tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74451417631081107302024-03-13T03:41:46.627-07:00TaiwanaBlogThe Life and Times of a Renegade American- Taipei, TaiwanMichaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.comBlogger126125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-23833784362483710612010-09-13T09:25:00.001-07:002012-07-26T22:45:27.786-07:00Adieu, Taiwan<head><meta name="google-site-verification" content="05P8pBJMJXUbUqKg3Q3Wj53wAVvFrYxluMmXjGgX5wA" /></head>This is it. The final entry in Taiwanablog. It culminates one hundred twenty six entries, three and a half years, and countless memories of living in Asia. It's also an impossibly difficult entry to write as what you read here is my final thought, my final say, my final story about Taiwan. It is my final goodbye to you.<br />
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I decided it was time to leave Taiwan about three months ago. I gave my job the requisite 3+ months notice, not realizing those three months were going to fly by. But they did and before long, I found myself in Taipei without a job and the days counting down to my flight off the island. It worked out pretty well that my last weekend was also my birthday, so a birthday party masked the difficult going away party.<br />
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The night began perfectly. I met Richard Jones and Steve Lambert, two very close friends, for a going away barbecue at our favorite all-you-can-eat-bbq restaurant. The drinks were flowing, the stories were being shared, and the camaraderie was in high spirits.<br />
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After we were well fed, it was then off to On Tap to celebrate the birthday. All my good friends were in attendance and we drank and celebrated 26 years of my life. My friends Yoyo and Jenna purchased a cake for me that had a picture of me on it, along with a naked body and an enormous penis sticking out of it. All I can say about that was it was interesting blowing out the candles!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TL3K7KoG0rI/AAAAAAAADCc/UcUoLPieujk/s1600/62906_156219374397216_100000274622220_418067_727776_n.jpg"><br /></a><br />
They also prepared a farewell book for me where all my friends signed it and made a note of the good times we've shared over the last three years. The book was touching and will go with all my other treasured keepsakes that I have collected over the years. With that, the early birds returned home to retire while the rest of us took off to Roxy 99 for a canonical stopoff to any foreigner's night out. My nights began in Roxy 99 so I only saw it fitting for them to end there. And for those that know him, the rainbow guy made an appearance just for me (or I like to think so).<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TL3K66Jo_5I/AAAAAAAADCU/5XfxUJwjRn4/s1600/60026_156219811063839_100000274622220_418100_7881697_n.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529799030871752594" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TL3K66Jo_5I/AAAAAAAADCU/5XfxUJwjRn4/s400/60026_156219811063839_100000274622220_418100_7881697_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
The next day was filled with last minute chores and meetings. I met some close friends of mine at a small dumpling restaurant for a goodbye dinner. They gave me a very funny t-shirt that said "lick here to add me as a friend" and an arrow points to my chest under the shirt. The lunch was divine and I saw some dragon dances outside, which was a goal of mine since I first arrived in Taiwan.<br />
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Later in the evening, I met some good friends, Steve, Mike, Yoyo, Jenna and Singing, for one last dinner at Din Tai Fung. I had long planned it that I would have a dinner here and then get on the bus to the airport, and that's what I did. I had all my bags with me. I arrived at 8.30pm, just like I used to do when I was a student and got to know all the waitstaff there. They sat us at the large table on the second floor where I used to have the Wednesday gatherings with the owner and his friends. We laughed and chatted about things as if we would always be around that table. They teased me because I ordered 3 baskets (30 dumplings) of Xiao Long Bao. We stuffed ourselves and spoke of plans to one day travel around the globe to see each other again.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TL3K6Kin2UI/AAAAAAAADCE/wKPunwLJt1k/s1600/47299_10150262735115282_606605281_14765711_2502470_n.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529799018091632962" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TL3K6Kin2UI/AAAAAAAADCE/wKPunwLJt1k/s400/47299_10150262735115282_606605281_14765711_2502470_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 225px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
Outside the restaurant, I said goodbye to the waitstaff I have come to know so well. I then said goodbye to Singing. I then said goodbye to Mike and Steve. I got into a taxi with Yoyo and Singing and we shared a cab to the bus station which was on the way to their house. On the way there, I joked that we couldn't start a conversation because there was no time to finish it. It was funny, but sad as it was also true.<br />
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We arrived at the bus station and unloaded my stuff. I gave Yoyo and Jenna a hug and said, "let's go to Roxy 99 next weekend!" They started to cry. I told them to get going or I would start to cry too. They got into the taxi and drove off. With that, I got on my bus which took me to the airport and early in the morning the plane took off and I left Taiwan behind me.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TL3K6rx8uLI/AAAAAAAADCM/FiHhfyutVkE/s1600/47492_10150262737355282_606605281_14765742_7435028_n.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529799027014285490" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TL3K6rx8uLI/AAAAAAAADCM/FiHhfyutVkE/s400/47492_10150262737355282_606605281_14765742_7435028_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 225px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
The island itself is behind me but its spirit is with me forever and always. She is a darling of an island, a secret tucked away in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It doesn't even cross the radar screen of most people, but to those that take the effort to get out there, they find something magical, real and intoxicating. I spent three and a half years in a place I only intended to spend one year in. Three and a half years and I made some of the most memorable experiences of my life.<br />
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I learned how to ride a motorcycle. I went whitewater rafting. I became momentarily addicted to the hot springs. I ate snake and pig's blood. I learned Mandarin. I taught English. I climbed the highest mountain in Northeast Asia, in the snow. I camped on a volcano. I swam with whale sharks. I watched a guy box a cobra. I rode the death railway. I bungee jumped off a building. I gambled in Macau. I ate dim sum in Hong Kong. I dove with Bull Sharks. I climbed the highest mountain in Southeast Asia and then rappelled down the cliff side. I saw gold waterfalls, giant bamboo, towering mountains, endless gorges, sweeping cliffs and dramatic oceans. I spent Chinese New Year with family. I got shot at by fireworks. I ate barbecue in Seoul. I drank expensive wine in Singapore. I hunted with an aboriginal blow dart. I dated a Taiwanese girl. I went to the top of the world's tallest building. I rode an elephant. I petted a tiger. I paint balled. I went surfing. I climbed mountains. I fractured my wrist. I drove my motorcycle around the island. I met some of the most amazing people I have ever known.<br />
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And this last part, the friends, they are probably the greatest contributing factors to my happiness in Taiwan. The people are Taiwan more than the cities and the mountains and the bike trips. The friends I have made are by far the most incredible people and I will miss them terribly. From the folks at my training group to the friends that bade me farewell, and all the crazy cats in between, you have made the last three years something to toast to.<br />
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So there you have it. Not much more to say now. Three and a half years. Taiwan, you were too good to me. I love you.<br />
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And you, my readers. I started this blog not really knowing what it was going to be or what would happen with it. To be honest, I started it so that I wouldn't have to keep writing those mass e-mails to everyone. In the end, it has become a time capsule, a written record of my life abroad. And you have been there, for all of it. Good and Bad. Thanks for reading what was for the most part unedited chicken scratch on the Internet. I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.<br />
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But the journey doesn't end here. I have an ambitious goal ahead of me- three months of traveling actually. And it's all being recorded on my new blog. You can read about it here at twoitchyfeet.wordpress.com. I'm looking forward to seeing you over there!<br />
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From your American-in-Taiwan, (maybe someday again, still looking for a Taiwanese wife!) Michael.</div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-67537356209032355402010-09-07T03:13:00.000-07:002011-03-15T08:09:45.427-07:00The Solo Bike Ride<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TLJt3JFYlQI/AAAAAAAADB4/W-i5NKHS0a8/s1600/DSCN3139.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; float: left; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526600486835754242" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TLJt3JFYlQI/AAAAAAAADB4/W-i5NKHS0a8/s320/DSCN3139.JPG" border="0" /></a>The grand trip. The epic journey from North to South. The final voyage on my motor- cycle. It was to be five days with just my girl and me, all 200cc's of her, and long uninterrupted stretches of asphalt and dirt, through mountains and along coast. It was to rival my last motorcycle trip not in length, but in driving expertise as this trip was to be done almost entirely in the mountains. The only problem was I didn't get a move on until almost 2 days after my anticipated start.<br /> <br />The trip started out in disaster. My good friend Mike was to join me on this ride, but some schedule mishaps at work prevented him from coming along. Instead, we hung out on Sunday and went out to lunch in this famous Soymilk restaurant in Yonghe. Apparently this restaurant, which is famous for Soymilks, Xiao Long Baos and other small eats, influenced an entire food genre that has avalanched across China. In fact, most Soymilk restaurants now call themselves the Yonghe Soymilk Store in honor of this famous institution.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div></div><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526385894258892578" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TLGqsNcH3yI/AAAAAAAADAo/crGlJ1pQcxc/s400/DSCN3017.JPG" border="0" /><br />The lunch was nice, but it did put me a day behind. I was determined to take off early the following day. Before I left on my trip, I got online to say hello to my parents. I was speaking with my dad and we were talking about a birthday present for my mom. We came to the conclusion that we would buy her this spiffy new touchscreen laptop that you can only get in Taiwan. This, however, would be a full day task. I got on my bike and drove down to the computer store where I purchased the new toy. I then had to bring it to an Acer center for them to change the computer into English. After dropping it off, I went to lunch and then returned back to pick it up. I finally brought it over to the FedEx office to ship back to the USA. The ordeal was lengthy and I didn't get on the road until 4.30pm.<br /> <img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526385906349267122" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TLGqs6esWLI/AAAAAAAADAw/tj6svfY6-SQ/s400/DSCN3058.JPG" border="0" /><br />I took a different route through the back roads to Pingling (which took me through this lovely little village I had never been to) and then over to Yilan. I arrived in Jiaoxi just as the sun was setting and contemplated on whether or not I should check into a hotel. I decided to keep on driving.<br /> <br />Haphazardly, I took a wrong turn and started driving into the mountains. During the day this is a precarious route to take and seeing it was already pushing late into the evening, it was not somewhere I wanted to be. I turned around and got resituated on the coast road and before long, I was winding my way down the East Coast. I will be honest, I've driven this route in both the day and night, and I far prefer the night. Moonlit turns along cliffsides crashing into the sea, cool breezes wafting in from the ocean, twists and turns in the mystery of the darkness made this a very awesome ride.<br /><br />I pulled into Hualien and went straight to sleep after a long day of driving around. I also had an early day the next day and I wanted to be rested for my long trip into the mountains. It didn't matter, though, as I woke up much later than anticipated and didn't get on the road until 10am. Fortunately, the road was clear and the ride through the mountains was bright and sunny. The entire affair was in good order. I continued along the same route as last only in reverse order. Again, I approached the highest road in Taiwan and coasted through the European style castles down into Puli.<br /><br /></div><div><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526385912113876658" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TLGqtP9FTrI/AAAAAAAADA4/dGUdnJhbBS0/s400/DSCN3064.JPG" border="0" />From Puli, I continued along to Sun Moon Lake where I decided to stay for the evening. The clouds rolled in as I sat along the waterside and ate some aboriginal boar and drank some Taiwan Beer. I went to sleep early in the most comfortable bed I have ever stayed in (actually, funny enough it was the same hotel I stayed in when I first came to Sun Moon Lake years ago) and slept soundly.<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526385919270646546" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TLGqtqnY8xI/AAAAAAAADBA/GCDMUYP7vzU/s400/DSCN3071.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p>I woke up early the next day and took off for a long day of driving. My ultimate goal was to travel from Sun Moon Lake to Tainan while stopping for some touring in Alishan. It was an ambitious goal, but waking up at 6am put me in the running. The first surprise I got was when I took a road up the backside of Yushan! The road wove back and forth providing stunning panoramics of Taiwan's most iconic peak.<br /></p><p><br /></p><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526390354283713826" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TLGuv0U51SI/AAAAAAAADBY/GyOlq_PUYrs/s400/DSCN3112.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /></div><div> </div><div>Continuing on, it was a straight shot into Alishan National Park. It had been a longtime goal of mine to make it to Alishan and I was so delighted to have finally arrived! I paid the park entrance fee and parked my bike. I went up to the Alishan Train Station and booked my ticket for the Hogwarts Train. In a quaint station made of pine, an old locomotive arrived carrying with it antique wood carriages.</div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div>The train took us through the mountains to where the old sacred tree used to stand. Today, it has fallen and has started to decompose. Continuing on past the end of the line, the trail goes through some magnificent Red Cypress trees. Some of these trees are almost 2,000 years old and reign supreme in this old growth.<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526390345459190722" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TLGuvTc-S8I/AAAAAAAADBQ/t3wC_fzJKR8/s400/DSCN3108.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /></div><div> </div><div>One unique location was a tree that had died and was reborn three times! The first time the tree grew up, died and fell down. A seed landed on the tree and the sapling took the nutrients from the roots of the dead tree. This tree then continued to survive for hundreds of years when it too passed away. At this time, a new seed came along and again started using the roots from the first and second growth. Remaining are all three trees and a very interesting story.<br /><br /></div><div> <img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526391866370270498" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TLGwH1SbpSI/AAAAAAAADBo/7a08cN-1a6A/s400/DSCN3135.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p>After the little walk, I sat down at a nice little restaurant and got some lunch. I had some famous Alishan Tea and then was back off through the sea of clouds. I zoomed down the mountain side and connected with route three. The road took me straight down through more precarious mountain passes until I reached Tainan at about 5pm. </p><p>In Tainan, I met up with my friend Mike who was supposed to join me on the trip in the first place. He took the bus down and we met a few of his friends that were teaching in the city. We checked out some of my favorite temples from last time and then met his buddy for some dinner and drinks. Afterward, we hit the town and went to a fun little night club. The momentum of the evening was disrupted a bit when they stopped the music and played a massive tournament of Rock, Paper, Scissors for thirty minutes. </p><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526385925920063730" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TLGquDYvAPI/AAAAAAAADBI/MdeMMwAkrwo/s400/DSCN3091.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /></div><div> </div><div>Late in the evening, we retired as I was waking up at 10am the next day to continue my ride down to Kiaoshiung to visit a friend. I woke up on time, fortunately, only to be presented with a typhoon pouring down outside. I knew I had made it this far and I wasn't going to let a little rain ruin the rest of my trip, so I went to 7/11 and purchased five ponchos. I covered myself in plastic to the point that I was probably preserving my freshness all too well, and then I was off. At first I was doing quite well and was remaining fairly dry. But when you drive a motorcycle in a typhoon, you are going to get wet. And after an hour on the bike, I was soaking wet as were all my change of clothes in my bag.