Tis the Season

It's the holiday season again here in Taipei: my second one away from home. A few weeks ago, the turkey was passed around on Thanksgiving along with some delicious gourmet treats brought along by my friends. Joanne and her flatmates whipped up some potatoes (literally) and some homemade stuffing and gravy. Zuhey and her mom brought an extra special set of Tamales steamed to perfection. Tom made some spicy mulled wine that has inspired us all to drink more. And I, the host, carved our glorious bird. (I must admit my carving skills improved dramatically over last year's attempt when I had to carve it with a butter knife!)


Now with the American Holiday Exclusivity at an end, Taipei has been in full swing ringing in the Christmas cheer. How, you might ask, does a country composed primarily of Daoists and Bhuddists celebrate Christmas? Well, commercially of course!


I suppose the scene might not be so awkward to our Floridian residents here in Taipei, but for a Yankee that has spent over 20 Christmases in a foot of snow in Old New England, a Christmas sans the white stuff is a relatively strange experience. But the addition of Christmas trees and lights from around Taipei's glitz and kitsch make the holidays a bit warmer (and I suppose the shorts and tee-shirt weather help out a bit too).

Right across the street from me, at the Far Eastern Plaza Hotel, lies an extraordinary display of lights and shine. A tree rises marvelously in the center and the evening lumiere rivals that of Taipei 101. Down in the Plaza rests some shopping centers, food stores and essentials to welcome Santa Clause (including a US$60 Turkey).


Down the road a bit is the Sogo Department center which rivals the best set up at Disney world.


They even have a singing clock which I am sure is based off our childhood favorite "It's a small world."


Then just a short walk from there is the infamous Taipei 101 with its vast array of Christmas Feeling. Enjoy these short snapshots of a "Green Christmas" in Taipei.



But any reasonable soul knows it's not how the central park is decorated or how many presents are under the tree. What matters most is who you spend the season of joy with, as it is your friends that make the times worth what they are. It's amazing to look back over the year and be thankful for what you have and those you have met.


I've been lucky to have known a great many people here in Taipei. But it is always sad to miss those who have moved on to other things- like Kate, Tony, Kirit, Sarah- particularly at the holiday time. As we met for our Christmas Feast at my place, I looked around and saw only one or two faces I have known since first arriving here. But more importantly, I saw many new faces that have become great friends to me. None of us are certainly alone this year! So, as I often raise a glass and toast, "Here's to new friends, to old friends, and to new friends becoming old friends!"


Now- in the spirit of Tradition- I want to give you a holiday poem. This one comes back a few years, to my Junior year of college, and was written by the very lovely and talented Andrea Packard. She claims it goes to the tune of Jingle Bells, but don't try too hard to put the lyrics and melody together because the plan was obviously suspended halfway through! Here's to you AP!

Oh, Jingle bells, Jingle bells,
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to go to Conn. College today…

Mike is drinking wine,
While Suki’s turning red,
Kristin’s lookin’ for a dime,
And Ing fell of the bed!

HA HA HA

Tyler‘s footloose dancin‘,
Chris is M.I.A.,
Meanwhile Jon is tackled
By A.P. yelling “haaaaaaaayyyyyy!”

Oh, Jingle bells, Jingle bells,
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to go to Conn. College today…..

Gagen’s freek-a-leekin’ to Petey Pablo,
There are red marks on Erin’s neck,
Here comes campus po,
Oh SH**, what the heck?!

“Hark-nasty” Liz Lingo sings,
Glory to playing kings!

Melissa’s all up in that area today,
Stef is cracking up,
Britt’s going to Barcelona - OLAY!

Oh, Jingle bells, Jingle bells,
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to go to Conn. College today…..

Sam hails from Milwaukee,
Julia’s “like wooooooooooohh,”
It’s ladies nite for The O.C.
Dontcha’ know?

Here’s to countless beers and cheers
And more crazy times throughout the years!

Plowing through the snow,
In Tyler’s Escalade,
Over I-95 we go,
Laughing all the way……HA HA HA

T.J. taps the Bud keg,
While Ing prepares her stand,
Then Art grabs her leg…
HA HA HA

Oh, Jingle bells, Jingle bells,
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to go to Conn. College today…..

