I asked a work colleague, who has spent a lot of time traveling in Taiwan, for suggestions of things to do, and one of the items he mentioned was a visit to Sanyi. Sanyi is a village about 30 minutes to the north of Taichung that's famous for their wood carving. There's a wood carving museum there, along with lots of shops.
I've occasionally dabbled in wood carving. What that really means is that I've got a few books and supplies, I've dreamed of owning a lathe if I ever had a garage to put it in (imagining the pens and chair legs I could make), and one time I carved a (still not finished, but functional) captured ball in a cage. So when I heard about Sanyi, it went on the list.
While having dumplings with my colleague and her family the other night, her husband mentioned that he had started planning a trip to Sanyi. I excitedly exclaimed that I wanted to come too, and he graciously agreed to move the trip to the weekend so that we could all go.
I wanted to try out the local train system, so we ended up with the plan to take the train to Sanyi, and then consider our option to take a train or a cab back to Taichung at the end of the day. On Saturday morning, we met up to grab a quick cab to the train station.
The closest train station to us in Taichung is Taichung Station, about 3km away from the apartment. There's apparently an old Taichung Station and a new Taichung station, and initially Ian and I were a bit confused because we couldn't find anywhere selling tickets after the cab driver dropped us off. But after a quick back and forth with a clerk, I learned that we were in the old station, which you have to walk through to get to the new station, where you can actually do train-station-like activities. We wound our way through some halls and stairways to arrive at the new station and picked up our tickets (250元, or US$8 for all five travelers).
Without specifying anything other than "Sanyi" to the ticket clerk, we ended up on a local train, which was pretty much like riding the subway. There were some seats available, but mostly it was standing room with handles to grip to keep balanced. The train was busy, but only as packed as I've experienced in Boston, and not the crazy mass of people we dealt with in the subways of Seoul. Mountains and fields whizzed by, and eventually we disembarked at Sanyi station.
Sanyi station was small, and we found ourselves standing outside on the steps near several taxi cabs, trying to decide how we could get lunch. I pulled out my guidebook because I remembered it had said something about where the center of town was, and a local woman came over and asked if she could help. (They do brand themselves "The tourist-friendly town"--Ed.) I told her that we knew we had to take a taxi to the museum, but we didn't know if we should have lunch in town or eat at shops near the museum. She didn't seem to think much of our plans, and seemed concerned that we wouldn't find food at either place. So, I asked if she could recommend something. After confirming that Hakka food was OK (stuff with noodles, she said) she decided we should go a few miles, eat at a restaurant, and then go the rest of the way to the museum on foot. She spoke with the cab drivers for us, explained the plan and arranged for one of them to take us to a restaurant There was a lot of back and forth (maybe they were deciding where to take us?), and then we were off!
The cab driver took us a few kilometers into town and then stopped and let us know through gestures that we could eat at the place across the street, and then we would have to walk up a road to the right to get to the museum. We got out of the cab and one of our friends wanted to get a few pictures of interesting signage before we moved on. The cabbie, having originally started down the road, stopped and got out of his cab to tell us again to go across the street to get lunch. He also yelled something in Chinese to the shop, which was half in the open air. I can only assume it was something like "Hey! These people want to eat food, they don't speak any Chinese. Help them!" People are so friendly here!
At the restaurant, they gave us a plastic laminated menu and grease pencil to indicate our choices (a very common ordering technique here), and I had just whipped out my Google Translate app to help make decisions when a middle-aged local woman came forward and asked in English if she could help. We said sure, agreed that noodles sounded fine, and went to sit down at a table. I think we got the shop specialty. We each got a bowl that we discovered contained thick, chewy noodles in a chicken broth, with green onions, mung bean sprouts, slices of pork, triangles of beef liver, a tea egg, and something pink, crispy and well seasoned sprinkled on top. I admit that I mostly stuck to my noodles, green onions, sprouts, egg and broth, (sinking less desirable food items in the remaining broth before pushing the bowl away as done) but Ian and our friends all gamely finished off their bowls, upholding the honor of all Americans abroad. Fed and paid up (150元 or US$5 for four full meals), we hit the road.
My maps app said we were only a half-mile away from the museum. We walked up the main road a bit, observing a rusted three-wheeled vehicle as large as a truck and some interesting signs, before turning off onto a side road, and starting up an incline. We passed a resort that appeared to be somewhat abandoned. There were large rocks (maybe 10-15 feet tall?) carved in traditional Chinese cloud motifs, and a wooden amphitheater. The sign at the main building called it Sanyi Sakura Resort, but there was no activity and little evidence of upkeep. To our left, a walkway opened up with some storefronts and what looked like nice motel rooms, so we decided to see what was there.
There did appear to be shops, but a vast majority of them were closed, despite it being just after noon on a Saturday. As best we could figure, this used to be a resort that had now turned into primarily residential housing with a few shops. Bronze statues graced every corner, and the pillars between garages were printed with helpful sayings for a better life. "Don't worry about everything. Be firm and resolute." "Nothing for nothing, and very little for half a penny." "Give compassion a form with concrete actions." "Love your competition." The walkway stones were heavily flecked with mica and sparkled in the mid-day sun. At this point, we were high up enough in the mountain to see other mountains in the distance. The mist partially obscured mountains further away, so that we saw vague impressions of dark hills behind dark hills, fading to white in the haze of the day. The depictions of layered, fading mountains in the distance common in Chinese calligraphy scrolls finally made sense as not impressionism, but truly representational.
After exploring the area for a little bit, I pulled up my maps again and my colleague and I started to figure out the directions we needed to walk in. Then, from around the corner, her husband called out that he was just going to head into the air conditioned art gallery he found. There was a small gallery featuring some nice modern art--primarily large paintings and some ceramic and jade works. One unusual feature of the gallery is that the seating in the individual rooms was more than perfunctory. There was a nicely carved wooden bench in one room, in another there were thick leather couches and chairs, and in another, a dining room table. In a different gallery I would have expected the furniture to be part of the exhibit, and not for sitting on, but the attendants here didn't seem to mind. I guess they were really encouraging visitors to use the space to consider the works in comfort. We got directions to get to the main street to the museum, which was only a few blocks away and once again set out.
Shops containing wood sculptures, large and small, trinkets, baubles, and clothing lined the road to the museum, but our friend at the train station was right, there was very little in the way of restaurants visible. A handful of Asian tourists milled about on the street, and on the steps to the museum, a group of several dozen people who looked like they were students on a class trip took a photo holding a banner. As our friends dealt with an interruption to some of their utility services back at their house in the states, I had a chance to check out the scenery. Behind the museum was a Chinese gate opening to a somewhat damaged walkway into the forest that quickly turned up the hill and out of sight. Perhaps it's a path for another time. The parking lot looked out on more misty mountains. Right across from the museum, they were filming a cooking show, which the sign declared was part of "iWalker Moving Kitchen". They were putting a breaded fish into a smoker while I watched.
