Thursday - February 20, 2003
Today was a very long day.
Our return flight to the US
was scheduled at about 6:45PM. Considering the time it takes to get to CKS
airport (about an hour at the best) plus time to go through security, say
farewell, etc. we figured we needed to leave the house no later than
3:30.
We got started a little earlier than usual, beginning to pack up
those final items that we were either still using or just hadn't figured out
where to put yet.
When I made my desired eating places list yesterday I
had completely forgotten that I still needed to go to Bunny Listens to the
Music. We added that to our list which already included a return to Din
Tai Fung and the famous beef noodle shop near the CKS
memorial.
Chu-Wan's mother also wanted to take her to Min Yao
department store and pick up some cosmetics for her. Taiwanese cosmetics are
pretty much exactly the opposite of US cosmetics. Taiwanese women consider tan
skin to be undesirable, from the days when people who had to work the rice
fields had tans and women of status stayed indoors. Consequently, their popular
cosmetic lines make your face look as pale and ghostlike as possible. Products
that just aren't available in the States.
I had one last item on the
agenda. My Chinese "reading" skills have improved more than my ability to
listen and speak. Probably because I have more time to think about what I'd
reading and often I can associate the characters with whatever they are with.
For example, I could begin to recognize certain types of stores - beef noodle
shops, steak houses, plumbing and electrical supply stores, etc. I would spend
a lot of time walking and looking at street signs and the like and began to
make connections. I needed a way to continue trying to read Chinese upon my
return to the States.
A few days ago I came up with an idea. Reading
books was out, Chinese-signs just can't be found and text books can certainly
help, but practical application is required. Chu-Wan is always purchasing
serialized cartoon books when we go back. By and large, the stories she picks
don't hold much interest for me, but it occured to me that something a little
more interesting might work.
Yesterday, we stopped at the Hess Bookstore
next to the TKK Fried Chicken and found that The Swordsman a classic
action Kung Fu tale was currently being serialized. Guys hacking each
other up with swords, that seemed about the right thing for me.
The
problem was, Hess only had Vols 1, 3-5,7-10. The books were shrink wrapped
because each contained some "premium" to go with the story: A trading card, a
poster, etc. Someone had clearly ripped open the only copy of book 1 and taken
whatever was inside. Book 2 was missing, so I bought book 3.
Today, time
permitting, the hunt was on for books 1 and 2.
We got most everything
packed and headed over to Din Tai Fung to arrive when they opened at 10.
We were in luck, although bringing in a respectable crowd already, there was no
difficulty getting a table. I did finally realize just how organized they
really were. Cameras on each floor allow the overall supervisor to monitor the
entire restaraunt. She views the montiors, tells the hostess which floor to
send us to, then radios ahead to the floor hostess and waitresses how many
guests are coming, so they can have the table prepared. She also tells them if
they've foreigners coming.
When we arrived at the table, the waitress
had layed out the Japanese version of the menu. She tried to grab it as quickly
as possible and she apologized to me, but she was so flustered, she apologized
in Japanese.
With time being short, we headed towards Min Yao to
pick up the cosmetics, stopping at the main Eslite bookstore on the way where
we were able to get volume 2. Volume 1 was still eluding us.
Down the
street from Min Yao is another bookstore, again, no luck. Time wasn't
working on our side, but we tried the underbridge market and managed to find
all 11 volumes, although we only filled in the collection up to volume 5. The
irony: Volume 1 contained no premium - the package on the first one we found
had probably only been opened to check out the artwork inside.
Back at
the house, we put the final touches on our luggage. It was stuffed absolutely
to capacity. It was so heavy, we were afraid we'd exceed the 32kg limit per bag
allowed by the airline.
 Time was just about out... we couldn't possibly go to both the beef noodle shop and Bunny Listens to the Music, so we opted for the later, as it was only 2 blocks down the street.
Bunny Listens to the Music is even more odd on the inside than on the outside. To start with, the furniture has a sort of 1960's feel to it. It's not the wild '60's plastic look, but the wood furniture of the day. Nice, with slightly odd angles and big odd-colored cushions. The comfy chairs for each table would have been comfy, had their legs not been only 1 ft long. Sitting lwith my butt lower than my knees is not the most comfortable position for eating lunch.
The
stackable cube entertainment center that dominated one wall was adorned with LP
Record sleeves with such hip-sounding titles as "Songs for the Jet-Set." Indeed
the music playing in the restaurant was right out of lounge scene in a bad
1960's comedy movie. The tinkly little piano and strings music that you should
never have to hear anymore except when watching old movies.
Perhaps this
stuff is coming back. When we drove to Tainan, Tiffany absconded control of
what was playing on the CD player. She put on something absolutely dreadful by
an artist named Diana Krall. Several of the songs were oldies horribly ruined
but what I remember most was a horrid little ditty called "Popsicle Toes" which
grated on my nerves beyond compare. It was much like the old Bill Murray comedy
routine where he sings "Star Wars." Only, I don't think this was meant as a
joke.
In researching for today's log, I checked out to see if she's one of those "Can't make it in the west, so I'll go play in Asia" types who end up playing on Japanese baseball teams. No! She's got lots of albums for sale. She's up for Grammy Awards! She is no Lani Hall!