<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div>I arrived in Kiaohsiung a little late and soaking wet from head to toe. No matter, my friend was happy to see me and off we went to this excellent little seaside restaurant to eat some great food and watch the waves come crashing in. It was by far one of the coolest restaurants I had been to in Taiwan! The typhoon was really picking up speed and at this point, the restaurant lost power. Without any electricity, they decided to close down for the day. The owner of the restaurant<br />gave us a ride out of there as it was pretty far out of the way and, well, there was a typhoon.<br /><br /></div><div>He dropped us off at the movie theaters where we tried to dry out a little more by catching a film. We ordered some hot drinks and enjoyed the movie for a bit. Before long, it was time for my friend to head home and for me to get on the bus back to Taipei. I sent my motorcycle back to Taipei by bus and I took a five star luxury liner overnight. Early in the morning, I found myself back in sunny Taipei, out of the typhoon's reach and checked into a short stay hotel where I freshened up and caught a short nap. From the final road tripper around Taiwan, Michael.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-47986057943890350612010-08-23T00:48:00.001-07:002011-03-15T10:54:35.788-07:00Murphey's Law<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJ8_ws-zxpI/AAAAAAAADAg/8N1GpGlYI5g/s1600/DSCN3005.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521201774120388242" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJ8_ws-zxpI/AAAAAAAADAg/8N1GpGlYI5g/s320/DSCN3005.JPG" /></a> Murphey's Law states that whatever can go wrong will go wrong. This weekend served that mantra perfectly, but still resulted in an excellent time had by all. The ride was to be my first of two major bike trips around Taiwan- our goal was to leave Taipei on Friday afternoon and drive down to Taichung, cross over the island on the cross island highway and then back up to Taipei from Hualien. An ambitious plan to say the least even for two experienced motorcyclists like Steve and me.<br /><br />Steve got out of work early on Friday and I had the day off, so our plan was to get out of Taipei by 3.30pm and down to Taichung by nightfall. I showed up at Steve's apartment with all my gear ready to go. Steve just returned from a two week holiday from the UK so he hadn't touched his bike in sometime. As a result, the battery was dead and, being the only bike in existence not to have a kick start, required me to push him down the road while he popped the clutch in first gear getting the bike to start. It worked well on the first go and we were off.<br /><br />Shortly into the bike ride, Steve pulled over and I followed suit. He showed me that the brake handle on his bike was broken and that he needed to get it repaired before we left. I agreed with him and told him we needed to get gas ASAP as my bike was on empty. There was a station en route to our local mechanic and we stopped in. I topped off and then took off only to notice Steve was not with me. He turned off his bike, as he should have, when he got gas but couldn't get it started again. I got behind him and must have pushed it ten times and still no luck. We pushed the bike over to a mechanic's shop across the street from the gas station and asked him for a jump start. That's when Sherlocke here (Steve) noticed that the bike wasn't actually turned on. I almost killed him considering how many times I pushed that damn bike in the summer heat. Well, as luck would have it, we pushed the bike, got it going, and off to our mechanic's we went.<br /><div><div><div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521181734463595042" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJ8tiPcT4iI/AAAAAAAAC_g/9caFiUxVl70/s400/DSCN2978.JPG" /><br />We got to the mechanics and, while the handle was broken, it was not crucial to fix it right away. Instead, the mechanic suggested we replace his brake fluid to ensure its proper use. He told us it would be about 30 minutes to change it, so we went to a local canteen and grabbed some fried rice while we waited. When we got back, Sherman (our long lost friend who went to China) made a surprise return. We chatted graciously and happily and, being almost 6pm, we informed him we were driving down to Taichung that night and had to get going.<br /><br />Driving through Taipei took the most time, but once we got on route 3 proper, we were in open stretches 0f untamed, uninterrupted road. It turned dark quickly, but the warm summer night and the wind against our faces left us with a spirited heart and an bounce in our drive.<br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521192782634215458" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJ83lVFc6CI/AAAAAAAADAA/yDcTjwv-q6w/s400/DSCN2999.JPG" /><br />We decided to stop off in Fongyuan instead of Taichung because it was more conducive to our route. After checking into a hotel, we went out to a local bar called the Office for a few drinks. Just as we sat down to order our drinks, I received a phone call from a teacher that just arrived saying that the school was not at the aiport to pick him up. I talked him through what to do and the crisis was averted. I returned to my seat to see Steve chatting up a waitress who seemed very interested in him.<br /><br />Before I had time to say something to ruin all his chances, I received another phone call from another teacher saying that her visa was denied and she was due to get on a plane that same day. I spent about an hour on the phone with various people at twelve o'clock at night trying to sort out her situation. Fortunately, it all came together and we got her to Taiwan without issue. Meanwhile, I finally returned back to Steve (who was on his third beer by now while I had hardly even touched mine) and with some more flirting we retired for the evening.<br /><br />We woke up early the following morning for a long day of driving ahead of us. We hopped on our bikes and took off for the Cross Central Highway. The sky was clear, the road was pleasant, and nothing stood in our way between us and Hualien. Nothing, that is, except maybe a massive landslide wiping out the entire road. After about an hour into our ride, there was a checkpost and police blocking the road. They informed us that a large landslide had taken out a massive section of the road and that there was no way around it. If we wanted to get to Hualien, we had to find another way. </div><div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521185783787903314" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJ8xN8WdWVI/AAAAAAAAC_o/cFYsmUKsCwc/s400/DSCN2980.JPG" /><br />This was a major blow to our plan. We were hoping to get into Hualien around 5.30pm at the latest but with the detour, we were looking at 9.30pm at the earliest. We had to return back toward Fongyuan and then down top Puli in the central part of Taiwan, which is only moments away from Sun Moon Lake.<br /><br />After Puli, we drove up north along route fourteen which is, by far, the most bizzare road I have ever seen in Taiwan. Basically, this road travels through a re-creation of European castles in the middle of a farmland. These castles are enormous and are straight out of Bavaria. The road continues on for a bit of time and stretches up to become Taiwan's highest road at 3,225 meters high. </div><br /><div><br />The view at the top was simply outstanding and bordered on the verge of phenomenal. During the winter, you can take this route most of the way and admire the snow capped peaks of the central cordillera. </div><div><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521190823287243986" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJ81zR8uxNI/AAAAAAAAC_4/cbAmBZa49Kk/s400/DSCN2998.JPG" /><br />I also learned something about motorcycles up here. Basically, motorbikes, as with most engines, have carburators that mix the gasoline with the oxygen to form the combustion. At high altitudes, there is less oxygen and this can affect the torque of some bikes. Unfortunately, my bike happened to be one of those bikes and the ensuing drive became an absolute sluggish nightmare. Anything about 2,500 meters, apparently, really affects my motorbike.<br /><br />Fortunately, after the highest road in Taiwan, it's all downhill so the momentum helps out tremendously. We reached Taroko Gorge National Park at nightfall and I have to say it's crazy creepy driving through the gorge in the pitch black. It's borderline insane when it's raining, as it started to do as we emerged from the first elongated tunnel. But once we were out of the gorge, it was a straight, dry shot to Hualien where we arrived and found a nice clean place for a real bargain.<br /><br />Steve and I then got ready for one of the best nights out I have ever had in Taiwan. We began with a visit to my favorite pub in Hualien that has a quaint little outdoor bar to it. When the outdoor part closed off and we had to move inside, we decided to move the party out to another location. </div><div> </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521196037751675890" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJ86izV7m_I/AAAAAAAADAI/G4MtvlxgFzw/s400/DSCN3000.JPG" /><br />As we left the bar, we noticed some flashing lights and decided to check it out. It was a bit of a night club (albeit a small one) with a police car stationed outside. We decided this is where the party HAD to be, so we made a note to return back here later.<br /><br />We checked out this old fashioned Karaoke pub that had live karaoke. One of the waitresses came over and chatted with us for a little bit. She urged one of us to go up and sing, but I informed her the only song I knew in Chinese was Zhir Yo, and that I know minimally at best. That was a mistake because my song came up next and before I knew it, I was singing a Chinese Karaoke pop song in a real local bar with a bunch of Taiwanese. It was pretty well received, none the less, as the crowd even joined along singing with me.<br /><br />Steve and I then decided to check the club that was being busted by the police earlier. We showed up and the police were gone. We paid our entry and went into the bar. We sat down next to this Taiwanese guy who took an immediate interest in two foreign guys sitting next to him. I used my Chinese and we hit it off right away. Before I knew it, he was ordering us shots of tequila, which I hate, and we sat there and toasted to him.<br /><br />Before long, it became quite apparent why this place was broken up earlier by the cops. It included a PG-13 strip show which is a serious deal in Taiwan! Essentially, a girl went to the middle of the dance floor in a sexy bathing suit and danced. Once she pulled me up to dance with her for a bit and feeling the groove I enduldged her for about five seconds before I returned to my seat. It was a good thing too because then they got this other guy on stage and stripped him down to his underwear. (Apparently it was his birthday and the dancer was a friend of his so it was all in good fun). </div><div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521188444386614290" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJ8zoz2n3BI/AAAAAAAAC_w/7cqtVdp0nSU/s400/DSCN2987.JPG" /><br />I have actually seen these shows at other places in Taiwan and believe it or not, they are actually family appropriate. They are in restaurants all over the island and I would not mind bringing my mother to them. However, seeing as this was in a club, it was probably a bit more risque than most others.<br /><br />We hung out there for a while and I met the birthday boy in the bathroom. We talked for a bit and asked him where else we could go to continue the night. By now, it was about 1am and this place was thinning out. He directed Steve and me to a local night club called Queency and a short taxi drive later, we were there.<br /><br />When we walked in, we were treated like kings. A group of friends immediately came over to me and wisked me away to their private booth. There they gave me free whiskey and beer to celebrate the evening. Some great songs came on and suddenly we were on the dance floor leading charge. It was as if a hollywood movie star just walked in and were given the royal treatment.<br /><br />By the time we emerged from the club, it was very early in the morning and the sun was in full shine. Steve and I looked at each other and we both agreed that we were going to have to take the late checkout. We returned back to our rooms and passed out for the evening. We woke up at 2pm and checked out. We went for breakfast at this small little waffle shop to get some food and assess our hangovers. My head and stomache were functioning at about 80% which was pretty good but the truth is I was incredibly exhausted. I made the decision that I was in no condition to make the motorcycle trip back to Taipei.<br /><br />Steve, tired as well, decided he would make the trip back that day. I took the train and returned back to Taipei in a sweet, sleepy haze. A week later, I returned back to Hualien by train and met my friend Brian. The two of us hopped on our bikes and made the awesome ride along the coastal route back up to Taipei in record time. Before long, we were back in Taipei sipping on tea and chewing on dumplings.<br /><div><div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521197679103946978" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJ88CV2zsOI/AAAAAAAADAQ/rj7ZEu8Vy3w/s400/DSCN3002.JPG" /><br />From your Murphey's Law Enforcement, Michael.</div></div></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-60907388822381936482010-08-15T23:05:00.001-07:002011-11-01T23:02:05.551-07:00The Temples of Tainan<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJsH-QxfEAI/AAAAAAAAC_Y/vUPAQOi33WU/s1600/DSCN2890.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520014534508482562" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJsH-QxfEAI/AAAAAAAAC_Y/vUPAQOi33WU/s320/DSCN2890.JPG" /></a> Tainan, the old capital of Taiwan, is a city of temples, mystery and and historical sites unlike anywhere else in Taiwan. Exploring the old district of Tainan, secrets and treasures are held at every bend. Burning incense wafts out onto the streets from religious temples and prayer rituals. It is a stunning location with architecture to match even the finest Chinese temples in Beijing. Albeit the scale is not as grandiose, but the craftsmanship, artwork, history and intricate details rank up there with the world's finest.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div></div><div>I hopped on a bus late on Thursday night as I took Friday off for a bit of exploration. The drive down to Tainan is a long one, pushing on four hours. But the five star luxury bus, complete with your own television, makes this ride much easier. Getting in late to Tainan, I decided to check into a cheap hotel right across the street from the bus station. I was tired and didn't feel like searching for accomodation late in the evening. I retired with the first place I found with hopes of waking up early the next day. </div><div><br /></div><div>I got up the following morning and went to the train station where they have a scooter rental shop behind it. I rented a small 50cc scooter to help me get around town to see the sites. Being more of a motorcycle man, it was quite the experience to drive around on the 50cc. They might be small, but they sure can move! </div><div><br /></div><div>My first stop was at the Chikan Towers, Tainan's seminal tourist destination. Built by the Dutch in the 17th century, it served as the central administrative office. During this occupation, the Hans Chinese came to call it the "Tower of the Red-Haired Barbarians", fitting for the western powers inhabiting the dweeling. Today, on the tower's front lawn, there is a bronze statue depicting a Dutch soldier (wildly out of proportion) handing control over to the Chinese. </div><div><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520006686666946770" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJsA1dSQeNI/AAAAAAAAC-I/KVFttE5R3gI/s400/DSCN2847.JPG" /><br /><div>The towers are also famous for the nine tables carried by turtles surrounding the tower. It is believed that these massive stones were produced elsewhere and transferred to the towers.</div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520006695521342082" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJsA1-RT0oI/AAAAAAAAC-Q/_o7ivD56WrU/s400/DSCN2876.JPG" /><br /><div>Behind the Chikan towers is an often overlooked temple. It's such a shame too, as it's the oldest Matzu temple in Tainan. It is small, but the art and decorations speak great worth to it. At the entrance to the to tmeple are large columns. </div><div></div><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520006700877871586" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJsA2SOZ-eI/AAAAAAAAC-Y/WRUsDGaFaR8/s400/DSCN2878.JPG" /></div><br /><div></div><div>At the top of the columns, savages are depicted holding up the ceiling. This is in contrast to the lovely painted tiles adorning the walls in the entrance.<br /></div><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520006713478643026" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJsA3BKqfVI/AAAAAAAAC-g/4LHKI2iXYws/s400/DSCN2880.JPG" /></div><br /><div></div><div>Inside, you are hit immediately by the strong embers of incense and antique treasures identifying this as a masterful temple. One particular art piece that struck me was the massive tiger. It is a sculpture of a tiger that is incorporated into a mural, giving the impression that the tiger is emerging off the landscape and into the temple itself. It is a unique and memorable piece of work.</div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520006725479238962" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJsA3t31DTI/AAAAAAAAC-o/88MF3_5qhjs/s400/DSCN2887.JPG" /><br /><div>Not far from the oldest Matzu temple is the largest Matzu temple. You could explore this temple for hours and still not come across every last bit it has to offer. But the coolest thing about this temple is not the temple itself but the street it's located on. This street is called fortune teller's alley because of all the old astrologers that live here. If you speak Chinese and are into the sort of thing, then come on down and tempt fate!</div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520010226329014498" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJsEDfjdUOI/AAAAAAAAC-w/on2avXs_5c4/s400/DSCN2913.JPG" /><br /><div>Exploring temples can be exhausting work. After these bits of history, I decided it was time to check out another part of Tainan- Anping. This is the oldest part of Tainan and holds some splendors for those willing to make the 3km journey out there. For those travelling by scooter, of course, it is just a quick and painless shoot over there!</div><br /><div></div><div>Anping is a port town on the Eastern side of Tainan. It is home to the old Dutch fort where the Dutch first set up shop. There is a newly constructed watch tower at the top of the fort offering nice panoramic views of the city.