The museum didn't allow photography. There was a clearly defined "visitor path" that wound us up and down five floors filled with a little historic art and furniture, and much modern art, both in traditional and non-traditional Chinese/Taiwanese styles. I was most impressed by the carvings of leaves and bugs that were delicate and translucent. I also liked the use of roughened wood grains to produce lifelike fur on apes and pigs. Lots of figures were carved from wood, and I recognized some mythical characters from a television show I had seen. We saw lots of pigs with ingots for prosperity, temple dogs, bixie, mythical characters, Buddhas, cabbages, orchids, toads, fishes, and figural art.
After the museum, we wandered through the shops. At one shop, Ian was standing around, and suddenly ones of the shop ladies started massaging him with a wooden massager. We decided to move on quickly after that. Eventually, Ian and I picked up a few wooden trinkets (a small ruyi scepter, tea tongs, scoop and stirring pick), and four-inch geode with stand. The geode had been cut open and polished, and was displayed with the top piece held vertical, like a box with a lid. Our friends were also successful in purchasing some goods from the various shops, and we shifted focus to try to find some dinner.
(It should be mentioned that the wood carvings are made from aromatic woods, making browsing the shops a very pleasant olfactory event.--Ed.)
The one restaurant we could find wasn't open, and as best we could tell, they said we were supposed to come back in a half hour. We went back to a coffee counter that we passed on the way to the museum to caffinate and wait our time. The lady running the coffee counter saw me hesitate at choosing an espresso drink, and said, "No, you drink my latte, it's the best." So I did. I can say with confidence it's the best latte I've had in Taiwan (though, having stuck to tea primarily). The coffee lady was a little bit crazy, from insisting that I come over to smell the latte before she poured the milk ("It's good, otherwise what's the point?") to making me keep the spoon in all the cups instead of returning them to her ("No, it's got milk, you can stir it as you drink"), to making recommendations about where to eat ("I'm kind of the boss here, you tell them coffee boss sent you and it will be OK!"). Ian suggests that perhaps she had a bit too much coffee herself, but who could blame her?
When Ian was walking around investigating a bamboo grove, he peeked in some windows to see what looked like a lovely dining room, set with candlelit tables and wine glasses. So we thought we'd try our luck to get dinner there. After much walking trying to find our way in, we finally found what looked like a reception area. When we walked in, my friend asked if this was a restaurant They smiled, and seemed to confirm, but then told us we needed reservations. Also, we could not make reservations now, because they would need time to make the food. I'm still not sure what was going on, because they were fully staffed up, apparently open, but didn't want customers. Anyway, it was 4:30, so we went back to the first restaurant
We were welcomed in to a table. The woman who let us in told us she would give us a set menu and we said OK. This was clearly a family-style place, and a glass lazy susan took up a vast majority of the table space. Within a few minutes, they started bringing out dishes. We had a large bowl of rice, most of a chicken, deboned and sliced, something like bok choi, various marinated meat slices (pork, beef, tentacles with suckers, tentacles without suckers) and green onions, a glass dish of somethings that were white and cup shaped (tripe?), a pile of tiny head-on whole fried shrimps on green onions, and a large cauldron of broth with different larger white cup shaped things. I stuck to the bok choi, chicken, rice, and broth. Ian worked on most of the non-tentacled marinated meat, with a few shrimps, and our friends had a lion's share of the tentacles, white cup shaped things and whole shrimp in addition to other food. We all ate our fill and still couldn't finish off the food. We paid for our meal and the clerk called us a taxi. Gratefully, the cab driver didn't blink twice when Ian handed him the card to take us back to Taichung, and about 25 minutes later, we were back home, safe and sound.
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Taipei and the National Palace Museum
A few weeks ago we headed north to Taipei to see the National Palace Museum. It was also an occasion to try out the high-speed rail system, since I would have to use it to fetch Laura's sister Rachel from the airport a few days later. We traveled the other American family from Corning, who were going up to see the Taipei Zoo.
It's about 20 minutes (and US$15) by cab to the HSR station, which is distinct from the regular rail station. It's very new and kinda resembles more an airport than a rail station. For 800元 and change you can ride in the business-class car, which is pretty nice. There are only two seats per side of the aisle, so no chance of getting stuck in a middle seat. The seats are spread out a bit more, and attendants bring you a baked good snack and beverage of choice. They'll also collect your trash, and you can borrow one of a dozen newspapers, one or two in English. The ride is very smooth and very swift (up to 300 km/h), and you can be from one end of the island to the other in a couple hours.
Once in Taipei (the architecturally famous Taipei Station), we parted ways with our friends and hopped in a cab. I had a wad of cards I had written out with desired (as well as contingency) locations, and this works pretty well most of the time. The museum is on the outskirts of the city in a park in a picturesque setting. Despite being told Saturday was a good day to go to avoid tour groups, it was thickly peopled and there were any number of guided tours being loud and getting underfoot.
The original National Palace Museum was in the Forbidden City in Beijing, but during the Civil War and then World War II, the Nationalists (Kuomintang/Guomindang, or KMT) crated up the jewels of Chinese civilization and carted it around behind them as the fortunes of war moved the army lines back and forth. In 1949, the Nationalists lost the mainland to Mao's Communists, and they evacuated (most) of the goods to Taiwan. So this is the place to see Chinese antiquities.
Alas, the museum is not large enough to display all the collection, or even a large part of it. Indeed, it doesn't have the density of items I'd have liked, and I suspect this is because of security. You see, the collection is a bone of contention with the Red Chinese, who would like very much to have it back. Not that they would steal. But everything is behind glass and the glass cases take up a lot of real estate. (It also left me wondering how awesome the inside of those cases must smell--like an antiques store x100.)
What we did see however was of very good quality. There were neolithic objects, including tool blades made from jade, which tells you something about the durability of jade. Then jade bi (pronounced "bee") discs from the Xia through Zhou dynasties, whose ritual uses we're still trying to enumerate. Ritual bronze pots (called ding) and bells were all the rage in the Shang through Han dynasties. A whole range of fine houseware ceramics from the Han through Qing dynasties. There was, alas, but one three-color glazed Tang horse on display. Representative items from 3,500 years of Chinese writing, from oracular script on slats to Qin writing reform, to rubbings of Han funeral inscriptions, and medieval through modern ink paintings. Bronze mirrors throughout the ages. And there was a collection of Qing furniture, which included a very impressive wooden folding screen with translucent jade panels inlaid.
