazon rain forest. Thick pollution pierced the eyes and nose, and the absence of anything alive was the first thing to come to one's attention. The incessant honking of vehicles was enough to drive the most hardened of China travelers mad, and the ensuing taxi ride was something out of a 1970's police chase movie.

I felt sick, but couldn't help but take in the utter contrast around me. This was China. This was red China. This was Mao's home, and along with Jiangxi, possibly the most revolutionary of places in the country. The Soviet grayness was soul draining, but also so surreal. Here was this metropolis, teeming with trade, vehicles, prostitutes, thieves, all surrounded by Mao's calligraphy (which is used on the public signs). It was a lung choking, life threatening, eye opening good time.

After a late night of sampling my favorite cuisine of China (including some of Mao's favorite dishes), I booked a ticket for the earliest bust west. I left around 5 AM the next morning, and was in store for a trip to one of the largest minority areas of China. The Hunan/Guizhou border region is home to many different ethnic groups, but I was on my way to see the Miao people.

One of the largest minority groups in China, these jungle dwelling folk have deep seeded traditions that have kept them on the edge of Han society, surviving forced castrations, invasion, and all out abuse. I wanted to see what they were all about, so I made my 8 hour journey on the only bus available.

Leaving Changsha was a breath of fresh air (literally), and I watched the architecture go from the hideous tall straight diao lou buildings that the Han love to build so much, to the flat low and spiky roof variation found in a few of China's southern minority regions. They were all stained a dark, deep brown, which I found strange. I had never encountered wood stain in China before. I later found out that this was made from a boiled down fruit that grows in the region.

After 8 hours of twisty, rocky roads, I saw a few naked men bathing and fishing in the river. They were the first of many naked people I would see in this region.
When I arrived in the beautiful village of Fenghuang, I noticed that every building, every feature of the landscape was what I had expected of this region. Everything was built on hills, and life surrounded the water. People washed their clothes in the river, fished in the river; the river was the source of life in this town. People built their houses on stilts over the waterside, and every time a devastating storm would arrive, they would get to work on rebuilding. The sun was shining, and this seemed like the place to be at the moment.

As I was walking down the street in search of accommodations, a very short man approached me and with a big smile on his face, and asked me if I needed somewhere to stay. I know well enough to stay away from people who target foreigners, but he dared to follow me for 5 minutes. It turns out, he was just a nice Miao man who owned a big house up on the hill. His 2 sons had moved to the city for work, so he rented their rooms out cheap, so that the family could still have company. I gladly obliged, and ended up paying about 5 dollars per night. Most of that 5 dollars went to air conditioning, which I would have died without. The highest temperature it reached when I was there was 43C. An absolute nightmare for someone who has been living up north for 6 months.

After an evening of rest and relaxation, I spoke to my host family about hiring a Miao person as a translator and driver to take me out into the deep regions of the Guizhou/Hunan border. A few phone calls later, we found a 30 year old Miao dude with a van, who also spoke Chinese to take me out for the next 5 days.

The next morning, we set out. I was excited and nervous knowing that I was about to enter a region of China that has rarely been explored. We popped into Miao villages, and were welcomed with open arms. The people let us in their houses, and we chatted with folk about their customs and culture. One must wear red on their belt, one must never step on the wooden post in the doorway, one must respect the oldest woman of the house, one mustn't whistle (tough for me).

The Miao are famous for their poison. I was told an old tale of a Han man who visited a Miao village, and married a beautiful Miao girl. He had to return to the city for work, but he promised her that he would be back within the year. The woman accepted his promise, and he left. 2 years passed, and he was still gone. She was lonely and sad, but she was not worried. The man, however, fell very ill, and the doctors in the city could not figure out the problem. His close friends told him that the Miao people could have poisoned him, and that he should return to the village to find out. Upon his return, the heartbroken girl made him promise to stay, and upon his promise, he would be given the remedy for the "love poison". Sure enough, she gave him the antidote. Sensing his recovery, he decided to make a break for it. Unfortunately, the girl had poisoned him a second time, this time with the "death poison". When he left this time, he died as soon as he reached the city.

Miao people in this area are still famous for making these magical poisons, but only the oldest members claim to know the secret formulas.

One of the things that took me by surprise was the respect for nature and animals. Han Chinese in this region are notorious for eating everything that moves, and paving everything in their way. This was not the case with the Miao. They kept dogs as pets, and no one dared to hit the strays. There was no construction in site, unless absolutely necessary. It was a big relief after the hustle and bustle of the Han Chinese world that I live in.

Everything that they did was done in the village. The farmland outside of the village grew all of the food, and the people inside would make Miao clothing and handy crafts to sell at the market. We went to a few of these markets, which were a cacophony of noise and animal parts. People hawked cats, pigs, cow spines, tofu, anything you can think of, it was all to be found at the markets. The markets are a big deal for the Miao people, as they only occur a couple times a month. A few different ethnic groups all converge at this tiny street and sell everything they've got to make ends meet. It was quite the show, and the people were surprised, to say the least, to see this big white ape man walking through their stomping ground.

On the way to the border area, I spotted what looked to be like the great wall! It was in fact, the great wall. There were two main walls built in the Ming dynasty, and it was only discovered in 2000, 11 years ago. It is relatively unknown because of it's recent discovery, but it's no less spectacular. It was strange to climb the great wall in such a green and lush area, because it goes against any image of the northern great wall you may have in your mind. The breathtaking views of it's beginning in Hunan, stretch all the way to Guizhou province to the west. It was built to keep the Miao people out, and even featured 5000 soldiers at a time, fully armed with gunpowder cannons. It's use of firearms is mind blowing, because the Ming was around from 1368-1644. It is hard to comprehend the technology that China was wielding on a daily basis.

We pushed on through the Hunan border into Guizhou, a longtime dream of mine. Guizhou is the poorest province in China, and it's remote location, multitude of ethnic minority groups, outsider history, and entryway into western China make it a perfect place for the explorer. My guide was a bit nervous upon entering the Miao villages in Guizhou, as #1 he had never been there, and #2 he wasn't sure if their dialect would change to the point of incomprehensibility. Fortunately, although the architecture, crops, and general appearance of the place changed, we were able to get around without a hitch.

The people in the Guizhou Miao villages were visibly poorer than their Hunan cousins, but their was a warmth about them that I can't explain. As we entered one particular village, we were struck by the lushness and peace of the place. The houses were in a jumbled mess, and the village had no such order about it, but no one batted an eyelid at us, and just smiled as we passed. The children were gathered around the river, bathing and playing, and we spent a good amount of time splashing around with them.

As we worked our way through the village, and into the mountains, we noticed that some of the children had been following us for hours. Whenever we would ask them for directions, or look at them, they would scurry off, laughing, into the jungle. Every now and then we would see them up in the hills, showing us that they knew the land much better than we did. The villages became more and more remote, and I realized the importance of roads. By Chinese standards, the village near the road was dirt poor, but their wealth was unbelievably higher than that of the people in the mountains. I realized that, to them, America or the west must seem like an impossible destination, because just to get to a dirt road, they had to walk for 6 hours. This fact blew my mind the entire duration of the hike.

We watched a marriage procession with a 14 year old girl as the bride, ate wild fruit, chatted with the locals, and drank water from the stream. It was an intoxicatingly perfect location, and a fantastic experience.

This experience lasted for a few days after that, and we visited kiwi farms, tea fields, and an Baijiu (alcohol) still. It was everything that I wanted, and it was a tad sad to leave such peace.

Once must never romanticize poverty, but it's very difficult to not fall in love with simplicity. It's just so damn beautiful...

Article Response: Soviet Collapse through a Chinese Lens

2011-07-21T00:37:00.003+08:00

An interesting article was forwarded to me awhile back, and I'd like to post my response to it.

The article:
http://fullcomment.nationalpost.com/2011/01/22/lawrence-solomon-china%E2%80%99s-fall/

The article was very interesting, because I use hints of this argument when chatting with Chinese people. It's nice to see someone making a useful comparison to a similar regime. How I would have loved to have seen the Soviet Union before it collapsed. Though I imagine that I am not too far from that here in China. It's exactly the same in terms of fooling the west, and its own people. You can go to any Chinese city with more than a million people, and you will be absolutely dazzled by the perceived "progress". The buildings are stunning, and the streets wide, and well paved. However, a couple things give away the "show." The overuse of neon lights is one. It's like driving through Vegas... all the time...The buildings follow no continuity, because as soon as the government gets money, they throw it at an empty spot until it grows into an unorganized maze of random structures. Urban planning is something that they can't afford to waste time on.

The bit about the gap between the rich and the poor is very obvious here as well. Though, the resentment of the rich is something that is a bit lopsided. The rich despise the poor, and often blame them for most societal issues. They never blame the government. The poor are very much in servitude to the rich in all walks of life, and it's so surprising to see how far it can actually go. You will never a poor person stand up for themselves, because the fact that they are poor is due to their lack of "guanxi", or connections. The rich were able to become rich because of this "guanxi", and therefore have more power in every aspect of their lives. This is where the problem lies. The money that materializes is not due to any intellectual development, scientific discovery, or successful business. It's all coming from people's "guanxi", which has basically created the worlds biggest mafia.

The whole talk of China being a huge "powder keg", is something that I could agree with, completely, before I left. However, one must remember that the Chinese government is very much in control of the people. I can assure you that these "protests" that are mentioned are rural protests against the village governments. They can be violent at times, but they are never out of the government's reach.

I think that the Soviet Union was very different because of one thing. Money. Although, per capita, China is much poorer than the USSR, there is a perceived hope in the air here, and pretty much every person that I speak to is very happy to be in China right now. Although the uber poor are getting shafted, they are not angry, strong, or smart enough to carry out any palpable change. The average city dweller, and even in some rural areas, are very much satisfied with their lives, and only want to focus on how they will make more money. China has never been more nationalistic, and that's something that the Soviet Union was seriously lacking. The upper class, the ones with the power to change things, couldn't care less about politics at this point in time. As long as the government allows them to keep making money, they will keep their mouths shut.

Remember, China's culture and government hasn't really changed over the past 5000 years. The Communist government seems like somewhat of a new thing, but it's much more than 50 years old. The iron fisted grip over the people is no different than the Nationalist government that ruled before it, and the dynasties before that. It seems a bit racist, but the Chinese people have a bit of a history of being controlled.

It's definitely more exciting to think that China will explode in a fiery wreck. And it's also very interesting to think of it as a major world power; finally calling the shots. But the truth is, I think that the Chinese government has more than enough know how on how to contain it's problems, keep people's mouths shut, and create a general feeling of progress among the public. It's also way too messy, lacks real creativity, and is too busy solving it's own problems to be taken seriously on the world stage any time soon.

No Man's Land...

2011-07-20T23:54:00.004+08:00

The rest of the semester brought hotter weather, final projects, and exam grading. It all went well save for a few things here and there.

I was relieved of my motorcycle one evening, and at about 3 AM received a call from a friend. The conversation went a little something like this.

Friend: "Hey man, come join me at BBQ, I worked late, so I'm having a snack next door."
I groggily replied: "What are you talking about? I don't live next to a BBQ place."
Friend: "I know, I'm in Kunqu (the downtown district). I'm looking at your bike right now."
Me: "What are you talking about? My bike is in the parking garage at my house."
Friend: "Uh, it's your bike. How many Yamaha TT-Rs with heavy modifications are floating around Baotou?"
Me: "Good point, what can we do?"
Friend: "I'll pick you up in 15 minutes."

My friend picked me up in his work truck, and we headed to the bike location. On the way, my heart was pounding, because I knew that there was a possibility of encountering a bike thief. My friend kept making strange phone calls to a few people, and since he was speaking in the dialect, I had no idea what he was saying.

When we arrived, I saw 9 or 10 guys standing around my bike. My friend told me to wait outside, and he and 2 of his friends went inside the other BBQ establishment and said something that went like this.

Them: "Whose got the TT-R?"
2 guys: "It's his."
Them: "Nice bike, where did you steal it."
Man: "I didn't steal it."

After some shouting, the man was brought outside, 2 guys left, and 4 or 5 guys proceeded to push him to the ground and kick him hard. There was a sense of excitement and adrenaline in my veins, but overall I felt ill. I was very tired, and the last thing I wanted to see at 4 in the morning was a guy getting the shit beaten out of him on a dead street in Baotou. The guy winced in pain, and kept rolling over to the other side every time he was kicked. It was painful to watch, and after a good minute or so he lay there. One of the "friends" fished through his pocket and took out a bizarre looking key that the guy apparently had made for the bike.

I thanked the guys that helped me out, and they smoked cigarettes and basically shrugged it off. Perhaps the most eerie thing about the whole ordeal was that no one acted like it was that big of a deal.

As the beaten man walked into the flickering street lights that sketchily illuminated the night, I shakily followed my friend's work truck on my bike. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much that night.

The next morning, the old lady at the parking garage got an unexpected visit from me, my friend, and my landlord. The woman denied being there the night before, and said that her friend was covering her shift. She was quickly caught in this face saving lie, and in traditional Chinese fashion, the matter was taken care of without any police involvement. I was awarded a decent sum as compensation, and I haven't seen her working since then.

A Special Visit...

2011-05-26T17:56:00.017+08:00

The only couple photo we took
Meeting with the pros
We found out Xiao Ma's true secret that day... Super powers...
Mongolian horse guy with my friend
Trying a proper bike on the motocross track
Fishing spot
What a catch...
Probably a strange sight to people if any had shown up
Vivi's first time fishing
Fishing
Fishing spot. Offshoot of the Yellow river
Pretty mountains becoming more green
Train to outer Mongolia
Climbed a mountain to find a pheasant in a cage... What???
Wind blowing sand
Sun going down
Dunes
We got lost...
Resting at the top
Death from... ?
My Chinese name, Wang Yong
I gave Xiao Ma the name "Peter" that day
Xiao Ma and Vivi peering off into the desert. I am jealous...
Sliding down the soft dunes
Donkey meat pitas (the closest translation I can make) Awesome...
Xiao Ma's little dog- Xiao Hei. Stupid, dirty, and lovely
Sunset at my friend Xiao Ma's house
Horse brothers
Meng mian is a hearty dish of whole wheat noodles, beans, sprouts, onions, and goat leg. Very Mongolian

I had a special guest from Vivi this past week. She was up for anything, so we ended up having a smorgasbord of short trips, good food, and great friends.

And Then There Were 10...

2011-05-03T22:12:00.004+08:00

Starting point...
In the middle somewhere...
The other side...
Another section of the range we went through...
Sand was really tricky...
Recovering and repairing a fellow riders bike after a pretty bad crash...
The lake from the top of the mountain of our starting point...

We traversed this range. You can see the general path we took...

Side of a mountain. Dangerous photo op...
We followed this train by driving on the dirt next to the tracks. It was headed to Mongolia.
First meeting point with the road bikers...
The grasslands are premature, but the vastness of it all was fantastic...
Quick repairs before we head off into the grasslands...
The gang...
Roads are boring...
My Muslim brother from Xinjiang, Little Horse
This dirt pit was just asking to be used as a motocross track...
Fantastic way to end 2 days...

Three day weekends are always good, and plans for a big trip were in the making. Unfortunately, the sand gods were frowning on Inner Mongolia, and my big trip to Mongolia proper was foiled. In low spirits, I gathered my friends to have a big barbeque dinner, and afterwards we decided to head out to sing at KTV. A perilous taxi drive through an epic sandstorm brought us to the most swank karaoke joint in town. We watched the big wigs get out of BMWs and Bentleys with girls on each arm, buying Cognac and other fine spirits, and heading into the plush rooms. Our room had an enormous flat screen TV, leather couches, mood lighting, and a computer dock with all of the latest songs. We drank and sang the night away. Later, we were informed that all of the big bars and clubs in Baotou had been shut down because of a large police seizure of drugs. We even witnessed 7 guys knelt down outside of a big club, surrounded by police, some with guns drawn. My friend made some calls and found out that a large shipment of heroin had been smuggled in from North Korea, and was being distributed in the major venues. There were also claims of cocaine, as well as ketamine.

The next day brought a phone call from my motorcycle buddy. He informed me of a big off-road motorcycle group meeting up on the outskirts of the salt water lake near Baotou. We raced through town, and ended up getting there in record time. When we arrived, there were about 10 other guys all on dirt bikes. It was like a dream come true. I had been looking for people to ride off-road with in China for a long time. A few of the guys were wearing professional motorcycle gear, and they all had 2 stroke competition bikes. Although my bike was great off-road, their bikes were made for the really crazy stuff. These guys meant business. I later found out that they were a bit of a motorcycle gang who would travel in large enough groups to be able to exploit every inch of Inner Mongolia.

We hit the dirt… I have never experienced anything like it. Let me tell you; there is off-road riding, and there is off-road riding… I had been used to driving a bit in sand, maybe the odd bad road here and there, but this was a different world. Enormous rocks, steep mountain sides, rivers, mud, sand, mining pits, grasslands… It didn’t matter to these guys. Just to keep up, I had to drive around 100 km/h on some sections. It was white knuckle terror. My bike would slide out from behind me, and I would think that it was all over. Instinct would kick in, and I would thread the throttle and kick the back out again and straighten out. I had the disadvantage of having a very heavy touring/dirt bike (Enduro), but it was no excuse. I had to keep up.