</div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520010247642030018" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJsEEu84H8I/AAAAAAAAC_I/vP2n2iHrFdk/s400/DSCN2925.JPG" /><br /><div>Below the fort is an old street selling some famous and traditional Chinese snacks and treats. The most famous is an old dried fruit and candy shop that has been selling their dried fruits since the Qing Dynasty. I arrived at this no-nonsense, no frill shop (I think it looks the same now as it did when it first opened, and probably contains some of the original dried fruit) and was surprised to see the hords of people lined up to make their sweet purchases.</div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520010249763518178" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJsEE22rduI/AAAAAAAAC_Q/0LvlIBSqOtI/s400/DSCN2939.JPG" /><br /><div>The shop is split into two components. The front has shelves with large glass jars in it where you can order your dried fruits by the kilogram- a wholesale option. It's a lovely, oldfashioned way to enter the shop. In the back is where the business takes place. The individual fruits are partitioned out in small bags and you can buy a bag of fruits for NT$50. I purchased some dried Kiwi, Strawberry and Pineapple. As I was checking out, I asked the shopkeep if he had any recommendations. He had an open bag of dried sweet plum and gave me a free sample. I plopped one into my mouth and the sensation overjoyed me. Essentially, you place the sweet and sour dried fruit, no larger than a gumball, into your mouth and you suck on it. Eventually, nothing is left except the pit in the middle which you throw away. It was so good, I bought three more bags right away!</div><div></div><br /><div>After the dried fruit shop, I returned back to my hotel and washed up for the night. I then went to a very famous restaurant called "Slack Season Noodle Shop". This noodle shop was open before the turn of the century and is famous for serving up cheap and delicious bowls of Danzi Noodles. The food is prepared at the entrance to the restaurant with all the ingredients laid out in plain view.</div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520010238564388706" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJsEENImT2I/AAAAAAAAC_A/6SDB5tK_P-4/s400/DSCN2922.JPG" /></div><br /><div></div><div>The tables are small and close to the floor to you have to sit on the small wooden stools reminiscent of tree stumps. The noodles are delicious and have a combination of the freshest ingredients. It is topped off with a single prawn, which I discarded as I prefer not to eat seafood!<br /></div></div><div><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520010229800916450" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJsEDsfOVeI/AAAAAAAAC-4/mLWkZyLDc7E/s400/DSCN2917.JPG" /> <div></div><div>After dinner, I hit the pubs and bars for some late night fun before going back to bed. The next day I caught the bus back to Taipei and was home in time for a fun Saturday night out with friends! From the magical history tour bus to Tainan, Michael!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-56338011246262580492010-08-08T03:22:00.001-07:002011-11-01T23:05:12.192-07:00Paintballing<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJmnXbJCT9I/AAAAAAAAC9w/rjMHd9M6V8U/s1600/40199_1598993175124_1244877699_31738683_3215273_n.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519626839183740882" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJmnXbJCT9I/AAAAAAAAC9w/rjMHd9M6V8U/s320/40199_1598993175124_1244877699_31738683_3215273_n.jpg" /></a>About a month ago, my friend Jeff invited me to go paint- balling with him. At the time, I figured it was a good idea. I would be able to get outdoors, after all, and shoot him all day long. No one was kind enough to inform me that paintballing is extremely painful and will leave you covered with bruises all over your body.<br /><div><div></div><br /><div>The day started early (as do all my adventures with Jeff like river tracing and surfing) with a nice Dan Bing breakfast. I prefer the zhwa bing variety, but I am in the minority amongst foreigners on that one. With a full belly, we rode our bikes up to the paintballing location and geared up.</div><div><br />In our full army uniforms and our guns in hand, we marched out into the bush. Being my first time paintballing, it was reminiscent of hiking out in the bush in Vietnam as it was a hot and steamy day in the jungle! When we arrived at the battlefield, we decided to play a game of capture the flag. As mentioned already, I would rather shoot Jeff all day than capture a flag so I was delighted to learn that I was not on his team and I could set my sights honestly! All's fair in friendship and paintballing.</div><br /><div>We were given time to survey the surrounding area and plan our attack. We clearly had the defensive advantage with more areas to protect our flag, but would make the offensive aspect of our strategy somewhat more challenging. Nevertheless, we took our positions and the General blew his whistle.</div><div></div><br /><div>With that, the paintballs started flying. You could hear them wizz past you like angry bees looking for the kill. One hit my head leaving a strealk of pink paint, like blood, across my hair. At least I hope it was paint!</div><div></div><br /><div>The attack was full on now, but with seconds remaining we were able to maintain our position and hold the deep. The whistle was blown and the first war game ended in a stalemate. We took a break as another battle waged on before we returned to the field and played again. We took the tougher side and, sadly, this game did not go so well. I was shot again and had to retire to the "land of the dead" as I watched the opposing team advance on our fort and capture our flag. A victory for them, perhaps, but I got to shoot Jeff all day, which was a victory for me.</div><div></div><br /><div>After the second game, we returned to the HQ and had a big BBQ celebration before the afternoon games started. Unfortunately, I had to meet some people in the afternoon, so I was honorably discharged and went home.</div><div></div><br /><div>On my way back, I imagined how fun it would be to ride my motorcycle with a paintball gun and shoot all the pedestrians as they walked by. From your 5 Star General of the Paint, Michael.</div></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-77778006638816463632010-08-03T04:46:00.001-07:002010-09-22T00:40:28.765-07:00Signs of the Times Part 3<div align="left">This is the third and final installment of Signs of the Times. Over the last three years, I have brought you humorous signs found around Taiwan in all their grammatically incoherent humor. I hope that this installment doesn't disappoint.<br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519623053351013058" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJmj7D0LSsI/AAAAAAAAC9o/HxqmRm7RM64/s400/009.JPG" /> <p align="center">And no paini either! What the picture doesn't show is that the bridge is only about 15 feet high!<br /><br /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519622073629124594" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJmjCCERp_I/AAAAAAAAC9g/NXw2e-dtoqA/s400/251.JPG" /> <p align="center">Just when you thought it was safe to back in the water.<br /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519613548124396130" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJmbRyFjWmI/AAAAAAAAC9Y/G4KTzx3OOTI/s400/100_7384.JPG" /> <p align="center">Tourists come from far and wide to see the magnificent Shed of Taiwan!<br /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519613541166605570" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJmbRYKr5QI/AAAAAAAAC9Q/68KF36XXNNA/s400/100_6964.JPG" /> <p align="center">Did you know that Starbucks sued his company for logo infringement. Starbucks lost.<br /><br /></p><p align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519613532954844306" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJmbQ5k2XJI/AAAAAAAAC9I/zZIxZptiIkc/s400/100_6206.JPG" /> Tree Frogs sure are a pain in the taipeianus!<br /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519613528591441026" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJmbQpUiHII/AAAAAAAAC9A/loYda7BcgW0/s400/100_6181.JPG" /><br /><p align="center">Even the hiking posts are mocking you, fool! </p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-70350873910623163752010-07-31T22:14:00.001-07:002010-09-22T00:36:17.076-07:00Monumental<div><div>After visiting the Martyr's Shrine, in occured to me that I haven't written up a proper entry on the monuments in Taipei. At the risk of absolutely boring you to death with this, I'll keep it short and brief.</div><br /><br /><div></div><div>This is the Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall. It was recently changed to freedom hall and Chiang Kai Shek was covered up by kites. This was done because many Taiwanese still consider him to be a brutal dictator responsible for the murders of thousands of Taiwanese.</div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519637285162036482" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJmw3dcVrQI/AAAAAAAAC94/3RQi7EA6r-8/s400/CKS+Hall.jpg" /> <div></div><br /><div>This is the Dr. Sun Yat Sen Memorial Hall. Basically, this guy created Modern China (but not communist China).</div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519637290273423714" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TJmw3we_QWI/AAAAAAAAC-A/plAgQYP1qEg/s400/SYS+Hall.jpg" /> <div></div><br /><div>That's about it. Sorry to bother you. Mike.</div></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-2537932729074917902010-07-21T00:01:00.001-07:002011-11-01T23:07:45.615-07:00Goodbye Old Friend<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TI9KcgHSBFI/AAAAAAAAC8w/9xjBzHZTgLY/s1600/DSCN2976.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516709922069414994" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TI9KcgHSBFI/AAAAAAAAC8w/9xjBzHZTgLY/s320/DSCN2976.JPG" /></a> Shoes are your finest comp- anions. They see everything you see, but from ground level making them your least pretentious bit of clothing. They bear your weight daily and take hard poundings during exercise and hiking. Yet they give 100% all the time and make sure that, in the end, you always get to where you want to go.<br /><br />A friend that takes this type of abuse surely can't last long. The average life span of a pair of sneakers is about 6 m0nths. When I arrived in Taiwan, I purchased a pair of Nike Cross Trainers (probably rip offs) after I absentmindedly left my old ones at a hostel in Hualien. I did not replace these sneakers for almost three years.<br /><br />These shoes saw a lot with me- they climbed volcanoes in the Philippines and went clubbing in Kuala Lumpur. The toured the sights of Hong Kong and jumped off a tower with me in Macau. Needless to say, wherever I went, these babies were not too far behind, just below me.<br /><br />So maybe that's why they looked they way they did in the end- rabid old hobo shoes hanging on to dear life by, well, a shoe string! The sole almost completely tore away, the shoe laces were unravelling at the speed of light, and the color resembled the darkest earth tones man could imagine.<br /><br /><br /><br />So it is with fitting aplomb that I commend these vessels of feet, these tokens of traffic, these carriers along carpets, and bid them adieu. To you, the finest shoes I have ever had, always remember I believed in you long after most people implored me to throw you away. Of all my shoes past and all my shoes yet to come, I don't think I shall ever have a better pair.<br /><br /><br /><br />From the guy too lazy to buy a new pair of shoes for at least 2 and a half years, Mike.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-16994614387010648142010-07-18T23:48:00.001-07:002010-12-15T04:47:38.330-08:00Free Falling6 seconds. Imagine falling through the air for six seconds after starting out only 233 meters above the ground. 6 seconds with your heart in your feet and the wind accelerating past you at 32.2 feet per second squared. 6 seconds of death defying, whirlie-birding, stomach twisting, adrenaline rushing free falling sure enough to send any skeptic for a last minute repentance.<br /><br />In the kingdom of extreme sports, Bungee jumping reigns supreme; and when it comes to doing something extreme, it's worth overdoing the extreme. In Macau, there is the worlds highest commercial bungee jump off the Macau Tower. Taller than the Eiffel Tower and the Space Needle, this is the granddaddy of jumping from high places- the colossus of columns, the titan of tumbling, the behemoth of bungee.<br /><br />I arrived in Macau on the Red Eye from Taipei. My friend was working in The Venetian Casino and it was up to me to get over to see her. I took the free shuttle bus provided and was at the airport in a short five minute ride. I found the lounge bar she was working at (she was part of the lucky draw that night) and parked myself down for a few drinks while waiting for her to come out. In a few moments, she appeared and we caught up briefly about her new and exciting life in Macau. Apparently she gets free McDonald's food every day. When she got off work, I went to settle my tab but discovered all was on the house as I was friends with the ambassador of the casino! Already I felt like I won the jackpot!<br /><br />The following day, I was due to meet up with my buddy from Hong Kong and his friend to do the big leap. Some crossed wires (and the fact that I didn't have a working cell phone) unfortunately meant that they did the jump while I waited for them in the lobby. Oh well! We finally caught up with each other after their jump and went out to a great little Portuguese restaurant called Francisco's. Although this place was a little out of the way, they had excellent food, Sangria, and a perfect little atmosphere to kick the night off well.<br /><br />After dinner with a whole chicken, steak, sangria, espresso, and Grappa in our stomachs, it was time to hit the casino! We got The Venetian and found the lowest limit blackjack table we could find (I think it was US$25 dollars minimum bet) and prepared for a night of winning. I used all the tricks of the trade my dad taught me in black jack and, along with my two friends, we all came out in the black (or should I say in the black jack)! With everyone up about US$50 bucks, we called it quits and moved the party into the bar where we met my other friend who just got off work.<br /><br />Our winnings went back into paying for the drinks, food and cigars as we lived the high life of high rollers for one great evening. With our winnings now firmly invested in our evening's entertainment, we reflected in the fact that, yes indeed, the house <span style="font-style: italic;">always</span> wins. My friends took the ferry back to Honkers and I retired for the night to prepare for the bungee jump the following day.<br /><br />I woke with surprisingly little effects from the night before, although I was a bit tired. My friend stayed in bed while I took a cab over to the tower across town. I bought my ticket and boarded the elevator to the top floor. Once I got up there, I checked in. Because I know a very smart and beautiful girl working for the company, I got a 30% discount! I made sure to get the pictures an videos as a thanks to the company and her generosity (and as a great souvenir for myself)!<br /><br /><br />After purchasing the ticket, I went and got suited up. The day was crystal clear and as such, there were a lot of a jumpers in queue. The wait to jump was about 2 hours and a lot goes through your mind in those two hours- what am I doing here? Why am I jumping? As you see all the people thrown over the edge, you really have to question your own sanity.<br /><br /><br />Finally, my turn came up. I was the last to jump in a small group of five. It's very surreal to watch people being tossed off a ledge like that. Nevertheless, this was very real. The jumping specialist chained my feet together, so I had to inch my way to the jumping platform. I felt like a prisoner being brought to his hanging execution. My heart was really pumping and I didn't make the same mistake you always see in the movies- I DIDN'T look down. In my head, there was a very big, loud voice screaming at me, "Michael, what the **** are you doing! Get the **** away from this ***** edge your ****** lunatic!!!" Pardon my french, but that little voice was really freaking out.<br /><br /><p><br />I finally reached the edge with every inch long step I took. The unhooked the safety harness leaving me only with the bungee cable. When they dropped the cable, the weight of it almost pulled me right off the tower. Then, before I could change my mind the countdown started.</p><p>5... Ok still time, very far away</p><p>4... I like even numbers, this is ok</p><p>3... Umm, don't you think you're counting a bit to fast?</p><p>2... Forget what I said about even numbers, I hate them, go back to 5!</p><p>1... This is the worst idea I have ever had!</p><p>Geronimo...</p><p>It took every ounce of will power to lean forward and fall off that ledge. The first two seconds I really felt like I was going to die. My knees turned to jelly, my heart was pounding faster than it ever has, the world was spinning around me, my stomach was in my throat, it was one of the worst feelings I have ever had- a feeling where you completely not in control and you are plummeting to your doom. It's also very silent at first which is tremendously eerie. But soon you start to hear the familiar sound of wind rushing past you and the deceleration slows as you reach maximum velocity. You get a handle on your environment and situation and before you long actually find yourself enjoying it. When you come to terms with the bungee, it's amazing how the worst feeling in the world quickly becomes the best feeling in the world.</p><p>Before long, you feel the tension of the bungee cord tighten and you know that the ride is almost over. The cord bounces back up where you remove the cord and they slowly lower you to the ground. When doing an extreme sport like this, scientists day that your brain floods with dopamine, the same chemical released during sex, leaving you with an immense sensation of euphoria. This is true- I couldn't stop smiling and laughing the entire way down.</p><p>For the rest of the night, I was on cloud nine. I joined the elite ranks of bungee jumpers anonymous and faced a great fear of falling off a building. It's a liberating, intoxicating sensation, and apparently it's also addictive. That's why I'm looking at other bungee jumps around the world, including one place in Indonesia where you bungee off a motorcycle.</p><p>From your free falling, whirlie birding, life betting bloke of Macau, Mike. Oh and here's a movie for you to watch!<br /><br /></p><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxEmfeJCuYgAInTP88LOnm932ATBIqRTkaNVJp5lz-ZPnwK7JTAGy0gfBJSAHFEGYMuXiDTnmadNZwpOqLWQw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-84101540418563787832010-07-15T05:24:00.001-07:002010-09-07T03:12:06.770-07:00The Martyrs Shrine<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TIYPuRIxuLI/AAAAAAAAC8Q/lobZ6t7yPHM/s1600/DSCN3036.