The thing, though, that drew the biggest crowds was the Jade Cabbage. Nobody in the West has every heard of this thing, but the Chinese are wild about it. It was made in the late Qing dynasty in the 19th century, and it's a very delicate carving of a Chinese cabbage, the color of the stone changing from white at the bottom to emerald green at the top. On the side is a whimsical grasshopper, pause for a bite. It's nice, though why it's so iconic is a mystery to me. I suspect it's a bit like the Mona Lisa: we're told to love it, so we do. But I can think of better paintings, to my taste. A companion of the Jade Cabbage is the Jade Meatwad (title mine). It is a carving of a piece of fatty meat perched upon a pat of rice, and as with the cabbage, the color changes from white at the bottom, to pink and then red at the top. This was more impressive, I thought, for it's verisimilitude. It looked perfectly edible.
We rendezvous'd with our friends for dinner at the Taipei 101, a skyscraper that for a time in the Aughts was the tallest building in the world. Due to the effect of foreshortening, it looks less impressive at the bottom than from miles away. In all, it's 1,667 feet from steps to spire. Attached is a luxury shopping mall, and we had come for a Michelin-starred dumpling restaurant. Alas, we could not find it, and I felt mildly put out. But we did finally settle on a conveyor-belt sushi restaurant, which seemed to satisfy everyone (though Laura mostly stuck to tamago and inari). As the sushi slowly wends past, you grab what you like, the price of which is indicated by color of plate. At the end of the meal, the waiter counts your plates to calculate the bill. Where we were seated we could also see the chefs at work, and our friends ordered several custom pieces, made to order.
Full up on rice and raw sea creatures, we decided to check out a jade market nearby. (Because obviously we hadn't seen enough jade that day.) In contrast the Taichung jade market, this was in what looked like a coverted parking garage, with wobbly tables and buzzing fluorescent lights. And though a lot of vendors had packed up for the day, there were still deals to be had. And we had several funny, friendly interactions with the shopkeepers. Laura got herself a pair of earrings and a pendant, and our friends waddled out ladened with a veritable trove of treasures.
We caught a cab back to Taipei Station, then got back on the train. I was happy for my tea and snack, and somewhere to rest my complaining back. I was also now well-prepared to get to the airport to pick up Rachel two days later. The story of her visit we'll let her tell in her own guest post.
It's about 20 minutes (and US$15) by cab to the HSR station, which is distinct from the regular rail station. It's very new and kinda resembles more an airport than a rail station. For 800元 and change you can ride in the business-class car, which is pretty nice. There are only two seats per side of the aisle, so no chance of getting stuck in a middle seat. The seats are spread out a bit more, and attendants bring you a baked good snack and beverage of choice. They'll also collect your trash, and you can borrow one of a dozen newspapers, one or two in English. The ride is very smooth and very swift (up to 300 km/h), and you can be from one end of the island to the other in a couple hours.
Once in Taipei (the architecturally famous Taipei Station), we parted ways with our friends and hopped in a cab. I had a wad of cards I had written out with desired (as well as contingency) locations, and this works pretty well most of the time. The museum is on the outskirts of the city in a park in a picturesque setting. Despite being told Saturday was a good day to go to avoid tour groups, it was thickly peopled and there were any number of guided tours being loud and getting underfoot.
The original National Palace Museum was in the Forbidden City in Beijing, but during the Civil War and then World War II, the Nationalists (Kuomintang/Guomindang, or KMT) crated up the jewels of Chinese civilization and carted it around behind them as the fortunes of war moved the army lines back and forth. In 1949, the Nationalists lost the mainland to Mao's Communists, and they evacuated (most) of the goods to Taiwan. So this is the place to see Chinese antiquities.
Alas, the museum is not large enough to display all the collection, or even a large part of it. Indeed, it doesn't have the density of items I'd have liked, and I suspect this is because of security. You see, the collection is a bone of contention with the Red Chinese, who would like very much to have it back. Not that they would steal. But everything is behind glass and the glass cases take up a lot of real estate. (It also left me wondering how awesome the inside of those cases must smell--like an antiques store x100.)
What we did see however was of very good quality. There were neolithic objects, including tool blades made from jade, which tells you something about the durability of jade. Then jade bi (pronounced "bee") discs from the Xia through Zhou dynasties, whose ritual uses we're still trying to enumerate. Ritual bronze pots (called ding) and bells were all the rage in the Shang through Han dynasties. A whole range of fine houseware ceramics from the Han through Qing dynasties. There was, alas, but one three-color glazed Tang horse on display. Representative items from 3,500 years of Chinese writing, from oracular script on slats to Qin writing reform, to rubbings of Han funeral inscriptions, and medieval through modern ink paintings. Bronze mirrors throughout the ages. And there was a collection of Qing furniture, which included a very impressive wooden folding screen with translucent jade panels inlaid.
The thing, though, that drew the biggest crowds was the Jade Cabbage. Nobody in the West has every heard of this thing, but the Chinese are wild about it. It was made in the late Qing dynasty in the 19th century, and it's a very delicate carving of a Chinese cabbage, the color of the stone changing from white at the bottom to emerald green at the top. On the side is a whimsical grasshopper, pause for a bite. It's nice, though why it's so iconic is a mystery to me. I suspect it's a bit like the Mona Lisa: we're told to love it, so we do. But I can think of better paintings, to my taste. A companion of the Jade Cabbage is the Jade Meatwad (title mine). It is a carving of a piece of fatty meat perched upon a pat of rice, and as with the cabbage, the color changes from white at the bottom, to pink and then red at the top. This was more impressive, I thought, for it's verisimilitude. It looked perfectly edible.
We rendezvous'd with our friends for dinner at the Taipei 101, a skyscraper that for a time in the Aughts was the tallest building in the world. Due to the effect of foreshortening, it looks less impressive at the bottom than from miles away. In all, it's 1,667 feet from steps to spire. Attached is a luxury shopping mall, and we had come for a Michelin-starred dumpling restaurant. Alas, we could not find it, and I felt mildly put out. But we did finally settle on a conveyor-belt sushi restaurant, which seemed to satisfy everyone (though Laura mostly stuck to tamago and inari). As the sushi slowly wends past, you grab what you like, the price of which is indicated by color of plate. At the end of the meal, the waiter counts your plates to calculate the bill. Where we were seated we could also see the chefs at work, and our friends ordered several custom pieces, made to order.
Full up on rice and raw sea creatures, we decided to check out a jade market nearby. (Because obviously we hadn't seen enough jade that day.) In contrast the Taichung jade market, this was in what looked like a coverted parking garage, with wobbly tables and buzzing fluorescent lights. And though a lot of vendors had packed up for the day, there were still deals to be had. And we had several funny, friendly interactions with the shopkeepers. Laura got herself a pair of earrings and a pendant, and our friends waddled out ladened with a veritable trove of treasures.