Chrissy’s back from Aussie Land,
Joe’s still in Germany,
We’ll all be together again
As SENIORS AT CC!

So here’s to the Captain,
And big Bacardi O
For making our nights so wild,

HO
HO
HO
HO
HO!

I wish you good tidings from Taipei and a healthy Christmas season. From your Jolly Saint Nick Host of Holiday Happiness abroad, Michael.

Stateside

My first time coming home from an abroad adventure was during my Junior year of college. I had lived in France for seven months and upon touching down in Logan in the old Beanery, I was surprised about how much reverse culture shock I was going through. The air seemed more humid than usual, night came at a reasonable hour, and all the signs were in a language I could once again read.


Coming home from Taipei this time around wasn't as much of a humbling force this time around. I fell back into the routine of visiting my friends and family. I got used to the lack of a language barriers almost instantly. And it took me no time at all to accommodate myself to the Bostonians' brashness, bordering on blatant hostility.


My time at home kicked off with a celebration of my friend's birthday party, which quickly evolved into the welcoming a fall celebration (and incidentally my first taste of cool, dry weather in two years). I joined a number of my friends for an apple picking extravaganza at Harvard farms before kicking off festivities at a particular favorite haunt of two of my buddies- the Pour House in Boston. Some claim that the joint has been overused by two particularly jolly birthday boys, but when you have been living on the other side of the world, it seems just fine.


I was also home to to partake in Halloween extravaganzas. This would mark my first Halloween in Byfield in almost a decade (as high school and college prevented me from being there to celebrate). Before the arrival of my two friends who wanted a traditional Halloween experience, I carved a pumpkin. I will give you 1 NT dollar if you can guess what this pumpkin carving is. I'll give you a hint- it's Taiwan related!!! And no, it's not a pagoda- it's more specific.


I also made great efforts to maintain my sense of adventure I held up in Taiwan. Without my motorcycle, I thought that would be pretty hard. However, I fell right behind the wheel of my old convertible and jeep and I cruised around New England like I had been driving all my life.


My first trip began with a drive up to Maine. First exploring parts of the coast I haven't visited in years, I finished with a drive past the Bush Compound in Kennebunkport. What a magnificent home this was- it must be nice to be some of the Bushes.


Lunch was served at Pier 77- although I was looking for some seaside shanty for a cheap burger, this proved to be equally as good. Couldn't beat the class on this one!


Another trip took my up to Vermont and my only glimpse of snow while I was home. The trip started with a chilly tour of the Ben and Jerry's factory where we got to see ice cream production. It is just as awesome as you are imagining it. After that, we jumped over to an old cider mill and then off to the Cabot Cheese outlet. Not too bad, right! Lunch followed in a local micro pub where we were served a sampler on a ski. A very tasty day if you ask me!!


And these are only short glimpses into my wonderful month and a half stay in Byfield, including quality time spent with family and friends, a trip down academic lane with trips to the Governor's Academy and Connecticut College, and journeys into Boston, Lake Winnepesauki, Cape Ann and so much more! But the best part of all my journeys was, by far, spending it with my family at the Majestic Dragon!


From your Asian adventurer come home, albeit for a short while, Michael.

3,000 Visitors

What could be more fitting than, on the eve of my departure back to the United States for a month and a half, than to reach 3,000 visitors on Taiwanablog. On October 5th, 2008 we reached our next 1k milestone. This round saw a much wider range of hits coming in off of google due to my larger subject matter (and cleverly placed cliches and song lyrics). So while I can't account for everything, I will at least give you a taste of what I saw here these last five months.

Taipei fell to fourth place this time around with Neihu (Taiwan) coming in first at 144 hits, followed by San-Chung (Taiwan) at 120, then Chestnut Hill (USA) at 64. As for country related hits, the United States came in strong at 508 hits, with interest coming from 34 states: Massachusetts, California, New York, Texas, New Jersey, Illinois, Michigan, Florida, Hawaii, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, Missouri, Kansas, Ohio, Georgia, Iowa, North Carolina, Maryland, Kentucky, Nevada, Colorado, Virginia, Wisconsin, Mississippi, New Hampshire, Tennessee, Washington, Oregon, Alaska, Utah, Idaho, Arizona and Minnesota.