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514112081310365874" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TIYPuRIxuLI/AAAAAAAAC8Q/lobZ6t7yPHM/s320/DSCN3036.JPG" /></a>They say most New Yorkers never see the Statue of Liberty even though they have lived in the the city their entire lives. Well, I have done that with a particular location in Taipei- no not Taipei 101 or Snake Alley (I checked those off my list in the first week). For three years I had not visited the Martyr's Shrine. It was something I always wanted to do but never got around to it. It finally got to the point that I would save the visit for the end of my time in Taiwan. And with D-day not too far off, I decided it was worth a visit. <div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514109514201838450" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TIYNY16aM3I/AAAAAAAAC7g/DA_vABT7UHw/s400/DSCN3020.JPG" /></div><br /><div>I hopped on my motorcycle and drove up past the grand hotel and American Club to find the entrance to the shrine. The entrance is guarded by two guards in pristine, white uniforms with a deadpan face of seriousness. I waited a good five minutes before I saw one blink.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514110956335013570" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TIYOsyRwHsI/AAAAAAAAC8I/JgGbsueDbQs/s400/DSCN3042.JPG" /><br /></div><div>After the entrance, the was a long walk to the next entrance to the shrine. Once there, however, you were overtaken by the silence and solemnity of the occasion. Lovely orchids greeted you while two more guards waited patiently on the opposite end- just as serious and a lot less touristy.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514109526302741026" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TIYNZi_fUiI/AAAAAAAAC7o/POrPhe6e9yc/s400/DSCN3021.JPG" /> </div><br /><div>The Martyr's holds the remains the those died in the revolution in Taiwan. It holds military and civilian martyrs who fought bravely for the island's independence. Here they rest peacefully and as generations come to pay their respects and swear to uphold the ideals for which they gave their lives for.</div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514109532926847362" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TIYNZ7qzKYI/AAAAAAAAC7w/pxZTbXzNwbk/s400/DSCN3028.JPG" /><br /><div>The Martyr's Shrine may not be on many people's tourist list (and is in fact not in many toursit literature as it's a bit out of the way to get to), but to those who make the extra effort, even if it takes them three years to do it, they will be rewarded with a true treasure in Taipei.</div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514109538987180850" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TIYNaSPsgzI/AAAAAAAAC74/q-N5glzfQhg/s400/DSCN3024.JPG" /> <div></div><div>From your better late than never guy, Mike. </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-52100090555015540432010-07-08T04:25:00.000-07:002010-08-24T19:22:40.620-07:00Back in the HiveIn February, I put my life at risk for your benefit when I went to the Yuanshui Beehive Fireworks just outside of Tainan. I posted some very lovely videos of my time there and you all agreed I was certifiably insane. What shocked you even more was to know that these videos didn't present the worst of it. Therefore, I give to you for the first time ever, the world premier of the Yanshui Fongpao, aka The Beehive Fireworks!<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-jfpT6ttTco?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-jfpT6ttTco?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="300"></embed></object><br /><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-79678860850030317292010-06-25T20:21:00.001-07:002010-08-08T07:42:20.374-07:00Summer Fun<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TF7BlEFOU3I/AAAAAAAAC7U/nJ2w3x2PLVU/s1600/DSCN2807.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TF7BlEFOU3I/AAAAAAAAC7U/nJ2w3x2PLVU/s320/DSCN2807.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503048637188297586" border="0" /></a>Ah, the summer months in Taiwan are officially upon us! For what could be one of the worst springs weather wise in Taipei, Summer has really made up for it rather well! The days have been hot, humid, sunny and full of happiness and friends, just the way I like it!<br /><br />This summer has seen many many many beach days. There are two main beaches in northern Taiwan that beckons foreigners to their sandy edges quite regularly: Baishawan and Fulong. Of course there are many other excellent beaches in Taiwan, but these two seem to be the favorites.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TF7BStJmOLI/AAAAAAAAC60/7FM1LcvbHBw/s1600/DSCN2815.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TF7BStJmOLI/AAAAAAAAC60/7FM1LcvbHBw/s400/DSCN2815.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503048321794980018" border="0" /></a><br />Getting out to Fulong is a rather long trip- about 1.5 hours if the traffic is reasonable. The ride is a summery, windy, hilly, array of fun and excitement. It takes us through Pingxi village with the old lantern festival, down into rice paddies, and out to the ocean.<br /><br />Fulong beach is a fun, clean and modern beach in Taiwan. It comes with resort type changing rooms and showers. The last time we were there, we were present for the Summer Music Festival. The music was just ok, so we spent the majority of time lounging on the sand. While we were there, a movie was being filmed. It must have been some sort of Avant Garde type film, since it pretty much consisted of a goat wearing a poncho with a sign written in Chinese saying "Where are you?" It does not seem like a film I would like to go see.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TF7BS7kPQaI/AAAAAAAAC68/5pEC_9hwbG4/s1600/DSCN2825.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TF7BS7kPQaI/AAAAAAAAC68/5pEC_9hwbG4/s400/DSCN2825.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503048325664817570" border="0" /></a><br />Alternatively, Baishawan is another excellent beach I go to often. Last time we went, my good friend Yoyo borrowed her father's car and drove four of us up to the beach. It was a bright sunny day when we got there (except Yoyo ran a red light and got a ticket for it) and the beach was crowded with day trippers from Taipei.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TF7BTwLAwuI/AAAAAAAAC7M/PrMGdfmEh_U/s1600/DSCN2806.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TF7BTwLAwuI/AAAAAAAAC7M/PrMGdfmEh_U/s400/DSCN2806.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503048339786089186" border="0" /></a><br />We got a nice spot under a tent, and then lounged around before going for a swim. After a nice day swimming around, we enjoyed the quiet journey back into Taipei. Although I have driven that road many times, it was nice to take the car this time. I got to sit back and relax and watch the scenery go by. I don't get to do that often on the motorcycle as I am constantly on guard.<br /><br /><br />These are lovely summers with lovely people. I hope the good times continue on, even if we can't always be with each other.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TF7BTTpj-BI/AAAAAAAAC7E/MHqa1TUfc1k/s1600/DSCN2824.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TF7BTTpj-BI/AAAAAAAAC7E/MHqa1TUfc1k/s400/DSCN2824.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503048332129597458" border="0" /></a><br />From the guy who stretches right up and touches the sky, Michael.<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-31313760908221539632010-06-25T20:20:00.000-07:002010-08-02T06:21:23.347-07:00Here's to You, Pa!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbFGWXNwgI/AAAAAAAAC6k/-owWi-0m-Q0/s1600/BG.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbFGWXNwgI/AAAAAAAAC6k/-owWi-0m-Q0/s320/BG.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500800707752477186" border="0" /></a>Home can be a funny thing when you have been away for so long. The rearranging of the furniture, the new guests, the removal of shrubs, pools and trees, the addition of a garden, the repainting of a shed- all these things can really pull the rug out from underneath you when you're expecting certain things to stay they way they have always been. But even underneath all those changes, all those evolutions of your past, there will always be a sweet memory of comfort and belonging.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbB7vsMb1I/AAAAAAAAC5s/pm7YVmYlmNY/s1600/DSCN2743.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbB7vsMb1I/AAAAAAAAC5s/pm7YVmYlmNY/s400/DSCN2743.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500797227037912914" border="0" /></a><br />After Richard's Wedding in Taidong, I received a phone call that my last grandparent's health was failing. These things are tough, but being on the other side of the world makes them just that more difficult. I booked a flight home and was back in Boston 30 hours later, only to find out I missed my chance to say goodbye 12 hours earlier. I miss my grandfather, but I don't regret missing the chance to say goodbye. My relationship with him was not based on a goodbye. It was based on the last 25 years of being together, when I would spend the week with him as a child; when I would show him my new magic tricks and learn the good ones for his float in the July 4th parade; when he gave me my first car ever; when I would go down 2-3 times a week in high school and college to mow the law and sit and talk with him and my grandmother. I don't regret a minute of my time spent with him, and my time abroad was inspired by his love of travel and encouragement to see the world. So while I was not there for the one second at the end, I was there for the other 25 years and those are the things I think about when he comes to mind, those are the thing's I'll miss.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbDaMZ0VaI/AAAAAAAAC50/9N3wvNWpo3g/s1600/DSCN2716.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbDaMZ0VaI/AAAAAAAAC50/9N3wvNWpo3g/s400/DSCN2716.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500798849653167522" border="0" /></a><br />But in his great ways, he did one more thing for me- he got me home to see my nephew Mmamoon. The last time I saw Moons, he was just a month old and he slept quietly in my arms. Over the next year and a half he grew up not knowing who I was and that pained me greatly. But being able to see him at 1 and half years old was the greatest gift I had all year long- he was a joy in my life like none other. My grandfather brought me back to see my nephew so I could spend two wonderful weeks with him. Thanks Pa!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbDawRukII/AAAAAAAAC6E/A_XYgAYqP3A/s1600/DSCN2546.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbDawRukII/AAAAAAAAC6E/A_XYgAYqP3A/s400/DSCN2546.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500798859282911362" border="0" /></a><br />The two weeks home were bittersweet. Like I said- the new changes to the layout of my house was difficult. Returning back to my grandparent's home with no one there was difficult. But seeing the smile on Mmamoon's face the minute I walked in the door was one of the happiest moments of my life.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbDbebJEoI/AAAAAAAAC6M/iLMp_jMcmuk/s1600/DSCN2501.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbDbebJEoI/AAAAAAAAC6M/iLMp_jMcmuk/s400/DSCN2501.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500798871670428290" border="0" /></a><br />I relearned what it meant to play soccer out side. The sandbox was rebuilt for him and it was much deeper this time. We took ice cream trips (even though he couldn't even begin to comprehend how awesome the cold thing in his hand was right then and there). I went back to my pizza restaurant, my academy, my Maj Drag, to see my friends in Boston from high school and college, and all the things that define as American Mike and not Taiwan Mike. But I brought new things to the table too- I took my sister and her husband to a Taiwanese restaurant in China Town, my parents to a Dim Sum restaurant that, quite honestly, rivaled some of the fare in Honkers, and even ate at my sister's new restaurant!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbDaRSQgEI/AAAAAAAAC58/HypQH9ncDM0/s1600/DSCN2684.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbDaRSQgEI/AAAAAAAAC58/HypQH9ncDM0/s400/DSCN2684.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500798850963636290" border="0" /></a><br />The trip was an emotional slide between death and life, and all of us caught between. But like all my trips home, the greatest part was spending time with my family. My relationship with my sister and her family and my parents is something I will treasure. We were all living under one house, and while that can be stressful at times, it was really nice to see the old kitchen alive again with laughter and stories. I love my family very much and I look forward to spending time with them in the years to comes. So even as things change- no more pool, no more tree, no more bedroom- and as the faces around the dinner table come and go, some things stay the same. I have changed too- I have seen a great deal and tried many new things. My parents see me differently- they see me now as a young man that has spread his wings. Sometimes I fly high, sometimes I fly low, but in the end, I'll always fly home.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbFtlH-vHI/AAAAAAAAC6s/F_0uN51NfIE/s1600/DSCN2519.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TFbFtlH-vHI/AAAAAAAAC6s/F_0uN51NfIE/s400/DSCN2519.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500801381730008178" border="0" /></a><br />From the son in the Delta, Mike.<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-66514941849184392182010-06-06T07:52:00.001-07:002010-07-31T22:14:00.669-07:00The Wedding in the Tropics<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEum0Fj8kaI/AAAAAAAAC5U/1q6JZObOvOI/s1600/DSCN2401.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEum0Fj8kaI/AAAAAAAAC5U/1q6JZObOvOI/s320/DSCN2401.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497671183912178082" border="0" /></a>Just after my holiday over to Malaysia, I had a great little weekend down to Taidong to celebrate the wedding of my good friend Richard Jones and his lovely bride Jo. The weekend was an excellent celebration where many friends came together to honor these two and toast to their happy new life.<br /><br />The weekend really started in Taipei. On Saturday morning, about thirty foreigners congregated in Songshan Airport in Taipei prepping themselves for the ride down to Taidong. We took up the majority of the plane, or at least it felt that way, and after a short 45 minute flight we were landing in sunny, hot Taidong.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEulq7p34HI/AAAAAAAAC48/yBc-TaGGgqk/s1600/DSCN2368.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEulq7p34HI/AAAAAAAAC48/yBc-TaGGgqk/s400/DSCN2368.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497669927122231410" border="0" /></a><br />The group of us took the shuttle over to the hotel and all checked into our beautiful rooms. The afternoon was spent lying by the pool, swimming, bathing, and enjoying a generally lazy afternoon! The best men worked on their speech, the families took a swim, and the older unmarried enjoyed a beer, illegally, by the poolside.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEulrh1t-tI/AAAAAAAAC5M/WEpUdiXDJIA/s1600/DSCN2374.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEulrh1t-tI/AAAAAAAAC5M/WEpUdiXDJIA/s400/DSCN2374.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497669937372461778" border="0" /></a><br />After a splendid afternoon of doing nothing, we all returned to our apartments, showered, dressed and reconvened at the reception area for some pre-dinner drinks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEulrBPCIiI/AAAAAAAAC5E/2mcSqlYVpxc/s1600/DSCN2384.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEulrBPCIiI/AAAAAAAAC5E/2mcSqlYVpxc/s400/DSCN2384.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497669928620270114" border="0" /></a><br />The set up was lovely and the dinner was quite nice. For those who have never been to a Taiwan wedding, the process is quite different from America. You sit at a massive table and waiters serve you about 12 courses of food (mostly seafood) and you sit and enjoy entertainment throughout the night. There are songs, dances, costume changes, jokes, stories, videos and much more. The evening is all about the bride and groom entertaining the guests <span style="font-style: italic;">more </span>than it is about the guests coming to celebrate the bride and groom.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEulqSF5GgI/AAAAAAAAC40/fKPfuTy57MQ/s1600/DSCN2391.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEulqSF5GgI/AAAAAAAAC40/fKPfuTy57MQ/s400/DSCN2391.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497669915965463042" border="0" /></a><br />After dinner, everyone met outside at a local bar across the street from the hotel for an after wedding party. All the old faces were there and the revelries went well into the wee hours of the morning.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEulp_JMMQI/AAAAAAAAC4s/JwT4yW6731g/s1600/DSCN2427.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEulp_JMMQI/AAAAAAAAC4s/JwT4yW6731g/s400/DSCN2427.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497669910879023362" border="0" /></a><br />Congratulations Richard and Jo! From your very own wedding crasher, Michael!<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-31384407316207767832010-05-21T02:30:00.004-07:002010-07-23T22:22:45.527-07:00Kuala Lumpur<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp316YNAwI/AAAAAAAAC4c/N1kHEOR6edU/s1600/DSCN2326.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp316YNAwI/AAAAAAAAC4c/N1kHEOR6edU/s320/DSCN2326.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497338063246656258" border="0" /></a>Kuala Lumpur. The locals call it KL. So, it might not be all it's cracked up to be in terms of originality, it does get straight to the point. I arrived in KL quite early in the morning and found the hotel where Brian was staying at. After a few nights of bushwhacking it, I was happy to revive myself in fairly modern, comfortable hotel!<br /><br />Naturally, I woke up well before Brian and decided to go out and grab a quick bite for breakfast. We were staying in Little India and the area was quite bustling for that early in the morning. I popped into a little shop and grabbed a traditional Indian breakfast full of sweet curries and pounded nan-like bread.<br /><br />I returned back to the hotel and caught up with Brian. The two of us made our way down to China Town to explore and compare with Singapore's China Town. KL's China Town is a bit more "working class" and rough around the edges. Less tourism, less colorful paint and a lot more vendors.