We caught a cab back to Taipei Station, then got back on the train. I was happy for my tea and snack, and somewhere to rest my complaining back. I was also now well-prepared to get to the airport to pick up Rachel two days later. The story of her visit we'll let her tell in her own guest post.
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
Weekend adventures in Taichung
Laura spent the first couple weeks working nights as the experiment ramped up, but once underway, she got to work regular daytime hours, including weekends off. So for her first weekend off, we set out to see a traditional Chinese teahouse.
This was challenging for me, as I have been fighting off a flareup of what my friend, fellow priest, and chiropractic physician Shane Cobb says is surely a herniated disc. We had to walk about 3km to get to the teahouse, but it was worth the effort.
In the middle of the a very busy road is the Wu-Wei Teahouse, which is a haven of greenery and traditional architecture and foot bridges over koi ponds. Wu-wei is a Taoist term, which translates to something like "effortless action" or "acting without acting" or "creative non-action".
We were ushered to a private room and seated on tatami mats at a low table. Presented with a menu, Laura ordered chicken soup whereas I had the fried pork, and both came with an array of side dishes including rice, picked salads, red beans in broth (the beans are okay; the broth though tastes like chocolate milk), and daikon soup. Laura also ordered edamame, but it came chilled with a sort of anise seasoning that I didn't care for.
We also ordered tea, 20 grams. This was advertised as tea for two, but after 10 grams, we had had plenty. A waitress showed us how to make tea the traditional way. The tea steeped in boiled water in a small teapot; after a minute and 30 seconds, the tea was poured through a strainer into a small pitcher. The pitcher was poured into nosing glasses, which after they were poured into the drinking cups, we were encouraged to sniff. All of these vessels had Chinese names, but the only one that stuck in my memory was im-bei for the drinking cups.
The tea we had was an oolong from the Alishan Mountains of Taiwan, which was grassy with a hint of citrus. The waitress said the tea was good for eight infusions, each steeping time increasing by 15 seconds. Each infusion was about eight ounces. Do the math, and that's a lot of frickin' tea. We were in no way to make another 10g of tea, so Laura bagged took the dry tea leaves to go.
On the way back, we popped into a stationery store. Rilakkuma (Japanese, "Relax-bear") was of course everywhere in evidence, but Taiwan has fallen in love with a new character: Gudetama. Gudetama (a Japanese onomatopeia) is a clinically depressed egg yolk who hides in his shell, complains about getting up in the morning, is harassed by chopsticks, and often pulls bacon over himself in an effort to go back to sleep. He's great.
Laura also bought an iced tea. It was supposed to be citrus tea. The tea itself was nice, but the tapioca pearls were a little weird, and the bits of kumquat rind were frankly a distraction.
On our way home we wandered across a festival, with a marching band, a man in a mirror suit, and a magician with a parrot. Laura was very pleased. I was also pleased, in that this presented many opportunities to sit and rest my herniated back.
The next day we went to see the nearby botanical gardens, which share the same grounds as the museum of natural science. In the middle of the gardens is a glazed dome, under which there are waterfalls and streams and all sorts of tropical plants. In the basement there is a cafe, and you can see the fish underwater behind a plexiglas window. There are catfish there that can swallow a small dog.
Later we tried going to the Carrefour, but our taxi driver dropped us off at a place called the RT-Mart. Either there was something wrong with our written instructions, or he's getting a kickback for dropping off hapless foreigners at the RT-Mart. We were able to get most of what we needed, however, and though we failed to catch a cab back, we were still within walking distance of home. We were chagrined to walk past our usual grocery store.
We decided on an easy dinner of pizza at the pizzeria across the greenway, which is convenient for those days when you don't want to fight for your dinner. They make a cheese pizza Laura enjoys, and they offer a pineapple and ham pizza I appreciate. The staff is young and speak excellent English. Our frequent dining companions from the company have practically taken up residence there, since after a long day at work, it's just easiest for them. (It should be said they're traveling with their five-year-old daughter).
This evening, for the second time in the last week, we went to a yakitori place (the "yakitorium," I call it), which is a Japanese-type restaurant were various meats and vegetables are grilled on skewers, like shish-kebab. I have eaten chicken skin, chicken cartilage, chicken butt (the menus here sometimes offer dubious translations), and chicken heart. Weirdly, the cartilage was the tastiest.
We've also eaten at two Indian restaurants. Of the two, the best was the won run by Pakistani immigrants (I've written about them before--they were the ones who invited us in), which is a drier, Punjabi-style cuisine. The other place was a bit wetter with tastes of coconut milk and tomato sauce, but not my favorite. Laura, however, preferred their naan, which is not an insignificant consideration. But they also served short-grained Asian rice, unlike our Muslim friends, who serve long-grain basmati rice. Choice of rice has got to approach quality of naan in importance.
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
Laura's post--Taxis and technology
Whew, it's been a long week and a half of night shift. Mostly since we arrived in Taiwan, I've been working. So my time has been heavily structured around getting to work, and working (and eating and sleeping in the off hours). That said, I'd like to share a little of my experience with taxis and a specific bit of technology.
Taichung is a busy city with lots of cars (and even more motorscooters), and I wasn't interested in joining the fray for the three months we're here, so for trips of any significant distance, we use taxis. That means I'm ridng in taxis at least twice a day during the week. Mostly the language barrier hasn't gotten in my way. The relocation company provided both Ian and me with business cards, printed with our names and the apartment address in both English and Chinese. I also recieved a laminated card from a colleague that says, again in English and Chinese, "Hi, Driver. Would you please take me to Corning, Taichung plant" and includes the address. So, as long as I'm going to work or home, I'm pretty well covered.
Except when written Chinese doesn't work. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but at least one taxi driver responded to the card with puzzled looks and a long string of language I didn't understand. I tried my Google translator, but couldn't get him to speak into it. I pulled up the GPS on my phone with the Corning Plant as the destination, but all the street names were in English, and it didn't seem to help him. Eventually, I used the translator to tell the driver I was going back into the apartment building to get the attendant. Again, I was able to use my translator, this time to tell the attendant that the driver didn't understand where we were supposed to go. He made a concerned face and rushed out the door to speak with the driver. A minute later, he came back in to get his personal phone to give the driver directions. After another few minutes of discussion, it seemed like we were ready to go. I had my phone with GPS in front of me for that ride, hoping that we'd actually get to the plant, or that if we didn't, I could find a way to redirect us. Although we made a few turns at the last possible opportunity, the driver got roughly to the right area and I was able to direct him the rest of the way. But that's just one ride out of two dozen.
Working the same shift, the cast of taxi drivers has been surprisingly repetative. I've gotten the driver I talked about above again, although this time he knew exactly where to go. There's a fellow available when I get off night shift at the plant who calls me "Sir" everytime he speaks to me. There's a guy who plays soft music and sips fruit drinks, and mostly during these rides I fall asleep at least once. There's the driver with the car full of lace doilies who we also rode with back from a grocery store. Last night I got a speed demon that I hope I don't see much of in the future (but boy I got to the plant fast).
