It has been some time since my last blog post. This is due to a mixture of travel, laziness, and a moldy computer. It is a terrible concoction for these updates, but a wonderful one for my happiness. Since I left Alaska I conducted a frenzied whirlwind tour of friends, family and mountain biking in the wonderful state of Washington. This was promptly followed by your standard trip to Taiwan via Tokyo, backpacking for a week, and then a travel binge through the Philippines, Cambodia, Vietnam, and back to Taiwan. So I write this from a sweat and mosquito filled den constructed of all the 1980’s unwanted fleshy pink and white bathroom tile.
I left Alaska as the snow was rapidly retreating its way up the mountain sides and dusk came around midnight. This is the signal for the mass exodus of people who come north for the skiing, and I was no exception. It just happened that my trek south placed me in Seattle the day before Memorial Day. Without further adieu, I picked up a 100lb pig from the butcher, grabbed my friends Greg, Skippy, and Lola, and headed east across the mountains. There was a significant amount of doubt in the success of the BBQ since the extent of my pig roasting knowledge consisted of YouTube videos and the standard advice from the self proclaimed “BBQ Masters.” With the nightmarish image of 75 people reaping the repercussions of pork based food poisoning running laps in my head, we took a wild shot in the dark and nailed it. I was amazed that it actually worked, but my true happiness was that it completely eclipsed the fact that I had dumped an entire raft of people 3 hours earlier. Instead chugging a beer out of a river booty per tradition, all was forgotten as everyone tapped into their inner barbarian and stripped the pig clean. The rest of my time in the PNW was spent visiting family, friends and riding bikes as much as time would allow. It was a cruel teaser to what I would miss while abroad. After two weeks of living in fast forward and what seemed like only a day later, I was diving back into the realm of flat escalators, felonious nail clippers, and the coveted exit row.
When I landed in Tokyo it was clear that I was not in America any longer. The people were smaller in stature, everything and everyone was moving in a calculated and concise manner, I couldn’t be understood no matter how loud I repeated myself, and half ton trucks were replaced with scooters. On the railway into downtown the thirty people surrounding me were completely silent. The trendiest subway activity in Japan is either staring at your smart phone or pretending to be asleep. The place runs as precisely as a Swiss watch. Everyone is on their way to the next destination, dressed in suits or dresses, not talking, not jaywalking, and doing everything to not upset the status quo. If a train says it will arrive at 10:34am you can bet your last cent that the train will be arriving 7 seconds before 10:34am, and at the moment that the watch hand lands on 34 the train cars will have just come to a complete stop. Of course I make all of these intelligent observations while stopping traffic to cross a main street, in shorts and a bright green tank top, simultaneously stuffing my face with delicious sashimi and doughnuts. As I reflect on the fact that these people have probably never seen a white person before and that’s why they are all staring at me, a giant thought punches something inside my brain. “They are staring at you because you are eating lunch in the middle of the street while wearing a shirt that can be seen from space, you dunce!”
Oh. Right.
After 19 failed attempts, two vending machine coffees, and one tattered subway map I finally kinda, sorta, somewhat, halfway figured out the subway system. I capitalized on this immediately and explored temples, sushi, shopping districts, a MASSSIVE fish market, a busy intersection, and much more sushi. It was a complete tourist blitz. Four days is not nearly enough time to explore this amazing city and incredibly hospitable people. I will be back with more time, more money, and hopefully a little more tact.
In Taipei I was greeted by a close friend of mine who resides in Taiwan. We took on Taipei in the same manner which I observed Tokyo. While we explored every tourist attraction from the zoo to heaven sent dumpling houses, I marveled at the dichotomy between the two cities. Taiwan was a far cry from the methodically precise style of Japan. Taiwan gives off the air of a younger sibling with much potential but who is just growing into its body. They have a train that can travel 180 mph but stop lights are still a suggestion. Some of the most technologically advanced composite manufacturing is located in the middle of active rice fields. Everyone has the newest nicest smart phones yet you sign all legal or official documents with a “chop” which is a rubber stamp. I got two weeks to explore and understand the nuances of this new country before leaving for two months of travel. It was basically two weeks of learning how to master scooter travel. Every foreigner has their one line of advice for driving in Taiwan.
“Don’t worry about what is going on behind you, just worry about what is in front.”
“If you think someone won’t do it, they probably will.”
“Drive like everyone is trying to kill you.”
“Watch out for the blue trucks because they’ll hit you and back up to make sure you’re done.”
“Black Mercedes, BMW’s, and Audi’s are usually gangsters. They will run you over”…..
“And right turns on red are illegal.”
Hold on. You are telling me that certain cars are known for hitting people, running red lights is common practice and right turns on red are illegal??! This would not be the first time that Taiwanese logic would feel like the equivalent of a 2×4 to the back of the head. Little did I know that the Taiwanese scooter life is a sanctuary of meditation in comparison to what we would find in Vietnam.
Coming from Alaska to cities of 15 million, 90 degree weather and languages that seem to be drawn instead of spelled is an experience. It takes a little effort to shift gears between cultures but no matter where you end up it seems that there is always cheap beer as a lubricant.
Adventures Of Baby Darkness 