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp2QfOyYcI/AAAAAAAAC4M/sjKjzXxKaMI/s1600/DSCN2270.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp2QfOyYcI/AAAAAAAAC4M/sjKjzXxKaMI/s400/DSCN2270.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497336320792617410" border="0" /></a><br />Brian and I stopped into a local cafe that was straight out of the 1940s. The cafe came complete with saloon style swinging doors, dark wood tables topped off with polished marble, and ancient memorabilia hanging on the walls. We ordered some traditional Chinese snacks including some braised pork ribs, soups, and a unique dish called the top hat. Essentially, the top hat is a taco shell in the form of a deep bowl that is shaped like a top hat. The dish comes with fillings (similar to that of a taco) and you fill you top hat with cheese, beans, lettuce, sauce, and anything else you have on the table. The result was fun and delicious.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp2QvaIAeI/AAAAAAAAC4U/FsLCSLm7xTs/s1600/DSCN2278.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp2QvaIAeI/AAAAAAAAC4U/FsLCSLm7xTs/s400/DSCN2278.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497336325135139298" border="0" /></a><br />After our lunch, I decided I wanted to try a fish massage. This is when you stick your legs into a tank full of tiny minnows and they come up and eat the dead skin off your feet and legs. The feeling is very strange. It's as if you have tiny ants walking on your legs and they have suction cups attached to the bottom of the feet (sort of like those "human flies" that try to scale tall buildings in cartoons). I am not sure the health benefits of this, as I hear the water if very unsanitary (filled with dead skin and fish excrement) so I made sure a good long show was in order next time I was home!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp2PyP1oqI/AAAAAAAAC4E/_iUgVbE3HE0/s1600/DSCN2287.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp2PyP1oqI/AAAAAAAAC4E/_iUgVbE3HE0/s400/DSCN2287.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497336308717429410" border="0" /></a><br />After the fish spa, Brian and I went to the market to buy some souvenirs for friends and family. My purchase here was a traditional Song Kok, which is essentially a beautiful felt hat that traditional Malay men wear. It was a stunning piece of craftsmanship and a treasured artifact in my Asian collection!<br /><br />After walking around all day, Brian and I sat down at a small restaurant for a beer and lunch and met a very nice Burmese waitress. She invited us to a party which we said we would join her for later that evening. But first, it was time to take a nap and get ready for the night!<br /><br />The evening started out with, of all things, Wiener schnitzel and imported beer. A very strange way to begin, so let's just skip that. Onto better things- the Petronas Towers. We walked over to these two iconic towers made infamous by Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta-Jones in the film "Entrapment" to marvel at their evening beauty. Lit up, they towered over the rest of KL, radiating their prominence and asserting themselves as the very definition of Malaysia.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp2O66rBpI/AAAAAAAAC30/qR6oQNsvsuQ/s1600/DSCN2305.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp2O66rBpI/AAAAAAAAC30/qR6oQNsvsuQ/s400/DSCN2305.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497336293864703634" border="0" /></a><br />Leaving the towers, we made our way over to the party district and after walking down a road full of bars and nightclubs, I spotted one that looked like a lot of fun. There was an indoor dance area and an outside seating area. The club was called "Beach Club: or something like that (don't quite recall the name perfectly). Nevertheless, it looked jumping and just right to match our mellow or partying moods (whatever should come of it on the inside).<br /><br />When we got inside, we discovered a very strange sight- there were a lot of single, foreign girls all standing around just waiting. It didn't take much powers of deduction to reason that these ladies were working girls looking to make a buck. After some dancing, Brian and I sat down at a table and a young Vietnamese girl took a strong interest in Brian (who has a girlfriend and is very faithful, I should mention). Brian had no idea how to react to this, an I just enjoyed watching the interaction between the two of them (particularly when she tried to take his hand)!<br /><br />Brian resolved the situation by announcing he was going to go dance and leaving her alone with me. We awkwardly sat there for a few minutes, not saying a word (because, really, what was there to talk about?) before we both just walked away. After some more partying, I went upstairs to the bathroom for a short break. Coming out of the bathroom I went over to wash my hands. At this time, there was a very large African woman next to me that just turned to me and said, "Shoot me!"<br /><br />I looked at her and said, "Excuse me?" to which she again responded, "Shoot me!"<br /><br />It was then I realized that I had my camera on me and she wanted me to take a picture of her. I told her Okay and did. She said her name was Vivian and that I should go tell my friends I have met the famous Vivian and never to forget her. Well folks, here she is, and don't you forget it!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp2PYFa4wI/AAAAAAAAC38/G3Q9NF6oIQo/s1600/DSCN2335.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp2PYFa4wI/AAAAAAAAC38/G3Q9NF6oIQo/s400/DSCN2335.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497336301694411522" border="0" /></a><br />After the club, we met the waitress again for a few drinks at the party before retiring back home for some sleep! The next day, a bit hungover but not too bad, I took off in the scorching heat to photograph some of the old, colonial KL before Brian woke up and the two of us hitched a cab out the the airport and back home to sweet old Taipei.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp4ZB-ERuI/AAAAAAAAC4k/FF5Df6ZYKUA/s1600/DSCN2356.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEp4ZB-ERuI/AAAAAAAAC4k/FF5Df6ZYKUA/s400/DSCN2356.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497338666579936994" border="0" /></a><br />From your friend of the Malaysians, Indians, Chinese, Vietnamese, British, American, Burmese, and Liberian all rolled up into one little city, Michael.<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-8555731758710874712010-05-21T02:30:00.003-07:002010-07-21T01:05:16.984-07:00Heart of Darkness<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaomrs70lI/AAAAAAAAC3s/1UnSRY204Dg/s1600/DSCN2138.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaomrs70lI/AAAAAAAAC3s/1UnSRY204Dg/s320/DSCN2138.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496265777771958866" border="0" /></a>To the north of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kuala</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Lumpur</span> lies a dark, legendary jungle. It is a land that frightening and exotic creatures call home. A place where the bush is so dense, light can't penetrate through the leaves and only the brave, strong, and smart survive. But provided you don't go too deep into the rain forest, even a half wit like me can enjoy the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">splendors</span> of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Taman</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Negara</span>, Malaysia's premier jungle terrain.<br /><br />Arriving in the jungle you take a three hour long jungle river cruise. This is a rustic long boat with the tops right next to the water's edge. The river snakes it's course through lush tropics, revealing now and again, the wildlife she so preciously harbors.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaiqPLp1CI/AAAAAAAAC3M/usDAn150xDM/s1600/DSCN2087.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaiqPLp1CI/AAAAAAAAC3M/usDAn150xDM/s400/DSCN2087.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496259241765884962" border="0" /></a><br />During the course of the boat ride, we came across Monkeys, Otters, Birds and Deer.<br /><br />After arriving at the docks, I checked into my hotel and made my way to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">jungle</span> itself. The interpretive trail is a a medium long trek and requires no demanding physical prerequisites. However, just coming off a climb from Mt. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Kinabalu</span>, even the short elevation changes were not welcome in the slightest. But at short clearings, I was offered some magnificent vistas far over the canopy and deep into this mysterious, sacred land.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaipJ2SUfI/AAAAAAAAC28/4nYv6TksHAY/s1600/DSCN2123.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaipJ2SUfI/AAAAAAAAC28/4nYv6TksHAY/s400/DSCN2123.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496259223154217458" border="0" /></a><br />Then I met <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Taman</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Negara's</span> most spotted wildlife- the leech. Any visitor to this <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">rain forest</span> will tell you that any protection you can take against leeches really ought to be taken. As I sat down to catch a breath of water, I wiped the sweat trickling down my neck. Then I came across a big, slimy, squishy thing stuck to my body. I thought it was odd that it wasn't coming off and I had to wonder what it was. Once I pulled it off, there was this big sucker with about a tablespoon worth of my blood in it <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">writhing</span> around in my hand. I through it away and continued on my journey absolutely disgusted. Lesson learned- avoid low lying swamp areas if you want to sit and rest.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaiqUsTeJI/AAAAAAAAC3U/BRNohHOj6O4/s1600/DSCN2098.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaiqUsTeJI/AAAAAAAAC3U/BRNohHOj6O4/s400/DSCN2098.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496259243245009042" border="0" /></a><br />Along the hike, however, I came across some interesting <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">specimens</span>. One tree, in particular, caught my eye. The roots of the tree we very large and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">protruded</span> out of the ground. They <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">resembled</span> massive walls and formed conical curves into the trunk of the tree. It was explained to me that if you hit one of these roots with a stick, the resulting echo is loud and carries on for quite a while. Aboriginal families on the hunt use these trees to communicate with one another to announce where they are.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaoCPXKndI/AAAAAAAAC3c/iGxxVNtJvgY/s1600/DSCN2114.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaoCPXKndI/AAAAAAAAC3c/iGxxVNtJvgY/s400/DSCN2114.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496265151689170386" border="0" /></a><br />Another fascinating flora was the giant bamboo. Here I am standing below it to give it scale.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaipu_s1lI/AAAAAAAAC3E/v3M6eX-fU-w/s1600/DSCN2108.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaipu_s1lI/AAAAAAAAC3E/v3M6eX-fU-w/s400/DSCN2108.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496259233125815890" border="0" /></a><br />After my hike, I returned back to my cabin. I showered, ate dinner and then joined up with a tour to go on a night safari. We all piled onto the back of this pick up truck (a bit primitive) and we were driven into a Palm Oil Tree Plantation. The clear night sky, the warm air rushing past me, the ominously illuminated palm trees that surrounded the secluded dirt road made me relaxed and at ease. But I was also on the seat of my pants ready to catch a glimpse of the possibly game we might see.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaiotunFGI/AAAAAAAAC20/0kqNNzhSLj0/s1600/DSCN2163.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEaiotunFGI/AAAAAAAAC20/0kqNNzhSLj0/s400/DSCN2163.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496259215605830754" border="0" /></a><br />The safari ended with some pretty reasonable sighting. We saw leopard cats, barn owls, and pythons that, had we been anywhere outside of the truck, would have swallowed us whole. As an added bonus, I got to eat some of the palm tree nuts to taste the oil. It was very high in fiber and that is all I have to say about that.<br /><br />The following day began with my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">raison</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">d'etre</span> for coming to this park: the canopy walk. A canopy walk is a massively long, massively high up suspension bridge large enough for one person to cross at a time that hangs from the tree tops giving it's viewers pristine looks on the tops of trees. The canopy walk is 400 meters long and rises 40 meters about the ground at its highest point. It's a thrilling alternative to hiking through, or should I say on top of, the jungle.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEahDxIEOdI/AAAAAAAAC2s/nrHECIJSdnM/s1600/DSCN2177.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEahDxIEOdI/AAAAAAAAC2s/nrHECIJSdnM/s400/DSCN2177.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496257481351117266" border="0" /></a><br />After the canopy walk, I had one of the most memorable encounters in all my time in Asia. I left the main touristy area of the jungle and took a long boat with a local guide. The guide pulled the boat up to the river bank and we made our way to the top of a small hill. Here, there lived a local aboriginal village that welcomed foreigners to view their way of life. This was about as primitive as one could get- they wore traditional clothing, lived in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Tiki</span> Huts with no electricity or running water, and hunted and gathered all their food. The people were nomadic and their village is designed to be dismantled at the drop of a hat and moved elsewhere along the river.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEahB6aWMgI/AAAAAAAAC2M/PDDSwREbHTs/s1600/DSCN2252.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEahB6aWMgI/AAAAAAAAC2M/PDDSwREbHTs/s400/DSCN2252.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496257449483973122" border="0" /></a><br />Upon entering the village, we were met by two young boys (the remainder of the males were off hunting). The two boys demonstrated how to make a fire with only wood and bamboo (that's right, even more primitive than flint and tinder). We were informed that the boys were not considered men until they were able to start a fire. After a few failed attempts, the two lads got it going.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEahDQLy4vI/AAAAAAAAC2k/CRfR3YYvRcY/s1600/DSCN2230.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEahDQLy4vI/AAAAAAAAC2k/CRfR3YYvRcY/s400/DSCN2230.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496257472508388082" border="0" /></a><br />Afterwards, we got blow dart lessons! The blow dart guns were made out of long bamboo reeds and were probably twice the size of me. I held out the gun, aimed it at my target, and shot my dart straight and true. It was stunning how fast the darts <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">whizzed</span> off and how accurate their trajectory in fact was!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEahCTsKUXI/AAAAAAAAC2U/_asb6s417As/s1600/DSCN2247.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEahCTsKUXI/AAAAAAAAC2U/_asb6s417As/s400/DSCN2247.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496257456269578610" border="0" /></a><br />After blow dart lessons, we got to fraternize with the locals a bit before heading off. Returning back, I took a bus ride home to the train station and hopped on an overnight express back to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Kuala</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Lumpur</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEahCnCFAXI/AAAAAAAAC2c/VVt55ZsyCPw/s1600/DSCN2233.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TEahCnCFAXI/AAAAAAAAC2c/VVt55ZsyCPw/s400/DSCN2233.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496257461461778802" border="0" /></a><br />From The Horror! The Horror!, Michael.<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-36143916870552804472010-05-21T02:30:00.001-07:002010-07-08T05:07:52.316-07:00Singapore Sling<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW_RbIf5WI/AAAAAAAAC1k/_0kRYR8dLpU/s1600/DSCN2018.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW_RbIf5WI/AAAAAAAAC1k/_0kRYR8dLpU/s320/DSCN2018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491505626710271330" border="0" /></a>Known for being one of the cleanest cities in Asia, Singapore is a country that probably takes itself a little bit too seriously. But you can't fault them for that- as a former British colony they take after mom and pop. And after bushwhacking it for two days out in the middle of Borneo, it was nice to come back to Culture for a little bit.<br /><br />I've always argued that when you've been to one city in Asia, you've been to them all. But in reality, each city has some quirks that identify it as a unique and incomparable concrete jungle. Singapore had that great ring to it that really set it apart as a hip, sophisticated place in Southeast Asia. For example, our hotel room had a great view of this half naked man on the hotel roof across the way from us.<br /><br />One thing that I enjoy immensely in the city is the river life. To mozy along the Seine of Paris or cross the bridges of the Thames, or switch back between Buda and Pest along the Danube of Hungary, that is the true joy of a city. Taipei lacks this central congregation of a river life. Yes, there is a river that runs through the heart of it, but it is flanked by muddy shores and tall grass. Some excellent bike paths but essentially devoid of the European bistros that light up the evening air.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW-NBhgXrI/AAAAAAAAC1M/dmlPF6cKFsI/s1600/DSCN2025.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW-NBhgXrI/AAAAAAAAC1M/dmlPF6cKFsI/s400/DSCN2025.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491504451604733618" border="0" /></a><br />Singapore has a stellar river life. The river goes right into the financial heart of the city with dazzling outdoor cafes spotted alongside. The restaurants have hawkers trying to real you in to try their middle eastern cuisine or fresh seafood. My friend Brian and I decided on a nice little Sri Lankan restaurant set on the roof of a building. To one side was the river, to the other lit monuments set in the distance, and to the final side were Singapore's enormous skyscrapers that seemed close enough to reach out and grab. I ordered a tender skewered chicken that must had been marinating for weeks before they served it to me because it was the first time a piece of meat ever actually, and pardon the cliche, melted in my mouth.