Adventures in Taiwan

The plane landed and I walked across the tarmac into the airport. I awkwardly pass

ed a slip of paper to the cab driver with the address of George's cafe. I quickly realized how comfortable I had become with my Korean, as I grew quickly frustrated in trying to explain to my driver the address where George worked and lived. In my head it seemed that he should understand my broken Korean, but of course, he looked even more confused than when I spoke in English.

Kending National Park (SW Taiwan)

My hope was that Mandorin had sufficiently impacted the Korean language that we would be able to understand each other, as I can understand a little Spanish because of my French. Not so, unfortunately. Two cab rides and a panicked phone call to George's business partner and I finally found myself at Goya, his cafe. I looked around me and determined that I suddenly felt as though I were experiencing Asia for the first time. The streets were packed with scooters and Chinese characters dominated store windows and signs. I was struck by the number of foreign cars. Koreans have fallen so far into the image game that they have tossed out their scooter culture in favour of cars, despite the fact that they prove highly impractical in such a small, car-crazy country. Space is such an issue in Seoul that drivers leave their cell phone numbers in the window of their cars, so that if it needs to be moved they can be reached quickly. Other drivers prefer to leave their car in neutral so it can be easily pushed out of the way. Nearly all the cars that drive through the streets of Seoul are Kia, Hyundai or Samsung. Occasionally you'll see the odd Mercedes or BMW, but never, ever will you see a Japanese car in Korea. In fact, up until September 2005 there was a ban on Japanese imports of any kind- making my purchases of a Nikon digital camera and a Fujitsu laptop highly controversial among my Korean co-workers.

As I stepped into Goya, George quickly proved himself to be Montrealais at heart. The long, narrow cafe was painted bright red, the walls dotted with black and white photographs. A fish tank sat at the back of the cafe, filled with tropical fish. It felt like a cafe on St Denis. I sat and talked with Wayne, George's business partner until finally George strutted into the cafe after a long day of work. We downed a couple bottles of wine and several bottles of beer, catching up on a year apart. We awoke almost early on Sunday, and he sent me off with his friend Cassandra to see Kaohsiung (pronounced Gaow-chung). There wasn't much to see. The city, located in South Ouest Taiwan, is the second largest in the country, home to about one and a half million people and Taiwan's largest port. It's an industrial city, and not particularly pretty. I clutched onto Cassandra as the scooter wove its way through traffic, narrowly avoiding a few accidents in the space of a few minutes. I fell into a daydream about the comfort and safety of Seoul's subway. We whipped through the city and up to Monkey Mountain for tea. A cute tea shop sat amongst the vines and trees overlooking the ocean. It was gorgeous and true to its name, the mountain failed to disapoint- I saw my first wild monkey up close. I have to admit that I was a little upset that I didn't have to chase him down to retrieve a stolen bag or purse... it would've made for a good story.

We returned to Goya and George and I quickly packed our bags and headed for the bus station. The two hour trek to Kending National Park was well worth it, although I wouldn't find that out until the next morning. We picked up some street meat and headed back to the 'love motel' (tacky, cheap hotel) for some bad TV. Not my favourite passtime while on vacation, but by the time we got to Kending it was too late to do anything but drink... and we had done that the night before. We awoke insanely early the next morning (somewhere around 10am, I believe) and made our way to the beach.

'Mini gorge' in Hualien (NE Taiwan)

Snorkels in hand, we dove in. As my mouth filled with salty water, I realized I had never swam in the ocean before. I'd seen it, of course, but had never swam in it. And then I realized that in fact I hadn't been swimming in some twelve years. There was a moment of panic as I looked out towards the horizon and realized the sheer power of the water that surrounded me. Then I remembered that I had taken ten years of swimming lessons, so I could relax a little. Feeling comfortable breathing through a tube took considerably longer than feeling comfortable swimming again. The water was warm, clear and blue- absolutely beautiful. Beneath the surface, coral played home to thousands of varieties of fish, of all colours and sizes. I relaxed and let myself float. Seemingly I let myself float a bit too far out, as the waves took hold for a moment and sent me flying into the coral. We packed up and went for lunch, George forcing me to break my promise that I would never again eat fast food, as he put it “in the interest of time.” We rented a scooter and flew around town searching for a beach that wasn't next to a nuclear power plant, or overcrowded with fully dressed Taiwanese women striving to enjoy the beach and avoid a tan all at once. I spent the rest of the day laying on the beach, smothered in enough sunscreen to drown a small army. I soon discovered that being the 'white-out' variety of white, I should have smothered myself in enough sunscreen to drown a large army. Not to say the burn is particularly bad... mostly just particularly blotchy as I cheated sometimes in the reapplication steps. The important thing is I got some colour... whatever colour that may be. As the sun went down, we packed up and headed back to Kaohsiung.

