A Shot of Formosa - Taipei

My grandfather didn't make it. Overly confident that Chiang Kai-shek would soon return, he remained in Shanghai despite many friends, colleagues, and even his brother whom he'd followed to China after WWII, begging him to leave while he still could. As Mao's communists seized control of China in 1949, many foreigners escaped to safety in British Hong Kong. Others, along with most Chinese loyal to the Kuomintang, boarded boats in Fujian (my husband's home province) to cross the Taiwan Strait. My grandfather wasn't one of them. 

Not a bad place to rest

66 years later, sitting in the business class lounge at Beijing Capital Airport awaiting my nonstop* flight to Taipei, I thought about my grandfather. Smuggled onto a Russian frigate after slipping past the guards surrounding his home, I imagined the sorrow he felt catching his last glimpse of China from a small porthole as the Hong Kong bound ship disappeared into the night. He would never see China again, nor would  he ever forgive Chiang for abandoning them. 

Come Fly With Me

I had a bad feeling the moment I noticed there wasn't a soul waiting in line as I walked up the check-in counter. The inbound flight was extremely delayed, so much in fact the aircraft was still en route to Taipei from Hong Kong; never mind passengers and cargo would have to de-plane before the next wave was loaded, and then fly several hours to Beijing. It was 7:36pm - I was tired, I was hungry, and now realized that instead of enjoying a late dinner in Taipei I would be arriving just before daybreak. Even worse, there'd be no way I could continue with my plans to visit Taroko Gorge  later that morning. There was only one thing to do to remedy the situation -- I suggest you take notes: 

Nota Bene: Being the only person at the desk, I kindly informed the agent how disruptive this delay had affected my itinerary - especially having not received either the email or text notification concerning the flight change sent to all passengers - and politely asked if there was anything he could do to compensate my lost time. "Would the airline be willing to offer an upgrade?" I asked. He checked, but there was no more availability, so I asked about lounge pass. After apologizing on behalf of the airline for the inconvenience, he presented me with a complimentary pass the Business Class Lounge as a thank you for my patience and understanding, and to make my extended wait less unpleasant. I graciously accepted, thanked him for his outstanding service, and proceeded to the lounge for a hot meal, free alcohol, and a very comfortable lounge chair to rest. 

And THAT is how you do it.

It was just past midnight when our plane finally arrived, and despite the inconvenient delay, I was excited to fulfill my lifelong dream of sitting on the upper deck of a Boeing 747. I don't care who you are - climbing stairs to an upper deck on an aircraft is a memorable experience, Period. Long gone were the once exclusive piano lounges and dining rooms enjoyed by first class passengers in the 1970s. Though this wasn't a premium class section on Eva Air - those are located on the main deck - I was still overjoyed when at the top of the stairs I turned the corner and looked down the narrowing fuselage straight into the cockpit. The fuselage's curvature meant that my starboard side window seat came with two sizable compartments nestled into the extra space between the armrest and window. 

Since this was a relatively short flight and I was one of the last passengers to board, I placed my bags in the rear storage closet next to the stairs for easy retrieval upon disembarking. The cabin was full of commotion from other passengers as if they were desensitized to the ungodly hour. As much as I wanted to wallow during my time "upstairs," I was too exhausted to stay awake. I quickly fell asleep during our taxi to the runway. I awoke violently as the plane suddenly pulled up, drastically thrusting me into the back of my seat as the engines roared into full throttle. Peering out the window I could see a few faintly illuminated airliners parked on the tarmac below before disappearing back into the soupy-thick fog. The captain immediately came on, said we had missed the approach due to poor visibility, and the we would be going around for second attempt - "The fog was so thick we couldn't see the runway," he said with a slight chuckle. I'm glad his sense of humor was intact... At that point all I vividly remembered watching a Discovery Channel program about the worst air disaster in history: two 747s collided on a runway in Azores. Due to miscommunication between the pilots and the control tower, and THICK FOG, meant that none were aware each plane was at the other end of the same runway - one landing, the other taking off. Uttering a quick "Buck-it" to myself, I hoped for the best and went back to sleep. 