<br /><br />After dinner, Brian and I went to this 1920's retro wine bar. Being a Tuesday night, it was dead and we had the place to ourselves. The live band was playing and we had a 40 foot tall wine rack all to ourselves. "40 feet!" I can hear you exclaim. "But Michael, what if you wanted a wine from the top?" I am so glad you asked that. A young bar maid would dress up as an angel and get hooked into a harness and pulley system. The harness would then whisk her away as if she was floating like a real angel to bring our wine back from the heavens. It was certainly an angelic moment.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW9yGncAXI/AAAAAAAAC1E/LnxU76KXU6k/s1600/DSCN2039.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW9yGncAXI/AAAAAAAAC1E/LnxU76KXU6k/s400/DSCN2039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491503989115322738" border="0" /></a><br />The following day, after nursing our hangovers a bit (and still getting over our sore legs from climbing) we made our way down to Singapore's Chinatown. This area was a very important location to Brian and we spent the better part of the morning checking out the old streets. Today, the majority of the shops are pasteled over and sell tacky Chinese souvenirs. This didn't interest us much as we had all this stuff back in Taiwan.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW9xhuXtwI/AAAAAAAAC08/jmIIljVSpHQ/s1600/DSCN2046.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW9xhuXtwI/AAAAAAAAC08/jmIIljVSpHQ/s400/DSCN2046.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491503979212289794" border="0" /></a><br />The interesting part of Singapore's Chinatown was the Cultural Center which portrayed the daily life of the Chinese immigrant. It talked about why people left mainland China for a new life in Singapore, to the hardships endured by the newly arrived Chinese. The museum finished off with a restructured 19th century style home and shop that would be typical for working class family in Singapore. The conditions were like nothing I had ever seen.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW9xaiT2kI/AAAAAAAAC00/HTeRgngEir8/s1600/DSCN2055.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW9xaiT2kI/AAAAAAAAC00/HTeRgngEir8/s400/DSCN2055.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491503977282656834" border="0" /></a><br />I left Brian at this point and wandered over to Little India. This little quarter of Singapore contrasts starkly against the rest of the clean, ordered city. It was busy, noisy, messy, lively, exciting, thrilling, and dangerous all rolled into one.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW9wj9xhYI/AAAAAAAAC0s/FmJlspFDDFY/s1600/DSCN2064.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW9wj9xhYI/AAAAAAAAC0s/FmJlspFDDFY/s400/DSCN2064.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491503962633897346" border="0" /></a><br />I stopped and got an incredible lunch filled with delightful curries, nans, and creamed cheeses that were simply to die for. I've never been to India myself, but this is precisely how I imagine it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW9wNZtVSI/AAAAAAAAC0k/lsBDv9KFbxw/s1600/DSCN2068.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TDW9wNZtVSI/AAAAAAAAC0k/lsBDv9KFbxw/s400/DSCN2068.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491503956577047842" border="0" /></a><br />After Little India, I got back to the hotel and met up with Brian. I just got in from the largest electronics market in Asia. I collected my things and bid farewell to him. He decided to stay an extra day while I chose to catch an overnight train up to the rain forest in Taman Negara. I caught a cab, went through customs caught a dinner for the ride, and fell asleep as Singapore rushed passed me and the Malaysian Peninsula arrived.<br /><br />From your slingy, angel drinking, Sri Lankan Chicken or the city where you could eat off the streets, Michael.<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-41406551817553645672010-05-19T19:41:00.001-07:002010-06-25T20:20:05.604-07:00Mt. Kinabalu- On Top of Borneo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVviv40CfI/AAAAAAAAC0M/mNqnisW1jKE/s1600/100_0854.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVviv40CfI/AAAAAAAAC0M/mNqnisW1jKE/s320/100_0854.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486914363781810674" border="0" /></a>Imagine this: you wake up at 1am in the morning to climb the last stretch of the tallest mountain in Southeast Asia. The sun rises revealing one of the oldest jungles in the world much like a curtain giving way to the first act of a play. The view rivals that of astronauts looking on from space. You're 13,435 feet in the air sitting on the 20th tallest mountain in the world in terms of prominence. You have to ask yourself- how did you get up here? Well, that story starts about four months prior to this one. So please indulge me as I impress upon you some less than interesting back story to set the mood.<br /><br />Since coming to Asia, I have developed an unhealthy obsession with life threatening pursuits. One extreme component to that is hiking mountains over 4,000 meters tall. My first attempt was on Jade Mountain in central Taiwan. Our climb was dangerously interrupted when we found ourselves in a bit of a snow squall at the top and had to turn back. Inclement weather aside, I knew mountaineering would be a hobby of mine while residing in Asia.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVvbjkCO3I/AAAAAAAAC0E/Weue8tDPfyw/s1600/100_0593.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVvbjkCO3I/AAAAAAAAC0E/Weue8tDPfyw/s400/100_0593.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486914240214350706" border="0" /></a><br />A quick search showed that the tallest mountain in South East Asia is Mount Kinabalu in Borneo, Malaysia. At this height, it was a prize that had to be bagged. I sent out a message to my friends and told them that in four months time I was to fly out to Malaysia to tackle this beast and wanted to find out who would join me. Two friends heard the call and signed up along side. Two of us hit the gym every day preparing for the arduous climb that laid ahead.<br /><br />We arrived in Kota Kinabalu, the undisputed capital of Borneo that boast nothing more than an interesting seaside market with waterside restaurants and lazy street strolls. The city, though small and relatively lifeless, reminded me of a Manila that was kept up slightly better. When a nasty storm rolled in, we took refuge in a small "rain forest" cafe for some light lunch. When the rain passed, the cool air and swirling cloud patterns made for a comfortable stroll along the beach front, down to through the market and finally a pleasant rest along the waterfront at a seaside bar. The night retired early as we had a big day ahead of us.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVtsH-kXyI/AAAAAAAACzs/l0IMPd7BaaA/s1600/Malaysia+2010+029.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVtsH-kXyI/AAAAAAAACzs/l0IMPd7BaaA/s400/Malaysia+2010+029.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486912325843967778" border="0" /></a><br />At 6am, we were up and getting ready. Our ride picked us up from our stay in Kota Kinabalu for a two hour long ride through winding mountain roads in the Kinabalu national park. The road climbed into clouds, into sun, into the jungle until the behemoth appeared. Soaring high above anything else around it, Mt. Kinabalu's unmistakable peak jutted out from the earth like an immovable giant devoted to his final resting spot. We braked at a small market for a breakfast of cakes and noodles while we mentally prepared ourselves for the climb ahead.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVtrvNwppI/AAAAAAAACzk/0k6c76MwQTs/s1600/Malaysia+2010+048.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVtrvNwppI/AAAAAAAACzk/0k6c76MwQTs/s400/Malaysia+2010+048.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486912319196800658" border="0" /></a><br />About 30 minutes later, we arrived at the park entrance to Mt. Kinabalu and registered like good responsible hikers. Starting at about 1,500 meters high, we still had over 2 vertical kilometers of hiking ahead of us so it came at bit of a surprise when our friend who hadn't been working out shot out like a bullet ahead of us. But for every action there is a reaction and about 10 minutes into the climb, he hit a wall (for his part, he did much better going down than me)!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVsirAtwkI/AAAAAAAACzU/cVlB9durxNk/s1600/Malaysia+2010+082.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVsirAtwkI/AAAAAAAACzU/cVlB9durxNk/s400/Malaysia+2010+082.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486911063937892930" border="0" /></a><br />The climb up was long and surprisingly steep. In comparison to Jade Mountain in Taiwan, which has a nice switchback trail system, Mt. Kinabalu was a straight up StairMaster buster of a trail with boulders to climb galore.<br /><br />The trail was riddled with interesting flora and fauna, some unique only to Mt. Kinabalu. As one of the most biologically diversified ecosystems in the world, I was in a naturalist's playpen with many vibrant aviary species, flora and fauna, and my favorite, lichen (I know, I am so interesting). But the most interesting plant species we came across had to be the pitcher plant which acts quite like a Venus fly trap in that it catches it's prey in it's jaws and then releases an acidic acid to digest the insect within.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVsiGidcoI/AAAAAAAACzM/2nZsKfKvoOw/s1600/Malaysia+2010+072.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVsiGidcoI/AAAAAAAACzM/2nZsKfKvoOw/s400/Malaysia+2010+072.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486911054147318402" border="0" /></a><br />Around three PM on the first day, we reached base camp which is called Laban Rata. Surprisingly, this was an amazing accommodation with working bathrooms and showers, a three stay quality lodge with buffet dining and a magnificent lodge overlooking the land below. It reminded me of being in an old time lodge in a New England Ski resort- it was absolutely lovely. After dinner, the three of us sat on the porch viewing the sunset where we met a very good, new friend. His name was Matias from Argentina and he was out travelling in Asia on his own. We were above the clouds at this point, so we were looking out over a see of white, making out shapes in the cloud from the top looking down. There were dogs, star ship cruisers, and other delightful shapes in the stratosphere that night. It was again an early night because of the dreadfully tiring climb up to the top and because were were starting our climb the next day at 1am in the morning.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVqbI_vjkI/AAAAAAAACyU/XHpwRJN-B9s/s1600/Malaysia+2010+284.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVqbI_vjkI/AAAAAAAACyU/XHpwRJN-B9s/s400/Malaysia+2010+284.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486908735524671042" border="0" /></a><br />It's amazing how quickly 1am comes when you're climbing a mountain. But in the excitement of ascending to the top of the world, you aren't too groggy at that time. We woke up, had some porridge and grains to give us energy for a rather high climb ahead of us. As we donned our warmest winter clothes (preparing for near freezing temperatures so close to the equator), strapped our torches to our heads, we were on our way.<br /><br />The first things you notice at this high in the middle of the jungle are the stars. Coming from a densely populated city in the Taiwan, you aren't privilege to see the stars often, so being able to watch Orion's belt circling above you brings you back to a time of childhood, when you grew up on the small suburban street far away from the bustle of the city and the stars were as common a neighbor as the family living next door.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVshKtT-GI/AAAAAAAACy8/4xEotFd3168/s1600/Malaysia+2010+168.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVshKtT-GI/AAAAAAAACy8/4xEotFd3168/s400/Malaysia+2010+168.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486911038086707298" border="0" /></a><br />The hike soon turned from lush tropical to what could only be described as the surface of the moon. It was a barren rock landscape that seemed to run on forever. The air was thin, the night was dark and the temperatures were cold- needless to say it was not an simple stroll. At one point, I will admit that I the thin air took it's toll. One more step felt like it was going to push me down the mountainside. I stopped, breathed slowly and drank some water. After about five minutes I regained my composure and pressed on up the mountain.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVxsoHuUGI/AAAAAAAAC0c/9c_6ojUJeK8/s1600/DSC08558.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVxsoHuUGI/AAAAAAAAC0c/9c_6ojUJeK8/s400/DSC08558.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486916732518813794" border="0" /></a><br />Rejoining my friends, we made the final scramble up the last few steps only to find that there was only one other person at the top of the world with us- Matias!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVsgWwwXhI/AAAAAAAACy0/6Udis30X4Hc/s1600/Malaysia+2010+172.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVsgWwwXhI/AAAAAAAACy0/6Udis30X4Hc/s400/Malaysia+2010+172.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486911024142507538" border="0" /></a><br />Over the far end of the horizon, the faintest tint of light barely separated the edge of the earth from the sky. The sun was still about an hour away from making an appearance, leaving the found of us on the tip top of the summit to take in the dazzling sky show and the sense of accomplishment that we climbed Southeast Asia's highest mountain.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVqcuU7gMI/AAAAAAAACys/K2cls8WpXcU/s1600/Malaysia+2010+237.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVqcuU7gMI/AAAAAAAACys/K2cls8WpXcU/s400/Malaysia+2010+237.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486908762725515458" border="0" /></a><br />Before long, the quiet light slowly intensified, like God was gently turning on the dimmer light over Borneo. Jagged clouds formed in the distance and smaller peaks were taking form along the ground. As the dark images eschewed themselves, our sense of height really made itself clear- we were looking down from space.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVwO0o-iGI/AAAAAAAAC0U/dLNnkn6zXGQ/s1600/Malaysia+2010+243.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVwO0o-iGI/AAAAAAAAC0U/dLNnkn6zXGQ/s400/Malaysia+2010+243.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486915120971810914" border="0" /></a><br />As we began our descent, the dark barren wasteland of the climb up revealed itself to be a rocky playground, a moonscape of indescribable formations that seemed out of this world. It was sharp and ragged at its finer details, but also flowing and smooth in a grander sense. The mountain revealed herself to be striking and staunch, everything we had hoped.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVqcI7ccXI/AAAAAAAACyk/He1ouwa0xhs/s1600/Malaysia+2010+258.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVqcI7ccXI/AAAAAAAACyk/He1ouwa0xhs/s400/Malaysia+2010+258.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486908752686510450" border="0" /></a><br />Before climbing this behemoth, we had a decision to make on how we wanted to get down. I suggested something called the Via Feratta, or Iron Road, to get down and my friends immediately jumped at the opportunity with me. The Via Feratta is a essentially an obstacle course that goes down a cliff side starting at 3,800 meters high (which, for those of you keeping score at home, officially makes it the worlds tallest Via Ferrata).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVqbtuHhiI/AAAAAAAACyc/zDnycHar67s/s1600/Malaysia+2010+279.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVqbtuHhiI/AAAAAAAACyc/zDnycHar67s/s400/Malaysia+2010+279.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486908745382856226" border="0" /></a><br />Imagine this, you're in a harness, hooked onto some wires (barely) and shimmying your way down a vertical cliff side above a tens of thousands foot free fall. The adrenaline is pumping as one wrong move would give you the fright of a lifetime. The obstacle course took us along ridges, over the world's highest suspension bridge (that's right, if you want to see the world's highest, you have a bit of a climb ahead of you), down straight edges, through jungles, over rocks, and everywhere in between. All the while, there is a massive free fall between you and the ground 3 vertical kilometers below you. At least you would have plenty of time during the fall to review your improper footing and determine just where you went wrong.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVqaYKIDmI/AAAAAAAACyM/0_KBqrwUVTc/s1600/Malaysia+2010+295.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVqaYKIDmI/AAAAAAAACyM/0_KBqrwUVTc/s400/Malaysia+2010+295.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486908722414882402" border="0" /></a><br />At the conclusion of the Via Ferrata, we regrouped for lunch at the "resort" and began our long trek down the mountain side to civilization. For those that think going down is easier than going up- you are dead wrong. I have never been in so much pain in my entire life as I was going down that mountain side- there must have been at least ten differently succinct pains running through my body. But persevere I did and in five short hours I made it back. We received our certificates of completion, slept for the two hour car ride back to Kota Kinabalu, got some delicious dinner at a local canteen and finished it off with a foot massage at a local shop to heal our aching feet/calves/thighs.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVshh-NreI/AAAAAAAACzE/jrumNDkMLoA/s1600/Malaysia+2010+126.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/TCVshh-NreI/AAAAAAAACzE/jrumNDkMLoA/s400/Malaysia+2010+126.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486911044331613666" border="0" /></a><br />From your acrobatic swinger high above the clouds in the land of Borneo- Michael.<br /><br /><br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-86428736565657200922010-04-18T07:37:00.001-07:002010-05-21T02:58:31.982-07:00A Photoessay of Motorcycle Trips<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">I would like to share with you some photography taken on some recent motorcycle trips taken throughout my last few months in Taiwan. And yes, photo essay is just another term for "I'm too lazy to write anything". Enjoy!