We ended up traversing an entire mountain range after 6 hours, and we found a road where we met up with the other half of the gang; the road bikers. There were tons of street bikes, and they had been waiting for us on the other side of the range. We hung out for a bit, but it wasn’t too long before the off-roaders had had enough, and dropped off of the side of the highway to jump the dirt piles. We drove through grassland that hugged the road, climbing the odd hill, diving into mining tunnels, and racing through the unknown.

I remember as a child, I would ride in the back of the car, and I would look out past the road at the terrain, thinking, “I wish I had some sort of machine or vehicle that would allow me to drive over the stuff that no one can go on.” This was that exact fantasy played out. Travelling in such a large group meant that no land was off limits. If you found a bit of road, and you got bored, you could just drop off of the side and rip through whatever terrain was in your path. Everyone (police included) didn’t dare to give us any trouble, and it was a great feeling to be so unstoppable.

I crashed a few times, and one time resulted in me bashing my shin pretty badly. I doubt anything is broken, but it’s pretty hard to walk. Time to get those boots and shin guards I was talking about…

At the end of the day, we wrapped up by converting a stone quarry and soil pit into a motocross track. 7 bikes were broken in some manner in the end, but everyone managed to make it back to the hot pot restaurant where we gorged our tired and bruised bodies with the best lamb I’ve ever had.

As children, we often wonder what we will be doing as adults. I certainly never thought I would become an English professor who was the only foreign member of a motorcycle gang in Inner Mongolia.

Best weekend ever…

The Desert is my Friend...

2011-04-28T17:17:00.002+08:00

I went to the desert the other day. A hectic ride of terrible roads, and misguided directions finally led me to a desert south of Baotou. The ride was thoroughly un-enjoyable; as I somehow managed to take the road that every coal and mineral truck in China was taking. The drivers have no regard for their own lives, so they certainly didn’t care about mine. However, before long I arrived.

The sands were as soft as silk, and the dunes flowed like water in the wind. It was a truly beautiful place. I was able to drive my motorcycle, as well as an off-road truck through the sand. I saw a camel ranch, and spend the last few hours of the day soaking up the strong sun of the Gobi. What a great place.

Forever Looking Forward...

2011-04-27T13:53:00.012+08:00

Stalin picture outside of my classroom
Lenin picture outside of my classroom
Climbin a mountain
Scenery around the lake
Offroading
You can ring my bell... for a small donation
Cool dude
Praying in the temple
Mongolian yurts with a temple
Strange Mongolian things
Salt water lake

It’s been a wonderful past couple of weeks. The weather is shaping up, but sandstorms have been blowing through every now and then.

Every weekend I try to get out and see something new, and the week before last I visited a salt water lake, surrounded by Mongolian yurts. It was beautiful, and the addition of a Buddhist temple made it that much more aesthetically pleasing.

It’s strange how the grass pokes its head through the soil in such a short time. I remember one day thinking about how dead this city looks, and then one day everything became green. I don’t know the science behind spring here, but nature seems to change at the drop of a hat.

We have been having interesting discussions in class lately. We discussed the correlation between happiness and money, which led us to the discussion on GDP. I asked the students to tell me which countries had the highest per person GDP in the world. The results that I got were quite strange. Many students chose Russia, Iran, Libya, China, Brazil, and other funny choices. They were astounded to find out that China was 100/187 countries on the list. They simply couldn’t fathom that China wasn’t among the top in the world. Next was the Satisfaction with life index (which I recommend you check out if you haven’t seen it before). China was ranked at 82, and we spoke about the possibilities of why that is. Housing costs, human rights, free speech, and other sensitive issues were all discussed. It was a far cry from the discussion on the one party state, and its deficiencies, which I wanted to have, but it was getting gears turning. I notice that I can sneak more and more information into the classes as the students trust me more. The worst thing a teacher can do in China is to go into the classroom and unload a sledgehammer of shocking facts on the students. It’s a good way to get you deported, and a good way to make enemies the first day. The extent of brainwashing means easy does it.

An interesting point was brought up when one of my students told me about the 3 greatest world leaders of all time; Lenin, Stalin, and Mao. I was shocked to find out that my students take weekly classes on the teachings of these 3 people. Upon having private conversations with my students, I found that none of the atrocities of the former Soviet Union were ever discussed. No one knew about Stalin’s bloodthirsty appetite for death or about the hideous human rights abuses during that period. They simply learn that the Soviet Union was the strongest power the world has ever had, and was the beginning of the Chinese communist party. This led me to understand the paradox of Hitler. Chinese typically condemn his actions, but he is normally described as being a great leader. When examining the Chinese mentality on these controversial leaders, one can see that the Chinese idea separates mistakes from leadership. Stalin was, according to a student, “a great civic leader, who carried his dream forward in the spirit of his nation.” Never mind the aftermath or human loss; it was the dream that mattered. This might explain the Chinese tolerance for injustice. Even if the Chinese government is committing atrocities today, it’s no where near as bad as Mao’s era, so therefore the complaints will be fewer. The paradox of teaching this material still remains. Today, mainland China is one of the least communist and Marxist countries in the world. There are few rights, and strict control like a communist state, but there is little state control on anything else. I would go as far to say that it’s one of the most lawless and chaotic modern day nation states in the world. If China is promoting epic economic growth, and trying to propel itself into the world of cash and materials, then why is it still washing the brains of it’s citizens with the exact opposite method? One of my students said it best. “We are still developing. Chairman Mao missed this part, and tried to do it quickly. After we have achieved moderate prosperity, we can put communism back into action. Until then, we must keep the dream and fire alive in our hearts.”

The Right Path...

2011-04-18T13:32:00.002+08:00

Some days you just know you are in the right place.

When the cold wind disappears, the dust settles, and you look up to see the sun surrounded by a blanket of deep blue. The peach blossoms burst forward with new life, and their snow white petals float with the breeze, and go on to blanket the ground.

The smoke from the Mongolian tents vanishes, and the natural warmth of the sunlight is enough to satisfy the families inside.

You take a drive through the mountains, whose surfaces begin to show the green truth they've been hiding all winter. A man stands at the edge, holding a falcon, ready to release it to find its prey.

The campus is filled with laughter and excitement, and the students’ exuberance is nearly as warm as the pleasant afternoon.

It’s good to be alive.

Motorcycles and Misadventures...

2011-04-15T13:39:00.015+08:00

Horsin' around
Holding on
Mongolian guy still reeling with laughter from my episode of sickness
The camel express
Friends at karaoke
Spicy BBQ- Potatoes, corn, chicken wings, crayfish etc..
New friend with bikes
Mongolian farm equipment
New friend on his bike
The new ride
Monument to Genghis Khan

It didn’t take me too long to get a bike. In fact, motorcycle preparations began weeks before I moved to Baotou.

I contacted a guy with a Yamaha TT-R, but was displeased with the amount of miles it had, and the lack of any documentation. I looked elsewhere, and strangely enough, I came across and underground motorcycle club in Baotou. Most of the bikes were illegal, and the particular TT-R that I discovered had been heavily race prepared for rallies. It had been used to win numerous desert rallies in China, and even had plans of going to the Dakar rally, which is the world’s hardest motor race.

This news nearly gave me a coronary, and I knew that it was the bike for me. What better motorcycle to have in China? The roads are awful here, and I knew that this was the only bike that would be able to take me into the real wilds of Mongolia.

Over the next couple of weeks, I took the bike into the cold winds of winter, and discovered the sheer death of the countryside around Baotou. Everything was dead. Sand blew through the air, and the rolling hills of sand and dirt were the very last thing I wanted to see on a first trip. Either way, I learned how to ride the bike, and discovered that I had to wait a bit for riding season.

Into the garage it went.

Until one day, I got fed up. I didn’t want another ride-less weekend, so I decided to brave the weather and head out. In high spirits, and freezing to death, I made it about 10 minutes down the road. Choke, sputter, done…

My bike had just conked out, and in a fury of rage, I parked on the side of the road and tried to diagnose the problem. Battery was fine. Starter was fine. Everything was fine…

I held my head in shame, and began walking my bike back home. All of the sudden, I heard the thunderous roar of a motorcycle. A handsome young man pulled up and asked me what was wrong. He told me to park and started to examine my bike. 2 hours later, we were still stumped, until the genius of the group (him) figured out that I had run out of petrol. The guy that had sold me the bike had been driving it on the reserve tank, therefore giving me no back up, or way to know that I would run out of gas.

The nice guy took me to fill up, took my drained battery (from all of the startup attempts) to the shop to get it charged, and told me that we had 4 hours to kill. He allowed me to drive his motorcycle outside of town, and we ended up going to a Mongolian village not too far from the city. One look at his green eyes, and I knew something wasn’t right, so on the way there, I learned of his story.

He was my age, and told me that he belonged to a group of minorities from Tibet. His group was mostly nomadic, and about 400 years ago, they made their way up to the Middle Eastern province of Xinjiang (Turkistan). They stayed there for about 300 years, and adopted Islam as their faith. About 100 years ago, in search of better grazing areas for their animals, they made their way to Inner Mongolia, where they finally settled. There are only about 30,000 of them left, and they reside about 2 hours west of Baotou. They are nearly all nomadic farmers, but my friend decided to move to the city to make some money for his family as driver. He is a real man’s man, and one of the kindest people I have ever met. Everywhere we went, he was able to befriend the people and get some sort of benefit from it. One of those benefits was the ability to persuade a Mongolian family to allow us to ride their horses across their land. It was a truly jarring experience.

As soon as I mounted the horse, I realized that I didn’t really know how it worked. I knew that pulling the reins did something, but that was about it. As soon as my friend mounted his horse, he took off like lightning, which proved his natural skills. Since I had no idea what to do, my horse ended up following his across the sand, and the fierce pace was shaking my entire body. When I pulled the reigns to slow down, the horse tried to throw me off, so I figured it was my best bet to hold on for dear life.

5 minutes into the ride, I yelled to my friend, “I need to stop! I feel sick!”

The sheer pain that was shooting through back legs and back was too much to handle. It was a mixture of being seasick, and being beaten by 20 baseball bats.

My friend replied, “You are fine! I did this everyday for 20 years!”

I replied, “Trust me, I am a weak American. I don’t know how to ride a Mongolian horse! I’m going to throw up!”

He said, “People don’t get sick on horses! You are fine… but don’t throw up on the horse!”

As we hurled across the plains, I swore at the horse in every language I knew, kicking its sides with tears streaming down my face, I contemplated jumping off and risk getting mauled by hooves. Then, all of the sudden, it happened. Everything I had eaten that day ended up on the side of the horse, and some in its mane. A Mongolian man roared with laughter, and my friend tried to snap photos.

While recovering at the family ranch, my captors decided that I hadn’t had enough yet, so they brought out the camel. I was apprehensive at first, but it turned out to be much more comfortable than the horse. It was slow, steady, and I rested against the humps, still out of breath from my previous endeavor.

The evening was filled with singing, dancing, and deliciously spicy food. Many friends were made that night, and one of them was for life.

Even when all goes wrong, life always works itself out.

Mongolia... with Chinese Characteristics...

2011-04-12T13:45:00.015+08:00

Caught lesson prepping
One of my classes
Hard at work

Teaching picture

The city entrance monument
The English department
The gate to the university
An example of a trilingual sign in downtown Baotou. KFC written in Chinese, Mongolian, and English
A local dish of wild beef organs and potatoes on a handmade noodle bed

Well, I made it.

Welcome to Inner Mongolia.

This province of China is one of the biggest, and also one of the most war-torn. It was a 2000 year battleground for different tribes, nomads, and dynasties, and its future wasn’t certain until 1945. Controlled by many, it was finally awarded back to the Chinese (by the Soviets) in 1947, where it was proclaimed as the first autonomous region in China.

There are about 24 million people here, and they are spread out across 500,000 square miles, making it one of China’s least densely populated provinces. The majority of people here are Han Chinese (about 80%), but there are sizable populations of Mongolian nomads, bringing the figures to about 20%. There are also 18 different minorities living here, and they reside in the grasslands and the mountains.

The languages here are diverse and unrelated. The state language is Mandarin Chinese, (with a strong northern accent) but Inner Mongolia is an autonomous region, and therefore has 2 official languages. Mongolian is required, by law, to be on every street sign, every shop, and everything that can be read by the public. It is typically written above the Chinese characters. The script used is not the Cyrillic brand, borrowed from Russia, but the ancient Mongolian script that has been in use since the language’s inception.

It’s an ethnically, linguistically, and environmentally diverse place. There are sweeping grasslands to the east, stark, blackish mountains to the west, rolling, grassy steppes to the north, and the whispering Gobi desert to the south. Its harsh climate makes it difficult for much life to thrive, but it’s full of history, nature, and long traditions. Some of the oldest parts of the Great Wall can be found running along its spine, and the history of keeping outsiders out is palpable.

I live in the city of Baotou. It was the ancient home to many nomadic Mongolians, but is now a major industrial city. It’s a widely spread out city, and the urban sprawl is sparse. Much of the world’s steel is produced here, and therefore has created a mass migration of Northern Chinese, attracted by work opportunities.

The city hasn’t been touched by private investment as much as cities in the south, and state work is still the primary employment option for most people. The locals have enjoyed the fruits of the government investment in the procuring of rare earth metals, and fuel sources. The wealth gap between the local people and the migrant workers is more apparent than one might see in other parts of China.

The city is primarily planned, and there is a very Soviet feel to everything. Streets are long, straight, and wide. Apartment blocks are nearly identical, and the presence of the government is huge. Baotou had no recent history before the Communists came, and since they developed the entire infrastructure, things are very much “by the books” here.

Baotou is smack dab in the middle of 4 different climate zones, and is primarily made up of arid desert. The air is dry, and the sky is as blue as it gets. Sandstorms frequently terrorize the city, as the Gobi desert encroaches ever so closely to the city limits.

I arrived here a few weeks ago, and the first thing that I noticed, upon exiting the plane, was the sheer cold of the winds. I had just come from the damp and warm south, and to be slapped in the face with a cold dry gust was enough to snap me out of the boredom of the plane journey.

I met my boss, who proceeded to drive me to my new home. She told me that we were in the “old district” of the city, and it made sense. There was nothing there. We continued on to the “new area”, and again, there was nothing there. Dotted along the way, were stark government buildings that menacingly looked out over dead grasslands and desert. There was no one else on the road, and I became more and more aware that this place was different than any place I had seen in China thus far.

We pulled up to my apartment, and I was amazed. Five flights of stairs later, I entered the biggest flat that I had come across in China. And it was all to myself!

I was given my textbooks, and basically let go to fend for myself.

The next day, I had my first class. As I walked to school, I noticed stares and attention like I had never seen before. There were camera phones being whipped out left and right. Girls screamed like they had just seen their favorite pop idol. The familiar sense of undeserved fame returned, although, this time, was much more apparent. My school/department was primarily females.

I had prepared for hours the day before, and upon stepping into the classroom, my heart started to pound. The walls were covered in propaganda, and I peered into the eyes of 30+ students, awaiting my introduction. Then, in an instant, it was all gone. Confidence rushed over me like a tidal wave, and everything went smoothly. It turned out to be the best class of my life, and it was strange to be able to communicate with Chinese adults using English. I got to see into an untapped part of their brain. English was their tool of freedom, and they used it to their full advantage.

I discovered quickly that about 80% of my students were from different areas of Inner Mongolia. They were mostly poor, and had received government grants to study at the university, mostly for being at the top of their class in their villages. The local students were much wealthier, but lacked the motivation and enthusiasm of the outsiders. It was quite obvious that to come to a city like Baotou, was quite the achievement for someone who had grown up in the grasslands of Inner Mongolia.

At one point during the first lesson, we were playing a true and false game, and one of my students (a boy) said (very sadly) that he calls his family once every 2 months. I asked why, and he said that he didn't have a cell phone, and couldn't afford weekly calls from the public phone in town. He saves some of his lunchroom credits and cashes them in for enough money to go have a couple hour chat with his folks from his village. I asked why he couldn't just go visit them, and then I found out his village is in the west of Inner Mongolia, and it doesn't even have a road connecting it to the rest of the province.

I asked the question, "If you were to die after dinner time, what would be your last meal?” in hopes of discovering some delicious local food, but overwhelmingly, I got a very touching answer. One of them was from a very poor girl who said, "My family doesn't have much to eat, so I would give the meal to them, because it's useless in my stomach as a dead person." I never thought I would get that response, nor would I expect to hear many of the things that I did that lesson.

The next day, one of the two male students in the class began chatting with me, and he was dying to talk to me outside of class. He was about 22 years old, and he asked very politely if we could have lunch together. He took me to a mutton noodle restaurant and began to tell me his tale. His English was far better than the other students, and I wondered why. In fact, he comes from the border town of Manzhouli, which is a on the Russian border. It takes him 40 hours to come to Baotou by train, even though his town is in Inner Mongolia. His father was a coal miner, and he died last year in the mine. He has to study harder than the other students, so he can find work as a free lance English tutor on campus. He makes 200 yuan per month, and he sends 150 back to his mother at home to support her. His only hope is that he can graduate top of the class so he can get one of the few jobs as an English teacher back home and take care of his mother. Even after this dramatic tale, he refused to let me pay for lunch. It got to the point where I pushed him and his money out of the way, but he just wouldn't have it. He said I was new in Inner Mongolia, and that there was no way that I could pay for the meal.