Realistically, this repetition in drivers is probably because I'm calling a taxi from the same location at the same time every day. Now that I'm switching to day shift, there will likely be a new cast of characters. But I admit that I like to imagine that by the time I leave, we will all know each other.
Alright, time for that bit of technology I mentioned. Badge systems for door access are common enough, and that's the system we use to get into the apartment building. But on the way out of the building, everything is touchless proximity sensors. There's a small black circle, about an inch in diameter, with a red light around the edge. Waving or holding a hand a few inches in front of this circle causes the red to change to green and the door to unlatch. I've encountered this sensor at the apartment, at work, and in shops. I enjoy a culture allows me to use the Force to open doors multiple times a day.
Well, I guess that was a short bit about technology, so here's one more note. Google Translate is a phenomenal help here. I've been able to find baking soda and sticky rice with the help of an attendant at a grocery store, read washing machine instructions, avoid a laundry detergent with bleach added, assemble a rice cooker, and learn a little functional Chinese on the side. With the help of Google translate, I feel so much more capable in Taiwan than I did in Korea.
Taichung is a busy city with lots of cars (and even more motorscooters), and I wasn't interested in joining the fray for the three months we're here, so for trips of any significant distance, we use taxis. That means I'm ridng in taxis at least twice a day during the week. Mostly the language barrier hasn't gotten in my way. The relocation company provided both Ian and me with business cards, printed with our names and the apartment address in both English and Chinese. I also recieved a laminated card from a colleague that says, again in English and Chinese, "Hi, Driver. Would you please take me to Corning, Taichung plant" and includes the address. So, as long as I'm going to work or home, I'm pretty well covered.
Except when written Chinese doesn't work. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but at least one taxi driver responded to the card with puzzled looks and a long string of language I didn't understand. I tried my Google translator, but couldn't get him to speak into it. I pulled up the GPS on my phone with the Corning Plant as the destination, but all the street names were in English, and it didn't seem to help him. Eventually, I used the translator to tell the driver I was going back into the apartment building to get the attendant. Again, I was able to use my translator, this time to tell the attendant that the driver didn't understand where we were supposed to go. He made a concerned face and rushed out the door to speak with the driver. A minute later, he came back in to get his personal phone to give the driver directions. After another few minutes of discussion, it seemed like we were ready to go. I had my phone with GPS in front of me for that ride, hoping that we'd actually get to the plant, or that if we didn't, I could find a way to redirect us. Although we made a few turns at the last possible opportunity, the driver got roughly to the right area and I was able to direct him the rest of the way. But that's just one ride out of two dozen.
Working the same shift, the cast of taxi drivers has been surprisingly repetative. I've gotten the driver I talked about above again, although this time he knew exactly where to go. There's a fellow available when I get off night shift at the plant who calls me "Sir" everytime he speaks to me. There's a guy who plays soft music and sips fruit drinks, and mostly during these rides I fall asleep at least once. There's the driver with the car full of lace doilies who we also rode with back from a grocery store. Last night I got a speed demon that I hope I don't see much of in the future (but boy I got to the plant fast).
Realistically, this repetition in drivers is probably because I'm calling a taxi from the same location at the same time every day. Now that I'm switching to day shift, there will likely be a new cast of characters. But I admit that I like to imagine that by the time I leave, we will all know each other.
Alright, time for that bit of technology I mentioned. Badge systems for door access are common enough, and that's the system we use to get into the apartment building. But on the way out of the building, everything is touchless proximity sensors. There's a small black circle, about an inch in diameter, with a red light around the edge. Waving or holding a hand a few inches in front of this circle causes the red to change to green and the door to unlatch. I've encountered this sensor at the apartment, at work, and in shops. I enjoy a culture allows me to use the Force to open doors multiple times a day.
Well, I guess that was a short bit about technology, so here's one more note. Google Translate is a phenomenal help here. I've been able to find baking soda and sticky rice with the help of an attendant at a grocery store, read washing machine instructions, avoid a laundry detergent with bleach added, assemble a rice cooker, and learn a little functional Chinese on the side. With the help of Google translate, I feel so much more capable in Taiwan than I did in Korea.
Monday, January 30, 2017
An update on the Chinese New Year
What's it like in Taiwan for the Chinese New Year?
A little underwhelming, frankly. What we didn't know coming from the West is that it is primarily a family holiday, that is celebrated behind closed doors, with meals and mahjong games. So while we were expecting fireworks and music and lion dances, most of the holiday has taken place away from our eyes. In this way, it more resembles our Christmas than it does Western New Year.
We waited up for fireworks on new year's eve, but didn't hear anything. The next day, and every day since, we've heard the occasional burst of firecrackers, but it turns out fireworks are banned in urban areas. We've waited for a municipal display, since that's what we do in the U.S. in areas where fireworks are banned, but no dice. We did see a very brief shower of fireworks in the reflection of a nearby building, so there's that. I heard drumming, but only on the first day.
The new year festival is six days long. Garbage trucks--which play a jingle, not unlike ice cream trucks back home--were out in force Friday, and weren't seen again until today, the fourth day. Most businesses remain shuttered, but most restaurants and grocery stores have stayed open, thankfully, albeit with abbreviated hours.
Some of the superstitions surrounding the new year are familiar to us in the West: cleaning house before the new year, paying all outstanding bills, and eating pork. Less familiar is avoiding cutting one's hair or nails on the new year, or using knives. I'm sure there are scores of others of which I am unaware.
What observances I have seen are chiefly decorations: most buildings have red vertical banners with calligraphy on both sides of the door, and also red silk lanterns, usually in multiples, more for smaller lanterns and fewer for larger ones. The lobby of our building has out bowls of oranges, and gold-colored "ingots" full of interesting Chinese candies. The traditional greeting is gong xi (gung shee), meaning "Congratulations," though I have been greeted with "Happy new year" in English, too. One gentleman working the lobby desk even gave me the traditional salute of the left hand wrapped over the right fist, which is a very sincere and touching gesture.
While taking out our compost, I saw a family using a brazier the building set up for residents to use, burning offerings of so-called "hell money" (seems like a pejorative term, but I don't know of an alternative term), imitation paper currency for the propitiation of ancestors. Also, later on, I walked past the temple around the corner, and it was fairly buzzing with people burning paper offerings (not only hell money but also origami ingots made from metallic paper) and incense. I half-suspect the fireworks we saw refected were set off at the temple.
So, while I still hear the occasional staccato pops of firecrackers (some went off just now), commercial life is picking up and the new year festivities seem to be ramping down, for the time being. The end of the new year season is the Lantern Festival, which takes place the 15th day after the new year (Feb. 11th this year), and we have some hope of seeing public festivities then.
