Sunday, May 6, 2012

Sanzhi Day Trip Part I: Dingshan Shell Temple and Lee Denghui's Birthplace

Not feeling like exerting ourselves too much (it's been a stressful few weeks) but wanting badly to get out of Taipei City on a sunny weekend day - those are rare enough as it is - we took a fun and relaxing day trip to Sanzhi (三芝) on the northeast coast. Until today I'd known it mainly as the place that my Taiwanese biking friends like to go (I don't bike but I have a few local friends and acquaintances who are really into it) for the countryside outside of town and the cherry blossoms that don't attract as many crowds as the ones closer to Yangmingshan.

It does, however, have plenty to entertain the non-biking day-tripper, and has some good places to bike if you're into that sort of thing. Unfortunately, you need your own transportation to get around most of the most interesting parts, or do what we did and go as a group of 4 and arrange a taxi (NT$500 for the shell temple and puppetry museum; pay the driver a bit more if you want to stroll around the lovely village where the puppetry museum is located and eat or have coffee there). With 4 people this is a pretty reasonable price for chartered transportation. I'll pay NT$200 to not have to drive! 

In this post I'll post a few pictures from Lee Denghui's (or Teng-hui if you wish) birthplace and the shell temple, and later on I'll post a few from the puppetry museum and surrounding artsy village.

Let's face it, the most developed/urbanized part of town is kind of bland and ugly, but most buses from Danshui - leaving every 20 minutes - will take you to the "visitor's center and gallery" from where you can arrange a taxi. The gallery isn't much but Lee Denghui's birthplace - an old three-sided farmhouse style brick building - is out back and worth a quick look.

My sister outside Lee Denghui's birthplace


The area around the old house is not as well-maintained and has some current residents, along with their dog (above) and pants (below).


The Shell Temple (頂山寺) is up a winding hairpin-laden mountain road and attracts scores of local daytrippers. The outside is gorgeous, the inside is tacky, but as temples go it's quite unique. I'd put it up there in the "Huh, Taiwan's full of temples but I ain't seen THIS before" category with the Keelung Fairy Cave Temple, Caotun's weird medicine gourd temple and the crazy gold gate at Donggang's Donglong Temple.

The road up is extremely steep and not really one I'd recommend trying on foot or on bike if you aren't very fit, but if you can get a ride up there it would be a perfectly fine walk down, with lovely farmland scenery and views out to the ocean on the way down. Bring water and a hat. Or, if you have your own transportation, make it a leisurely drive - you may want to stop and take short walks to enjoy the scenery. It's easy to get carsick - I did - so bring some Green Oil, White Flower Oil or Tiger Balm.

The best way to introduce it is to show you the best of my (iPhone) pictures - so here you go:












Basic provisions are available at the temple (some sold as offerings, some you can buy to eat or drink), and to enter the back corridor you have to pray (just grab some incense, light it and bow a few times in front of the altar before sticking the incense in the pot behind you - no biggie). There are stores on either side, one selling religious items and the other selling super tacky - but also kind of super fun - "handmade" shell souvenirs. I totally bought a soap dish, because I needed a soap dish.

From there you can head down to the puppetry museum and artsy village area - which I'll post about in an hour or two.

Continue reading here

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Potty Humor

On a sunny Saturday, all I can say is please enjoy some random photos from bathroom stalls. In no other country have I seen as many weird signs in bathrooms as in Taiwan. This deserves to be noted - celebrated, even.


Why would you throw a hot dog into the toilet?

Purple - OK. Maybe you ate too much red dragonfruit. The grayish color could be baby poop. But if your poo is bright orange or red, shouldn't you see a doctor?

Thursday, May 3, 2012

The Best I Can

from here
Those of you who are my friends on Facebook know that I'm currently trying my hand at a windowsill potted herb garden. I bought two kinds of thyme, rosemary, basil, sage, two kinds of mint, catnip, a raspberry bush, bergamot, tea tree, verbena, chamomile, two kinds of lavender and oregano. This in addition to the plants already out there: two orchids, a huge bougainvillea, a small poinsettia and two plants I can't identify that the former tenant left us along with aforementioned bougainvillea.