For the past few weeks, classes have been awe inspiring, thoughtful, and most of all, a lot of fun. We have had wonderful debates, controversial discussions, hilarious plays and speeches, and thought provoking open dialogue. I am very thankful to be teaching classes of deep thinking adults. In fact, at this point in time, I don’t think I should be anywhere else.

Guangdong to Jiangxi

2011-03-04T15:19:00.003+08:00

Jiangxi

From Jiangxi

How much is that doggie in the window (cage)? Dog meat market.

From Jiangxi

Bamboo forests lined the border of Jiangxi and Guangdong

From Jiangxi

The dusty villages were poor and sparse

From Jiangxi

Bamboo snack.

From Jiangxi

Wu Dang Mountains.

From Jiangxi

Beautiful Jiangxi

A week later, the bug bit badly, and one morning, I decided to take a trip. I didn’t know where I was going, but I got on the national road and headed north. I had never really ridden around Guangdong very much, and I thought that this would be a good chance to cover some ground. Vivi marked where we were, and where we were heading, as she rode on the back. It was a fantastic feeling to be on the road, particularly because the scooter was basically at our disposal. No one used it, and it wasn’t really worth anything, so if it was destroyed, or we lost it somehow, we simply needed to find a way back.

The sun dimmed, and the raid kicked in. Thankfully, so did a wave of excitement. We had driven all the way to the northern tip of Guangdong. This was the furthest I had ever driven consecutively on a bike, and it was amazing to have done it on a little scooter. We stayed in a small town called Xinfeng, and it was disgusting. The pollution was hideous, and everything was disorderly. There was no order to the traffic, the roads, the shops… anything really. It was a classic example of the one in a million Chinese towns that pop up with zero planning.

To our surprise, the entire town was Hakka, and it was the language of the streets. Even in Huizhou, Mandarin is the first language of choice amongst locals that don’t know each other. Vivi had to dust off some of her old language skills, and we managed to find the best hotel in town. It was a nice enough place, with a wonderful soundtrack of truck/taxi drivers “making fried rice” with local prostitutes.

After a night of little to no sleep, I was in high spirits to keep driving north, which would eventually lead us to Jiangxi, a completely different province and unfeasible destination on a scooter.

Jiangxi is one of the poorest provinces, and watching the prosperity level among peasants was astonishing. In Guangdong, I was accustomed to a degree of wealth among city dwellers, and I was never far from a town or village. On the way to Jiangxi, everything opened up wide. It was the first time in China that I had been able to drive for an hour and not see anyone. The road was pockmarked like a teenager’s face, the mountains surrounding us were charred black from the burning of the remainder of the crops for next season. Everything was brown, and sparse. It was a totally different feeling from anywhere else in China. The villages were so old, and there was a real wear and tear to the people’s appearance.

We cruised along and soaked up the scenery. There wasn’t anything particularly breathtaking about it, but there was a really nice sense of nature present, and that’s something of a rarity in southern China.

All of the sudden there were mountains, and they were not any old mountains, but the Wu Dang Mountains. These famous peaks harbored one of the most well known styles of Kung Fu in the world, and it was easy to see why. What a spectacular place! I couldn’t help picturing the old monks hopping on the tops of the trees, and flying through the air, mid-fight, as they went from peak to peak. The sides of the mountains were smooth, and the trail up was not easy. This was no tourist mountain, and there were no old ladies huffing up these stairs.

We met an old woman near the top, who had been living in those mountains all of her life. She volunteered to cook for us, but if we had stayed for dinner, we would have had to descend in the darkness, which is something that I did not want to do. Thankfully, after sharing some peanuts with us, she organized for us to eat local food at a little roadside eatery, and advised to chef to cook as “locally” as possible for us.

The food was delicious. As we walked up the mountain, we noticed that every bamboo shoot in sight had been cut. These were surely the bamboo shoots used in our dishes, and it was nice to know that the food came from the mountain we had just hiked from. Also, the bacon that was in one of the dishes was from some pigs from the mountain area.

We headed into town to find accommodations, and noticed that how old everything was. Everything was in disrepair, but it couldn’t get more charming. We managed to find the most despicably disgusting room above someone’s house, and paid 50 kuai for a wooden bed, no soap, no water, mold stained walls, and wet blankets. It was truly miserable.

The next day led us through some old villages in Jiangxi, and we visited a school where the children didn’t even have shoes, some lovely farms, and some gorgeous streams with drinkable water. We meandered our way through for the next 2 days, and eventually found ourselves back in Huizhou; broken, battered, and ready for a real rest. Great trip though.

By the way, I am off to Inner Mongolia. I've received a teaching position in a University, so please stay tuned for more adventures!

Borders Within Borders...

2011-03-04T15:15:00.002+08:00

huizhou

From huizhou

An old location with a new vehicle

From huizhou

I used to think lighting 3 firecrackers at once was fun.

From huizhou

Evergreen lake. A revisit.

From huizhou

The basic message of this is how to have one child, how to use contraception, and how you will be forced to have an abortion if you don't comply. It was on the outside of a school!

From huizhou

Chinese clothes for a Chinese New Year! That's my magic wind machine that brings good luck, and makes my life go smoothly.

Shenzhen, the city of millions, but sprouted from hundreds, seemed a bit more together this time around. Traffic was less maniacal, and the buildings all seemed to have a fresh veneer. The ride back to Huizhou was hot, but it was nice to see how things have cleaned up a bit on the factory sprawl between the cities. I imagine it has something to do with the heavy industry moving inland, and even to places abroad, like Vietnam. I thought about what Guangdong might look like without the factories, and I imagined it to be quite beautiful.

Arriving in Huizhou was a breath of fresh air. Well, maybe not fresh, but familiar. The first thing I noticed was all of the cars. Talk about an auto boom. There was simply no room to go in the streets. Vivi’s mom darted back and forth through traffic, and from the looks of it, everyone that used to have an electric bike or scooter traded it in for a Chinese car. The fakes were everywhere. Chery, BYD, Geely, etc… you name it, it was there.

We rode to Vivi’s families’ new house in the countryside, and through the dust and the pollution, I spotted a lone foreigner on the back of a scooter with a girl. He was carrying large pieces of wood, and I immediately recognized him as a co worker of mine. I later found out that he (unlike everyone else that worked in Huizhou) stayed, and actually made quite the name for himself. He’s got his own company, does advertisements, teaches part time at the local university, and has become very well known in the media. I stuck my head out of the window and shouted hello. Needless to say, he was very surprised to see me.

Perhaps the biggest shock was Vivi’s family. Vivi had always told me that she had grown up middle class. Something about that made me very skeptical, and now it was confirmed. Now, keep in mind that the average person in China makes about $3,500 per year. By comparison, the USA is at $47,000. In China, the sheer amount of people far below that average, mixed with the few people astronomically above it make that statistic. Let’s just say Vivi’s family fits in that top bracket.

Welcome to Golden Dragon Villa- A gated community for the super rich. There were PLA soldiers giving us a salute as we entered. For all of these years, they were fighting for the poor; for the revolution. Now they were giving Chairman Mao’s salute to the super-rich. We drove past the single family houses covered in hideous golden paint. Plaster Roman statues littered the walkways, surrounded by a random collection of plant life. The soundtrack that backed people’s daily walks around the community was not of birds chirping, or the gentle breeze rolling through. There were speakers built into the ground that blared epic instrumental music at all hours of the day. People drove by in Hummers, Mercedes SL 500s, Ferraris, and suddenly a Buick would roll by. Grandma? No. In fact, in China, Buick carries the same prestige as all of the big, European, luxury brands. It’s when you put all of this together; you finally realize that China really doesn’t really know how to be rich.

Upstairs, I was teleported into a golden room of beautiful tiles, enormous paintings, a ten thousand dollar couch and the biggest TV I had ever seen. I was given a choice between Hennessy XO and Remy Martin upon entry, and I had some strange feeling that I had been tricked into something horrible. This was not the Huizhou that I knew. This was not the China that I knew. Sensing my discomfort, Vivi said, “Let’s go outside, I want to show you something.” We strolled past the Koi ponds, the mismatched fountains and the lacquered pottery that lined the path, until there was a strange building with a dark hallway in the middle. There was an armed guard sitting in a chair at a table in between both sides. He smiled and saluted as we walked through the hallway. It was, in fact, a DMZ. A proverbial border between wealth and poverty.

Crossing into the other side was simply breathtaking. The road was covered in dust as old motorcycles ripped by. People were hawking fireworks, dirty kids played with the cheap ones, and there was noise everywhere. Yelling, spitting, smoke, electronic music, and the sound of dog meat being butchered created an atmosphere that made me both excited, and nervous. It was extremely disturbing to me to have such disparate neighbors in such close proximity. It was even more disturbing that there was an armed guard checking the IDs of people entering the rich village, but the rich were allowed to exit into the poor village, and exploit it of its cheap goods. If this was communism, then I didn’t pay attention in history class.

Chinese New Year followed soon after, and it was an entire week of meeting people, and stuffing my face with the best food I have ever had the chance to consume. Meeting people was a tricky ordeal. Half of Vivi’s family spoke Cantonese, the other 25% spoke Huizhou dialect, and the others spoke a mixture of Hakka, Cantonese and Huizhou dialect. All of these languages are not mutually intelligible, and I was rendered useless in a matter of minutes. Thankfully, Vivi had an uncle from Shanghai, who only spoke Mandarin. I felt at least somewhat in the loop when he was around. Everyone welcomed me with Hong Bao, the red envelope with money inside. These are only given to children, but Vivi and I are not engaged, have no children, and therefore are able to receive them. That in itself was the very controversy of me being there. Since there was no promise of a future with Vivi and I, her father was very much opposed to my presence. Although everyone else was very progressive, he retained the Qing dynasty style role of the father figure. He was not supposed to acknowledge me, and for awhile it worked. I felt very unwelcome. Fortunately, after about 2 days, curiosity got the best of him, and we ended up having a political discussion lasting until the wee hours of the night. He kept the face he got from ignoring me in public, but in person, he was very much interested in conversation.

Day after day rolled into each other, and I revisited some of my old haunts. A lot has changed here, and skyscrapers have replaced many of the poor villages. When I lived here a little more than a year ago, it was possible to get into the countryside within 5 minutes on a motorcycle. The sprawl stretches for at least 40 minutes by car now. I had a very difficult time navigating the roads, as all of them are totally new. Huizhou has ring roads now, and someone told me that the population is heading toward 5 million. When the Chinese government wants to do something, they really do it. But at what cost?

The city is starting to fill up with government relocation housing. There are farmers, left and right, losing their land under the communist system of no private land ownership. The government then builds huge gated communities, over night, and profits from the migration of the rich. You will often hear the rich (Vivi’s family included) complaining that the poor are just too lazy, and they didn’t work hard enough to deserve housing in the city. Unfortunately, that short sighted solution is an excuse for the special folks to feel less guilty. The disparity between rich and poor is so apparent that you’d have to be retarded not to be able to see it. Whatever the government decides to do with millions of unemployed and uneducated farmers is any person’s guess.

It wasn’t long before I got tired of driving a car everywhere, and I started thinking more and more about the scooter Vivi had burning a hole in her garage. It didn’t work, but I decided to bring it down to the shop to have a look at the damages. It turned out that it just needed a new battery. After it was replaced, I took it easy because it hadn’t been used in about a year. I am not a huge fan of scooters, but it was nice to be out in the open air, reliving some of the old roads. Out in the countryside, nothing had changed. It was a wonderful feeling. The warm sun lit up the piles of strawberries next to the side of the road, and you couldn’t ask for a better smell to drive through. Although it took longer to reach the rural areas, it was good to know that not everything was gone.

The Return to Madness...

2011-03-04T15:10:00.003+08:00

hong kong macao

From hong kong macao

Macao Tower

From hong kong macao

The last bit of outer territories in Hong Kong before the border with Shenzhen (China). You can see China in the distance.

From hong kong macao

Shark fin restaurant!

It was off to Hong Kong to get my tourist visa to get into China for Chinese New Year. The bustle of Hong Kong was the same as it had always been, and the air was thick with the smell of money. The only thing that was different was the trip to the Chinese embassy.

The place was packed with people from all over the world. By appearances only, it seemed as if China had become providence for people of poor nations across the world. It was no longer a place of equal disrepair and dismay. I could see Afghans, Iraqis, Turks, Nigerians, and people that could never see in the same building, anywhere in the world. The job visa line was packed, and it was very apparent that China still being a 3rd/2nd world nation made it easy for them to get in, and the lawless nature of its entrepreneurial potential made it a comfortable place for them to make a better life for themselves. Being a one party state with Leninist-like judgment, it makes you wonder why China would be an option for illegal goods trade. But China couldn’t be a more perfect hotbed for counterfeiting, illegal animal pelt trade, or even drugs. For the counterfeiters, the lack of intellectual property laws make it a wonderful place to set up shop. For illegal animal goods, the lack of animal rights and conservation laws make it an ideal country to make a home base for the East Asian markets. As for the drug trade, one strike, and it’s a bullet to the back of the skull. For the Nigerians however, it’s a hell of a lot better than doing business back home. A bullet to the noggin is always preferable to the rape and murder of your family without provocation. Plus, the rampant corruption makes it easy to dig your way out of the hole.

While waiting for the visa to come through, we stayed with Vivi’s aunt, who had a very interesting, “separated at birth”, story. She was left on a door step during the peak of Mao’s madness, because it would be one less mouth to feed. After many years, the family was able to trace that she had in fact tagged along with a runaway family, and was being raised in Hong Kong. They were lovely people, and treated us very well.

When it was time to roll, I noticed that I was more nervous than excited. On one hand, I felt as if I was returning home, and on the other hand, I felt like I might not be ready for the shock of going back.

The crossing of my favorite border in the world was just as shocking as the first time, but only because of the sheer madness of people running across. It was Chinese New Year, and everywhere in the country was an enormous stampede of maniacs trying to get home.

A few things hit me as soon as we crossed. The first was when we tried to change money. In the past, one simply had to throw some Hong Kong dollars into the bank tray, and one received the equivalent exchange in RMB within seconds. This, of course, was not the safest way to go about it, but it was very convenient. Now, however, one must wait in a police guarded line, fill out paper work, do math, and judge the tellers performance on a machine. No one looks at the paper, the tellers are still rude, and now it takes about 20 minutes, when it used to take about 1. Now call me crazy, but why was no one saying anything about the men smoking inside of the bank, the baby pissing in the garbage can, or the woman selling counterfeit computer software outside? Pointless…

The bus is really what hit me. Everyone was yelling, people shoved each other, thieves stole tickets, and suddenly I longed for the order and peace of the Taiwan coach busses. After about 10 minutes, the thieves were found, and dropped off in the middle of the city, someone threw up, and the old man that was bitching and moaning fell asleep. All was well.

The first day home...

2011-03-04T14:59:00.005+08:00

Food!

Album

From Food!

Little baby catfish. Almost too cute to eat!

From Food!

Turtle soup! Head, guts, and all!

From Food!

Wooof! Wooof! Woo... delicious.

From Food!

I cooked "Italian food" for Vivi's family.

From Food!

Science class or a restaurant? A pigs brain with attached spinal cord. Delicious...

From Food!

A famous home-cooked Hakka soup. Bet you will never guess what it is. Black bone Chicken feet... and? Goat placenta.

From Food!

Shark fin soup!

With Taiwan left like a turned page in an old book, I packed my bags and headed to catch my plane. It was an enthusiastic journey to the airport. The private van to the airport was driven by a highly religious individual. Every time we passed a temple or statue, he blessed himself with oil, and said prayers. At one point he took a bunch of money and sat on it while whispering to himself. It was oddly comforting, and I remembered how deeply religious much of Taiwan is. Then it dawned on me that this was something that I wouldn’t see once getting back to China. I watched the greenery of central Taiwan fade into the gray of the computer chip factories, until the airport appeared in the distance. I grabbed my “life in a bag” and searched for my terminal. My ticket was wrong, and it being a flight to Macau, the airline office had a big smoke/coffee break sign the duration of my wait. The lazy bastards…

I nearly missed my flight, but caught it at the last minute when someone decided to help. It was a short flight to Macau, and it was the first time that I wasn’t able to soak in the fact that I would be in a completely different country. When I got off of the plane, I was still fresh from Taiwan, and everything hit me like a brick. It was crazy to see the European buildings, cars stopping for people to cross, and also driving on the other side of the road, rich people everywhere, and the smell of something wonderful in the air.

Suddenly I felt the weight of something very big come off of my shoulders. It felt like I was back to somewhere that I belonged.

Actually it was just the enormous bag that I had been carrying. Still, I was very happy to be back.

After a lovely night of real beer, gambling at the Venetian, relieving my year’s income at the European clothing stores, and gaining all of the weight that I had lost that year, I was exhausted, and crashed hard.

I don’t want to backtrack, but it would be a sin if I didn’t talk about the food. The single biggest shock of coming back was rediscovering what it meant to eat. I had grown accustomed to the standard fare of Taiwan, but had almost lost my passion for eating. It wasn’t until I came back to Macau that I realized how wonderful food could taste. It was my first meal at a Guangdong restaurant in over a year, and I must say that it seriously brought tears to my eyes.