These Boots Were Made For Walkin'

Not knowing anyone in Taipei and left to my own device (iPhone), I turned to a rather taboo social networking app - Grindr - for connecting with local gays who could better inform me of fun things to see and do, and maybe even show me around. I hadn't systematically resorted to this method while traveling before, with the exception of my second week in Beijing - whereby I met Alex. Despite many conflicting opinions out there, I remain firm in my belief that new, legitimate friendships can form when Grindr is used properly. After making a new profile stating my intentions, I was pleasantly unsurprised - or conveniently naive, depending on who you ask - that most of the messages were cordial and friendly, welcoming me to Taipei and suggesting a multitude of things to do that day. A few unsolicited messages deemed counter-intentional were effortlessly discarded, minus two exceptional subjects refusing to accept my rebuffs. My expletive-filled tirade shaming their self-centered, disrespectful behavior finally got the point across. 

Anew

By days end four respectful gentlemen agreed to give me a local perspective of Taipei. I met the first person, Anew, for lunch in Xinzhong Anhe, not far from my hotel. (He selected the name "Anew" to commemorate his resumption of learning English - a new beginning in his life.) It was still raining pretty heavily so he brought me to his favorite restaurant known for its soups. Both were quite delicious and similar to soups in Fujian Province (Alex, you're welcome). We also had a pig blood cake with a very similar texture to blood sausage; the ground peanut seasoning on top sweetened the taste - but not enough to change my mind on blood tofu. 

Listening to him talk about Taiwan was very insightful. Though originally from a small town in central Taiwan, Anew jumped at the opportunity to take a job in Taipei working in the fashion industry, even though it meant transferring college credits to another university and delaying graduation. For many young Taiwanese, being separated from family is at times difficult both emotionally and financially; for Anew, it is a necessary sacrifice to ensure that one day he will be able to support himself and his family. After graduation later this year, he will join the army. Military service is compulsory for all males, which may account for Taiwanese peoples' reputation having pleasant demeanors and courteousness - traits lacking in many other nations (United States, perhaps?). He kindly took me across the street after lunch to get a Taiwan SIM card; further demonstrating his friendly nature, he used his own ID to register the number since I left my passport at the hotel. Suggesting I forego the famous National Palace Museum on a weekend and instead visit MOCA, we parted ways with a hug - solidifying our new friendship. 

Taking Anew's advice, I headed to MOCA Taipei - the Museum of Contemporary Art - a small yet quirky museum housed in a beautiful Meiji-European brick building; it was originally an elementary school when it opened in 1921. The second person from Grindr, Ethan, met me out front. The line to enter snaked through the entire square in front of the building, indicating what I presumed to be a must-see exhibition. Moments after hopping in the tediously slow-moving line, it was cut off to further entrants about fifteen people behind us. Thankfully there wasn't a drop of rain throughout our 100-minute wait to get inside. Our conversation, however, was mundane at best, barely progressing beyond which American TV shows he likes to watch. Oddly enough, I think he and Alex would get along swimmingly since  they both love watching the exact same shows, i.e., shows I cannot stand. 

Ried 'interacting' with the art

Once inside, it became clear that Mika Ninagawa's contemporary art exhibit was one of 'those' exhibits - you know, where you either get it and appreciate the work or you stand there wondering why you haven't become an artist since evidently anything can be considered art these days. Guess which of the above best describes how I felt? While the vividly colorful floral pictures pleasing to look at and other facets affirmed Ninagawa's creativity, I'm not convinced her work warranted such fanfare considering that most of the blown up prints were out of focus and the exhibit lacked a recognizable theme - maybe it was just me. Still, I did my best to enjoy it, particularly when I reached the more interactive parts. Who couldn't help but smile as people painstakingly pose in every Instagram-provking picture in front of various backdrops? Ethan clearly didn't like the exhibit any more than I did, and since it was obvious he reluctantly forewent his much desired TV time to come met me, I decided not to exert any more effort on this lost cause, and happily parted ways. 