Taiwan- Neihu, San-Chung, Taipei, Taoyuan, Chungli, Xindian, Tai-Chung, Kao-Hsiung, Kang Shan, and Hsin-Chu.

United Kingdom- London, Sheffield, Kingswinford, Lambeth, Rochdale, Reading, Milton Keynes, Wombwell, Birmingham, and Skelmersdale.

Singapore

Thailand- Bangkok, Phitsanulok, and Phra Nakon Si Ayutthaya

The Philippines- Rosario, Tacloban, Legazpi, Manila, and Makati

Germany- Berlin, Wuppertal, Augsburg, Nuremberg, Darmstadt, Paderborn, Halle, and Olfen.

Canada- Medicine Hat, Etobicoke, Ottawa, Edmonton, Thorold, North Battleford, Halifax, and Victoria

Malaysia- Kuala Lumpur, Ipoh, and Kuli.

India- Calcutta, Thanjavur, Cochin, and Chennai.

Australia- Sydney, Brisbane, and Darwin.

China- Luoyang, Dalian, Guangzhou, and Xianyang.

France- Paris, Neuilly-Sur-Marne, and La Tronche.

Hong Kong- Hong Kong and Kowloon.

And spatterings in Spain, Ireland, South Korea, the Netherlands, Brazil, Denmark, Peru, Indonesia, Peurto Rico, New Zealand, U.S. Virigin Islands, Jamaica, Malta, Greece, Japan, Dominican Republic, Israel, Belium, Switzerland, Poland, Brunei, Mongoli, Egypt, Qatar, United Arab Emerites, and Costa Rica.

Of the 1,001 hits since May 13th, we saw 425 new visitors check out 1,498 different pages, spending an aver 1 minute and 32 minutes perusing the blog. Firefox became the internet browser of choice this time, beating out Internet Explorer 510 to 424.

448 people signed onto Taiwanablog directly while Google sent 298, Blogger sent 87, Facebook 74, Google Imagaes 54 (that's right- my pictures now come up on a Google Image search), Reach to Teach Recruiting sent 13, and then a spattering of other e-mails, browsers, and strangely enough, even Taiwanablog refered someone to itself!

217 google keyword searches brought visitors to my blog. "Taiwanblog" reigned supreme once more at 54 searches. Now, I am not going to write all 217 keyword searches, so I will share with you some of the more interesting searches that brought folks my way.

-23 related searches looking the lyrics to "Moondance" by Van Morrison
-shark hunting tips
-ingrid wenzler
-full moon party nasty
-king cobra charlie brown
-lady whipped
-(dis)orient
-3489c271a7ab929f4e19b1d90f2307694a1d5775445d349b540ad70438e34eba9f28aef082a1d74b
-an angry king cobra
-are wendy's frosties lactose intolerant safe
-bbq snake cobra+cooking
-best king cobra fight video
-black widow maker
-charlie brown string bean salad
-cow patties ann arbor
-crazy lady thailand
-how long is a night on the moon
-mothray
-national cow-tipping day
-planet naburi
-taipei hotsprings naked
-prostitutes buriram

The longest anyone spent on the site this time was around 13 minutes. I guess they couldn't find any prostitutes from Buriram.

Xiegualing!

A Memory of a Better Time

Have you ever been to a broken down amuse- ment park and just feel the sadness rush over you like a heavy blanket? I don't think there is a better way to describe Muzha and parts surrounding it. Asia has some of the most beautiful scenery in the world; and then the locals go and ruin it with the ugliest shtik imaginable.

My Saturday ride began with an impromptu stop in Shen Keng's old street. No more than 30 minutes from Taipei's downtown, this picturesque little outcrop of a city has some old world charm to it. Complete with tofu icecream, handmade muaji, and honest to God old fashioned water pumps, it's easy to be transported back to easier times.

My stop here was brief but enjoyable. I tried some of the deserts and delicacies before I took off for parts farther south. My bike ride brought me, eventually, to a spot just past the Kwan Yin Dripping Water Cave, where I had that nasty run in with the Black Widow, to Shi Fen. This little village has the most wonderful town center I have seen in Taiwan complete with cafes, running streams, cobblestone walkways, and the old Pingxi train line running through the heart of it.