I'm not much of a gardener, but I try to check them every day and add a bit of water whenever the soil looks too dry or they look a bit wilted, and am cautiously beginning the task of learning how to add fertilizer - which kinds, how much and how often. I'm not very good at it, but generally speaking, I've been able to keep my plants more or less alive. I figured it would be like expat life - a bit shaky at first, a few brown leaves and wilted stems here and there. Then it would get a little easier and require less watchfulness. Then a bit easier after that, and then something approximating normal and natural. Living in Taiwan has become like that. Most things do. Gardening should follow that paradigm too, no?

Not many of you know that my mother is an excellent gardener. Growing up we always had fresh produce mixed among the staples from the grocery store, herbs growing like weeds, profusions of flowers and a landscaped front and side garden. Lilacs would perfume the breeze blowing into the kitchen window. I loved it, even as I chided my mother for doing things like running outside in a rainstorm brandishing a knife because "I need to get a squash for dinner!" I felt, growing up, that all she had to do was look at those plants and they'd just sprout for her, like fecund, green little servants. She knew exactly how much and how often to water them and while she had failures, she had enough successes that we didn't notice.

But all of you do know that we're currently dealing with a serious family illness, and now I feel I can say that the illness we're facing is my mother's. I'm going to reveal a bit here, not because I'm generally in the habit of talking about family illnesses but for two other reasons: first, it will help you better understand what I'm going to write below; and second, this might be useful for anyone reading who is dealing with the reality of living on the other side of the globe while a close family member faces illness, and the reality of how to approach expat life in such a situation.

So, basically, my mother has cancer, it's not the kind you can "cure", it's metastasized, and while chemo is working for now, eventually all cancers become immune to any available chemo drug after it's been used long enough on the patient. She's healthy now, and things are basically OK...for now...but as you can probably extrapolate from the above information, it's not going to be OK forever, and not even necessarily for very long. The only bright side is that it's not one of those "you have six months" types of cancer.

While, of course, my mother's health is first priority, it does raise the question of what we should do.

My sister has a cram school job that she doesn't even like and a pre-furnished apartment - although she adores Taiwan - and she's 25. So, when she's ready, she can chuck the job and move back home without any major or long-term life consequences. My career is here, my cat is here, my entire social life (except for a smallish group of good friends in DC, New York and Boston whom I've hung on to) is here, my wage earning potential and strongest employability is, if not here, then in a country where English is not the native language. I'm thinking of this also in terms of disposable income. I could possibly find work in the USA, but would have significantly less to spend after taking care of the essentials, and disposable income is, honestly, a very useful thing to have when dealing with a family illness and the reality of visiting often.

After a long conversation with my parents - perfectly ready for my mom to say "please come home as soon as you can", and perfectly ready to act on that, because she's my mom and we're now talking years, not decades - we all agreed that for now, we'd stay.

I would not have made this decision without the blessing of my family. I simply would not have. I could not have, as much as I really do want to stay in Taipei. As much as it's my home - really my home. As in a home I like rather than merely tolerate as so many expats seem to. This is the only thing that keeps me from leaping into a pit of "Jenna, you are so selfish". We all agree that this is what's right for my and Brendan's lives and careers, and that visiting every six months, especially for the holidays, is an acceptable solution for now. This is why disposable income is so important: we can afford it. This is why tending to your career is important: I have the flexibility to do this.