The way the delicate fish melted in mouth. How the fruity and savory sauces enveloped the succulent pork. The gentle rice taming the strong flavors of the vinegars and spice. The beef crumbling under blankets of tender and buttery vegetables. The fresh, salt sprayed shark fins, mussels, scallops, and crabs from the south China sea. Everything was simply, life changingly, delicious, and I sat like a fat king at the alter of glutton.

Pictures are above! Please click the album!

A Farewell to Formosa…

2011-01-07T13:31:00.006+08:00

Nobody knows about Taiwan. Nobody talks about Taiwan. And despite this little Asian tiger being packed, chock-full of culture, beauty, and convenience, no one really considers visiting Taiwan.

First, the Fujian Chinese came, making it a pirate island of illegal trade, and forever staining the island with its values, traditions, cuisine, and language. Then the Dutch came, leaving marks here and there, and mixing a bit with the locals. Then the Portuguese arrived, claiming the island so beautiful, that they gave it the name of Formosa, and accelerated the influence of the west. Next, the Japanese saw the little jewel, ever so near its own makeshift borders, and decided that, it too, wanted to take the reigns; eventually forcing its language and law on the people, but also contributing heavily to development and social behavior. Then came the mainland Nationalists, using the island as an outpost to start a re-match with the commies up in the China that they had just lost; forcing dictator-like politics, martial law, and relinquishing power ever so slightly as the nation became a stable, and free democracy.

Then, Taiwan blossomed, and in its confused nature, made a name for itself as one of the top international makers and suppliers of electronic goods. The citizens flourished, it abolished poverty, created unity with the aboriginals, developed roads, connected every city on the island, and provided health care for all of the people inside of its borders.

Then we came. The economic migrants. We knew that Taiwan was sitting on a gold mine, and what better place to make a stop off and to pick up cash, before moving onto greener, and possibly more exciting pastures. I’m no different than the others that come here for that very same reason. I’m no self-professed local wannabe. I’m not interested in the county level politics. I don’t chew betel nut, and I never learned Taiwanese. I didn’t fit into the soft culture of social interaction or the materialist dream of many its citizens. I can’t say it was the nicest place to work, and I don’t think that I would ever consider myself able to be impressed by it day in and day out. But I can’t say that this little island hasn’t made a deep impact on my life, or the lives of people I have seen come and go.

It’s entirely possible to come to this place and replicate a similar life that you had back home, simply because of how western, convenient, and ultimately easy it is to live here. For that reason, it’s an ideal place for people to come and make money, doing whatever fits into Taiwan’s market. But for the rare person that comes along, already knowing its every county, eager to tear up its countryside with adventures, and with an unstoppable urge to answer the question of, “What is Taiwan?” then one might be a bit befuddled, let down, and unable to answer that question at the end of a year of living here. Because to tell you the truth, I have no idea.

The remnants of a full stomach now, winner takes all culture left by the misery of so many nations claiming ownership, are still very present; and despite a very first world feel, one might feel a lack of excitement about life here. Taiwanese people are very reluctant to speak of its status in the world now, because money is the fuel of life, and people can barely keep track of who to hate now. “Is it China? Wait, isn’t it supposed to be Japan? Who cares, let’s buy more stuff.” If you expect to fuel your inner Orientalist view of the east as a novelty, be expected to be disappointed. Sure, you will see bizarre processions of unfamiliar creeds and faiths, and don’t expect everything you eat to be a hot dog with French fries, but what you will see is a pseudo nation on the brink of losing its identity to the god of Mammon, and no amount of betel nut chewing, or fireworks displays will end up changing that.

At this point, if you think I am being judgmental or unfair, let me finish. This isn’t rottentomatoes.com review, and I am not going to give a thumbs up or thumbs down critique of a country that I’ve lived in for a year. I am however going to tell you that Taiwan is one of the most beautiful places on this planet. Sure, I’ve got a lot more ground to cover, but I can promise you that there is no one place on earth with this many different types of scenery, changes in weather/climate, warmer people, easier transportation, better roads, cheaper travel, varieties of food/fruit, and basically every form of outdoor entertainment, all on such a small island. It’s truly magical how you can teleport to basically every geological place in the world, all in a place smaller than New York State.

Limestone cliffs? Check.
Deep gorges? Check.
Sweeping fields of rice, corn, and wheat? Check.
Alpine mountains? Check.
Tropical jungles? Check.
Deserts? Check.
Fantastic and diverse wildlife? Check.

You get the point… But after 10,000 kilometers of discovery this year, I can finally say this-

Taiwan is Taiwan.

It’s not about who had it, controlled it, influenced it, what language the people speak, or what it will be in the future. The fact is, it’s a truly magnificent spectacle of nature, and something totally different from its surroundings in this part of the world.

It’s not a question, but it’s an island.

And it's no small wonder why everyone wanted a piece.

Taking Back Saigon

2010-12-05T12:02:00.021+08:00

(Picture album above, click photo)

It was a red whim and a love of motorcycles that brought my friend and I to Vietnam. Being an expat in Taiwan, what better station to ship off to near by, and exotic lands? All it took was a bit of reading to discover that Vietnam was everything that I find exciting about countries like China, and most of the developing world, all wrapped up in a tropical, striking, and thoroughly split nation. Its ancient history is as biting as its recent, and it doesn’t take much looking to find what really lies underneath, or sometimes right at, the surface.

Why motorcycles?

I firmly believe that to see a country, traveling by motorcycle is simply the most potent mode of transportation you can take, in terms of absorbing your surroundings. Riding for 2 years around China and Taiwan has taught me this, and I thought, what more fitting way to see a nation of motorcycles, than on a motorcycle?

But which bike?

Well, if you are in Saigon (Ho Chi Minh), the locals will tell you to stick with Honda, but a few years ago, a trip to the northern capital of Hanoi, the red hearted communists would swear by the Minsk.

These blue smoke belching, 2 stroke beasts of burden were the way to go in hard line communist era. A gift from the Soviet Union, these bikes were mass produced and used in the northern struggle against French, South Vietnamese, and American imperialism. Basically made from as few pieces as you would find in a wheelbarrow, they were horrendously unreliable, but could be repaired with a rock and a bit of string. One man is even rumored to have used an old Coca Cola can as a clutch plate!

Although there were many (safer) options for renting a motorcycle, there was no way that I could pass up the opportunity to ride this Marxist brute along one of the most pivotal roads in history, the Ho Chi Minh trail.

Flying into Hanoi from Taipei was an easy task, despite us waiting for the flight all night. Upon landing, I was hit with cigarette smoke inside of the immigration office. I was struck with how makeshift the border was. It was simply a few open office cubicles with some smiling guards inside, all of whom were reading the football scores from the night before. I was even witness to numerous people handing things to people on the other side through the border crossing, simply being told off, from a distance, by police. If this was happening in Hanoi, who knows what goes in and out of Vietnam at the dodgy crossings!?

I was assaulted with a cacophony of motorcycles, yelling, trucks, and every possible terrible noise in existence. I imagine this is what the war sounded like.

We met our taxi driver at the airport, and the drive to the motorcycle fixer was a revealing one. The north is industrializing, with all kinds of factories and pollution. In fact, the pollution in the north of Vietnam (around Hanoi) is some of the worst I have ever seen in my life. We followed long, crowded roads, until our taxi driver pointed out that we were in Hanoi. And what a city it was!

Imagine long roads, lined with charming French houses, stark Communist propaganda billboards, and a total chaotic swarm of humans on every mode of transportation imaginable, and you will get an idea of what Hanoi looks like. It was like no city I had ever seen, and upon first impression, it was irresistibly charming.

The motorcycle negotiations were not smooth, and it didn't take long to find out that to ride the 1200 kilometers of northern Vietnam, past the DMZ and into the south, and taking a train the remainder of the way to Saigon, all in 8 days, was a task that was highly improbable. To see Vietnam by motorcycle, most people go on a tour with a local guide. This closes any communication issues, is safer, and is much more convenient.

Then they showed us the bikes.

The second blow to our confidence was that no one even rents the Soviet Minsks anymore, because people can't handle the danger of imminent failure on some of the most dangerous roads in the world. They have constant problems, and unless you have a decent knowledge of repairs, and major overhauls on machinery, you are bound to be abandoned in the middle of no where with no help around.

Our bikes were not only some of the only Minsks left in the country, but the worst ones by a mile. We had a very rare model, and it was fitted with very large rear springs, and the body work had been replaced with a modern looking, blue painted plaster finish, sometime in the 1980's. There was no battery, the tires were cracked, the gauge cluster didn't work, the front brake cable came off with a simple touch, and the clutch felt as if it was made of pudding. Andy and I thought immediately that the very reliable, modern, and practical Japanese bikes were looking like a very big possibility.

It wasn't until I drove the Minsk around the block that I knew it was the only bike I wanted. Here was my chance to take a very important piece of Communist history down the length of Vietnam, and be the only guys doing it. We strapped our bags on, and hit the road on the rickety buffalo, only to stall and break down multiple times in the span of 5 kilometers. The sense of superiority and confidence suddenly vanishes when you are kick starting your rusty heap on the side of the road, in one of the prettiest cities you have ever seen, splashing burning oil and gas all over your face and jeans, being passed by shiny new Hondas, only to start your bike in time for the next red light. The other drivers don't share your smile of novelty when they are being engulfed in the blue, 2 stroke, smoke unable to see where they are going due to incessant coughing and blindness. The Vietnamese were ready and willing to leave these stupid Soviet trinkets behind as soon as possible. What was this ridiculous dream we were fulfilling?

Hell. Who cares? It was too late anyway. I could at least pretend like I was cool for 8 days.

Day 1 - Hanoi to Thanh Hoa (Yeah right...)

The road out of Hanoi was an epic sight to see. Imagine 12 motorcycles abreast, honking, swerving, and bumping each other, all competing for the grand prize of not dying. The road became a cloud of dust, and turned to dirt at times. People were slaying chickens at the road side, enormous Russian trucks were barreling down the wrong lane, people were picking through huge heaps of burning trash, and traffic was moving at a snail's pace. We had 200 kilometers to do that day. "Measly", we thought. We have done 500 a day in Taiwan. Well folks let me tell you... This is not Taiwan.

Multiple stops had to be made, as morale was low, and we had planned on eating at some point. One of the first things that I noticed about Northern Vietnam was the lack of restaurants, and places along the main roads that were willing to relieve you of your money. The idea of eating out, or even spending money on convenience items was something that hasn't hit parts of Vietnam yet, and it was something that I had never experienced before. Even living in China, there was never a shortage of places I could buy things if I needed to.

This became a problem when we had had no sleep, no food, and were driving in a new place. Eventually, we found a place to buy some Coca Cola, and this raised our spirits a bit. A toke on a local pipe also cleared up our vision, but we were ridiculed for our very weak smoking ability.

The madness continued until sunset, and eventually we hit our road. The Ho Chi Minh highway.

The Ho Chi Minh trail was a road (more or less) that ran from the Democratic Republic of Vietnam (North Vietnam) to the Republic of Vietnam (South Vietnam). The system gave support (people and materials) to the Vietcong, and the People's Army of Vietnam (PAVN), or North Vietnamese Army, during the Vietnam War (1955–1975).

The modern road, constructed from the trail, is rarely used, and is one of the best roads for a motorcycle driver in the world. Danger is widespread, but traffic is non-existent, and this was a weight off our tired, hungry shoulders.

We rode the straight path into the sunset, watching the limestone mountains fade with the dimming light. It was at this moment that we felt we were doing something truly special, but maybe impossible. By night fall, we were shivering with cold, felt totally unsafe on our bikes, and were surrounded by a beautiful nothingness. There was nothing to eat, and we had only done half of our daily quota. Despair was creeping in.

We eventually stopped at what looked to be a restaurant. We then figured out how things work in the Communist North. Those that can afford to sell some of their commune's harvest will cook for truck drivers, out of their house, by the roadside.

We conveyed that we wanted to eat, and proceeded to stuff our faces with enough food for a king. We then noticed a group of 5 truck drivers that were eating the same amount of food that we were, taking their time, and enjoying, quite possibly, their only meal for quite some time. It dawned on me that this was not a country of excess, and we were lucky to have what we did.

Some more cold driving later, I stopped at a dainty little house in the countryside, and asked if there were any places to stay nearby. The family was full of smiles, and pointed down the road. With enthusiasm, I kick started my bike, and the carburetor exploded all over their driveway. With my head down in shame, I pushed my huge Russian beast down the road, into the Vietnamese night.

My depressed daze was quickly shattered when I was approached by 3 men, my age, on motorcycles. They were shouting and I was sure that something bad was going to happen to me. Then there were hugs. They were so happy to see me, and without any verbal communication, I managed to show them that my sparkplug was burnt, and my carburetor had just exploded. With huge smiles, they woke up an old man, and with the light of cigarettes, they had my bike up and running in 5 minutes. I offered money, but they seemed ashamed that I had even offered. Here were 3 guys that work on barely self-sufficient farms, and they wanted nothing more than to help me out; a stranger, an American, and the offspring of a nation that may have killed their entire families. They escorted us to a beautiful guesthouse, the only one in the city, and we said our goodbyes.

I felt really good about Vietnam.

Day 2 Outskirt village of Hanoi to Tan Ky

After waking up at 6:00 AM to incessant singing from the neighboring KTV, we had a wonderful breakfast and some of the best coffee in the world. We set out in renewed determination, and after a quick tune up from the friends we had met from the breakdown the night before, we set out for a huge day of riding.

The sky was blue, and the day was full of beaming smiles from the children walking to school. Our arms were beginning to tire from all of the waves we were returning to ecstatic locals.

The wave is such a nice gesture. It doesn’t mean much in itself, but the feeling of warmth it brings is unmistakable. It’s like saying, “I see you, and I am glad that you are here.”

Teenage girls would blow kisses, and the boys would give salutes as we passed by. The beating sun brought out the fragrance of the herbs, corn, and mushrooms drying on the road.

Driving past the communist farms, full of satisfied and smiling people was delightful. There were even government billboards that seemed to be tailored to our journey. They were written in English and Vietnamese, and would say things like, “Wish you a nice and happy day. Best of luck.”

It’s an eerie, sterile, and warm feeling to be surrounded by such brain washed positivity, but I truly believe that those people were leading happier and more satisfied lives than me.

Everything was very uplifting. All of the sudden, the journey seemed doable.

With minimal stops, we made up all of our lost time, and we finally arrived in the dusty little town of Tan Ky. Upon arrival, a local family was almost too delighted to cook for us. We checked into the state run guest house that every little town seems to have, and for 10$ USD per night, for 2 people, we stayed in 3 star comfort.

Heading back into town was a real treat, as we found a little spot to drink beer. This hole in the wall sported such luxurious amenities like a toilet, and electricity.

After meeting our first batch of “deep friends” (as they call themselves), we decided to forgo our native USA identities, and adopt German personas, in case any trouble arose. We met some of the town’s high rollers, and one of them was quite proud of his position as a worker in the local phone company. We quickly learned the Vietnamese word for “together”, and (embarrassingly) proceeded to accept toasts about the unity between Germany and Vietnam. After being drunk under the table by the charming men, they offered to take us home because it was very late, and the entire town had gone to bed. We had plenty of time to take care of our inevitable hangover for the big ride the next day.

It was 7 o’clock.

Day 3 – Tan Ky to Dong Hoi

We set out with plenty of time for a quick tune up the next day, and we had our first good bowl of Pho, the Vietnamese staple. An old, betel nut chewing, woman prepared the delicious, nourishing, and spicy bowl of noodles, raw beef, and other wonderful things for us. Andy was able to find a group of soldiers to help us with directions, and at last, we watched the dusty province that we had come to love so much disappear.

Entering the poorest province of Vietnam was a sobering experience at best. The people were just as smiley, but it was apparent that they had much less than their fellow citizens in the places we had just driven through.

At first glance, one might wonder why it is so poor. It’s full of resources, and the greenery is simply entrancing. A little research will show you that this province was completely devastated during the war. When you realize that everything here was decimated, and look at all the young trees around, it sends a chill up your spine. Over the years, the effects of Agent Orange have affected millions in Vietnam, and none were more hurt than the people of Quang Binh. Birth defects and miscarriages are still rampant, and it has had an enormous effect on the economy. Despite the annual average salary of 400$ USD per person, each commune has managed to set up its own clinic. Cuba has also helped out with the main medical facilities in the provincial capital of Dong Hoi.

The roads became mountain passes, and the sun dipped below the peaks, creating an orange glow that basked us with a comforting blanket of radiance. It was dead quiet as we swept the corners, and each village we passed by became smaller and smaller. Cows were all over the road, and they became much more of a threat to our safety than the rare car or bike that we saw. We headed towards the Laotian border, and witnessed many minority children on their way home from school. They were surprised to see us, as we were surprised to find ourselves near the border, maybe even crossing over it at times.

The mountains were beautiful, captivating, and like nothing in the world. The villages pumped gas by hand, and people greeted us with the utmost warmth. I was happy to have never been asked for money. There was a quiet confidence among the people that we met. They weren’t ashamed of their situation of poverty, and they were not prepared to ask for money. It’s nice to feel that they believe that they have just as much as you, just in a different way. Peace was found here.

In a night time struggle to reach our daily goal of Dong Hoi, and we drove through the night, until about 8 o’clock, when we finally reached it.