Knowing the train doesn't come that often, I hopped along the tracks until I reached the entrance to the Shi Fen waterfall. Or actually, if I am to be entirely precise here, the entrance to the entrance to the Shi Fen waterfall. Ridiculous, I know, but then again, it is Taiwan.

The entrance opened up to a well kept path and two impressive suspension bridges turned pedestrian paths. One path followed right along the old railway line. At the base of the second suspension bridge was the Spectacle Caves waterfall- a waterfall slide that runs over two caves formed conspicously behind it. However, the true falls, in fact north Taiwan's largest waterfall, was right behind me and was only waiting for me to see it.


I crossed the bridge with a thrill only to find the second entrance to the waterfall closed. I had come here specifically after the great typhoon last weekend to see the waterfall in full flood. But to my awful luck, it was apparently closed due to damage caused by that very same typhoon. I joined in with the chorus of disheartened onlookers trying to spy in through the grass and bush just to catch a glimpse of this magnificent cascade. Frustrated, I returned back to my motorcycle and continued on to Barbarian Valley. A five minute ride up the road, I pulled into a failing and decrepit parking lot. Literally, it is what Disney Land would look like if it were a drug addict.

I looked at the main ticket entrance with a full scale map of Barbarian Valley. Filled with pictures of busses of tourists, happy families shooting archery or riding rowboats, and young couples admiring the falls, I knew this valley was no longer what it once was. I walked up to the gate entrance and there sat an old man smoking a cigarette, listening to a song on his radio that was fading in and out of static far too often to be even remotely enjoyable.

I asked him if this was Barbarian Valley. He told me it was. I asked him for one admittance. He just shook his head, waved his hands, and that was that. I would have tried to sneak in, if it wasn't for the large number of stray dogs circling about and my desire not to be their dinner. I hopped back on my bike and jetted out of that ghost town, back to Taipei, where I had a great dinner with my former landlady. (And by the way, I stopped back at Shen Keng to pick up some of that delicious muaji as a present to her!)


The following day, I spent with friends riding go-karts in Jongli. I snuck away for a while and hit a few dozen golf balls at a local driving range before I returned to take the old cart around the track a few more times. Again, these activities reminded me of a time when I was younger, on the karts up in Salsibury before my dad and I got an ice-cream on the way home.

There was icecream this time as well, oh yes. And it was Coldstone ice cream no less; so maybe these times are quite good too. From your speed demon racer of the karts and bikes, Michael.

The Midwest Blues

It occurred to me the other day that Taiwan is like the Midwest in Asia. Everything about it fits perfectly (except for the very large number of Chinese speakers, of course). And to prove my point, I have compiled a list of top ten reasons why Taiwan is in fact the new Midwest.

10. Everyone, and I mean everyone, wears trucker hats.
9. Way too friendly. Try looking at a map and time how long it will take for ten people to crowd around you ready to give you directions.
8. They like meat. A lot.
7. Their airport is in a field.
6. Everything has to be big- world's largest building and the largest IMAX screen in Asia are two perfect examples.
5. Prawn fishing (basically you just sit around a pool filled with shrimps and you fish them out). Clearly the final product of beer and too much time.
4. Their most popular singer just released a really bad country album. Wait, sorry. Just a country album.
3. Elections are all screwed up.
2. The Taiwanese are afraid of the ocean.

And the number one reason that Taiwan is exactly like the Midwest...

1. Taiwan (The Midwest) will never be as powerful as its neighbor, China (East Coast)!

The Rice Terraces of Banaue

After an eight hour bus ride, I arrived in the small town of Banaue in the Ifugao province in Northern Luzon of the Philippines. Basically, it’s just half an inch north of Manila on a map. This area is known for its delicate hand-carvings, remote tribal villages, and above all else, its majestic rice terraces- a UNESCO World Heritage Site.


Although it was early in the morning, I arrived at the Banaue View in, quickly freshened up and took my continental breakfast. Then, with no moments to spare, I hired a guide and we were off to explore these tributes to the town’s ancestors. My guide and I hopped onto a tricycle (a little carriage attached to the side of a motorcycle) and we went as far as the road could go. Eventually, the road came to an end and my guide informed me that the rest of the journey would have to be made on foot.