A little underwhelming, frankly. What we didn't know coming from the West is that it is primarily a family holiday, that is celebrated behind closed doors, with meals and mahjong games. So while we were expecting fireworks and music and lion dances, most of the holiday has taken place away from our eyes. In this way, it more resembles our Christmas than it does Western New Year.
We waited up for fireworks on new year's eve, but didn't hear anything. The next day, and every day since, we've heard the occasional burst of firecrackers, but it turns out fireworks are banned in urban areas. We've waited for a municipal display, since that's what we do in the U.S. in areas where fireworks are banned, but no dice. We did see a very brief shower of fireworks in the reflection of a nearby building, so there's that. I heard drumming, but only on the first day.
The new year festival is six days long. Garbage trucks--which play a jingle, not unlike ice cream trucks back home--were out in force Friday, and weren't seen again until today, the fourth day. Most businesses remain shuttered, but most restaurants and grocery stores have stayed open, thankfully, albeit with abbreviated hours.
Some of the superstitions surrounding the new year are familiar to us in the West: cleaning house before the new year, paying all outstanding bills, and eating pork. Less familiar is avoiding cutting one's hair or nails on the new year, or using knives. I'm sure there are scores of others of which I am unaware.
What observances I have seen are chiefly decorations: most buildings have red vertical banners with calligraphy on both sides of the door, and also red silk lanterns, usually in multiples, more for smaller lanterns and fewer for larger ones. The lobby of our building has out bowls of oranges, and gold-colored "ingots" full of interesting Chinese candies. The traditional greeting is gong xi (gung shee), meaning "Congratulations," though I have been greeted with "Happy new year" in English, too. One gentleman working the lobby desk even gave me the traditional salute of the left hand wrapped over the right fist, which is a very sincere and touching gesture.
While taking out our compost, I saw a family using a brazier the building set up for residents to use, burning offerings of so-called "hell money" (seems like a pejorative term, but I don't know of an alternative term), imitation paper currency for the propitiation of ancestors. Also, later on, I walked past the temple around the corner, and it was fairly buzzing with people burning paper offerings (not only hell money but also origami ingots made from metallic paper) and incense. I half-suspect the fireworks we saw refected were set off at the temple.
So, while I still hear the occasional staccato pops of firecrackers (some went off just now), commercial life is picking up and the new year festivities seem to be ramping down, for the time being. The end of the new year season is the Lantern Festival, which takes place the 15th day after the new year (Feb. 11th this year), and we have some hope of seeing public festivities then.
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
First days in Taichung
The other day Laura and I met up with an American coworker's husband and daughter who live in the building with us, and we went to see the National Museum of Natural Sciences, which is just at the end of the block. It fancies itself an international institution, but only some exhibits were bilingual.
I should say something about the language. The official language here is Mandarin Chinese, but the commonly spoken language is the Minnan dialect from the central coast of mainland China. Most people speak some English. Young, fashionable-looking people speak the best English. Older or downscale workers tend to speak less English.
Signage and product packaging is inconsistently bilingual. Luckily we have the Google Translate app on our phones, which can take a picture of text and somewhat translate it, and more reliably, it can listen and audibly translate. We used this facility at the grocery store, where we were able to talk to a stocking clerk to locate various items.
For the one or two of my readers who know and care about such things, where Chinese is written in English (mostly roadsigns), Taiwan is slowly transitioning from Wade-Giles romanization to Pinyin. Most roads have been renamed (our street is Guanqian, formerly Kuan-ch'ien) but cities are still rendered in Wade-Giles. So it's T'ai-pei (usually without the apostrophe and hyphen, Taipei), not Taibei, and Taichung/T'ai-ch'ung, not Taizhong. I'm fond of Wale-Giles for being old-fashioned, but it's really a mystifying system. I mean, how is it that Peking and Beijing are the same word?
The museum is very nice, and despite not being to read a lot of the displays, it was informative. The coworker's daughter is 5, and she eventually tuckered out, so there is still another wing or two we haven't explored. Which is fine, because the tickets are something ridiculous cheap, like 100元 (yuan, or New Taiwan Dollars, NTD/TWD), which is US$3. Also on the grounds are the botanical gardens, of which we saw a little, but there's a lot more we didn't.
When we left our friend, we wandered off to find a grocery store. Sidewalks are interesting features here. They tend to be extensions of the shop they're in front of, so you may find yourself stepping around tables or merchandise. The materials for sidewalks can vary with the storefront--cement, wood, tile, sometimes marble--and are often not level from store to store, so one has to continually watch their step in areas thick with shops. Also, sidewalks tend to be used as parking spots, so there's a lot of squeezing past parked cars and mopeds. Crosswalks are a little scary, as vehicles turning don't wait for pedestrians to finish crossing, but weave around them, particularly the mopeds.
For walking, the weather is lovely. It has been consistently in the low-70s during the day and mid-50s at night, sunny, and humidity around 60%. It's very much like California in the winter, after the rainy season is over.
We found our grocery store and while small, it had most of the items you would need, of course with the caveat that the packaging is occasionally a hermeneutical adventure. We ended up with mostly produce, since it is very obviously what it is. We got a dragonfruit, which is Laura's favorite, but red inside instead of white. Alarmingly, it can turn your pee red, but it's a harmless effect. We also got oranges, which are unusual in that they are somewhat smaller than American varieties, sweet, with a fine flesh and little membrane, a thin rind, and little pith.
This is a convenient spot to mention that trash in our building is sorted into paper and packaging waste, and organic matter. Packaging waste we can leave in trash cans on the landings in the service stairwell, but organic matter has to be brought down to the lobby and out a side door near the parking garage. So far fruit trimmings are the only thing we've had to discard separately. Most of what we eat at home is either packaged food or leftovers from dining out. Dining here is very cheap, and we of course don't have much in the way of cookware. Our microwave temporarily stopped working last night, and it was a moment of panic.
The night before, we went to a pizza place across the green from our apartment building with Laura's coworker and family. The pizza was very creditable, with a thin, chewy crust, nicely toasted. They served Sierra Nevada beer, which was a comfort to our companions. The staff were young, trendy people with a good handle on English.
Later, we went to the 7-Eleven around the corner, and passed a halal Indian restaurant. The owner or one of his employees saw us and invited us to dine, and we replied we would soon. I've said this elsewhere, but there is something comforting about encountering Indians abroad. Our cultures overlap, they speak English, and it's as good as meeting with a Briton or Canadian. It's one of the happy accidents of the often dubious legacy of the British Empire. When we were in Montréal and I was too tired to navigate the French-Canadian culture anymore that day, we went to an Indian restaurant and it was a very soothing, welcoming place to be.