It was a city of respectable size, but being the capital of the poorest province in Vietnam, it relies heavily on state intervention. There was one store that seemed to provide the city with everything that they needed. It contained everything from statues of Ho Chi Minh, to pirated computer software. It reminded me of one of those history films about the deficiencies of the Soviet Union that we had to watch in History class as a child. There was a very Communist feel to the whole city, and there were almost no people out and about when we got there.

We stumbled across a little family restaurant, and proceeded to make friends quickly. This rag tag bunch of guys were about our age, but seemed a lot more lively than we were. One guy was a victim of Agent Orange, (albeit in a minor way), and had 4 thumbs, 2 on each hand. Thankfully, he was very proud of them, and continued to make fun of us 10 fingered simpletons throughout the night.

We were very impressed with the kindness, and resilience of the people. We felt so wonderful to be welcomed into the arms (and thumbs) of a people that deserve to hate us so much.

Then again,

We were from New Zealand that night…

Day 4 – Dong Hoi to Hue

An early rise led us out of the little city, and onward to our next goal of Hue. We knew that we would cross the former DMZ at some point that day, and we were both eager to see if there were any differences left between the two former nations.

It was a gray day of riding through the war torn, and completely desolate province. The young trees, donated by responsible countries, gave the whole place the feel of an American national park. The squat jungle foliage was replaced by mid size trees one might see anywhere in North America or Europe. The monsoon rain came like a hellish sheet of warm bullets, pelting us at high speeds as we tried to cover as much ground as possible. My rain poncho had been pierced by the sharp droplets, and I became very worried about my motorcycle, as it was probably made from lower quality materials than the garbage bag that I was wearing.

Eyes peeled for the DMZ, I wasn’t seeing anything, and needing fuel, we stopped at a gas station. The attendant could speak a few words of English, and had no idea what 2 stroke fuel was. We motioned for minutes, showing him that we needed to put oil into the tank with the gas, but the poor guy had no clue what we were talking about. It was rather strange, since northern Vietnam, although forgoing the Minsks, still drove 2 stroke scooters. After finding a bottle of oil lying around, we had nothing to mix the two substances with, so we had to do a make shift job by pouring it directly into the tank, and shooting it with gas as quickly as possible. I prayed that the oil wouldn’t clog the carburetor, and in turn, seize the engine.

Speeding off into the rain, and to the end of the Ho Chi Minh highway, (the bulk of our journey) that’s exactly what happened…

My bike choked, sputtered, and ultimately gave up the ghost. Here I was, at the end of the Ho Chi Minh highway, with a broken bike, 200 kilometers from the finish line, soaking wet, and in a town that we couldn’t even find on a map. I kicked my bike, trying to start it, until my leg muscles gave up, and my shoe fell apart. This wasn’t good for morale…

Andy took a drive up the road, only to find a bike shop nearby. We were very skeptical that they would be able to do anything, as I thought that I had seized the entire engine, but the man, running the shop, was determined to figure things out. They took the carburetor apart, and his sons stopped working on a broken Honda to come learn about this Russian dinosaur of a motorcycle. The man was bursting with enthusiasm, and his sons were eager to try their hand at repairing such a piece of Vietnamese history. It was a wonderful site to see a father teaching something of his past to his boys, and showed just how far Vietnam had come in recent years. His young boys were now hammering away at the rim of a Japanese motorcycle, and that in itself, shows just how globalized the world has become.

After 30 minutes, a cloud of blue smoke filled the shop like a canister of tear gas. The bike screamed as it purged itself of the poisonous mixture it had just imbibed. A cheer erupted in the shop, and the old man jumped on the bike and drove down the road. There was a huge smile on his face, and his boys looked content and accomplished.

Back on the road, in high spirits from the solid repair, we turned onto Highway 1 for the last leg of our journey.

Highway 1 is the main road that connects the entire country, and serves most traffic. It was built by the French, and in many places, is in complete disrepair. It is full of every kind of traffic imaginable, and blindly passing enormous trucks becomes a sick sport. The rain was pouring down, and the trucks were releasing mud, dirt, and gravel directly into our faces, completely impairing our vision. Passing was the only option, but nearly felt morbid. It was thoroughly dangerous, and not the least bit enjoyable. The rain came down too hard, and we had to pull off of the road. A man’s voice beckoned us out of the rain into his house.

A warm face greeted us out of the rain, and the man introduced himself in perfect English.

He had fought with the Southern Army, with the Americans, and worked as a translator between the two armies. He was happy to inform us that we had just crossed over the DMZ back around where we had filled up our gas tanks, and welcomed us warmly to the south. We had so many questions for him, and he always had a tidy and informative response. He spoke of the difference between the North and South, and how the South was never really forced to repeal capitalism after the war, but simply fund the North’s education, housing, and Communist system. It’s a way of catching the North up with the south, while still allowing them to practice the collective way of living. The southerners are none to happy about this, and are taxed on basically everything that they do. We asked him about the confidence and happiness that the Northerners showed to us, and he replied with a cutting remark.

“They were the winners. Of course they are proud. They don’t have to change, and they have everything that they need now.”

I was always under the impression that the country was happy under reunification, and I’m sure, for some, it is. However, the older generation that we spoke to, in the south, overwhelmingly spoke like American veterans. It’s a shame that we didn’t have the opportunity to speak to some of the younger southerners, but it seemed that only those who participated in the war could speak English.

We had some coffee, and listened to his story for an hour.

After pictures and well-wishings, it was back on the main road, with a renewed sense of interest that things were possibly going to be very different down South.

Entering the ancient city of Hue, we were absorbed into the surging wave of motorcycles, and tried to get a look at the old citadel.

Hue was the ancient capital of Vietnam until the communist forces established the northern capital of Hanoi. It was utterly destroyed in the war, mostly by American firebombing, and is a hot spot for tourism.

Foreign people were something that we had not seen the entire journey, and to see them in swarms was a bit unsettling at first. They would arrive in packs of 30, pouring out of their A/C equipped busses, and hop into the nearest bicycle taxi. It was a vision of colonialism, reborn, but only on the surface. The Vietnamese were having the last laugh here, as these foreigners were merely guests, only there to make a monetary deposit into the Vietnamese economy, and leave. In fact, it might have been a bit overkill.

The prevalence of scams in Hue was enormous. Prices were exorbitantly high for the smallest of trinkets. People would sign up for non-existing tours, and maybe the most interesting were the men who would approach us, trying to sell marijuana.

For those of you who do not know, drug possession in a communist country typically carries very severe punishment, and often times, the death penalty. One who throws caution to the wind, and decides to accept the proposition, will have a friendly little visit, within a few minutes, by a local police man. The drug dealer simply gives a phone call to a near by police man, who then threatens immediate jail time unless a huge bribe is paid immediately. The dealer and the police split the money, and they go about their way.

In fact, we were the victims of a scam later that night.

Feeling very sore from the 1000 kilometers of driving we had just completed, we looked for a hotel that would offer a massage. They are of high quality, and offer you the kind of, “it hurts now, but will feel great in the morning”, massages. We walked towards a nice looking place, and we immediately were stopped by a guy on a motorcycle. He was very friendly, asked where we were from, and told us that the place we were about to go was no good at all. “Just a rip off.”, he said. He offered to drive us around and show us some other places, all for a very low price. We had nothing to do, so we accepted his proposition.

We ended up outside of town, and were led into a small house, and into a very dingy room. A tray of snacks and beer was placed in front of us, and we felt immediately unsettled. Two girls entered the room, and proceeded to offer services that we were very much uninterested in. Showing discontent, and the desire to leave, one of the girls gave a shout downstairs, and a man in a leather jacket, wearing gold chains (probably mafia) entered, along with a group of other people. He said that we owed 2 million VND for the room, and the food. We refused and told him that we didn’t even have that much money with us, so he ordered the people to search us. We were robbed of what little we had brought, and displaying anger, he told us to leave. We exited the house, and walked down the road back toward our hotel, careful to not be followed. We had just witnessed the corrupting power of money.

We weren’t ready for the South.

Day 5 – 8 Hue to Da Nang to Ho Chi Minh (Saigon)

A breakfast of baguettes, eggs and tomatoes raised our spirits a bit, and despite the rain, we were both enthusiastic to roll into Da Nang and be able to say, “We did it…”

A kick to Andy’s motorcycle started it right up, and mine was next.

*Crack*

My starter lever bottomed out, and stripped the bolt it was connected to. In fact, the entire starting mechanism was completely ruined. I tinkered with it in the parking lot for a bit, but this was no wrench job. Walking it through the rain, in the dense traffic, wearing broken shoes was humiliating enough but I then dropped my bike; unable to pick it up.

We waited all day, and many scams later, we picked the bike up. It was too late to cover any ground, so we agreed on finishing the last leg the following morning.

Rise and shine!

In ragged spirits, we drove on Highway 1 until it became the Hai Van pass. This road was featured on the Vietnam episode of Top Gear, so we had been looking forward to it for a long time. The weather was fair, and the coast was magnificent. A calm wind, the dull roar of the ocean, and the ascending twisty road, surrounded by the sparse greenery of the salt blasted mountains was the perfect setting to finish the journey. Da Nang got closer and closer, and I couldn’t help but feel sad to know that I was about to return one of the best friends I had ever had. The Minsk. It was by no stroke of luck that we had finished that journey, on time, other than the sheer determination of the bike, and the friendly people that kept it going.

We found the address of the man who would take the bikes, and were greeted with a very modest welcome. After finishing one of the most eventful, difficult, and character building rides I had ever completed, I expected some confetti, or maybe some cheers and fireworks.

At least a beer would have been nice.

A taxi arrived 5 minutes later, and we headed towards the train station to catch the overnight to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon). The cramped sleeper cell was filthy, and the food was cold. After reading a good chunk of the only English book that we could find worth buying (The Best Children’s Jokes), I fell terribly ill. My body began to convulse, and my temperature shot up to a level I had never felt before. Nausea and violent diarrhea followed, and I enjoyed one of the worst experiences of my life.

Arriving in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) was a very strange way to finish the trip. We had driven through poverty, iron fisted communism, and blindly selfless people, only to arrive in a bustling city of capitalism. The clothing was varied, and the standard white shirt that the women wore up north was replaced by the latest fashions to be found in this part of the world. There were shops, cafes, bars, music, and plenty of tourists. Take the propaganda posters down, and Ho Chi Minh City could have been any hot city in Asia. It was exciting in itself, but lacked a real soul found in other places in the country. One might argue for the influence of money on society, or the fact that it was very recently, a French colony.

We ate and drank very good food and beer, and couldn’t help to long for the North that we had come to love so very much.

There is an old notion among westerners and travelers alike, which has dated back to the original imperialists of the Orient. It’s that Asia should be a strange place of mystery; a place we could never understand, but enjoy for its quirks and exotic features. It’s hard to remove oneself of this notion, and it might be unfair to prefer Vietnam, and its people, to be quaint, and underdeveloped for our sheer novelty. But I think there is something to be said about the people that we met along our way. The North was full of smiles, and I would bet that most of the people that we met were quite satisfied with their lives. They were confident, unashamed, and willing to share everything they had, out of the mere fact that we were all human beings. They didn’t seem to feel the need to search for more; something that Andy and I were doing the entire time. And I think that, in itself, speaks volumes.

The Beautiful Island - Part 2 (Hehuan Revisited)

2010-10-14T11:51:00.021+08:00

Hehuan 2 - Maybe the best place in Asia

For the pictures, click above! Trust me it's worth it!

The week after Vivi left, I spoke to Andy about the wonders and adventures found in the cross island pass, through Hehuan mountain, to Hualien, on the other side of the island. It was something that we had talked about doing for a long time, and after testing half of the journey myself, with Vivi, it was time to set out.

We left after work, and made it about 1/5 of the way by nightfall. We zoomed past European styled hotels, in a very bizarrely un-European setting. We had a tent with us, and had planned to camp at one of the many campsites on the way. There was a farm that was a typical stopoff for campers, and we stopped and asked for help with finding one. We were directed to a small farm road that winded down for miles. At night, this was disconcertingg, as it was in total ruins, and there were dogs barking at us, protecting their master's crops. We knew that we had gone too far, and any light from near by houses vanished as we crept down a slow, quiet, and downright scary road towards something that resembled a small village in a valley. We could make out very little from the distance, but I thought I could see a small yellow cross at the head of the village.

After some time, we made it to the village, and in desperation, I rode to a large group of teenagers I saw fooling around in the road. Admittedly, I felt that I might be robbed that night, and proceeded to ask them for help. Naturally, they were quite surprised to see a couple of foreigners on motorcycles, and the treatment we received was of the celebrity variety that I was fairly used to in China. After an uplifting conversation in Chinese, we discovered that the village was comprised of 40 people, all belonging to one tribe of Taiwanese Aboriginals. The entire tribe lived in this village, and I felt very lucky to have stumbled across one of the smallest tribes in the country. They were all Christian, and had the most hospitable and lovely dispositionn. Their innocence was charming, and it was wonderful to see a society so untouched by the 1st world life that was only an hour away. After speaking to them, I found that people in the village rarely leave, even to visit other places. They make most of the their money from garlic and cabbage farming. They were incredibly helpful, and it was a wonderful experience to meet such a rare, and lovely group of people.

After camping that night, I awoke to a staggering view of mountains, and we decided to have a look at the village that we had visited the previous night. When we got there, we were rewarded with the most incredible scenery I have ever seen in my life. Stark mountains, barely touched by clouds, the small village, nestled in the valley, Hehuan in the distance, with it's winding road along it's peak, enticing me with every glance. It was too much to handle, and I found my self shielding my glance from it's beauty. It felt almost undeserved. I didn't know that Taiwan could be a home to such wonder and magnificence.

We rode to the peak of Hehuan, absorbing every corner, the crisp, cold air, and the deep greens of the mountainsides. After hours, and hours of riding bliss, we came to the fork in the road.

The route I took with Vivi differed from our original plan because it was a straight shot through middle of Taiwan, through the mountains, all the way to the east coast. Andy and I had planned on taking the Charlie Boorman route through Hehuan, but looping up to route 8, the ruins of the cross island highway.

In the 90's, the government set out to pave a way to get from the east coast to the west coast, through some of the most difficult terrain on this side of the globe. They dropped tons of money into it, and after the hellish quake in 1999, it was demolished. They spent loads of money trying to rebuild it, and after an enormous typhoon in 2005, it was all for naught. Half of the western portion was gone, and they ran out of money and motivation to continue building it. This road, potentially linking villages, towns, and major cities, from east to west, could have had quite the impact on Taiwan's recent development.

For drivers now, it's become a mecca of driving pleasure. Route 8 hits almost every point of what a perfect road should be. It covers the foothills of the Hehuan, and the extreme 1st gear corners of the tight roads to the south are rolled out a bit more gently, making turning a truly sublime experience. For anyone who enjoys high speed straights, incredible corners, impeccable road quality, and NO TRAFFIC, one must make a stop here in Taiwan.

This weekend will mark my last big motorcycle trip in Taiwan, covering the last bit of untouched road. Yilan is the final frontier for me, and it's going to be a bit sad to wrap up this epic journey that I have had with my bike, the pavement, and one fabulous country.

The Beautiful Island (Part 1 - The ride)

2010-09-28T12:22:00.041+08:00

Motorcycle Trip Around Taiwan 2010

"You can get around the island easily..."

"It will be no problem to go around Taiwan..."

"My buddy did it before, and he said it was great..."

Not really...

Let me start off by saying, going around Taiwan with 2 people on one motorcycle is most certainly, not easy...

I just finished a hard... hard... very hard trip around the island.

When most people do the island, it's a leisurely jaunt around the coast, and they savor the flat roads, eating up the miles as the sunshine warms their helmets.

I had 5 days to do some of the most difficult, typhoon damaged, monsoon soaked mountain roads, that I had ever seen in my life. Let me take you on that journey.

It started with a quick bus ride to Taoyuan airport. There, I was to pick up my riding partner. You may remember Vivi, from previous posts. As a mainlander, she struggled to obtain a visa to come to Taiwan, but being a student in Macau for so long, she was able to apply as a Macanese student. Enough about that. That's for Part 3.

We took a bus to Changhua (my home), and over the first few days, I took her to see all there was to see around my city.

They had repainted the Buddha, and now he looks like chocolate. Religion is somewhat dead in China, so seeing the large Buddha on the mountain was a bit of a mind trip.

We headed to a few night markets, something truly Taiwanese. We played games, ate fried food, and Vivi exploited her status as a "Macanese" person, and never a mainlander. She got away with whatever she wanted, which was good in terms of free food. I never knew that Taiwanese people were so fond of the SAR areas of China. Maybe they feel sympathetically bullied.

After a few nights of eating and relaxing, we decided it was time to hit the road. The original plan was to go through the center of Taiwan, to the southern tip, going up the east coast, around the north, and making our way back to Changhua. Unfortunatly, we got wind of bad road conditions due to the Typhoon. Most of our plan was completely impossible. We took a day to let things get settled, and decided to set off the next morning. We started early, and headed off to Nantou, our first destination.

The road to Nantou is one of my favorites. It's really close to my house, and it's usually abandoned, cool, has great views, and awesome air. Today was especially beautiful. From the get go, we could see the spine of mountains down the middle of Taiwan. This is something I have never seen before from this location. Someone was blessing us with good weather, and we felt great about the trip.