We took a shortcut over the first mountain and reached the summit within thirty minutes. Drenched in sweat, we took this respite in good measure to admire a most spectacular view. Imagine taking the green of Ireland and infusing it into the mountains of Machu Picchu- that might do some justice in depicting the image before us. The mountains looked like the wood carvings on sale in the town of Banaue, enough that one could be led to believe that even God is a woodcarver himself.


But with a full day of hiking ahead of us, the view was briefly enjoyed before we were back on the trail. On our way down the mountain, into the village of Batad, I learned quite a bit about the village and the region. One thing that was rather obvious was that this was a difficult climb and no roads connected the village of Batad to the rest of the world. In fact, I learned, in order for the villagers of Batad to reach Banaue, they have to trek on foot for about one to two hours until they reach the lone jeepney that shuttles back and forth between Banaue and some middle point along the road.


During the hike, we ran into men and boys carrying goods like sugar, beer, and other items down along the path. At one point, two young boys who had since joined us, my guide and I came across a red horse on the path. My guide and I passed by nonchalantly just as the horse let out an angry grunt. The two boys, in a display of panic, threw the beer onto the trail and ran away screaming. Noticing that my guide was laughing, I asked him what just happened. Apparently, the two boys were teasing that horse the other day and got it fiery mad. When it started kicking its hind legs, the boys knew they were no longer in favor with this temperamental steed. So now, even the smallest snort, like the one we witnessed that day, was enough to send these boys running for the hills, literally.


We arrived at Batad and saw what many people come here to see- the glorious amphitheater rice terraces. Built about 2,000 years ago, these structures are easily the oldest and most impressive structures if have ever witnessed. Held up with stone, they house hundreds of individual rice terraces still cultivated and harvested today. The engineering marvel that is the rice terraces is obvious upon first glance. No matter what pre-conceived idea you have of them, I guarantee, they do not disappoint.


We hiked down a number of steps through the ancient village of Batad. Most people still lived in traditional houses with grass roofs and Tiki-style huts designed to house both people and rice. We passed by children on their way to school, old women harvesting the crops, young boys pounding and preparing the rice, and , of course, the countless numbers of obligatory clucking and screaming roosters and chickens.


Upon reaching the other side of the village, we descended into a gulley where a river had carved a deep and powerful gorge. A few hundred meters down and we were face to face with Tappia Waterfall- a magnificent fall that descends into a crystal pool fit for a swim. After such a long and arduous hike, this swim a refreshing addition to an otherwise relentlessly steamy afternoon.


However, the pain of the hike had not reached its climax because instead of climbing up to reach our destinations the entire time, we were descending into the village and waterfall. With the sites behind us, we then had to climb back up under the heat of the baking Asian sun. And I hate to report, but the Philippines is no different from Taiwan in their trail construction as they, too, just build stairs straight up instead of pursuing a zig-zagging pattern along the mountainside. Honestly, I am a bit surprised the heart-attack rate is not higher in Asia.

We returned back to Banaue, utterly exhausted, ate dinner, and ordered cheap foot massages at 300 pesos a piece- a very good investment after an arduous day of hiking and climbing. It also prepared me for a second day of equally exhausting and energy consuming trekking around the terraces of Banaue the following morning.

I arose early in the morning for my breakfast again and met my same tour guide for another glorious “stroll”. We took a tricycle up to what’s called “The Viewpoint” for it’s commanding views of the rice terraces. The view is so beautiful that the Filipino Government even decided to put its image on the 1,000 pesos bill. We began our trek up and down the terraces, sometimes even over very narrow ledges. Now, for someone who is prone to accidents while hiking, I am happing to tell you I fell off the terrace ledges into the rice paddies only twice. Wet, and a little scraped and bruised, I avoided major injuries each time.


But while in these rice terraces, we were given our first treat by a small patch of women working in the fields. Since they were right up close to us, and were not there for show, I asked if I could take their photograph. They agreed, I took a couple of shots, admired how they cultivated the rice, and said, “munhana” or “thank you”. To harvest the rice, they pull of one strand of rice at a time ann hold it in their hands. Eventually, the strands build up until a bundle, too large for their hands, is formed. That bundle is then tied together, placed on the pathway, and they continue to harvest more rice. I could have stayed there all day to watch these farmers work, but alas, we still had a ways to cover.