<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZZB7Xc03I/AAAAAAAACxk/Jp3lLSvNDko/s1600/DSCN1587.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZZB7Xc03I/AAAAAAAACxk/Jp3lLSvNDko/s400/DSCN1587.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473660286766207858" border="0" /></a>A View from the Top of Pingxi<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZYLoWh4mI/AAAAAAAACxE/ATM5GSOtdCk/s1600/DSCN1600.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZYLoWh4mI/AAAAAAAACxE/ATM5GSOtdCk/s400/DSCN1600.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473659353949135458" border="0" /></a>Fish Market near Toucheng<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZYM_8S5QI/AAAAAAAACxc/s3GWEDwslkE/s1600/DSCN1585.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZYM_8S5QI/AAAAAAAACxc/s3GWEDwslkE/s400/DSCN1585.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473659377461421314" border="0" /></a>Jessica and Katelin Practice Kungfu near Kwan Yin Dripping Water Cave<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZYMkMcllI/AAAAAAAACxU/3KP56rrCX_s/s1600/DSCN1579.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZYMkMcllI/AAAAAAAACxU/3KP56rrCX_s/s400/DSCN1579.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473659370012972626" border="0" /></a>Jessica and Katelin break for Lunch at the Graffiti Wall<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZXYd2yUMI/AAAAAAAACwc/swR25ccrtl4/s1600/DSCN1682.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZXYd2yUMI/AAAAAAAACwc/swR25ccrtl4/s400/DSCN1682.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473658474958311618" border="0" /></a>Katelin Looking Out over the Pacific Ocean from Jinshan<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZXaLq_QZI/AAAAAAAACw8/Ds0QEUTc8EY/s1600/DSCN1605.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZXaLq_QZI/AAAAAAAACw8/Ds0QEUTc8EY/s400/DSCN1605.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473658504436728210" border="0" /></a>A Wedding at the Golden Waterfall<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZXZlxDg_I/AAAAAAAACw0/8o936hggEA8/s1600/DSCN1637.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZXZlxDg_I/AAAAAAAACw0/8o936hggEA8/s400/DSCN1637.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473658494261625842" border="0" /></a>Steve Contemplates his Life's Direction While Looking Really Cool<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZXY-gCcDI/AAAAAAAACwk/3a0g8oYM5wU/s1600/DSCN1667.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZXY-gCcDI/AAAAAAAACwk/3a0g8oYM5wU/s400/DSCN1667.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473658483721269298" border="0" /></a>Steve Looking out Over Baishawan Beach<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZXZSQ-rPI/AAAAAAAACws/VGv7L4-Yelo/s1600/DSCN1610.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_ZXZSQ-rPI/AAAAAAAACws/VGv7L4-Yelo/s400/DSCN1610.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473658489026817266" border="0" /></a>A Sea of Clouds Settles over Northern Taipei<br /></div><br /><br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-89119123731343811892010-03-23T20:11:00.000-07:002010-05-19T20:29:14.141-07:00The Northern Cross Island Highway<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_Ssd0UJObI/AAAAAAAACwU/5-I7-IV11-I/s1600/DSCN1572.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_Ssd0UJObI/AAAAAAAACwU/5-I7-IV11-I/s320/DSCN1572.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473189075421313458" border="0" /></a>Taiwan is crossed by three main arteries from East to West. On my major bike ride around the island, I did the entire Southern Cross Island Highway and half of the Central Cross Island Highway, but I did not even touch the Northern Cross Island Highway. I had been planning to do the Northern with my friend Steve on a weekend trip only to find out he already did it... in a day! Not to be outdone by my good friend/ arch nemesis, I decided I would have to take off for the Northern as well.<br /><div><br /></div><div> </div><div>I woke up early on a Saturday morning and put all my essentials into one basket. I got my atlas of Taiwan, water, locks, rain jacket, gloves, helmet, snacks and a hunger for the open road. I went downstairs to the local Taiwanese breakfast joint near my house and ordered my Zwa Bing and hot tea, per usual before a bike trip. I chatted briefly with the shop keep about what I was intending on doing that day, and like all Taiwanese, she thought I was crazy. I'm used to that by now.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_Smzg7AN8I/AAAAAAAACvs/YdJGAfDxWS0/s1600/DSCN1568.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_Smzg7AN8I/AAAAAAAACvs/YdJGAfDxWS0/s400/DSCN1568.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473182851102947266" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div> </div><div>Well, the sun was coming out and I put on my gear, revved up my bike and headed south toward Xindian. I followed route 110 down to Sanxia, which is a quaint and delightful little drive if I have ever seen one! After reaching Sanxia, it was a quick turn over to route 3 and finally route 7 and the start of the Northern Cross Island Highway.<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div>Immediately starting out, there is an offramp that goes into a nature park. It seems to follow the river a bit and had I more time, I would probably explore that pathway. But continue on the road I did and my views weren't spoiled by that missed turnoff. The river waves and the road turns around bends and cliff sides, climbing through small towns before entering the mountains completely.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_Sm1BFOlzI/AAAAAAAACwE/P_7oPnW4Etw/s1600/DSCN1553.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_Sm1BFOlzI/AAAAAAAACwE/P_7oPnW4Etw/s400/DSCN1553.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473182876915636018" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div> </div>The Northern Cross Island highway begins in Dasi, not far from Taoyuan really and a great day trip for those interested. Home to some quaint old streets and traditional Taiwanese snacks, this was a delightful starting point to my journey into the tip of the central cordillera. Dasi is also quite close to Chiang Kai Shek's burial place, and momument sprawling with visitors and tourists alike. Going past this little momento of presidents gone by, the traffic let up tremendously leaving me on a small, one lane road in Taiwan. Hardly a highway by any stretch of the imagination.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_Smz2oRYnI/AAAAAAAACv0/idsBkRu8ink/s1600/DSCN1558.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_Smz2oRYnI/AAAAAAAACv0/idsBkRu8ink/s400/DSCN1558.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473182856929960562" border="0" /></a><br /><div>At this point, you are squarely in the mountain range of central Taiwan, and there is no turning back. Here and there, the trip is paused for a roadside picture or a little hut with food. My favorite picture spot was at this enormous purple bridge, just next to an antique, pedestrian red suspension bridge. Shortly after, I too found a nice little hut on the side of the road worthy of stopping for a baozi and fried rice.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_Sm0RCM_SI/AAAAAAAACv8/9aNkgmSJp2w/s1600/DSCN1556.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_Sm0RCM_SI/AAAAAAAACv8/9aNkgmSJp2w/s400/DSCN1556.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473182864018046242" border="0" /></a><br />The afternoon saw no rain and plenty of sunshine. The air was dry and cool, a nice change for Taiwan indeed! The road went high and low, left and right, upside down and inside out before finally stretching out into Ilan. At this point I was basically home free as I have driven to Ilan on many occasion before. After take a break to rest my sore butt, I climbed back on and drove back into the rolling mountains and tea plantations of Pingling.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_SmzDYUC9I/AAAAAAAACvk/qYZ_KAfH2H4/s1600/DSCN1576.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S_SmzDYUC9I/AAAAAAAACvk/qYZ_KAfH2H4/s400/DSCN1576.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473182843172817874" border="0" /></a><br />A full, 6-8 hour bike ride at least (with minimal stopping) but one that should not be passed up by any motorcyclist living in the Taipei area. A simple, elegant and entertaining ride with little technical difficulties. From your man in the clouds, biker of the North, Michael.<br /><!--Session data--></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-20537478035888669002010-03-17T19:51:00.001-07:002010-04-18T07:59:28.759-07:00Tuesdays On the House<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S8scfy1HtLI/AAAAAAAAB3E/ByMWeIcmb_c/s1600/24780_689234891817_122605005_40882607_5573844_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S8scfy1HtLI/AAAAAAAAB3E/ByMWeIcmb_c/s320/24780_689234891817_122605005_40882607_5573844_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461490305662956722" border="0" /></a>While taking Chinese lessons two hours every day Monday through Friday, I found spending time with friends during the week a rare occurrence. Maybe a late evening here or there, or the occasional typhoon day allotted some moments to meet up. But it wasn't until I finally stopped studying full time that I found a more balanced schedule to study, work, exercise, and be with friends.<br /><br />One special day of the week for me is Tuesday night, when two friends of mine, Jessica and Katelin, join me at my apartment to watch the most recent episode of House, MD. I am not much of a TV watcher and this is in fact the only show I watch, so it's nice to share this common interest with two good friends.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S8sd-Dh5UBI/AAAAAAAAB3M/gbeUhWXrQE0/s1600/DSCN1665.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S8sd-Dh5UBI/AAAAAAAAB3M/gbeUhWXrQE0/s400/DSCN1665.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461491925053427730" border="0" /></a><br />Well, the midseason pause came up and without a new show to occupy our interests each week, we decided that we should go out and try a different restaurant instead. Our culinary explorations took us to new and exciting eateries throughout town. We have frequented the posh and ultra hip People Restaurant and Lounge where you need to stick your hand in a hole to open the door. We have had the famous noodles of a Tainan noodle maker. We have dined in some traditional "little eats" restaurants around town, including the one near my apartment, Din Tai Fung, and most recently a Dim Sum restaurant close to the colorful combat zone (for Dr. Jessica). And last Tuesday night we stayed in and failed miserably at trying to make our own dumplings from scratch!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S8sd-qpuGTI/AAAAAAAAB3U/WGyqWXQO0lo/s1600/DSCN1664.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S8sd-qpuGTI/AAAAAAAAB3U/WGyqWXQO0lo/s400/DSCN1664.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461491935555230002" border="0" /></a><br />This Tuesday will mark the final dining excursion of this intrepid trio as Jessica will be heading for colder climates back in NYC. We intend to embark on a small bike ride to the tea plantations just south of the city in Maokong. With Tea Fried Rice, the best tofu you could ever hope for and views of downtown Taipei that are unmatched, it will be a fitting sendoff and proper finale to our Tuesday night gatherings.<br /><br />From your Tuesday night fatso, Michael.<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-66192237283191304022010-03-04T07:24:00.001-08:002010-03-28T19:26:03.749-07:00The Beehive Rockets<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AML2Pv8YI/AAAAAAAAB20/hC-BtuVW2t0/s1600/DSCN1468.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AML2Pv8YI/AAAAAAAAB20/hC-BtuVW2t0/s320/DSCN1468.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453872546425336194" border="0" /></a>Ever year on the Lantern Festival in a small town just north of Tainan called Yanshuei, local residents pour into the streets to fire rockets. No, this isn't a centuries old feud or a localized war zone, it's just an ancient remedy for healing the blues. In modern times, the celebration is used to ring in the final days of the Chinese New Year celebration. In Taipei, sky lanterns are released into the heavens while in Yanshuei it's a free-for-all rocket extravaganza bound to wake up the neighbors. In the next city over.<br /><br />Eight intrepid volunteers, not quite understanding what we were in for, congregated at 7.30am outside Taipei Main Station on a Sunday morning ready to board a bus that would take us to the other side of the island. Coffees in hand, The China Post folded squarely under our arms, we hopped aboard and set forth on a five hour bus ride to Yanshuei. We arrived in the town just a little after noon, with still enough time to explore this unique village.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AIwSCwsrI/AAAAAAAAB2s/5AFMdlEakO8/s1600/DSCN1382.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AIwSCwsrI/AAAAAAAAB2s/5AFMdlEakO8/s400/DSCN1382.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453868774315831986" border="0" /></a><br />Yanshuei's fortunate proximity to Taiwan's former capital, Tainan, allows this village to boast some truly extraordinary architectural relics. We were able to tour some splendid homes, venerable temples, and one unique and antiquated "old street".<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AHlP3zNiI/AAAAAAAAB2E/uGEIVJpQYU4/s1600/DSCN1436.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AHlP3zNiI/AAAAAAAAB2E/uGEIVJpQYU4/s400/DSCN1436.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453867485242799650" border="0" /></a><br />This old street was a short but windy stretch of cobblestone street lined with wooden structures dating back hundreds of years. Some were opened to the public with old fashioned Chinese goods decorating the inner halls. The highlight was a still functioning blacksmith that was out on the street producing his wares for onlookers to witness.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AGaYLg1ZI/AAAAAAAAB10/s_1pRs1YL50/s1600/DSCN1439.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AGaYLg1ZI/AAAAAAAAB10/s_1pRs1YL50/s400/DSCN1439.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453866198982776210" border="0" /></a><br />Around the corner was a unique structure- a mansion house of sorts made entirely of wood. The layout of the grounds reminded us of a wooden temple. Inside housed some contemporary and classical Chinese art which made for a rather surreal experience.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AHlW201KI/AAAAAAAAB2M/6lbN7BfJJcY/s1600/DSCN1418.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AHlW201KI/AAAAAAAAB2M/6lbN7BfJJcY/s400/DSCN1418.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453867487117759650" border="0" /></a><br />The city itself was lined with quaint old buidlings mixed with modern ones, making for some rather pleasant strolls around town. The temple of Guan Gong was perhaps the most densely populated with worshippers coming from all walks of life to pray. The temple was decorated with bright, warm colors, while heavy looming incense burned through the air.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AHmw6Z_eI/AAAAAAAAB2k/2peKnNL5jtw/s1600/DSCN1395.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AHmw6Z_eI/AAAAAAAAB2k/2peKnNL5jtw/s400/DSCN1395.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453867511291968994" border="0" /></a><br />But the lighthearted strolls through the city were suddenly halted with a preminisence of things to come- a rare glimpse into what was to be displayed later in the evening. As we were walking, we noticed a group of people bunching into a tented area taking pictures and murmuring amongst themselves. We walked up to the crowed and peered into the canopied structure: inside we finally saw our first Beehive Rocket Structure.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AHmXHcFrI/AAAAAAAAB2c/l_gle7MbXjw/s1600/DSCN1402.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AHmXHcFrI/AAAAAAAAB2c/l_gle7MbXjw/s400/DSCN1402.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453867504367310514" border="0" /></a><br />As far as beehive rockets go, this one would be considered small to medium sized. It's height was about one "me" and a half, and it's length was roughly equivalent to that of a car. It had about 15 or 20 rows of little rockets stacked neatly next to one another. All in all, there were thousands of rockets on this contraption. All we could do was look at this and say, they're gonna shoot those at us? What?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AHl-q5pXI/AAAAAAAAB2U/bsvFsIUG8E8/s1600/DSCN1406.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AHl-q5pXI/AAAAAAAAB2U/bsvFsIUG8E8/s400/DSCN1406.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453867497805161842" border="0" /></a><br />Oh, right, did I forget to mention that the rockets are shot at the crowds rather than up in the sky? That's an important detail and I think it should be mentiond. Yes, these little puppies are lit on the tail end and then go buzzing into the jumping spectators and burn, srape and explode all over the crowd. That is why we were instructed to bring safety equipment with us.<br /><br />As the sun was setting and the festivities were starting, we returned back to the bus to don our evening armor. We had to wear a non flammable winter jacket (in 90 degree heat no less), a full faced helmet with a towel fastened around our neck, gloves, long pants, and shoes. Not a millimeter of skin was exposed. Dressed like knights, we strolled into the starting gates where waterfalls of fireworks were raining down. My friend and I danced back and forth through what was probably melted iron as far as we knew, until finally the first bee hive rocket appeared.<br /><br />As the fuse was lit, everyone started jumping up and down. Initially I thought this was to prevent rockets from hitting you head on. (For some strange reason when rockets are being fired at you, your initial reaction is to jump up and down.) But actually, the jumping is part of the history of the festival. In years gone by, namely in the middle ages, southern Taiwan was struck with the plague. With no proper medicine to handle the epidemic, the local townspeople resorted to explosives. In what I can only imagine to be a primitive display of bombs going off around the locals, the idea was to jump up and down and shake out the bad spirits causing the plague. Evidently the ritual was a success and the bad spirits are warded off annually with loud noises and TNT.