Amazing Kota Kinabalu

When I got out of the plane, Nixon style, and stepped on Borneo, I felt a flash of heat. I thought it was the engines of the plane. No, this was just typical heat of Borneo, right here, just a few kilometres short of the equator.

Dave and I were the only white people in the customs line. Most people ignored us, and the few that didn’t, only glanced up briefly. Every third woman wore a headdress, and some of them wore long-sleeved dresses in beautiful fabrics all the way down to their ankles. Customs were easy. The lady stamped my passport and off we went. We weren’t even subjected to putting out luggage through security checks. One of the officers waved us on.

The airport was air conditioned, so I was a bit shielded. I didn’t quite comprehend the heat I was going to have to put up with for the next week. We booked a taxi for 20 Malaysian Ringgits, which is so far my favourite currency name (this is about $6 Canadian). Our cab driver hung a rosary off of his rear view mirror, but still proudly pointed out the giant mosque that we passed on our way to the hostel. “First mosque in Borneo,” he said. The yellow and gold building looked like–well, to a Canadian girl like me who has done little to no travelling in Muslim countries–it was from Aladdin. It was beautiful. We still haven’t visited it. That is next on the agenda.

But as we were passing through these tiny streets of Kota Kinabalu, there was something very mesmerizing about the place. I was falling in love already and I knew nothing of the people, tasted its food, or seen its beauty. Not at that point, anyway.

The lady who checked us in at our hostel was very sweet and polite with pretty good English, and bears a resemblance to Maria from Coronation Street, if she was Malaysian.

Try and imagine it.

The view from the room in our hostel gives you a pretty good idea of what most of the streets in Kota Kinabalu look like:

The street isn’t without its noise. Of course there are cars, but every once in a while an airplane flies overhead, making a huge ruckus. I would love to know what birds frequent the trees next to our window, as usually once a day they gather in enormous crowds and chirp like mad. Also, there is a man who uses a leaf blower very early in the morning. I could do without that.

As it turns out, if you’d like to visit Kota Kinabalu, you don’t need to know much Malay, if any at all. We learned the words for “thank you” and “you’re welcome.” We have only been to one restaurant that didn’t have someone who could speak English, and that happened to be the first one we visited.

And speaking of restaurants, the food is amazing. Absolutely marvelous, as Dave’s father would say. I don’t think that I’ve had anything I’ve truly disliked – except a strange episode with some fruit at a night market. There were several stalls of old ladies selling green fruit. The fruits were peeled and sliced by the ladies right there, and then packaged in clear plastic baggies. Then, once you indicated that you’d like one, she’d put in salt and soy sauce (we think??) and add some skewers for easy eating. So many stalls and so many people eating them, I assumed it must be good. Boy was I wrong.

It tasted awful. All the wrong flavours came together in one baggie. I waited until we were well out of sight and found a trashcan. Dave have a bit more luck with his baby squid on a stick:

It seems the best way to eat anything is on a stick and out of a plastic bag.

Besides, I found something tasty in roasted corn-on-the-cob-on-a-stick. The absolute best way to have corn. We’re going to venture to the night market again, but with a bigger appetite next time.

As far as restaurant cleanliness goes, you sort of have to remember where you are and let go of previous ideas of “clean.” Most places we went to were as clean as anyone’s kitchen at home would be. We haven’t gotten sick from any restaurant except the ONE Westerner restaurant we went to: a little Italian joint where the salmon wasn’t so fresh, we don’t believe.

But suffice it to say, especially if you’re at an outdoor place, expect that, in addition to regular customers, you will see rats, cockroaches, and cats visiting as well. You’d think the cats would get the rats, but the rats are almost as big as the cats. Sorry to gross you out. As I mentioned to Dave though, as long as they aren’t feeding me the rats, I don’t care.

I have hardly met nicer people though. It’s true when they talk about Malaysian hospitality: it’s probably some of the best in the world. Even when they aren’t treated that well (most of the foreigners here make me very, very ashamed), they still continue to provide excellent service and smiles.

The wonderful thing is the clash of cultures. Malaysian, Indonesian, Chinese, Indian, and many others all live here in the same place. Many are Muslim, some are Christian, some are Taoist or Buddhist, and some still practice folklore religions. Unlike Taiwan, no one looks at Dave and I as though there’s something wrong with us. Sometimes they are surprised to see us, especially if it’s a local hangout that’s not frequented by foreigners, but never are they rude.

I suppose the only exception to that rule was the music store we went into. Working there were four or five teenagers that didn’t seem to know much about music, nor about how to treat any customers – foreign or not. We ended up buying a cheap guitar there, however. Best $50 ever spent.

It's difficult to do much else in the heat.

For the enjoyment we’ve gotten out of the guitar, it was well worth dealing with the teenagers. It’s been far too long since we’ve gotten to play music.

Also–as a very random sidenote–our bathroom is outside. There is something very charming about that.

The stall doors next to the sink and balcony. I would have taken a picture of the view off the balcony, but it's just another building.

A very funny story on that note: there is a nice old Muslim lady who cleans our floor every morning. I woke up and went to the bathroom. There are two bathroom stalls there. That morning, both doors were closed. I asked her, “Are there people in there?” She smiled and nodded, saying “Yes.” I nodded back and smiled, and sat down on the bench, waiting for my turn. She then puts down her mop and bucket and opens one of the stall doors, closes it behind her, and uses it for herself.

…I see what you did there.

Overall, everything is so wonderful.

On our second day here, I had a conversation with a Norwegian who was also staying at the hostel. He, on the other hand, found Borneo to not be worth the money and wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.