That evening I met number three, Grant, a Taipei native who had just returned from his two-year study abroad in Australia. Grant also works for a wealthy couple as a "jack of all trades" assistant - we connected immediately. We agree to meet in Ximen, Taipei's renowned gayborhood and perhaps the most gay-friendly urban area in the Orient. After enjoying a light dinner of Taipei cuisine, we walked a short distance over to the Red House, behind which is a swatch of gay bards with large outdoor patios. Though we arrived a tad early, it wasn't long until the whole area was bustling; I could pick out only a handful of westerners. Contrary to what I've heard about Taipei's gay scene, Grant informed me that locals fervently welcome foreigners. He had many friends who were in bi-national relationships, and couldn't recall ever witnessing any kind of rebuffs from Taiwanese towards them. As they say, "Myth: Busted." Not intending to stay out late, an excruciatingly itchy inflammation manifested on my arms and legs, meaning I'd be ending the night without visiting a club. 

Hard Boiled Eggs and Nuts.

I spent the rest of the night scratching uncontrollably. Whichever irritant I came into contact with in China was showing no signs of letting up. My stash of Benadryl now depleted, I had no choice but to get to a hospital. Registering was quick and easy, and within a few minutes an English-speaking nurse began taking my vitals and making notes for my chart. She then brought me to her desk (turns out it was the doctor's) and a moment later the doctor sat down and began his evaluation. Neither of us could determine with any certainty the cause. The best he could do was write a few prescriptions for me to have filled across the lobby, then come back and have the nurse administer them. Seemed easy enough. 

A Ninagawa portrait

When I returned, she sat me down and accessed a vein in my right arm. She then brought over one of the prescription vials and mixed it with something. "You may feel a little pinch," she calmly mumbled. As it flowed in, the sharpest pain imaginable exploded in my veins. It was so bad my wrist and had went numb almost instantly. "HOLY F#$%ING $H!T," I screamed, frantically trying to will my lungs to breath. She told me to sit still until all the medicine was inside so it could reach the rest of my body. "YOU LEFT THE DAMN ARMBAND TIED ON! IT CAN'T GO ANYWHERE. FOR GOD'S SAKE, TAKE IT OFF!!! I was about to pass out when she finally removed the armband, sluggishly breathing again. At that point I wasn't sure I wanted her to hook me up to a bag of IV Benadryl. When the bag finished about 20 minutes later, I grabbed my prednisonal tablets and marched out. Despite abundant pain the process was seamless - leaving much to be learned for American hospitals. 

Chiang Kai-shek Memorial

 I met the fourth and final person, Pido, at the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial just after lunch. Far less intimidating and much prettier than Tiananmen Square, the memorial plaza is flanked by the National Theatre and National Concert Hall. The quintessential Chinese architecture, compliments by decorative formal gardens, contrasted with the elevated memorial. The memorial and its platform are made of white marble; the octagonal shaped roof is covered in blue tiles. I climbed the 89 steps to the top - one for each year of Chiang's life - and walked over to the main hall. Inside is a large statue of nationalist leader, guarded by soldiers dressed in their elaborate best twenty-four hours a day. Lucky for me, I arrived just in time to witness the changing of the guard, which unlike my days at VMI was far more eccentric - I mean really, is it necessary to spin riffles in the process? Regardless, the tourists extended their selfie-sticks and climbed over one another just to catch a glimpse of the guards in their spiffy uniforms and polished chrome helmets glitzing in the pale light. 

Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Square

Meiji-European Architecture

Pido met me just after the ceremony. His job in in the plastics industry had sent him all over the globe on business, his favorite places being in Europe. Since the weather was holding, he suggested we rent public bikes and go for a ride over to his favorite place in Taipei, the Creative Sculpture Park. We casually rode passed the Presidential Palace and Old Taipei Rail Station, as well as many other historically significant buildings dating back to the late 19th century. The creative park vividly reminded me of a smaller 798 District in Beijing, old warehouses now home to small art galleries, shops, entertainment venues, an indie film cinema, and of course quirky restaurants and cafes. I had absolutely no desire to follow massive crowds into either the Hello Kitty or Frozen exhibits (when will people just let it go???). Instead, we were drawn to the intriguing Upside-Down House until discovering we'd have to muster a 2-plus hour wait to go inside. I took a rain check. 

From the park we rode bikes to one of his favorite places for bubble tea. I chose one with taro, including tapioca pearls which are so much fun to chew. It was getting and I had a train to catch for Tainan. We were a block from my hotel so he kindly accompanied me to collect my bags from the front desk, and proceeded on the MRT back to Taipei Main Station. With about 30 minutes to kill before boarding, Pido took advantage of the food court to fetch some more local food for a late lunch. We cheerfully parted ways as I entered the platform for my train, bidding Taipei an intermittent adieu. 

798's little cousin - Creative Sculpture Park

"...Stelly's Back - - Tell some Men!"

Spider-Man

I returned four days later for one final night in the 
city. Staying at the same hotel made navigating the city relatively easy since I was now familiar with the area. I decided first to go back to the Upside-Down House, figuring that it wouldn't be busy on a workday. My instincts proved correct - there were barely any people in the park, and I was able to walk right up the entrance. Walking inside reminded me of a play I'd seen as a child on a school field trip about Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, whose husband built their house upside-down (though I doubt it was ever as nice as this one). The house was very spacious, elegantly furnished, and perfectly staged as if a family of gravity-defying people lived there. It was fun to watch people pose for quirky pictures, which led me to perform a most dreadful (albeit necessary) action: take selfies. 

Take THAT Texas drivers

That evening, I ventured north to one of Taipei's famous night markets, the Taipei Shi Lin Night Market. It was pouring rain and rather dark when I arrived, making navigation from the MRT station to the market a tad challenging. There were tons of specialty shops, souvenir stalls, and clothing stores. Best of all: the food stands. I snacked my way around the market until finding the actual main hall and food court down an unmarked stairway. Obviously it was dinnertime when I arrived since every table was practically full. Nevertheless, I strolled past all the food stalls carefully glancing at the menus and food being prepared. 

I should have taken Physics class

Back upstairs I continued my search for two souvenir refrigerator magnets, one for Taipei and another for Tainan. At the very back of the main hall I found three stalls with tons of them, though many were not what I was looking for. Since Alex and I began collecting them a few years ago, we've focused on finding ones more unique in design and material. I was not successful in finding a true Tainan magnet, but did see one depicting a food dish - scrambled eggs with oysters and spring onion, covered in sweet n sour sauce - which I had for breakfast one morning. "Good enough for government work," my senior English teacher, Coach Arnold, would quip. 

My new friend Anew had invited me to a picnic breakfast the next day at his office on the 84th floor of Taipei 101 - once the tallest building in the world, and second tallest in Asia. Unfortunately a last minute work meeting meant we had to cancel, but I continued with my plans to visit Taipei 101 anyways. I exited the MRT station and looked straight up the building's side, nearly getting vertigo. Inside at the ticket desk, I was surprised to discover how cheap it was to go to the top: a whopping 5 USD (compare that to $32 for a ticket to the Empire State Building). I waited in line only a few moments before boarding the world's fastest elevator with a mind-blowing top speed of 37.7 mph; it takes only 49 seconds to reach the observation deck from the 5th floor visitor center. Once the doors close, the lights are dimmed to reveal a starry ceiling. Celestial music played as we watched the screens following the elevator's real-time ascent. 

Can you see the bottom?