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AGZ-A6EDI/AAAAAAAAB1s/nePP5URQEuI/s1600/DSCN1478.JPG"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyx03SHdaMMdLPmsoTwMoKtwozT4Hs_WAd84DZKr9uFSgP-fLwGPeDQQN0UuHo_o5L_paYPrrcqMPcJ2DC_9w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Well, the festival began. Not knowing what was going on, and thousands of Taiwanese jumping around me, I had no choice but to jump along with them. And without warning, along came the rockets. They whizzed by me, sounding like a firefly pumped up on amphetamines and PCP. On rather frequent instances, the rocket would land on you and, what do rockets do? They explode! So, you would be standing there, crammed in with jumping Asians, dressed in full winter gear in the summer heat being bombarded by rockets exploding all around you. It was easy to lose your orientation and just wonder how you got in the predicament you were in. Realization soon came upon you that retreat was impossible.<br /><br />After a minute or so of this barrage, the crowd went on the move. Essentially the crowd would parade through the streets and anticipating shop keeps would bring out their beehive rocket cages and fire upon the crowd. After some aimless parading, the mob came to a halt. At this point, people set off loud firecrackers in the streets while the firework waterfalls went off in two separate locations. It's as if they were corralling us into a ranch like cattle. Well, after about fifteen minutes of these boomers going off, a silence fell upon a crowd. And then, with much suspense, an enormous garage door opened slowly and the darkly lit room inside did not reveal what was in store. The crowd watch on in hushed anticipation, as if King Kong himself were to come storming out and wreak havoc on the streets. But the reality was much worse.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AGZ-A6EDI/AAAAAAAAB1s/nePP5URQEuI/s1600/DSCN1478.JPG"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwsGDAhg0S82jRQxmvWjEeKLvkA_1BPugjPcmwqF0EkS5O1UxdL5Q0H6TWdbS9DZLFgXXaH1X8CkPwsJpP6' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></a></div><br />From the depth of the shadows emerged a contraption so large, so complex, it put all notions of previous beehive fireworks to shame. There, parting the crowd in two, stood a beehive firework box the size of a mac truck, loaded with tens of thousands of rockets aim directly at us. Being only about ten feet away from the behemoth I knew I was in for a dangerously close encounter with the beast. If this thing couldn't ward off the bad spirits, I don't know what could.<br /><br />What followed was a good twenty minutes of continued rockets flying, bouncing, exploding and all of the above all around you. This puppy was the reason my body was covered in bruises and burns when the night was out. It finished with an impressive firework display of setting off even larger rockets into the night sky. After a good half hour of this, and drenched in sweat, we decided a recuperation period was needed to nurse the wounds inflicted by this behemoth. Speaking of injury, perhaps the most interesting was one rocket found it's way up into my friend's helmet and burnt a little hole in his hair!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AGZ-A6EDI/AAAAAAAAB1s/nePP5URQEuI/s1600/DSCN1478.JPG"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwswz5KwzzWXyWGnT67z1GjtY9qZ4KLA5W7oS6Kc3woFQCs1g7h2IYirm3c1dukH2yW-9d20GvshyWT9U73rQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></a><br /></div><br />At this time, we met up with another friend who wisely slept in and took a train down to meet us. We put on our gear, caught back up with the parade, and jumped with the best of them. The remaining rocket cages ranged in sizes from a refrigerator to a compact car; but each one placed one hell of a punch. It should be noted in the photos that some of our clothing obtained small burned holes. One interesting anecdote was came after a particularly close encounter with a set of rockets. As I was walking away, my friend started patting the back of my head. I asked him what he was doing and he said my back was on fire. I told him to continue putting it out. As he was doing this, someone was behind him patting him on the head too. Turns out he was on fire as well!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AGYjDtSkI/AAAAAAAAB1c/rBM2-MjDEwc/s1600/DSCN1483.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AGYjDtSkI/AAAAAAAAB1c/rBM2-MjDEwc/s400/DSCN1483.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453866167543089730" border="0" /></a><br />The night was a complete riot of an evening. It was like bombs were going off at every turn. Sometimes fireworks would misfire and explode in the street, and those really smart when they hit next to you. Ambulances were going off all night, and we stopped counting after ten. But I think the most remarkable aspect of the evening was that, in a town with such historical old buildings all made of wood, it's a wonder that it hasn't burned down yet.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AGZ-A6EDI/AAAAAAAAB1s/nePP5URQEuI/s1600/DSCN1478.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S7AGZ-A6EDI/AAAAAAAAB1s/nePP5URQEuI/s400/DSCN1478.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453866191958970418" border="0" /></a><br />From your plauge shaking, pyro blasting, fire smoking beehive rocket knight of Yanshuei, Michael.<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-77519765341671121552010-03-02T06:11:00.000-08:002010-03-07T03:49:36.173-08:00The Year of the Tiger<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5OQ3Kr5AfI/AAAAAAAAB0U/rUdm54VurJc/s1600-h/DSCN1498.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5OQ3Kr5AfI/AAAAAAAAB0U/rUdm54VurJc/s320/DSCN1498.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445855651856712178" border="0" /></a>It is effect- ively my third Chinese New Year here in Taiwan. It also marked probably the worst week of weather I have ever seen. First- everybody didn't have to work this week except me. Second- everybody left Taipei so I was stuck in this city by myself. And third- It was nothing but downpours of rain, constantly, 24 hours a day, every day of the week. It was the Perfect Storm.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5ORxDQxJ_I/AAAAAAAAB0c/1b02x0Sk1Ro/s1600-h/DSCN1540.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5ORxDQxJ_I/AAAAAAAAB0c/1b02x0Sk1Ro/s400/DSCN1540.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445856646296315890" border="0" /></a><br />But the cold weather outside wasn't indicative of the warmth celebrated with my family for the second year in a row over in Banciao. I met up with Yuhsin's sister, her parents, brother and sister-in-law and their new daughter Jacqueline, and her two neices whom I absolutely adore. The evening started nice enough- I arrived just in time for dinner. On the menu was the whole fish (which is not eaten) white carrots, jellyfish, chinese coldcuts like sausage and fisheggs, bamboo and turnip soup, etc. I tried it all and they were delicious.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5ORx0JjS9I/AAAAAAAAB0k/nOHKu9AuEPk/s1600-h/DSCN1537.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5ORx0JjS9I/AAAAAAAAB0k/nOHKu9AuEPk/s400/DSCN1537.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445856659419384786" border="0" /></a><br />After dinner, we retired to the living room where we played a dice and punishment game. (Taiwanese love punishments! Basically, you can't just "lose" a game, you have to be punished as well.) The game was played simply, there were a set of die underneath a bowl and only one person knew the number underneath. The rest of the group had to guess numbers and whoever guessed the number was punished. Basically, if you won, you really lost! For the punishment, there was a box with a number of compartments- think ice tray. Then on top of this ice-tray like box was a paper covering. You poked through the paper and inside the compartment was a piece of paper containing your punishment. The punishments consisted of varying degrees of tourture- including giving massages, pushups, and smelling baby diapers.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5ORyQHJcuI/AAAAAAAAB0s/0SkX2dnU-pY/s1600-h/DSCN1535.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5ORyQHJcuI/AAAAAAAAB0s/0SkX2dnU-pY/s400/DSCN1535.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445856666925495010" border="0" /></a><br />After the punishment game, we broke out the karaoke. I impressed everyone which my only Chinese song I can karaoke which is called "Freedom" in Chinese. There was also a deck of card so we played some card games and I dazzled the youngsters with my magic tricks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5ORzd70gcI/AAAAAAAAB00/BN0iXxaH9L8/s1600-h/DSCN1530.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5ORzd70gcI/AAAAAAAAB00/BN0iXxaH9L8/s400/DSCN1530.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445856687815950786" border="0" /></a><br />Chinese New Year culminates about 15 days after the new year celebration with the Lantern Festival. Every year, Sun Yat Sen Memorial Hall and City Hall host a number of lantern sculptures to ring in the new year. This year the theme was, of course, the tiger and the lantern sculptures resprestend that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5OR0joiWtI/AAAAAAAAB08/Ks53UJLp9kE/s1600-h/DSCN1517.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5OR0joiWtI/AAAAAAAAB08/Ks53UJLp9kE/s400/DSCN1517.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445856706525551314" border="0" /></a><br />In the center of the sculpture gardens is a giant tiger which lights up, spins and goes along with music. The tiger, cartoonish in nature, is giving the thumbs up. When first conceived, however, the angles on the hand were a bit misleading and it appeared that instead of the tiger giving a thumbs up, it looked like it was flipping the bird. As an event for families, the sculpture was of course revised.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5OSjiGs7ZI/AAAAAAAAB1M/8JFnKSRf5-Q/s1600-h/DSCN1502.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S5OSjiGs7ZI/AAAAAAAAB1M/8JFnKSRf5-Q/s400/DSCN1502.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445857513569054098" border="0" /></a><br />Alas, thus culminates my third Chinese New Year in Taiwan. I have to say, this was probably the best one yet. Although, it could have been made better had my cousins Stevie and Yuhsin, and their daughter Tia come as well. From your rrrrrrrroooooooooaaaaaaarrrrrrr, Michael.<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-88713940311143321962010-02-26T22:59:00.001-08:002010-03-02T06:44:15.488-08:00Charlie and the Dumpling Factory<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40kASaZ3nI/AAAAAAAAB0E/rndRO6tc9qU/s1600-h/100_7077.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40kASaZ3nI/AAAAAAAAB0E/rndRO6tc9qU/s320/100_7077.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444047111921983090" border="0" /></a>When you think of the signature voice, you think of Frank Sinatra. When you think of signature cigars, you don't think too far from Havana. Now, when you think of signature Chinese cuisine, if your in Asia, think Din Tai Fung. I have written numerous posts about the quality and scrumptious taste of their dishes, so I don't need to get into that in too much detail. Instead, today I got a first hand glimpse of the behind the scene magic that goes into each and every dumpling.<br /><br />I arrived at the primary store in Taipei and met up with the owner of the company. Along with two other American girls (relatives of the owner) and the CEO of Burger King (bizarre, I know), we piled into his private car and were chaufeurred over to the central kitchen in Yonghe, about 30 minutes away.<br /><br />Upon arriving at the central kitchen, we were promptly shown into the small temple in the office where we briefly prayed, in Chinese called "bai bai". After which, we donned masks, hairnets, boots, and smocks that made us look like we were being prepared for a tour of a nuclear facility rather than a food factory.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40jGAMVOyI/AAAAAAAABz8/e4YYhsIC_Yw/s1600-h/100_7041.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40jGAMVOyI/AAAAAAAABz8/e4YYhsIC_Yw/s400/100_7041.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444046110598708002" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Our first stop was the dumpling room. Actually, the first stop was the disinfecting room leading into the dumpling room. Only two people were allowed into this room which was essentially a giant vaccum cleaner followed by a sink adjacent to a disinfectant pool. If we weren't clean already, we were now!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40jEX3DeXI/AAAAAAAABzk/eXMDBlsJ1bI/s1600-h/100_7058.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40jEX3DeXI/AAAAAAAABzk/eXMDBlsJ1bI/s400/100_7058.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444046082592176498" border="0" /></a><br />We then entered into the dumpling room where we saw the doughs rolled and the meats packed. It was like watching a dream come true, seeing all these dumplings at once.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40jFnVeLMI/AAAAAAAABz0/mvsZnYCX9nk/s1600-h/100_7043.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40jFnVeLMI/AAAAAAAABz0/mvsZnYCX9nk/s400/100_7043.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444046103926156482" border="0" /></a><br />After that it was over to the noodle room. The owner doesn't trust other noodle makers to make his noodles for him, so he makes his own!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40jE7dsjRI/AAAAAAAABzs/aOddH-vtqjM/s1600-h/100_7051.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40jE7dsjRI/AAAAAAAABzs/aOddH-vtqjM/s400/100_7051.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444046092149493010" border="0" /></a><br />Here are some more shots from around the factory, including shipping, basket storring, meet preparation, EVA Airline preparation, and specialty prep.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40ih4KuFfI/AAAAAAAABy8/eF2k6PQ460k/s1600-h/100_7076.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40ih4KuFfI/AAAAAAAABy8/eF2k6PQ460k/s400/100_7076.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444045489969174002" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40ikV1XhXI/AAAAAAAABzc/w4KJS9LvxdQ/s1600-h/100_7061.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40ikV1XhXI/AAAAAAAABzc/w4KJS9LvxdQ/s400/100_7061.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444045532292416882" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40ij0exY1I/AAAAAAAABzU/lrp8mLpI0Z0/s1600-h/100_7064.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40ij0exY1I/AAAAAAAABzU/lrp8mLpI0Z0/s400/100_7064.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444045523339273042" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40ijGkLRqI/AAAAAAAABzM/5vv8kH8t7_A/s1600-h/100_7069.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40ijGkLRqI/AAAAAAAABzM/5vv8kH8t7_A/s400/100_7069.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444045511013910178" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40iinB1byI/AAAAAAAABzE/Gl--JBuEONQ/s1600-h/100_7067.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S40iinB1byI/AAAAAAAABzE/Gl--JBuEONQ/s400/100_7067.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444045502548373282" border="0" /></a><br />A man who believes in cleanliness was present all day. The factory had more cleanliness regulations than you could imagine and you can rest easy knowing you are getting the cleanest, freshest food possible when eating at Din Tai Fung. From your golden ticket holder, Michael.<br /><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7445141763108110730.post-4928865538529522812010-02-18T16:50:00.001-08:002010-02-26T23:48:31.006-08:00Surfin' Bird<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S4jOAv68sjI/AAAAAAAABy0/IVI6YOBTxBc/s1600-h/100_7770.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S4jOAv68sjI/AAAAAAAABy0/IVI6YOBTxBc/s320/100_7770.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442826661936280114" border="0" /></a>I have never surfed before, but I have wanted to try it for a long time. Taiwan is home to some of the best surf in the world and as a result, boasts some really excellent surfing communities all around the island. For those in Taipei, there is no better day trip for surfers than to Ilan on the western coast.<br /><br />The timing was right before a typhoon which always guarantees large breaks. But for someone's first time on a board, this was perhaps not such a good thing. I went with three Taiwanese buddies of mine down to Ilan at 7am in the morning. We got to a little surf shop and rented our boards. I seem to be out of touch with surfer lingo and have no idea what nicknames surfers use to call their boards, but it was gnarly.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S4jNsmw_BuI/AAAAAAAAByk/ozyqul1IlA8/s1600-h/100_7762.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S4jNsmw_BuI/AAAAAAAAByk/ozyqul1IlA8/s400/100_7762.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442826315881187042" border="0" /></a><br />We got down to the beach and I got a five minute introduction on how to use my board, in Chinese, before I was sent off to tackle the waves. I decided that it was best to approach this day in stages. I have been boogey boarding before, so I thought I should spend my first set riding the waves in on my stomach. It was tough at first catching a break and timing it just right to allow me to ride the wave in all the way, but it wasn't long before I got the hang ten of it.<br /><br /><br />My next time out I decided that it would be a good idea to try and stand up. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. Each time I tried to hoist myself up on my surfboard, I immediately fell off into the ocean. But not to worry, I collected my board and tried, tried again. About my hundreth attempt I finally got up on the board, rode for about two seconds and fell off. I figured now I was ready to take it off the beach and into the ocean. Just kidding, I really did surf!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S4jNtI-TXoI/AAAAAAAABys/yEDOQGN4ncg/s1600-h/100_7768.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S4jNtI-TXoI/AAAAAAAABys/yEDOQGN4ncg/s400/100_7768.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442826325063851650" border="0" /></a><br />We took a short break and played a pick up game of volleyball with some other surfers before going back out into the ocean. It was at this time that some guy walked by missing an entire eyeball, and instead geisers of blood were gushing out of ocular socket. Turns out he was hit in the head by another surfer and that was about time I decided to retire from the great sport.<br /><br />After leaving the beach, we went into town to get some good beach food before we dashed off back home. From your bird, bird, bird, bird is the word oh well a oh well a did you know about the word, surfin bird, Michael.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yGMXrcbrTxs/S4jNtI-TXoI/AAAAAAAABys/yEDOQGN4ncg/s1600-h/100_7768.JPG"></a><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00662307704086570871noreply@blogger.com0