And having most of your social network around you is important, too: I know my friends back home would be there when I needed them. My direct experience, though, has been here: and as upset as I have been these past few weeks, I can say that people have come through. All I've really needed recently is a few sympathetic ears (talking about it helps - this is what I learned from the last time we went through this and I was more secretive, and it affected my physical health), and I've gotten them. A friend cut out of work for a few hours to keep me company the day after I found out (I thought I'd be OK, so I hadn't asked my husband to take off work). Another friend, who is generally a difficult fellow in other respects, came through for me in the evening when I still needed company. A few friends have told me their own stories of family illness, reminding me that as horrible as I feel right now - as much as I fight back tears and my stomach sinks when I think of the future - that everyone has a sad story to tell. Nobody gets a perfectly green garden under a perfectly blue sky.

We also agree that the time will come when something may have to change. I don't fear this in terms of the changes it will bring to where I live and what I do (although I can't lie: those worry me too), but more in terms of knowing that when that time comes, it will be near the end. It fills me with tears, weeks after hearing the first bit of bad news, to think that I might reach that time, look back, and regret the decision we've made now. Will "every six months" seem like it was enough? Probably not.

All I can say is that we're making the best decision we can now, for the situation we're in now, and as much as I might regret it, I will at least have this. I'm doing the best I can.

I used to think of the Pacific Ocean as an annoyingly wide but otherwise surmountable thing. Now I think of it as a deep, unending pit of separation. And yet, I'm doing the best I can.

Students and local acquaintances tell me how great it is that I live here, and have this idea that expat life is this magical thing in which all foreigners are rich and happy and having adventures and have better lives. I say nothing, but there's tension right between my shoulder blades. Do they know the price I'm paying to stay? No, because I've chosen not to tell them. But it is a hefty price, and it sits right there in that knot below my neck. The one that hasn't gone away since all this started. And still, I'm doing the best I can.

I'm jealous of my sister - she can chuck it all and move back home. I can't do it nearly as easily and I'd suffer real consequences.

She's jealous of me because she can't afford to go home every six months, nor does she have the job flexibility. She doesn't have the luxury of choosing to stay. Choosing it, for her, brings consequences I can somewhat avoid.

Today dawned cool and lightly overcast - not the interminable dark gray of winter but a lighter, cleaner grayish blue. It was almost welcome after two days of sweating under a hot blue dome. I parted the sheer blue curtains on our living room window to see how my herb garden was holding up.

Well, it wasn't. My tea tree and bergamot are basically withered stalks (although the tea tree has some straggly hope). My raspberry bush and oregano have noticeably dead brown spots. My thyme is completely gone - this surprised me: isn't thyme a Mediterranean plant? Can it not survive heat spells? The other plants are dangerously wilted. Even the mint was very unhappy - I thought you had to basically actively kill mint to get it to die - what gives? My basil looked sad.  The sage was floppy and hanging off the edge of the pot rather than standing up straight. The chamomile is half gone, not looking like anything I want to harvest for cooking. Only the rosemary, orchids and lavender (surprisingly) are soldiering on, and one of the lavenders isn't quite happy.

I gave the whole lot a good watering, and I see some improvement, but all in all I'm worried. Will my plants make it? Will I be able to continue making pastas, drinks, sauteed meat dishes and stews with my own fresh harvest? I'm doing my best, but will my best efforts pay off?

Was I ever guaranteed a happy ending in which all my plants were luscious and green, and Taipei was eternally a great place to live, without having to worry about life back home? Could I ever really have counted on a green life under a blue sky - no brown spots, no bits that didn't quite work out, no issues that could not be resolved satisfactorily despite my best efforts? Did I really think I could do my best and that it would pay off, always, every time?

Finally, what makes me sad as I survey the blasted heath that is my window garden, is that I know deep down I started it in part because it's something my mother would do - not that she'd ever live in the middle of a big city as I so enjoy doing - but that she finds a way to grow plants wherever she is. She'd have the ability to make those plants thrive. I think I was hoping against all rational hope that I'd cultivate that ability too: a little piece of my mother in Taipei that lives on in the green thumb I am determined to inherit, whether it is my rightful legacy or not.

It really saddens me that, so far, I'm failing.

And yet I will continue to water my plants and hope hope hope - because I do not pray - because I'm doing the best I can.