The snaking roads led us through the very center of Taiwan, and we met lovely locals, tasted fantastic food, and began the ascent of the biggest mountain in east Asia. We tried to call ahead about the roads in this area, but it was impossible to get specific details about the certain sections of road.

The road through Yushan (Mt. Jade) wasn't closed, so we decided to press on.

It was beautiful. There were no people holding us up, and we carved corners, and barreled down the straights, all while soaking up the beauty that surrounded us.

Each little town was snuggled in between the rapidly ascending mountains, and seemed to collaboratively make their living off of a special product made, or a special fruit or vegetable grown. There were little towns that sold sugar cane, some sold berry jams, some were selling wine, some were selling onions... It was all very charming.

We stopped off and asked some aboriginal men whether our route was a good idea, and their attitude showed that they were less than hopeful. I don't blame them. Driving one of the hardest roads in east Asia, after a typhoon, isn't the smartest idea I have ever had.

We persevered, and it all opened up into a mountain scape of the likes I had never seen. The sky was so blue, that every mountain in the range was visible. The roads were barren, and we had clear driving as we ascended our first big peak. The roads deteriorated in quality, and half of them had fallen off of the side of the mountain. A few people on the way told us not to pass, but come on... I had to see for myself.

About 3 hours into it, the first bit of drama hit us. As we were driving, we witnessed an enourmous tree falling off of the mountain, and landing directly onto the road. More followed, along with rocks and dirt. It was safe to say that we had had it, and there was no way we were going to get past. A couple of men said that it would be nightfall before it was cleared out, and the roads beyond it were just as bad. Our smiles turned to frowns, and we sauntered back down the mountain.

Not to have my trip ruined, we stopped off at Sun Moon Lake, where I ended up falling asleep inside of a Starbucks. After a hearty lunch, we headed back to base camp. Changhua.

After doing a bit more research on road conditions, we found that the entire south of Taiwan was totally gone in terms of driveability. The idea of having a real vacation popped into my head, and I decided to see what would happen if, for once, I did everything the easy way.

We decided to take the high speed rail down to Kaohsiung, and then a taxi to Kenting. Kenting has the reputation of being a bit like Hawaii, and it's one of the most popular places to go in Taiwan. Couldn't get more relaxing than that!

Everything went beyond smoothly, and we hired one of the coolest taxi drivers ever. He told us funny stories the entire way, and even helped with accommodations and scooter rental.

When we got there, it wasn't long before everything set in. This place was simply beautiful, and everything was just perfect. The ocean was so blue, our scooter was charming, and the people were lovely. We ended up driving the entire bottom tip of Taiwan, and I made it a game of trying to see everything there was before the sun went down.

And what a lot there was to see. The blue sky pierced the clouds, and reflected off of the goregous ocean, which was surrounded by stark cliffs. Sweeping fields of wild grasses were being gently teased by the breeze. There were wild cows, horses, monkeys, and mountain goats at every turn. Farmers were tending to their tea, rice, and vegetable fields under the gentle sun, and you couldn't help but wonder if they were ignorant to the fact that they were in one of the most beautiful places in the world. The open road was as smooth as marble, and our little red scooter simply ate it for dinner.

One of our last destinations before the final stretch home was called a desert. (I am going to leave it unnamed for the sake of our discovery.) Having a bit of a laugh at the name, I decided to make the 40 km trip up to it before I went home. When we arrived, there were sand dunes all around us, but the fact that there was a gorgeous blue ocean behind us made it kind of a farce.

That is until we found bones...

It's pretty normal to find animal bones in sandy areas, and it was pretty cool since it lent itself pretty well to the desert atmosphere. I dug a bit, and the bones increased in size. I suddenly realized that there was a very big possibility that these were not animal bones...

Vivi backed away in fits of crying, and I grabbed the camera. The funny thing was, when I was uncovering these large femurs, I failed to realize that directly next to me was a full skeleton, skull and all. It wasn't long before we realized that we were surrounded by bodies, and it all became very unsettling. I tried to catch Vivi as she ran away, but she was too scared to do much of anything.

When we got our bearings, and we found an old local man in one of the villages to ask about this. We told him that there were bodies and bones everywhere, and he simply replied, "There are lot's!" Unfortunately, he didn't know much beyond that, and he convinced us that no one else knew why they were there either. After doing some research, I found that there was no information about it anywhere online, and decided to keep it my own little secret. It'll be my memory of when I was a pirate in Taiwan.

Things calmed down after that, and after a wonderful Moon Festival on the beach, we decided to push on with our trip.

Rounding out the bottom of Taiwan to the east coast was totally impossible now, and no one was getting through, so we set back to home base and worked things out. There was pretty much no way to go east on a motorcycle, and even the trains were out. Unless...

The cross island road is one of the highest roads in the world, through the biggest, scariest, coldest, and wettest mountains in east Asia. I had been planning to do this for a long time, but I didn't know that that day would be the day. We called ahead, and the road was in business.

We set out early that day, and with 10 hours of driving through rough mountains ahead of me, we stocked up on sugar cane for the journey. It really keeps your mind on task when you are chewing cane and spitting all of the time. Plus it looks really cool.

By the time we got the first tough stretch of mountain, the temperature had gone from 34 degrees Celsius to 16. Winding roads, a choking motorcycle, and a shivering girl on the back made for quite the beginning.

All of the sudden, everything opened into something that looked more like Switzerland. There were alpine like peaks everywhere, stucco houses, and sheep grazing on huge fields of grass. Surrounded by clouds, it was like something out of a dream.

As we pushed on, the temperature dropped, people became sparse, and the chances of dying increased 100 fold. The truck drivers on this cross island road are mentally insane murders. They barrel through the corners at more than full speed, and cross both lanes with no warning. I almost was hit 4 or 5 times, one of them being within inches.

As the roads became deserted, I felt one with the bike, and amidst the shivering, I tore up the road, climbing to over 3200 meters.

It's an odd sensation being surrounded by clouds, because you are totally blind to the fact that you could be sent to your death at any moment off of the side of the mountain. It was eerie, quiet, intense, and just plain fantastic.

I was freezing, and the temperature was now 9 degrees. I was surrounded by driving heaven in an ethereal landscape of greens, blues, whites, and thin air. The decent along the other side of the range took twice as long as the way up, and the landscape turned to waterfalls, limestone cliffs, torrential rain, and epic tunnels blasted through the mountains. The sunlight dimmed, and my determination and resolve was fading. We made it through Toroko national park, and by nightfall, we finally made it to Hualien on the east coast.

What a journey...

This trip really opened up my eyes to the true beauty of Taiwan. You can literally go from Vietnamese jungles, Chinese rice paddies, to Swiss Alpine slopes, to Tropical Hawaiian beaches, to New Zealand cliffs and coastline on one small island. Taiwan is bloody awesome...

Please check the Picasa web album at the top for the link to all of the pictures!
Please check my youtube account for the videos!

China Vs. Taiwan Series Part 1- People

2010-08-17T12:27:00.016+08:00

I get a lot of emails from people asking me, if you had to choose one place to live, China or Taiwan, which one would it be?

I think the clear choice is quite evident from my posts, but maybe I'm not that good of a writer. Although this is a bit of a subjective question, it does bring up a good point about the identity of both of these nations.

As we all know, China claims Taiwan to be it's own, while Taiwanese people are a bit mixed on the issue. I can safely say I never met a Taiwanese person that supports re-unification under the Communist government of China, but most Taiwanese support the status-quo, and choose to remain in limbo between full independence and total re-unification.

This, I must say, says a lot about the people on both sides of the strait. Having lived in both places, I can dissect some of the traits I have noticed in the lifestyle, behavior, dreams, aspirations, and cultural differences between the two.

Now before you cry out, "Unfair! Racist! You can't group these people together! Everyone is their own person!"

Ok, I agree with you for the most part. I can't stand when people make generalizations about certain groups of people. Unfortunately, Chinese people group themselves in terms of many ideas, and everyday opinions. One might blame the tethers of a Confucian based society, or the brainwashing of a suffocating government's tyrannical rule over free speech and ideas, but the point remains. Individualism is something of a new phenomenon in China, and even in Taiwan, remains to really catch on to the level of that of a western nation.

A subjective question begs a subjective answer, so let's break it down into lists.

Taiwanese people:

Imagine you are a high school student, walking away from a championship game, knowing that despite your team's best efforts, you still lost. You didn't get that scholarship, and it's time to face the facts.

You hang your head low, and gather your things in silence. Your days of competition are over, and you slink back home to begin your life as an adult.
You finish college, and disappear into obscurity.

Although you are pretty successful now, when someone brings up that game, you get defensive, depressed, and take it out on the people around on you.

You gain the reputation of an angry and controlling person, and eventually you lose everything that you tried to hold on to.

Put this in terms of the way Taiwan has been run over the last 50 years, and you will see traits and characteristics of a people, defeated, lost, and ready to silently move on.

When the nationalist party of China lost to the communists in 1949, the losing party tucked it's tail between it's legs, and buggered off to the little island of Taiwan.

Upon arrival, the dictatorship that once ruled the mainland, was now condensed, and an island of fear was constructed in a hurry. People lived under fear of a leader with a mean streak, and were silenced and forcibly beaten when ever the officials felt like cracking down on supposed communists. The government wasn't going to lose what it had control of before, especially on a tiny island.

People shut their mouths, took the beating, and let nature take it's course. Eventually, the maniac was replaced by a modern democracy, and people got on with their lives, made some money, and carried on under a pseudo-culture of capitalism, mixed Asian characteristics, and an indirect, timid society.
There was never a revolution, of sorts, that propelled the society into fiery reform.

Taiwan is a really simple place. No one is very outspoken, things get done fairly slowly, society bumbles along with a lowered head, and a very confused identity about what it actually is.

Living in Taiwan, I have never really had a feeling that I was anywhere special. Sure, it's nice, and there are a lot of pretty cool things here, but no one has ever made me feel excited about their country. There is nationalism, but you never feel it's really genuine. There are so many people here that have no idea what true independence means, because for so long, they wanted to be free from the Japanese occupation, then the nationalist Chinese occupation, and now they want to be free from the Communist threat from the People's Republic across the strait.

People turn a blind eye to things in a different way than in China. Here, it's pretty rude to be direct about anything, so conversations, asking for things, and general life in the workplace can be frustrating at best. There is a real sense of apathy toward everything.

In other words, a smooth transition in government isn't always the most exciting kind.

Chinese people:

Imagine being left in a room with a TV, and being hooked up to a brain wave machine with an electric shock machine attached to your fingertips. The TV only played messages from the government that told you that materialism, money, and everything that could be considered decadent is bad. If you thought otherwise, or disagreed, you would receive a shock. After time, you would begin to absorb the ideas, willing or not, and being cut off from everything else, you wouldn't have anyone swaying your opinion otherwise.

Now imagine leaving that room after 50 years, and all of the sudden, you are flooded with bright lights, billboards, different food, cars, money... How do you think you would feel? Confused? Yes. Irritated? Maybe? Excited? Definitely.

This is modern day China. There is money flying around the air so fast, that people pay little attention to the ones being trampled under the cavalry of capitalism. The religious mantra of Mao has been replaced with the jingles from products lining the walls of millions of shops around a nation that was, until very recently, covered with small plots of farm land, and the odd iron smelt.

This fervor, and everyday passion for being alive is something that I never grew tired of in China. The Chinese are barraging through anything that once held them back, and they aren't bothering to question or oppose the government that once held them back. After all, they are getting what they want now. All thanks to the government as well!

In fact, I never met a Chinese person that said they disliked China, or it's government. The government has done a fantastic job of censoring negativity, and stoking the fire of nationalism. Living in China, you can't help but getting caught up in all of the positivity, and you start thinking that, despite all of this supposed freedom we have in the west, maybe turning a blind eye to the sadness and despair of the world is a much happier way to go about the day.

In China, there is a potent mix of blind capitalism, despicable corruption, horrendous poverty, riches that could only be imagined, gross human rights abuses, crime out the ears, selfishness beyond extreme, and a real sense that you know the sun will come out the next day (if you can see it through the pollution).

While the older generation gets washed away in obscurity, grievances of past leadership forgotten (forcefully), and emotion bursting at the seams of society, you really get a sense that this energetic, fast-paced, tarnished, and emerging country is striding into the new world with a big smile on it's face.

Bottle all of these feelings and emotions into a person, and you have one fiery, fierce, and fantastically interesting individual.

Picture update- Some things that have been happenin!

2010-08-03T15:34:00.006+08:00

View from on of the sides of Monkey Mountain (Saw one monkey, but he was hurt and running away from us)
Coast of Southern Taiwan

Monkey Tree
Every wanted to know what a million scooters looks like?
Climbing monkey mountain in Kaohsiung (Southern Taiwan)
Monkey Mountain Group Pic
Ruining love on a chair lift at Sun Moon Lake
Vlad dies as I show how much I care
Looking for Vlad in a field of flowers...
Failure of a jump pic
Sunflower pose
Extra Fail...
Trying to make it look like we are laying on them... Fail
Capturing the smell

The messy truth... (The story that should have been my first blog post)

2010-08-03T15:21:00.002+08:00

Upon reaching my 6 month mark here in Taiwan, and in an effort to jump-start my brain into thinking again, I have decided to write an article about the pros and cons of living in China, and Taiwan. This is by no means an effort to make anyone angry, or stir up arguments, but to present an objective view of a foreigner living in both places, holding a job as an English teacher.

Dear reader, as you may know, I lived in Huizhou, Guangdong, in southern China, for 1 year. I now live in Changhua Taiwan.

As a child, I first fell in love with Japan. While other kids were idolizing their favorite sports star, or collecting the latest action figures, I had dreams of this bizarre place on the other side of the planet. I was more interested in the idea of flower arranging than scoring the next goal in my soccer game. It was always an element of escape that led me to this place, because to me, it couldn't be any more different than my idea of home. Years past, and I found myself becoming fascinated with Soviet Russia. The idea of this place that not too many people know about, hidden behind an iron curtain of visa bureaucracy was my new forte. I would say that my interest eventually shifted into China, as China had the same political backwardness of Russia, but with the exotic Asian flare that I craved from Japan.

Keep in mind, all of this was playing second fiddle to what was actually happening in my life. I was very confused about what I was actually supposed to do. Was I supposed to follow the footsteps of my parents and become a teacher? Was I supposed to pursue a fading interest in the IT sector? Let's just say I tried both.

Halfway through my stint in college, I decided that my biggest feasible goal was to backpack through Europe. I saved money, and 6 months later, I made this trip happen. I had never wanted something so badly, and it seemed that when I could finally go on this trip, everything could disappear, at least for some time.

Shortly before I left, I entered a relationship with someone that I worked with. This plays an integral role in what was to happen next.

In Europe, I was full of hope, the stagnation of college, life, work, everything just disappeared, and I felt that I was ready to take on the world. And for a short time, that is exactly what I did. It was a train ride in Finland that really changed my life.

As I looked out of the window, I remember the deep green of an endless sea of forest. My heart jumped for a split second, and sank so low that I nearly lost my breath. The realization that this was almost over, and that real life never actually vanished, hit my like a ton of bricks. I was floored, and all of the responsibility of a normal and tedious life came rushing back over me. I felt utterly depressed, and upon returning to the USA, I realized that it was time to buckle down and drink the bitter juice that we call our future.

I threw gas onto the fire of my relationship, and with graduation in the near future, I asked my girlfriend to marry me. It was a quick jolt of adrenaline, and the focus that I needed to start taking things seriously. My girlfriend converted to Catholicism, and we were on the straight road to gettin' hitched.

Then it hit me...

WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?

I woke up one night with this exact thought. I panicked, and I couldn't exit the situation soon enough. My mind started racing, and I couldn't sleep the rest of the night. Fantasies of running away and escaping this self-built cage filled my mind, and the next day I hit the computer and immediately started looking for ways out. With a hole in my pocket, and debt to the ceiling, not to mention a (soon to be defunct) ring on my girlfriend's finger, I managed to muster the courage to begin initial plans of a big move. It wasn't going to be to Canada. It wasn't going to be an escape to Mexico. Not even to Europe. Russia? Think again. I was going to Taiwan. Mind set, and ready to roll, I began researching on how to get jobs in Teaching English. Language had always been my strong suit, and the idea of teaching had always appealed to me, so I decided that, no matter where I end up, this would be my future profession.

I chose Taiwan for 3 main reasons. #1- I secretly, and deeply wanted to go to China, but felt that I, nor my family was ready for that.
#2- I figured it would be a nice transition into the area, the language, and possibly pieces of the culture.
#3- I knew some Taiwanese people from language exchanges that I tried to do while I was back home.

The job hunt began, and nothing was producing results. It had to do with the fact that my diploma wasn't coming in on time, and I just wanted to get out. All of the schools that I was in contact with, were not willing to hire a teacher with no experience, and also one without a proper degree in his hands. I waited and waited, and filled out every want ad for jobs. This bought me some time to creep the idea into every one's minds that I was leaving.