Anyway, back to the "bunny" - a brick could sense the pretentiousness in the air. They even had a record company with offices inside the restraunt. I didn't go in to look, but I saw several customers go in there thinking it was the bathroom.
Speaking of the bathroom, there was but one and it was unisex.
The entry was side by side with the record company door and unmarked, inside
there were 2 sinks (with a glass wall looking outside instead of a mirror) and
two stalls. One stall was a urinal, the other a toilet. The doors on the stalls
were frosted glass, so when I used the urinal, I could tell that a woman came
in and was testing the door to see if it was open. The stalls were also
unmarked, so she could not know that it was a urinal on the other side, and so
she stood outside and waited. I rather felt sorry for her, especially after the
crestfallen look she gave when she saw that it was only a urinal and she'd have
to keep waiting.
I didn't use the toilet, but Chu-Wan tells me that one
whole wall in that stall was a glass window looking out. "Looking out", of
course, means staring at the next building a foot or so away.
The lunch
menu was Italian-themed and I had a grilled chicken and risotto entre. It was
fine, but the grilled chicken was only about 2 inches by 2 1/2 inches. Not
really large enough to be considered a meal. The highlight was really the
dessert, which in my case was a hand-made chocolate with caramel center. The
other desserts looked pretty good too.
And then it was time to
go...
Funny thing about time to go, there are times when it seems so
very far away, times when you can't wait for it to arrive, but when it arrives,
it's always too soon. For Chu-Wan it is much worse than for me as she and her
mother have particularly tearful farewells. This time I expected it to be worse
because of Michelle.
When we arrived in Taiwan, Chu-Wan's mother could
not come along because we were certain the car would not fit all 5 of us and
the luggage. That guess had proved right and as we packed up the car, there was
still no room for another passenger, so her mother took the bus to the airport
while we were driven in thtelemily wagon.
We arrived first and while
Chu-Wan's father parked the car we checked in. Two of our bags were over 31kg,
one being 31.7kg, just 0.3kg short of the 32kg limit allowed. The third large
bag was 29kg. We certainly hadn't packed light.
Once Chu-Wan's father
found us, he went to wait for her mother. When her mother, who was carrying a
cell phone, called and found us, I had to go hunt for her father.
EVA
Air flies into the new terminal 2 building, this was the first trip we'd used
terminal 2 and we didn't get a chance to look around when we arrived. I
certainly got the chance today, as I had to search every level and outside
every exit trying to find him. My Taiwanese cell phone card had run out of
money, and I'd switched it back to my US card when we arrived at the airport,
so no one called me when her father found them while I continued my
search.
It was time to pass through security so I had to abandon the search and return, when I got back they were already saying their farewells and there was much crying. I was sad too. It's difficult not being sad when leaving people who are always so consistently kind to me. I would be difficult finding nicer in-laws.
The returning flights were
mercifully uneventful. Michelle slept, or was at least contentedly quiet the
entire way - both on the trans-Pacific and the LA to Phoenix flights. Chu-Wan
and Michelle even got several hours sleep, while I only got 1.5 hours. I spent
my time listening to my MP3 player and reading the book Sam had bought us,
Formosan Odyssey by John Ross. A book written by a New Zealander in
English, published in Taiwan. It was darn hard to find and I can't help but
wonder who this book was aimed at. As far as I can tell, it never got any
circulation outside Taiwan.
It was an interesting read. Mr. Ross's
experiences in Taiwan didn't shed any more light on the country than my own
web-page ramblings, but his apparent eternal search for beer was considerably
more fruitful than my eternal search for pizza.
The most interesting
part of the book is the research on the history of Taiwan, or more
specifically, the history of westerners in Taiwan. Taken from accounts
published in earlier works, the book chronicles aspects of Taiwan's history
back into the 17th century. I rather inspires me to write my own
book.
We are now home, safe and sound and more than a little
jet-lagged.
Before I close this out, I had one observation I made
several days ago that I failed to put into the daily logs. It must have slipped
my mind when I was writing, or perhaps my mind was trying to block it out
through selective amnesia.
As I'm sure I've mentioned, if Taiwan has an
health codes for restaurants, they're either unenforced or so lax as to be
comical. After you've been in Taiwan a week or so, and you haven't died of food
poisoning, you kinda get used to it. Although there are certain types of food I
refuse to touch knowing (or imagining) all the potential areas for
contamination. This laxness with safe food handling practices is
everywhere.
There's a small temple just a few doors down from the house,
and I'd pass it everyday several times. During the new year, they erected
canopies over the street, held rituals and generally acted as a place for
people to get together. They served meals on several days and always had tables
with people sitting in the street in the afternoons.
One day as I was
passing, they were beginning their daily food prepartion, which is also done on
the street with food carts and such. On that day, they were preparing chicken
and had several chickens which they'd just purchased from the wet market. (That
is to say, the chickens were snuffed only a few minutes beforehand.) Part of
the preparation was to place the chickens in a big pan of water on the steps
and let them sit. The "cook" was placing the chickens in the water as I passed
on my way.
When I came back from my walk the chickens were still soaking
in the pan and a very well-mannered dog was drinking from the pan. I say
"well-mannered" because he didn't just grab a chicken from the pan and run. The
"cook" did run him off eventually.
Later in the day, I saw the people,
including the "cook", eating the chicken.
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