Climbing both terraces and mountain ledges, we traversed over this exhausting terrain. As we descended into another village called Bocos, we noticed two men carrying a boar up the trail, tied by its feet on a long wooden pole. I was very surprised to discover that, as they passed us, the boar snorted at me indicating it was still alive. And thus, being no more than twenty meters outside the village when the two men arrived, we certainly heared the boar let out a deafening scream as the village people slaughtered it. The noise an animal makes as it faces death is a sound that will stay with you for the rest of your life.


Lunch time! After lunch, I said goodbye to my tour guide in Banaue and opted to explore a bit on my own. I traversed this path to another village called Tam-an where I was invited in by a local family into their house. We began talking, and I discovered that this town has a special burial ritual unique only to them. When their ancestors die, they take them up to the mountain and bury them. The body lies there for two years before the skeletal remains are exhumed and brought back to the village where they are celebrated and wrapped in a ceremonial cloth. This family extended the honor of taking out their ancestral bones and showing them to me. The body they took out was that of their Great-Grandfather who died in 1945 during the Japanese occupation of the Philippines. Wrapped in the ancestral cloth, the bones were remarkable well kept.


The father of this particular family is a well-known woodcarver. Perusing some of his work, I picked up a special little item for a very close member of my family. I hope she knows just what lengths I went through to pick this up for her. After thanking the family and paying them for the priceless item I was now carrying with me, I continued on to explore the rice terraces on my own, being sure to watch out for snakes and water buffalo. I passed by several people hiking the trail between Tam-an and Poitan, two remote villages, and I always made sure I was heading the right way.


I returned back to the town of Banaue and had a little bit more time to kill. I got some limited work down at a make-shift internet cafe, had a great dinner and chat with this woman who owns a restaurant called "Las Vegas Cafe" and got front row seats to Banaue's edition of Street Olympics.


Eventually, I arrived in Poitan, which is noted for the huts built on top of a rock cliff. It was done so to protect its villagers from warring neighbors (such as those from Batad or Tam-an) in years gone by. Today, the villages a very peaceful and the only warring is done over tourism business.

The beauty of the Rice Terraces is in the landscape itself, but you can’t help but admire their age as well. Massive terraces built right into the sides of mountains over 2,000 years ago is one thing, but to see them still maintained and harvested today is another. However, their majesty is threatened as more farmers turn to the more lucrative and less backbreaking work of tourism. While the funds from UNESCO certainly help what is understandably called the eight wonder of the world, I can’t predict what will become of them in the future. That’s why I say, take the word of a man who has traveled around the world, that these rice terraces is one thing you don’t want to miss.


From your rice trekking, terrace eating, no wait, strike that, reverse it, adventurer of the Ifugao Province in the Philippines, Michael.

What's all the Hull-a-Balut?

This would mark my second trip to one of the happiest countries in the world: The Phil- ippines. In March, I fell off the beaten path (which is rather easy to do outside of Boracay) where I swam with Whale Sharks, camped on an active volcano, and was accosted by young children with a crab. I also got grotesquely ill from a Wendy’s frosty, which goes to prove you really ought to steer clear of fast food joints on the other side of the world, and to an extent, at home as well.

But my illness had more devastating effects on my itinerary. While I originally had a rather aggressive plan laid out in March, many items had to be left of the check list and moved back to the “to do” list. Well, this time around, I was finally able to do what I originally started six months ago.

I arrived to blue skies and hot weather. I checked into my hotel, the Pension Natividad, and was delighted by clean, bright rooms. The owner was quite forceful when she informed me that visitors were not allowed in this once-upon-a-time-catholic-church-now-turned-hotel. I assured her I had no intentions of bringing back any guests and wondered just what part of town I was staying in. When I booked the hotel, it was the first place mentioned in the Lonely Planet guide at a reasonable rate, so I booked it without much thought to the location. The Pension Natividad is in a part called Malate, which was once home to the Manila’s seedy reputation in the 1980’s. That reputation, I am here to say, continues to survive in Malate.

I am curious as how I always end up staying in the red light districts by no effort on my own! So, with eyes on the straight and narrow, I went to dinner, got some drinks at the Hobbit House (where the waiters are all “little people”, if that is the politically correct term now) and then went straight to bed.