Every day, I would drop hints, and tested people's reactions. To be honest, the only people's opinions that I actually valued were my family's. I knew my girlfriend would be devastated, and to see the looming fear that this may come true, on her face, everyday growing deeper, and sadder, really put pins in my heart. The truth is though, I knew that the people that I would really miss, in the end, were the people that had been through all of this crap with me, my whole life. Everyday, when I pictured myself in Taiwan, I would smile so big that I was sure that there was no other place for me. The only time I would feel regret is when I would think about my family.

Things moved on, and I still had no bites, but one fateful day, I checked my in-box. There was a nice letter from a woman in China. It was a job offer, and for some reason, I didn't even come close to hesitating. It was like all of the falseness of moving to Taiwan was lifted from my shoulders. China was my original dream, my original fantasy, and it was about to come true. I set to work on my paperwork and visa, dropped the news to my girlfriend, family, and friends, and before I knew it, I was on the next plane to Hong Kong.

Life has never been the same since...

Continued next time are my impressions of China Vs. Taiwan

The ride of a lifetime... only took 3 tries!

2010-06-08T16:22:00.015+08:00

Me and Micheal's ninja pic.
Me and Vlad's ninja pic
The crew (Johnny, Micheal, Me, Vlad)
Successful negotiations!
At the top!
Vlad
Temporary roads had been fashioned out of empty lorry containers
Blocked off from the way. Persistence was necessary

Organizing our route
Aboriginal girl
Constant mudslides made passing through very difficult
Rock slides were endemic
Base camp (about 6000 feet)

It started with a rumor. Charile Boorman (one of the main dudes on Long Way Round, the show about Ewen Mcgregor and his best friend going around the world on their motorcycles) came to Taiwan for his newer show, By Any Means. He was on his motorcycle, and drove some of Taiwan's most famous roads. The highest drivable road in Taiwan, and one of the highest in the world, passes through Hehuan Mountain, and is about 3 or 4 hours drive from my city, in central Taiwan. A co-worker of mine, in Taichung (a huge motorcycle fan) spoke to someone who had heard Charlie Boorman quote, "Hehuan Mountain road is the greatest road I have ever driven on in the entire world." Being a huge fan of his show, and an even bigger fan of awesome driving roads, I was intrigued. I waited and waited for the right weather to come. Week after week of waiting, I was tired of waiting for my sunny opening, and set out with Andy to go conquer it. It was a nearly religious experience for me, so naturally I was too excited to get a good night sleep.
It was time to hit the road, and we left about midday. We got into Nantou, (a region famous for mountains and wine), the sun was shining, and I was ready to carve some corners. We ate up the miles.
We saw the beginnings of what could be described as the most impressive scenery I have ever seen. It was getting good.
Then it came.
The rain. And boy did it come.
We were drenched at 7,000 feet. It was freezing, and we had no option but to turn around. We drove back with our tails between our legs, in the pouring rain, with pretty much no one else on the road.
There was a tree in the road. I was going about 100 km/h. My heart went into my throat, and I slammed in my front and back brakes. The rear tire locked, and I slid. Instead of sliding into the other lane, I forced the bike off of the road to the right. I jumped off into the grass and let my bike dump. I should have been severely injured, but since it was torrential downpours, I basically landed in a pool. My bike also stayed straight, and the water slowed it right down. It was a fantastic bit of luck. Someone stopped and helped me up, and I drove a bit more carefully home.

Needless to say, morale was low.
My friend Vlad (rides a SYM Duke that barely works, and is held together by duct tape) suggested a ride, and I accepted. We summoned our Taiwanese friend, Michael (rides a heavily modified Tigershark), who brought his friend Johnny (rides a SYM Duke). We set out early in the morning, with our destination being Yushan. The highest mountain in Taiwan, and one of the highest in Asia. I have been to this area a few times, but have never ascended the mountain. This was going to be big, but I didn't know just how big.

We rode gorgeous roads through central Taiwan. And we entered the national park territory. It was staggeringly beautiful, and I was in very high spirits. I played cat and mouse with Michael and Johnny on the twisties, and I had a big smile on my face. I needed this. The air was crisp, pure, and the scenery was breathtaking.

Then we saw the road block. We had just driven more than 200 km. to get here, only to be faced with a closed road. This wasn't going to happen. I was so angry, and we tried to bargain with the construction crew in charge of the road block. They were all aboriginal Taiwanese, and weren't having any of it. One of the guys was blasted drunk at 1 pm in the afternoon. After much debate, we convinced him to let us ride in the back of the truck to do a road inspection to see if the road block was necessary. He was stinking of alcohol, and as soon as we got into the back of the truck, we realized that it was a huge mistake. You know those fallen rock signs that we joke about back home in the USA? Those are real here.The roads had been decimated by boulders and landslides. Every 100 meters or so, there was a pile of boulders strewn everywhere. We asked about this, and we found out that it happened the day before.

There was a reason this road was closed.

Our drunk aboriginal friend swerved and proceeded to go off of the road more than once. This would have been less unnerving if we were not 8,000 feet in the air on a road with barriers that had been washed away by landslides the day before. We were convinced that we were going to die. We said a prayer in the back of the truck.

It stopped. He said the road was OK to drive on. He radioed to his friends back at base, and had the road block taken down. Our drunk friend turned around and drove like a maniac back down. We were nearly in tears, and also nearly throwing up. I can safely say that it was the scariest thing I have ever experienced.

We got on our bikes, and dodged falling rocks as we ascended into the clouds. We saw monkeys playing in the trees, and choked our way up to the peak. Victory. This is the only thing I wanted. We were at the top. It was cold. The sky was a sickly blue, the trees a deep green, and the clouds were below us. The only sound was that of birds and monkeys. It was just us, and Taiwan was below our feet. I'll never, ever, forget it.

A Semi-meaningful Update...

2010-05-25T10:51:00.015+08:00

Hey folks. Sorry for the lengthy pause between entries. It's been a bit rough lately, since I lost my computer a month ago. It has pretty much everything that I need for studying, photos, my blog etc. I am currently borrowing a friend's PC, but I am in the process of fixing mine. As the ACER people are completely useless, if anyone could help me out and tell me the exact process of flashing the BIOS on an ACER Aspire 5315, it would be greatly appreciated.

So where to begin?

It's been a hectic couple of months, with a ton of classes, a rare bit of free time, and not too many opportunities to travel. A word of warning to the fellow English teachers of the world. Take all of this into consideration before you think about teaching for HESS, or even in Taiwan for the matter.
I'm fighting for some vacation time right now. I am not sure if I will get it or not.

Weekend trips have been nice when I have been able to take them. I have noticed what a pretty place Taiwan can be. I just can't shake the feeling that it's just too small. The cultural, environmental, and economic differences between each location are a bit smaller than one might imagine. This, of course, makes for a comfortable life, but doesn't give you the real flavor and flare that China does. Anyway, I've been to Yushan, pretty much all over Nantou, Taichung county, Miaoli, and Yunlin. That pretty much covers all of central Taiwan, so it's about time to stretch my legs, or my bike to be more precise. I'm coming up on about 5000km of motorcycle experience under my belt now. One step closer to that big trip around China in a couple of years.

Speaking of motorcycles, I have made a couple of modifications to my own. I now have an upgraded air system, a fully carbon fibre exhaust, and I am in the process of upgrading the carb. I have noticed a nice difference in the midrange, all the way through the top. It's scary how restrictive the stock exhaust systems are here in Taiwan. I guess it's good for the air though. Either way, it's really loud now, and I wouldn't be surprised if it caused me to go deaf in one ear.

Matsu festival was pretty nuts. Everyone crowds the streets for a few nights and welcomes the sea goddess to bring safety to the fisherman. There are literally fireworks everywhere. It's utter chaos, and at 4 AM, when you have to teach the next morning, it's not the most welcome of festivals. Cool nonetheless.

Been to Taipei a few more times. This weekend I checked out a cool little replica city of what Taipei used to look like from the 40's through the 60's.

Anyway, I know it's short, but I'll let the pictures tell a story. How's that?

One of the most beautiful bits of scenery I have ever seen. Mango trees on the hill, rice field, and a simple farm house. This is about 10 minutes from my house.

Matsu Matsu Matsu aftermath

Climbed a huge tree in Taichung

The tree

Jump pic at the Taichung goat

Our paintball team

Andy bein' stupid

A good, dare I say great, Hefeweissen in Taiwan? Yes sir!

Gettin' back to my roots

I have a crush on old motorcycles

An old Mitsubishi Colt. Still has the dealer stickers on it, all completely Japanese.

If you are going to write "don't pee on the wall", you gotta be asking for it.

Quite possibly the most racist and terrifying toothpaste advertisement I have ever seen in my life.

Our great leader.

Bomb shelter in case China attacks.

An old Triumph according to the badging. I find it hard to believe though.

An old snack cart. Same as today, but not so wooden anymore.

Chiang's general store. (get it?)

Warning against the mainland communists. Be safe.

Exact replica of a period shop.

Kid's toys. The KKK car says Go USA! on the other side. I wonder if that's what American kids enjoy.

Old, and very cool map of Taiwan. I am highlighting Changhua.

S.H.E. The famous girl band proof

S.H.E. The famous girl band

Awesome lizard shot in Nantou

My tree house kids messing around

The door of the forest. It's something out of a children's fantasy book

These roads are great to coast down with the bike off. Mango and banana trees everywhere.

Graveyard. Look closely and you can see goats wandering around at the top.

Ryuk, Streetfighter, and Manchild at the beach

What's with the big dogs in cages???

Sunburnt. Vinod's choice of betelnut girl for Matt's monthly betel nut girl post. Bad choice Vinod... Baddddd choice.

Tried to go to the beach. We got there, but the gateway to it was a Soviet looking family fun center. It was creepy.

Miaoli county (province) from the hill. The ocean fades into the sky in the background.

Betel nut trees in Nantou. What a weird day, the weather was bizzare.

Have fireworks explode in the window of my 15th floor apartment in Taiwan. Check.

It was like this all night. For many nights.

A wounded bird flew into my room. I am assuming from the shock of the fireworks.

Road to Hehuan. I'm coming soon...

A lone temple in the misty hills on the other side of the mountain near my house.

Lot's of people for Matsu.

Getting ready for the fireworks procession

Rumor has it that our pictures are still on the board here at this waffle shop

Outside of Yushan national park

Pineapple temple and betelnut trees

From Strawberry Mountain to Oyster Town...

2010-03-19T16:29:00.010+08:00

This time it was planned. We planned on clocking about 300 km. on this trip, and did so with ease. We made our way through Changhua county, and experienced some lovely Taiwanese countryside.
The sun was shining, and God was on our side this time.

The first village of note, was one with wide open roads, the smell of farm in the air, rice paddies to the left and right, and a woman beheading a chicken in the middle of the road. I got the old, "this is like China" smile, and all was right in the world. Each town passed, and the general feeling of serenity almost made the riding a bit tedious. I was really soaking in real country comfort, and achieved a sense of peace and happiness.

Eventually, the smell of farm became the smell of sun-ripened strawberries, and we noticed that we were driving right through strawberry country. There were roadside stands next to the private farms, and Andy proceeded to preach about the downfall and sad situation that are farms in America. It was a lovely time, and the berries were as sweet as the sunshine that made them grow.

Long stretches of road continued, and tunnels of trees turned into fields, which turned into hills, which turned into... factories?

All of the sudden, the wind picked up, and we neared the coast. The sun disappeared into a gray haze of apocalyptic air pollution, and large smoke stacks littered the air like menacing spires of the industrial revolution. Welcome to plastic country!

We had entered the wretched west coast of Taiwan, and plastic factories dotted the coast with their unwelcome presence. The surrounding towns were unfriendly, and the people, sparse. Wild dogs ruled the road, and more than a few nipped at me as I drove by. Not only was the air toxic, but the wind nearly blew me off of my motorcycle more than a few times. Mission... get out.

We ended up getting lost, and our plan to follow the coast, all of the way back up, was a terrible idea. The wind was treacherous the entire ride. So much for my perfect vision of a beach side cruise up the coast of Taiwan. I crouched the entire way back, and my knuckles were white from the intensity of not knowing if I would be thrown off of a bridge to my death.

Eventually, I noticed a large temple, and a very strange seaside town up ahead. We decided to pull off into it, and ended up discovering the coast, as well as a village with an economy comprised of 100% oysters. There were old Chinese houses, and in front of each one was a pile of oyster shells; some taller than me. The people were wind beaten, and it was hard to find a smile amongst them. It was a quiet place, and the beach gave me some hints as to why life is so hard there.

The beach was comprised of pieces of people's houses. It makes sense. Taiwan is a terrible place to live in terms of weather. The coast gets hammered by disastrous typhoons, and nothing is spared. I could see that with every storm, the coast would retract a bit more. There were old coke bottles, tiling, shoes, board games, and all kinds of remnants from houses that were engulfed by the storms. This place is the stomping ground of fisherman and their families, and an easy life, it's not. At one point we noticed a dead pig. This just gave the whole picture a bit more flavor, and we ended up heading back into town to find some oysters to eat.

Oyster omelets are what they eat here. It's a famous food in Taiwan, and what better place to eat them than at the source? After 20 minutes of being ignored, we were finally served by bitter people who didn't seem to want us there. I kind of didn't want to be there either.

But man, was the food delicious.

We ended up eating a huge plateful of the crunchy delicious treats, and it was all washed down with a big bowl of oyster soup. I must have consumed at least 80 oysters that day, and I could have kept going.

We headed out of the little town, and proceeded to get lost until we found our way back to the main road to Changhua. Andy reminded me of a tradition we had invented, and we had to stop and get some betel nut. It was Andy's turn to pick the girl, and he had a lot worse luck that I did. He managed to find the dirtiest, and most disgusting betel nut girl in the world, and we convinced her to pose with him. Hilarity ensued.

It was a nice trip, and I hope there are plenty more to come.

Things are quiet around here. Despite the odd (and terrifying) earthquake, things are slow in Changhua. Work is shaping up, and I have come up with a decent schedule to follow. I will be studying Chinese part time starting next week, and I really hope to make some progress with that.

Visions of China still occupy the majority of my thoughts though. I am planning a trip back this summer.

Picture: Andy's terrible prize
Picture: Temple at the road side on the way back
Picture: Oyster mobile in town
Picture: Andy full after the meal
Picture: Oyster omelet kitchen
Picture: Indulging in the seafood treats
Picture: Pile o' shells and a cow
Picture: The pieces of house make the beach
Picture: The coast
Picture: Multilayered shot. Plastic factory in the distance, the ocean, the last remaining structure on the beach, a Taiwanese family, the motorcycles, me, and a dead pig.
Picture: Epic
Picture: Tree tunneled road
Picture: Cemetery
Picture: Gratuitous rice paddy shot
Picture: Conclusion- Strawberry people are nicer than oyster people
Picture: Mouthful of the goods
Picture: Roadside dumplings on the way

The long way in...

2010-02-28T20:28:00.004+08:00

It was time to sign the papers for my motorcycle! I went to Taichung, and to my surprise, the owner let me drive it home the same day! It was an awesome ride through the night in the city. I really got a feel for the bike, and loved the ability to pass cars and dart in, and out of traffic. What a sweet ride! Andy and I got lost on the way home, but managed to figure things out in time to catch some rest for a ride the next day.

And one of the best rides of my life it was. I think I have come a long way from being in China. The day of that ride was the first time where I didn't feel homesick for China. Andy and I bombed along country roads, and found ourselves in the middle of Taiwan! Living on the coast, this was no small feat. At that point I realized how easily I could eat up the miles with my new bike! We were able to visit the most holy lake in Taiwan, as well as some of the areas worst affected by the huge storm. We passed through aboriginal villages, still home to tribal life unchanged by time. The twisty mountain roads were enough to instill fear into the most experienced rider, but playing cat and mouse with some of the more daring drivers kept my mind focused and alert.

The way back home really made me open up my eyes to the many subcultures of Taiwan not shared with China. One being the "betel nut beauty." Young girls, often scantily clad, will sit inside of glass booths selling betel nut (see previous post). They cater to the truck drivers, and long distance travelers on these back roads, as the betel nut offers a much needed stimulant on these long drives. Not to be mistaken with anything more, these girls find themselves in these jobs to pay for school, or anything else they might need. The booths are easily distinguished from everything due to their bright, multicolored lights. All you need to do is pull up, tell her what you need, and she will come out and deliver. It's little things like this that piece Taiwan together in my mind. I get flavors from a ton of different countries here, but some of the food, the dusty little roads in the countryside, the people, the scenery; they all add up to something that I can finally put my finger on as, Taiwanese.

It's all making sense now...

Picture: Making a purchase. They are notoriously camera shy, so Andy had to be covert in his approach. He stood 2 meters away, and the girl laughingly said, "does your friend think I can't see him?"
Picture: Same
Picture: An aboriginal village at the base of some mountains.
Picture: Mountain range in Central Taiwan.
Picture: Temple at Sun Moon Lake
Picture: Me in the mountain shot
Picture: Bikes
Picture: Sun Moon Lake with bikes
Picture: Sun Moon Lake
Picture: Andy
Picture: Roadside
Picture: Roadside mountains.
Picture: Roadside
Picture: New bike and I at some guy's farm.
Picture: The new bikes packed up.

Short way round...

2010-02-23T16:06:00.005+08:00

Taiwan is really small. I couldn't escape this feeling as I traveled around the entire island over my Chinese New Year holiday.