We went back there last night for dinner, but did not see our proprietor friend. I had the tandoori tikka with onions and peppers, and Laura had butter chicken curry, and it was quite nice. The clientele was entirely Chinese, as was the woman serving us and working the register, though I glimpsed South-Asian men working in the back. But it does seem to be a place of meeting for whatever Muslim community is in Taichung (there's supposedly a pretty mosque somewhere around here), as the bulletin board is full of inspirational quotes and informational flyers for Muslim youth daycamps and charities.
The Chinese new year is fast approaching (Saturday), and can last the whole week, during which stores are closed or have reduced hours, and cabs are scarcer and charge higher fares. Already we're finding ATMs are emptied out, as one of the customs of the new year is to exchange red envelopes containing auspicious sums of money (800 or 1,000元, I'm told). So this afternoon we're going back to the Carrefour (where we can use a credit card) to stock up as best we can and hope for the best. Supposedly the greenway out front is the setting for a lot of organized new year festivities, so we're well-located to observe the goings-on. I hope to see a dragon costume, but who knows. There is probably a schedule posted somewhere, but I doubt it's in English. Nevertheless, photos (on Facebook) and text will follow.
I should say something about the language. The official language here is Mandarin Chinese, but the commonly spoken language is the Minnan dialect from the central coast of mainland China. Most people speak some English. Young, fashionable-looking people speak the best English. Older or downscale workers tend to speak less English.
Signage and product packaging is inconsistently bilingual. Luckily we have the Google Translate app on our phones, which can take a picture of text and somewhat translate it, and more reliably, it can listen and audibly translate. We used this facility at the grocery store, where we were able to talk to a stocking clerk to locate various items.
For the one or two of my readers who know and care about such things, where Chinese is written in English (mostly roadsigns), Taiwan is slowly transitioning from Wade-Giles romanization to Pinyin. Most roads have been renamed (our street is Guanqian, formerly Kuan-ch'ien) but cities are still rendered in Wade-Giles. So it's T'ai-pei (usually without the apostrophe and hyphen, Taipei), not Taibei, and Taichung/T'ai-ch'ung, not Taizhong. I'm fond of Wale-Giles for being old-fashioned, but it's really a mystifying system. I mean, how is it that Peking and Beijing are the same word?
The museum is very nice, and despite not being to read a lot of the displays, it was informative. The coworker's daughter is 5, and she eventually tuckered out, so there is still another wing or two we haven't explored. Which is fine, because the tickets are something ridiculous cheap, like 100元 (yuan, or New Taiwan Dollars, NTD/TWD), which is US$3. Also on the grounds are the botanical gardens, of which we saw a little, but there's a lot more we didn't.
When we left our friend, we wandered off to find a grocery store. Sidewalks are interesting features here. They tend to be extensions of the shop they're in front of, so you may find yourself stepping around tables or merchandise. The materials for sidewalks can vary with the storefront--cement, wood, tile, sometimes marble--and are often not level from store to store, so one has to continually watch their step in areas thick with shops. Also, sidewalks tend to be used as parking spots, so there's a lot of squeezing past parked cars and mopeds. Crosswalks are a little scary, as vehicles turning don't wait for pedestrians to finish crossing, but weave around them, particularly the mopeds.
For walking, the weather is lovely. It has been consistently in the low-70s during the day and mid-50s at night, sunny, and humidity around 60%. It's very much like California in the winter, after the rainy season is over.
We found our grocery store and while small, it had most of the items you would need, of course with the caveat that the packaging is occasionally a hermeneutical adventure. We ended up with mostly produce, since it is very obviously what it is. We got a dragonfruit, which is Laura's favorite, but red inside instead of white. Alarmingly, it can turn your pee red, but it's a harmless effect. We also got oranges, which are unusual in that they are somewhat smaller than American varieties, sweet, with a fine flesh and little membrane, a thin rind, and little pith.
This is a convenient spot to mention that trash in our building is sorted into paper and packaging waste, and organic matter. Packaging waste we can leave in trash cans on the landings in the service stairwell, but organic matter has to be brought down to the lobby and out a side door near the parking garage. So far fruit trimmings are the only thing we've had to discard separately. Most of what we eat at home is either packaged food or leftovers from dining out. Dining here is very cheap, and we of course don't have much in the way of cookware. Our microwave temporarily stopped working last night, and it was a moment of panic.
The night before, we went to a pizza place across the green from our apartment building with Laura's coworker and family. The pizza was very creditable, with a thin, chewy crust, nicely toasted. They served Sierra Nevada beer, which was a comfort to our companions. The staff were young, trendy people with a good handle on English.
Later, we went to the 7-Eleven around the corner, and passed a halal Indian restaurant. The owner or one of his employees saw us and invited us to dine, and we replied we would soon. I've said this elsewhere, but there is something comforting about encountering Indians abroad. Our cultures overlap, they speak English, and it's as good as meeting with a Briton or Canadian. It's one of the happy accidents of the often dubious legacy of the British Empire. When we were in Montréal and I was too tired to navigate the French-Canadian culture anymore that day, we went to an Indian restaurant and it was a very soothing, welcoming place to be.
We went back there last night for dinner, but did not see our proprietor friend. I had the tandoori tikka with onions and peppers, and Laura had butter chicken curry, and it was quite nice. The clientele was entirely Chinese, as was the woman serving us and working the register, though I glimpsed South-Asian men working in the back. But it does seem to be a place of meeting for whatever Muslim community is in Taichung (there's supposedly a pretty mosque somewhere around here), as the bulletin board is full of inspirational quotes and informational flyers for Muslim youth daycamps and charities.
The Chinese new year is fast approaching (Saturday), and can last the whole week, during which stores are closed or have reduced hours, and cabs are scarcer and charge higher fares. Already we're finding ATMs are emptied out, as one of the customs of the new year is to exchange red envelopes containing auspicious sums of money (800 or 1,000元, I'm told). So this afternoon we're going back to the Carrefour (where we can use a credit card) to stock up as best we can and hope for the best. Supposedly the greenway out front is the setting for a lot of organized new year festivities, so we're well-located to observe the goings-on. I hope to see a dragon costume, but who knows. There is probably a schedule posted somewhere, but I doubt it's in English. Nevertheless, photos (on Facebook) and text will follow.
Sunday, January 22, 2017
Nihao from Taiwan
Since I haven't traveled abroad in a few years (apart from a long weekend in Montréal), I haven't made any posts to this blog, which is a dedicated blog for travel updates and observations. Well, the wait is over, as we're now in Taichung, Taiwan for the next three months.
Unlike the trip to Korea, this time I got to fly first class, which is the first time I've ever flown anything other than coach. There are various attractions and detractions to the experience:
- You generally do not have a lateral neighbor, with your "pod" taking up the entire side of the aisle, and the pods are staggered so no one is directly across from you.