Rainy overcast skies and poor visibility diminished our views over the city. Thankfully there was plenty to learn about how the building was designed and the challenges of building something so tall in a highly seismic location such as Taipei - its foundation rests a mere 660 feet from a major fault line. Spanning five of the highest floors in the building's center, including the observation deck, we could see the gigantic pendulum counterweight that stabilizes Taipei 101 during high winds. This spherical tuned mass damper is the world's largest weighing in at 660 tons. It became so famous that it has its own mascot: the Damper Baby. There was video monitor showing the pendulum during a major typhoon in 2015 that caused the pendulum to sway more than three feet! Normally, it may only move fractions of a centimeter, if at all. 

The outdoor observation deck was closed due to the weather. I still had to use the same stairs to move between the observation decks. Walking upstairs I realized that this stairwell went all the way to the bottom, so I dared to look down the central opening between the rails: 89 floors down. Yikes. 

Hatfields and McCoys - Chinese style

More Ninagawa prints
(No photography allowed in
National Palace Museum)

My final stop in Taipei was the National Palace Museum, located just north of the city. Built into the side of a mountain, it contains over 700,000 artifacts, manuscripts, paintings, and other treasures once belonging in Beijing's Forbidden City. The emperors personally collected many of the items. When the Kuomintang fled Beijing, they raided the Palace Museum and packed everything they could in crates and sent to Taiwan via Nanjing. Today, Taiwan boasts the largest collection of imperial Chinese relics, including China. Though unsuccessful in getting everything to Taiwan, the National Palace Museum is recognized as having the very best imperial collection. 

The swarming crowds of tourists blew me away as I entered the museum; I couldn't imagine what weekends must be like. I spent about two hours there, maneuvering through various exhibit halls - usually in reverse order - trying to position myself between oversized tour groups being herded like cattle on their way to slaughter. "This is the Milking Room. You can see your cousins, the cows, having milk pumped from their utters. Next is the Machine Shop, where our engineers come up with the quickest, most humane way of ending your life so people can eat you. Move along quickly, there isn't time for questions." I've never understood why anyone would join these groups since they only get a few seconds to see something, which is contrary to understanding and/or appreciating history and art. I admit that I am not a huge fan of Asian art, and to an extent modern and abstract art as well. However, I do adhere to the school that believes the best way to appreciate art or ARTifacts is to find a few pieces that speak to you and spend most of your time appreciating the fine details - a belief that is always lost on a group tour. 

I enjoyed perusing the vast and impressive collection of ancient manuscripts even though there was no translation, and many trinkets and jewelry of jade, moonstone, and other precious stones. When the crowds became unbearable to navigate, I descended to the ground level where a secluded hall hosting an exhibit on loan from the Vatican was nearly empty. I found the exhibit a bit more interesting than the museum's permanent collection - partly because I knew what I was looking at. Passing many ornately decorated garments, I quickly became more sickened by the luxurious extravagance: fine silks, gold and silver threading, diamonds, precious stones, the list went on. Granted, most items were gifts to the church from parishioners and townships to commemorate papal visits and the like. However, I dare say after being raised Catholic, I felt ashamed that the church wouldn't auction off or otherwise sell these pieces and use the proceeds to do real Christian work - such as feeding the homeless, caring for the sick, or any of the things Jesus outlined in his Beatitudes. God help me if I should ever visit the Vatican Museum. "Love the artist, hate the commissioner " I suppose. 

My time in Taiwan had come to an end. I absolutely loved the cleanliness of the cities, friendliness of the people, and abundance of things to do and places to see. Taipei reminded me of New York City with its easily navigable layout, though thankfully much more affordable. Taiwan's notoriously delicious cuisine was very enjoyable, though not as spicy as I prefer. I couldn't be happier that I was able to visit Taiwan, and highly recommend it to anyone wishing to go on an adventure. I certainly am looking forward to the day I return - just not during the rainy season. 

There's something you don't see everyday