Updated Post: Indian Food in Taipei

I've done another update of my post on Indian food in Taipei - go have a look. Three more restaurants listed - three I've actually eaten at and I haven't

New listings are for Bollywood Indian Pizza, Halal Indian Restaurant and Mayur Indian Kitchen.

Updates on Exotic Masala House (closed) and Out of India (open but in danger of closing).

To my frequent commenter Nick - sorry I didn't get back to you in time. I would have liked to have met up and tried Halal Indian Restaurant together. Your comment came just as I was finding out about my family illness issue, so I was kind of preoccupied. I apologize!

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

You Stay Foolish, We Stay Hungry



So I had a day off yesterday - even though "teachers" usually don't get the day off (apparently they're not "labor", nor is anyone who works for the government, a distinction that I find ridiculous), I did because most of my students are corporate clients. If they have the day off, so do I. So, yay for that.

I spent the morning roaming the demonstrations taking place at CKS Memorial Hall, as well as a smaller one over by Taipei Guest House (台北賓館) and took a few photos. I didn't stay long at CKS, though, because my friend Cathy and I were starving and wanted to get lunch. We spent more time at the smaller demonstration, as it was organized by her teacher.

One good thing about being a part of a smaller protest - it's easier to get quoted in the paper. And I did!



Yes, that's a quote of me speaking Chinese (they cleaned it up a little I think, I don't remember exactly). It wasn't translated. So clearly my speaking ability far exceeds my handwriting ability. It sounds more like I'm complaining about my own work hours and salary than I'd intended, at least if it's not read carefully, but that's more on me than anyone.
I really was there for my friends, students and acquaintances. My salary's pretty darn good. My working hours, though hectic at times, are acceptable (and if they're not I have the power to do something about it). I am free to take long vacations if I wish. But I know so many people in Taiwan who work themselves to exhaustion - 7am to 11pm, meeting rehearsals before meetings, regular Saturdays, months and months without a weekend off (sales reps have that problem), and they're expected to be enthusiastic and energetic about it, to even agree that it's necessary, to never complain, and to continue delivering at peak performance. "We have to," they often say. "It's not fair, but that's my workload."

And what do they get for this? Salaries that have not kept up with inflation. Salaries that won't allow even white collar workers to buy homes in Taipei City. Salaries that I, personally, would laugh at if offered for the amount of work expected to bring them in. You want me to work how many hours a week, for NT $40,000-$50,000 per month? Enough to live an OK but not extravagant life? And that's considered a good salary for someone with experience? You want me to break my back for that? And to like it (or at least put on a reasonably convincing show of it)? You offer me that, and you can take your job and stuff it.

I feel I can say this because I'm not trapped in that grind. I hear this sentiment a lot among my students, and yet it's always followed up by some super humble comment about how it "has" to be done, it's "important", it "can't be avoided", and how they still want to do the best for their company. Which I'm sure they do, but deep down I think they're afraid that if they don't tack these things onto the end that I'll go tell their bosses. I won't.

Anyway.

A few photos:

This is more for my students than myself.

I don't know what she was protesting about - something about Buddhism, and doomsday, and Taiwan...it didn't really make sense. 

My friend's protest signs for Ma's "Facebook page"

This game was supposed to symbolize the wealthy keeping money and resources from the poor, but hitting them with longer work hours

People wrote all sorts of things on this huge poster of Ma's Facebook page. If you can read Chinese you'll be amused by some of them.

過勞死 and 財神請道我的家門口 are mine (yes, I know I wrote 財 wrong). I did not write the paper in English.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Love in the Butt

So, just a quickie - does anyone else think that this movie poster really, really, REALLY needs a better typeface?


Because I dunno about you, but I think this looks like "Love in the Butt".

But apparently not.

And I love how pretty much every single person who sees this poster for the first time misreads it. 

Clearly some graphic designer should be praying that he doesn't lose his job (although if it brings us more of these wonderful mess-ups, I say promote that person).