- You get to recline, all the way flat if you like. This is obviously the biggest attraction, as flying 18 hours or whatever sitting straight up is frankly torturous and inhumane. It is not perfect, however, as the seats are still somewhat hard and covered in sweaty blue naugahyde, and I found it difficult to sleep.
- They feed you constantly. Really, it was a bit much. I'd go brush my teeth and put my Invisalign trays back in, and here comes the stewardess with another course. Please, spare a couple courses and send it back to the suffering souls in economy who are getting by on pretzels and maybe one dry sandwich halfway through.
- On the major leg, from Detroit to Narita, we had our own door and were on the upper deck, which is entirely first class. From Narita to Taipei, however, it's one big cabin, so they seat you, get you a glass of champagne, and they march the proles past on their way to the cattle pen in the back. I felt shame from deep down in my anarcho-communist soul.
- We had an opportunity to use the first class lounge at Narita. Apart from being able to recline, this was the other big attraction of having a first class ticket. There is plush furniture everywhere, a free buffet, free alcohol (I decided on a small tot of sake, to celebrate landing in the country of my near-birth), private restrooms and even showers. Hopefully one of our layovers on the way back will give me a longer opportunity to explore the lounge for other amenities I might not have noticed.
Customs at Taipei Taoyuan International Airport was fairly low-stress. The border control agent took my landing visa form, asked what I was visiting for, how long, and what sort of domicile I would be taking up. She took my photo and fingerprints and we were off to claim our baggage. If you have nothing to declare, you go through a turnstile labeled "Nothing to declare," and that's it--no forms or questions. We took out cash at an ATM, hopped on hotel shuttle, and check into our room.
The hotel was nice, but nothing exceptional. The breakfast was pretty good though, with Western, Chinese, and Japanese items. I recall eating pork belly stewed with cubes of tofu, rice, vegetarian fried noodles, a couple pieces of sushi, various forms of seaweed (some good, some bad), bamboo shoots in a pepper sauce (delightful), and then a tongful of bacon.
The hotel called us a cab, and we made the hour and 30-minute trip down to Taichung. The area between the airport (which itself is a distance away from Taipei) and Taichung is somewhat older and more industrial, but Taichung itself is comparatively newer and more prosperous.
We made it to our apartment building, the entrance of which is somewhat recessed and hidden, and were stunned when we entered the lobby and found marble floors, marble columns, great glass skylights, and a garden atrium. Also a desk with an attendant, and various red festoonery for the looming Chinese New Year.
We met with the relocation agent and landlord. She was nice, but he seemed a little intense. He was also strangely dressed like a teenager, despite being easily in his 40s, maybe 50s. His baseball hat had a flat brim and "Hi haters" embroidered in script. He went through the apartment in great detail, explaining the use of every gadget, knob, and lever, noting any preexisting dents or stains or scratches (for our benefit; he already had photos of everything), and then walking us through a packet of diagrams of various appliances and remote controls over-labeled in English. I can now operate the TV, but everything else I just punch buttons randomly until I get the desired result.
Undoubtedly you've seen photos and video on Facebook, but to describe the apartment, it's on the top floor (the landlord called it a penthouse, with some evident satisfaction), the 27th, and the apartment itself is two floors. It's decorated in what I would call a sleek Asian modern style, with a lot of wood and straight lines and all the furniture somewhat low to the floor. There is cabinetry everywhere, far more storage than we would need even at home. In fact, the whole place is 1,600 sq. ft., which is 200 more than our house in Indiana and 600 more than where we're renting in Corning. I'm a little confused, as it has three full baths, but only 1.5 bedrooms (the office has a guest bed). I'm thinking the layout was probably designed for a couple with a single child, or none. Since the light switches for the guest room can only be gotten at by climbing across the bed, it seems like the bed may not have been part of the original vision.
While furnished, the place has no linens for the beds, kitchenwares, trash baskets, clothes hangers, etc., so we headed off to the nearby Ikea. I have never been to one before, but it seems like a stressful place. Of course, I had already had a busy day and it was on a Saturday afternoon in a densely populated city. What we didn't pick up at the Ikea we got the next day at the Carrefour. Carrefour is quite nice and exhaustively stocked, but nothing terribly unusual about their wares, except that the Taiwanese seem to prefer flat, folded toilet paper to the kind on a roll we're used to. Nevertheless, you can get the stuff on a roll for a slight premium.
In general, Taichung is very clean and very modern, and apart from Chinese signage, would look like any other place in the developed world. Probably newer, even, with an emphasis on landscaping that I, as a Californian living in New York, miss and appreciate. However, as with city traffic in Korea, you're best to watch yourself in the crosswalk and be sure to buckle up in the taxi. On the highways, the cabbies still speed, but they're less casual with traffic rules. In the city, though, anything goes. Make a yewy mid-block in front of a traffic cop, who cares. Our cabbie did that, and even waved to the cop, who waved back.
We've been by taxi much of the time, and these are pretty easy to catch. You can get the desk attendant to call you one, and tell them ahead of time where you're going, and they'll also write down instructions in Chinese for the driver. When you're ready to go home, go to the nearest busy corner and stick out your hand. Hand them your card with the address in Chinese, and it's done, easy as that. Like in many countries, payment is exact and any attempt to tip the driver is a source of confusion.
A quick note on the Taiwanese character: everyone so far has been friendly and quietly deferential. In this they remind me more of the Japanese than the Koreans, having a concept of face (mian) and harmony (huh ping). Which is not to say that I dislike Koreans, just that they can be a little prickly and rough around the edges in random interactions. The same could be said of the Scots, I might add. The only thing approaching rudeness I've encountered here was an indifferent convenience store clerk. But the convenience store itself was indifferent, too.
What have we eaten since we got here? We first were taken to lunch by a group of company expats to a place called the Gordon Biersch, which is a chain outfit that's supposed to be like a German brauhof, but apart from the beer is fairly standard American chain restaurant fare. Dinner was my choice, so we went to a dim sum place across from our building, which was very excellent and very cheap. The staff spoke no English but did have an English menu available to point at. And then yesterday for lunch we went to a place called Mr. Onion, which is kinda like a steakhouse but more like an Asian impression of a steakhouse. My filet of chicken was pretty much tonkatsu with a sweet-and-sour sauce. Not advertised as such. I ordered plum-and-lime juice, which is a little weird but also refreshing.
Dinner last night was instant noodles. Lunch today will be instant noodles, too. But then I'm thinking I might go outside to explore the block and, if this doesn't tucker me out (doing anything in a very foreign, non-English-speaking country is a double-effort), I might visit the national museum of natural sciences which is across the green on the next block up.
More in a day or two.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)