It all began with a mad dash from work, and a night to remember at KTV (Karaoke). After some crazy antics amongst co-workers, I woke up fresh to take on the holiday. We were all in need of a break.

First was the slow train from Changhua (my city) to Kaohsiung. Kaohsiung is in southern Taiwan, and I have been told that this is the starting point for an entrance into true Taiwanese culture. These are people who identify themselves as Taiwanese, without any mention of Chinese background or heritage. These are people willing to stake full claim of Taiwanese independence at any cost. It would have been pretty cool to get into some conversations about what Taiwan means to them, but I was here to relax!

The 3 days in the city were pretty fun. Our hostel, a fantastic little place, gave us free bikes for rent, so my friends and I meandered down the wide streets of this tropical metropolis. Eventually, we got the bikes onto a ferry, and managed to find an old military fort on the coast. It offered spectacular views, and the beach was always within reach.

The night market in Kaohsiung was claustrophobic, in your face, and completely full of energy. Delicious food abound, you could find yourself 3 hours late to your next destination, and 10 pounds heavier after a stroll through it's tiny paths. I got my fill of weird organ meats on a stick, and spent some time with some buddies from teacher training.

The meat and potatoes of the trip was supposed to be the east coast, with it's staggering cliffs, it's crashing waves, the clean air, the green mountains, and a coastline to make any resort in Mexico jealous.

Too bad it rained every single day...

Not much you can do about that though. I made the best of it, and after an immensely terrifying ride on a bus through the mountains, I wound up in Taitung, from where I caught a train to the eastern base city of Hualien.

This area is famous for Taroko Gorge, and the amazing cliffs along the coast. After a day in the gorge, I decided to split up from the group and grab a local bus to the sea side. I walked along the roads that had been washed out by the recent, and tragic, storm that has decimated parts of the country, and found myself some scenery. I met some local fisherman, and hung out with them, chewing betel nut, and trying to decrypt the broken Chinese that they spoke. They spoke of a life totally different to the people I spoke to in China. They laughed, joked, and seemed to enjoy what they were doing. I guess it's easier to be poor here. After some noodles at an old woman's house, I hitched a ride back to the city, and marveled at the intimidating beauty of eastern Taiwan.

After swinging back around to Taipei, I headed home in order to take care of the main event...

Picture: Want to try turtle dove head? Turtle dove is illegal here, but I found it in a market in Kaohsiung. Hands down, best bird you can eat.
Picture: KTV to start off the holiday.
Picture: Custard apple. This is a strange fruit, with the texture and flavor of, well... custard! The seeds are annoying though.
Picture: The fruit is really big here if you haven't noticed.
Picture: The wind beaten fisherpeople
Picture: The water was beautiful
Picture: Coast of Jici, near Hualien
Picture: Same
Picture: The aboriginal people store rice in bamboo so it's easy to carry around. Was a good boost for the hike.
Picture: Stream in the gorge.
Picture: Doug's amazing water picture.
Picture: Shrine at the gorge entrance.
Picture: This was built to honor the 400 people who died making the cross mountain highway in Taiwan.
Picture: Taroko Gorge.
Picture: Train ride provided us with endless rice paddies.
Picture: Beach in Kaohsiung.
Picture: Vinod got trapped in a bus exit and the entire bus erupted into people who thought he should get off, and people who supported his right to stay on. He got thrown off.
Picture: Cakes in the market.
Picture: Some dude.
Picture: In Taiwan, during Chinese new year, you can buy a little red scroll in the markets. Upon opening it, you win a random animal. You could win anything from a dog to a rabbit to mouse. We won this mouse. It was fun, and only about $1 US for a try.
Picture: I wanted to win this beetle. Seriously, it was the size of my hand...
Picture: Kaohsiung.
Picture: Temple.
Picture: Part of Kaohsiung at night.
Picture: Fireworks on the beach.
Picture: Choose your own seafood. Freshly caught! Awesome dinner.
Picture: This is what happens during typhoon season.
Picture: Kaohsiung from the island.
Picture: Doug's jump.
Picture: Sunset over the fishing boats.
Picture: Well, well, well...
Picture: Cooler than the bank dragons in China.
Picture: Doug and I on the ferry.
Picture: Leaving Taiwan!
Picture: Biggest mall in Asia.
Picture: Inside the metro in Kaohsiung! Awesome!
Picture: Ridin' bikes in the city.
Picture: Chicken hearts, anus, and stomach.
Picture: Awesome building.
Picture: They make art out of old shipping containers...
Picture: Metro outside.
Picture: Kaohsiung.
Picture: Cool shiny buildings.

Hit the deck!

2010-02-13T14:51:00.008+08:00

Felt cooped up for awhile there. My school had me working 20 days in a row with no break. I finally got the travel bug and decided to head up to Taipei. I wanted to meet one of my buddies from training, but the trip became a lot more epic than that.

We headed up on a private bus, and it only cost me about $8 US. The trip took about 3 hours, but it was done in total comfort. We got there, and met up with Doug, my friend, and checked into the same hotel we stayed at for training. The rooms were fantastic this time, despite the fact that I slept on the floor.

I finally felt like I started to get what Taiwan was all about. It's been really vague to me, and it hasn't hit me with the blow to the face that China originally had given me. Taipei is a really rad place, and I saw a big chunk of it this time.

First stop was the Chiang Kai Shek memorial. I was very, very excited to see how the R.O.C. honored their party's hero. I have been living in Mao country, and I was about to enter his arch nemesis' lair. Directly off of the metro stop, two enormous, and intimidating, buildings greeted me at each side. I was astounded! Straight ahead was an enormous monument, which held the man himself, Abraham Lincoln style. I got chills when I saw the guards marching with their R.O.C. uniforms, their rifles with bayonets, symbolically protecting their fallen father. At this point I could almost hear the PLA soldiers charging, their hearts bursting red with the communist dream, and the R.O.C. soldiers retreating, their low morale, almost visible, trailing behind them. I could see them running away to the little island of Taiwan, defeated, and now relieved to have their little haven, surrounded by ocean, to build up their pride, and start all over again.

I was impressed.

It was off to the temples after that, and it was one of the most peaceful experiences that I have ever felt. It was so quiet, so beautiful, so simple. I wish I could have bottled the feeling of rest that I felt there, because it was truly refreshing. I was given a little tour by a college student, and he was very proud of his religion. He wanted us to be respectful, and make sure we didn't look like stupid tourists, so it was really nice.

The night market might of been the highlight. It was a proverbial mountain and sea of people. You walk through a narrow street, surrounded by sights and smells that you may have never experienced before. I had some of the most wonderful octopus, skewered meat, and stinky tofu that I had ever had in my life. Unfortunately, because there was no where to stand, I had to lean up against the stinky tofu stand, thus absorbing most of it's smell. Needless to say, I was the butt of many a joke in the train.

It was nice to catch up with Doug. He told me about the air raid sirens that they have to deal with. I guess since Taipei is in the north, it would be one of the first places hit by the Chinese if there was a war. To be honest with you, I think the whole island would be pretty messed up if the Chinese wanted to do anything. It's pretty small. It's easy to get caught up in the paranoia though. I'll tell you one thing, it makes life interesting.

"Renegade province." This is what the Chinese call Taiwan. You know, I can see where the logic is, that Taiwan is a part of China. But to be honest with you, in the modern world of established nations, it doesn't make sense for it to go back. It was of little or no use to China before, and now that it has established itself as a successful power, it wants to claim ownership again. In the past, Taiwan was a haven for Chinese pirates, slaves, and illegal trade. It was then colonized by the Dutch, the Portuguese, and the Japanese. The Chinese took it back after the R.O.C. lost the war in 1949, and Taiwan has been the "other China" since then. The debate goes in circles, and really, I think it boils down to the fact that China is too proud. Imagine if you grew up with one other brother of about the same age. You are celebrated for being the big strong child, who looks to have a very promising future. Everyone in your family is cheering you on, and you get through school and your first few years are relatively successful. Meanwhile, your brother is struggling, and the family is supportive, but realize that he doesn't have much going for him. His mixed himself up in something too big for his grasp, and ends up failing. While everything is going well for you, you get mixed up in drugs, gambling, and you lose the reputation you had for being successful. In the end, you lose everything you had, and your life is destroyed. Your brother on the other hand, has moved his life elsewhere, and has done everything right. He's got respect, money, and a beautiful family. How would you feel about your brother at this point? Would you be jealous? Would you try to get closer to him to get some of that respect and good fortune? Would you try to sabotage him and claim ownership of his things? I think mainland China is a bit of a mix of these three traits. I think this analogy works in post-war China. As you all know, China is all about the culture of face. You could translate face to the western trait of pride in a way. If the culture is so reliant on pride, what would it say if China was to back off now?

So the USA sold some weapons to Taiwan. If this is new news to you, you must realize that the USA has been doing this for a good amount of time now. It might surprise you to know that Taiwan is the biggest buyer of arms in the world. So why is China so pissed off? Well, they always have been. They have denounced every weapons purchase in the past, but this is big time now. Trade sanctions against the USA are being talked about, and the world is starting to wonder how China could possibly threaten the USA. Well if you ask me, China has set up a nice little system. Being established as the worlds factory for so long means that it's got a big stake in the world market, and this means they have quite a bit of say in trade these days. In other words...

China can finally throw it's weight around in the world.

Before you crawl into your fallout shelters, consider this. China is toying with the big boys now, and just because they are the new kid on the block, it doesn't mean they get a say in how things work just yet. It's easy to jump the gun with conspiracy theories.

There is a lot of speculation, here in Taiwan, about China, possibly, putting sanctions on the table, which cause the USA to reconsider it's "support Taiwan in the event of Chinese take over." There are not many countries that recognize Taiwan as an independent nation anymore, and without US support, there wouldn't be much left for it to hold on to.

Is it in China's best interest to take it back though? I don't think so.

There is so much interdependent trade between these two countries, that I really can't get past the fact that I think that China is still blowing smoke. Why would it harm the status quo when it works so well? Most people here are not in support of a 1 party, 2 systems relationship like Hong Kong has. China has been infringing on it's 50 years of freedom already, and with behavior like that, Taiwan is not going to give up it's successful democracy. There is no real support on this side, and to be honest with you, I think support on the other side will dwindle with the inevitable collapse of the communist party's principles. Who knows how long how they will remain in power, but if the economic future of China is really the main goal, (which seems to be the case so far), then support for reunification will weaken.

Let's not fight boys.

Picture: Taipei
Picture: Taipei night market
Picture: Memorial guard
Picture: One of the guard buildings for the memorial
Picture: Weird machine we found by some metro stop that takes your picture
Picture: Chiang Kai Shek memorial
Picture: Guarding buildings
Picture: My future (just bought it) motorcycle
Picture: My new Taiwanese hoodie
Picture: Prayin' 4 wealth + good dead relatives
Picture: Temple interior
Picture: The worst mid-jump picture ever
Picture: Confucius temple
Picture: Some other temple
Picture: Meet up with Doug at an awesome noodle joint in Taipei
Picture: Artwork in the temple. Picture of Mulan was next to it
Picture: Typical fruit stand. Strawberries were fantastic
Picture: Changing of the guard
Picture: Chiang Kai Shek. Friend or foe?

Settle down...

2010-01-21T12:27:00.009+08:00

Sorry guys, I don't have a reliable source of Internet, so things have been pretty slow in blog land. Well, I would say that I am fairly settled here in Changhua, Taiwan. I got here about January 11th, and had a day at a hotel to rest and gather my things. I decided to share a big apartment with two other people from training, because they were also going to my branch in Changhua. We found a place immediately, and went shopping for mattresses and all of the other necessary amenities. We had observations the next day, and I began to get a bit nervous about teaching. This school is serious business, and the amount of material that one needs to get through, in one lesson, is pretty daunting.

The next day, I fell very ill. I thought that I was on the path to recovery, as I came to Changhua very ill, but I came down with what seemed like food poisoning. Three other people around me got it as well, so it must have been some sort of bug going around. That's the problem with moving to a new country. The bacteria and viruses are totally different than what your body is used to, so it's easy to get bombarded with illness.

Thankfully, the Taiwanese health care system is totally sound. They have socialized medicine, and for me, it has cured any suspicion of it's negative stigma. The wait is non-existent, you speak to the doctor directly, and the equipment is on par with anything that the USA has. The pharmacy is connected to the doctor's office, and fills your prescription while you are waiting. All of this is free. The Taiwanese also pay some of the lowest taxes in the world. If that doesn't satisfy you, there are also an abundant amount of specialists who can see you for a price. Even they cost nothing compared to a western doctor.

Taiwan is very clean as well. People really don't seem to litter, and spitting is pretty much non-existent. The sanitation system is genius too. Trucks come by all of the time, playing an ice cream truck sounding song, and people bring out their trash. It's really nice to see everyone helping each other to get rid of their trash. The trash is always separated into about 4-6 different categories, so nothing is accidentally thrown out instead of being recycled. Everything is recycled, but food and biodegradable waste is always composted.The Taiwanese are really serious about this, and it makes sense. This island is really small, and there is a real sense of community here.

The food is really neat. Although I only live in a city with a population of 230,000, there seems to be no shortage of snack vendors; something Taiwan is famous for. In my city alone, there have been numerous documentaries about the food. Although small, my friends in China, and other Asian countries, were well aware of my city's existence, simply from watching food shows on TV.

Cat and mouse noodles are a staple here, and I've yet to try them. The meatballs are interesting. They are sold on a stick, and they come in every meat or seafood variety imaginable. They are also coated in a jelly-like rice paste. This gives them a really awesome texture. I really have to stay away from them though, as I don't want to be the size of a house.

Bubble tea comes from Taiwan, and it's everywhere. I really like the huge cups of cold, green tea. They are so cheap, and such a nice treat.

Stinky tofu is prevalent, and you can't go far without smelling it's unmistakable odor. It's basically rotten tofu, and it's grilled or stewed. I really like it.

The Taiwanese (the rural, or hick Taiwanese called Hoklo) love to chew something called betel nut. It's likened to drinking coffee, but after trying it, I can assure you that it's much stronger than that! If introduced in the west, it would definitely be classified as a drug. That being said, it affects everyone differently. Anyway, it's a nut from a tree, and it's wrapped in a leaf. When chewed, the two produce a synergistic effect. The chewer then holds the saliva in his mouth for as long as possible, and spits everything out in one go. It's bright red, and you can see it everywhere on the streets. I experienced a sensation of extreme euphoria, nervousness, and I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. Also, it made me so incredibly hot, that I had to take off my sweater. Soon after, I was completely cold. What a weird nut.

Japanese influence is enormous here. The Japanese occupied Taiwan for 50 or 60 years, fairly recently, and they didn't leave anything untouched. Japanese food is EVERYWHERE. Even if the food is not overtly Japanese, it's influenced in some way. Every day, I have Taiwanese food for lunch, but it comes in a lunch box. This is actually an awesome thing, because not only does it cost me $1 US, but it's a totally balanced meal.

The Japanese influence doesn't stop there. Basically everything else is borrowed from Japan as well. There are little arcades tucked away in corners. Little video gambling booths. Japanese massage. An obsession with Japanese media and Anime. Unfortunately, the Japanese also left their work ethic. This means that Taiwan works on a 6 day week, and what we consider a lot of hours is actually nothing to them. It's certainly more than I had to deal with in China. I'm not going to complain about that here, other than the fact that I haven't really been able to see anything yet!

I live across the street from the giant Buddha that this place is so well known for. It's actually one of the national images of Taiwan now. People are really religious here, and it's strange to contrast it to China. I feel like Taiwan has retained more Chinese traditional culture than China, and also been influenced by the Dutch, the Japanese, and the west in general. This place is a mess of variety, as well as scooters.

Scooters are everywhere, and they contribute, almost entirely, to the air pollution problem here. There are way too many 2 stroke motors burning oil. It's really irritating, and I feel somewhat guilty because I love motorcycles so much. If one thing needs to be fixed here, it's getting some better emission laws.

This place seems like it has a lot to offer, and I can safely say that it is completely different to what I expected. For Chinese new year, I am going to try to travel the entire island.

The problem is, every morning I wake up, I really miss Huizhou. I don't know how long it's going to take to stop longing to go back to China. I had a really great thing there.

Picture: Temple on my street
Picture: My street in Changhua
Picture: I shop here after eating breakfast at Down Syndrome Waffle House
Picture: Masks are vital thanks to the 2 stroke epidemic here
Picture: The couch in it's proper home
Picture: Vinod and I carrying the couch we took from the front of some scummy internet bar
Picture: Everything comes in bags here. Even soup.
Picture: Just moved in
Picture: Buddha from my window
Picture: Sunset fading into pollution
Picture: Taipei
Picture: Don't ever cut cigarettes
Picture: Taiwan makes electronics if you didn't know
Picture: Christmas is a little different in Taiwan
Picture: At Buddha's gate
Picture: Peeking through. I live across the street from this.
Picture: Changhua city
Picture: Buddha and dragon
Picture: Him and I
Picture: This courtyard, surrounding the Buddha, was built during the Japanese occupation of Taiwan
Picture: Contrast of city and serenity
Picture: The whole shebang
Picture: Temple
Picture: Coworker dinner
Picture: Betel nut
Picture: First bite
Picture: Andy appears to feel the effects before consumption
Picture: It's probably not good for you