Day three I headed for the airport and boarded a plane to Hualien, a small city on the East coast of Taiwan. I was glad to see that travelling had not changed Mike, as he arrived late to meet me at the airport. I stepped outside and was met by the overwhelming sight of the mountains, thick with trees and vines and fading into the clouds at the top. Mike had promised that Hualien was the most beautiful city in Taiwan, and one of the best-kept secrets of Asia. I'd have to agree. Over the next three days, I was continually overwhelmed by the beauty of the area, and frustrated that so much of it could not be captured on film. I was most taken with the tiny temples and alters that are prominent in the area. For better or for worse, however, the Buddhists have not taken tips from Catholicism and converted their prayer spaces to tourist attractions. As it is disrespectful to take pictures, I have only the images in my mind to carry with me. Mike and I headed to the 'mini gorge' just outside of the city and prepared ourselves for the half hour walk upstream. Mike promised a stunning swimming hole at the end of our hike, but unfortunately the rain started just as we began to walk. The water can rise so quickly that we may have found ourselves stranded, or simply injured from slipping on the rocks that were protecting us from the current. We decided to abandon our hike and settle for the swimming hole directly in front of us. We returned to Hualien, rolled a joint, and I happily contemplated the differences between Korean and Taiwanese culture- not the least of which is the very fact that I was able to enjoy my first joint since leaving Canada. The next day, we set out for Taroka National Park with a couple of Mike's friends- Layton and Nissha. Forced to leave my camera behind, we began the long walk to their secret swimming hole- ignoring the signs that indicated specifically that the river was not meant for swimming. It couldn't be helped- the icy blue water was demanding attention. The water was high and we found a spot where the current was weak and we could relax. The mountains towered above us on all sides, thick with trees and vines. As far as the eye could see, there were rocks and icy blue water. Layton immediately lost his keys for his scooter. We began the long journey back to the scooters, hoping that the keys would miraculously recovered. At first we swam downstream, but at points the current was too strong. I struggled to pull myself onto the rocks after experiencing a frightening loss of control. I lost a shoe and scraped up my knees a little more, now proving to be a theme on this trip as they bled considerably after my run-in with the coral reef in Kending. Layton and I opted for the rocks- monkey that I am, I've always been more comfortable with heights and climbing than I am with water and slamming into rocks. Mike and Nissha braved the river. Parts of our climb led us into the jungle, hoping to discover an easy way to climb back down towards the river bank. With one foot exposed to the elements, I considered the fact that in the jungles of Taiwan are found the world's second most poisonous snakes. I put it out of my head and decided to jump into the river at the first sign of a deceptively small green snake. Finally we found our way back to the river and I stood on an enormous rock, fifteen feet high. The drop over the water fall ahead looked suspiciously dangerous, which was quickly confirmed by Mike's insistence that I walk ten minutes upstream to cross the river, thereby avoiding the drop. For some reason, Layton jumped into the pool where the current would surely have pulled him over the fall had Mike not caught him first. We successfully passed the final obstacle and found ourselves safely back at the scooters. We hadn't found Layton's keys, but Mike had recovered my shoe- ironically moments after saving Layton from going over the waterfall. We returned home to soothe our aching bodies before heading out to a tiny Woodstocks/Cock n Bull/Night Gallery type bar, where Mike's band would take to the stage. It seems they've become something of celebrities in Hualien, with the small foreigner community starving for English music. The crowd was small, apparently many holding back so they could take them in the following night. The Taiwanese patrons showed their support by joining in with tamborines.

Back in Kaohsiung for a day before flying back to Seoul, I took in as much of the city as I could. The social conventions that I have become so accustomed to in Korea are absent here. There are no rules about how to give and receive, no bowing, no drinking rules. Taiwan is laid back.

Me in Kending - the Southern most point of Taiwan

While the go-go-go so characteristic in big city driving still exists, I spent a week without being bowled over in the streets. Though there are fewer foreigners here, I also felt less watched. I saw women dressed as they should be in forty degree heat- in tank tops. I saw bikinis on the beach. I saw tattoos. All of these completely taboo in Korean culture. I contemplated how different my experience overseas would have been if I'd chosen Taiwan over Korea. I'm glad that I experienced the Korean culture. Glad that I lived for a time in an environment with such distinctive gender roles. Happy to have been immersed in such a rich and dynamic culture. Having said that, should I find myself back in Asia in years to come, Korea will have to compete pretty hard with Taiwan for my attention. I wouldn't hesitate to throw myself in for a year of crazy scooter riding, week-ends on the beach and hiking in the stunning mountains that cover most of the country.

Like most actors, I've come to realize that paired with my love and passion for the arts, my curiosity and hunger for learning, I also have a completely illogical side. Actors are ridiculously superstitious. Hundreds of theatre superstitions toss themselves around in the minds of actors and somehow we pick and choose which we give weight to. Bibles, children, animals, flowers, green costumes and whistling on stage are likely to anger those around you. Of course, the mention of the Scottish Play in the rehearsal space and uttering "Good luck," are the best known theatre superstitions. That having been said, actors have nothing on the Taiwanese. August is Ghost Month in Taiwan. It is believed that the gates to the underworld open and spirits cross into the living world. Great feasts are held for the spirits- tables laid out in the streets piled high with food and drink. Lanterns hang above the tables to guide the ghosts to their tables. Fake money is burnt to offer to the spirits (apparently even after we die we strive for nice cars). Even today, the Taiwanese seem fearful to throw aside these practices, "just in case". Because of the presence of ghosts in the living world, August is considered a bad time to engage in any risky behaviour. Swimming, flying, business deals, marriage and burying the dead are best left to the 30th, when the gates to the underworld close. When I arrived in Hualien, Mike quickly informed me that his Taiwanese friend was insisting on taking me for a pig leg dinner, which is supposed to bring good luck. We never made it out for pig leg, so I flew back to Seoul hoping that the ghosts would forgive my week of risky behaviour. So far, so good- although I'm sure there's no expiry date on bad luck. Maybe I've just confused the ghosts for a time- which will hopefully last until I get up the courage to sit down and eat a good luck pig leg.

Taroko National Park