The following morning, I woke up and went to a local café to get some breakfast and conduct some interviews for work. After that, I went over to the Taiwan Consulate to work out some visa issues. However, I was frustrated to find out that all visas had to be applied for in the morning, making my arrival one hour too late. I did find some comfort in the irony that the Taiwan Embassy was located right next to the UN office of the Philippines. So close, yet so far away!

After lunch, I began a run-around journey across Manila to the Auto Bus in Sampaloc, where I bought a ticket up to Banaue. The current time was 4:30 and the departure time was 10:45. Therefore, due to the facts that I had lots of time to kill, and that the only available seat at the make-shift bus station was next to a very raunchy, outdoor male public urinal, I decided to go to an internet café to do some more work.

A few hours passed by and it was then time for diner. I went to a little burger stand next to a cage of men playing pool. I sat down next to two old men being served by a young lady and entered into the conversation. In Taiwan, the first thing people ask me is if I am an English Teacher. Here, they looked at me and asked if I was a missionary. Then comes, universally, the question of whether or not I have a girlfriend. After getting my two-for-one cheeseburger deal, I then asked my new comrades where I could get a rare and special delicacy only had in the Philippines- Balut!

My plans for trying Balut were thwarted in March due to my gastro-intestinal issues and inopportune bus routes. Therefore, my first night hanging around a bus station was not going to be wasted without trying this famed, nighttime snack.

But what exactly is Balut, you ask. Fair question, I say. I first learned of Balut while watching a special on the Travel and Living Channel about the world’s strangest food. Beating out the worm in Tequila and chocolate covered scorpions, Balut ranked in at number one as the strangest food in the world. Do I have your attention now? Balut is, essentially, a partially developed duck fetus. Incubated perfectly to either 17 or 18 days for the best quality (i.e. reducing the risk of finding a feather or a beak in your Balut) these fetuses are steamed up and served right in their shells.

At 18 days, the duck has developed enough where you can start to see the shame of an animal start to take form (although, at this point, it could turn into some horribly mutated creature and you probably wouldn’t be the least bit surprised).

So there I was sitting at this burger stand, listening to plenty of vendors passing by shouting out “Balut”. I knew I had to try it. I asked my friends where I could get some good Balut and they immediately pointed to this man right down the street. They said he was the best. (Best? How do you become a master of Balut? I wonder if he sat on the eggs himself.) Well, I followed their esteemed local advice, and walked over to the Balut Vendor.

He sat their, relaxed in his fold-up lounge chair, reading a book while his daughter was playing on a rusty bicycle next to him. In front of him was his basket of steaming Balut, which to the untrained eye, would appear to just be a batch of hard-boiled eggs. On the cart were two large jars of vinegar, and several bowls of table salt. Of course, I needed lessons on the proper way to eat the Balut.

With a few other gentlemen huddling around, digging into their Balut, they helped guide me along. I learned that first you tap the bottom of the egg on the table and peel away the cracked shell to make a small hole. From the hole, you then slurp out the juice like taking a shot of duck fetus slime. Surprisingly, the mixture was salty and tasted just like chicken soup! (Sorry, I hope I didn’t turn you off of Campbell’s permanently.)

The next stage includes the consumption of the Balut fetus itself. Once the juice has been slurped clean, you then peel off more of the shell to reveal a grotesquely formed fetus. Now time to think about the decision you made earlier as you tap on some vinegar, rub in the necessary quantity of salt, and then take a bite out of it. At first, it’s like eating chicken, then wait, no, just like an egg. Wait a second, we’re back to tasting chicken… hmm, then a taste you don’t recognize props up, panic sinks in, and then, ah yes, chicken again. The texture is probably the most awkward part of eating Balut. First, it starts off as a drink. Then, very smushy like the white of an egg. The yolk has since gotten very hard, so it’s almost like eating a hard candy. So, what exactly is the texture of Balut? Well, quite literally, everything!

Once I pulled away the last of the shell and I plopped the rest of the Balut into my mouth, I turned to the owner and gratefully said to him, “masarab”, which means “delicious”. He looked at me with a sideway glance, smiled, and said, “You know, you are the very first foreigner to try my Balut.”

And then I got on the bus.

Stay tuned for part two of my trip to the Philippines from your pro-choice for ducks advocate in the Philippines, Michael.