I think he and I must be staying at different places. It’s magical here. Dave and I are planning to come back someday for sure.

In the meantime, we’re going to go look at moneys tomorrow, namely the Proboscis monkey, which is indigenous to Borneo, and there’s only 1,000 of them left.

Yes, these guys. Image from wikipedia.org

In short, while the heat is a bit much for this Irish/English/Scottish girl (my face is bright red constantly), I couldn’t recommend Borneo higher. If decent wage English teaching jobs were available around here, we’d probably never leave.

Observations on the City People

I’ve posted a few things about my personal experiences here already, but I want to speak a bit on the Taiwanese people themselves. Now, I should clarify that I’m specifically talking about city people, I suppose, since I haven’t been out of Taipei yet. Sad, yes. But next week we will be flying to Borneo for a week, so that will be remedied soon.

It seems the simplest way to discuss this is list format. In no particular order, here are some observations about Taipei’s people, the quietly vibrant and lovely ones:

1) Spaghetti or Hamburger. Bless their souls, the Taiwanese seem to think we are afraid of their food. On the contrary, Dave and I were very excited to try new foods here. We see everything in shop and hole-in-the-wall restaurant windows, from super freshly pressed and squeezed fruit made into amazing juices, to roasted duck hanging almost artistically on spits–and that’s just the stuff that is easy to digest!

Source unknown. I know, I need to start taking my own photos. I promise, this is representative of what we see.

The few places that we’ve been to where one of the employees has decent English, they have always shown us their menu sheepishly. Then, excitedly, they add, “And we have spaghetti!” I think they expect us to breathe a sigh of relief and happily order two large helpings. Or, as another woman said to us when we approached her counter, “Ni hao, hamburger?”

I like to think we please them when we instead order something that a local might, or at the very least, I know we surprise them.

2) Oh, they aren’t statues. In Montreal and a couple other cities I’ve visited, I’ve seen these actors who come out dressed as statues and through an amazing feat of discipline, they stand just as still as one. People who didn’t see their entrance admire them as though they are statues, and then jump back about fifteen feet when the “statue” opens their eyes and stares for just a moment, and then returns to neutral.

This is the same reaction we get when we catch people staring at us. We only see one or two other foreigners on a daily basis, and so we are quite a novelty. As soon as they are caught, though, they become quite embarrassed and look away, which Dave tells me is not the case in South Korea, where he was a few years ago.

Most are shy to stare, but some are very happy to. After enjoying breakfast one morning–I believe my third day there–we were on our way out of the restaurant. As we were leaving, an old lady, probably in her seventies, was entering the establishment and came up to me within about three inches. Rather than say anything to me, she started talking to her family with her while poking a finger right into my chest. The restaurant’s aisles, as is everywhere here, are a tight squeeze, and I shoved through the crowd to get away from her, as that was probably the most awkward encounter with a stranger I’ve ever had. But as I say, this is a rarity, hardly representative of all the Taiwanese people we’ve met.

3) In fact, random acts of kindness live on. I found a coffee house where a guy was working and I ordered a latte. (In case any of my former coworkers are reading, it was actually quite a nice latte. It was very foamy, but that’s how I like it.) Dave and I sat and watched the TV in the cafe for a bit, and then he came over and gave me this funny little pastry. It was strange: sort of in the style of French pastry, and inside was chocolate surrounding a bizzare orange centre. I figured out what it was: squash. Now that sounds really strange (and it is) but it was one of those few strange combinations that actually works!

Anyway, my point is, this pastry isn’t something I ordered, nor does it come with the latte (I went another time when a girl was working, ordered the same thing, and I didn’t get that). He saw me again today pass by, nodded, smiled, said hello, and looked down shyly. Little gestures like this make me so happy, and it’s nice to know they are very universal. Not that I had any doubt.

4) The visitors are much worse. While Dave and I have been here, as I mentioned, we don’t encounter other foreigners much. But when we do, they see us and make brief eye contact. We smile, as we do to anyone here who makes eye contact. All the Taiwanese people smile back. Foreigners never do. It’s so strange! In fact, they make a point of looking away and a lot of them make really strange noises while doing so. No joke. Neither Dave nor I can figure it out. Given this sort of attitude preceding us, it’s a wonder that we’re still treated so nicely by the locals.

On deaf ears.

There are exceptions, of course. The hostess we have here at the hostel, Norine, is a beautiful and sweet lady of African decent from Holland, and she has been more than helpful while we’ve been here. We met two Americans a couple nights ago and had a fun night out. But on the whole, we’ve been disappointed, as trying to make foreign friends is proving to be a bit more difficult than expected.

———–

Those are the ones I can think of at the moment and I’m sure this has made for a sufficiently long entry anyway. I hope this entry finds everyone reading well, and I’m about to go take a walk to settle this yummy vegetable curry in my stomach.

Taiwanese Goal #2 Completed: Storyland – And Other Adventures

If you recall (that is, if you’ve been keeping up), I wrote back in this entry that I would like to visit Storyland, a recreation of Taipei from about fifty years ago. It seemed like an excellent opportunity to see what Taipei was like before the Western influence and the rise of technology.

What a disappointment. As it turns out, it is a bit of a tourist trap. And when I say a bit, I mean a lot. It cost Dave and I $400 NTD ($13.43 CAD) to take a gander through this quasi-theme park-like tour underneath the K-Mall. I have to say, it was quite a waste. We spent probably 15 minutes there at best, and 5 of those minutes were spent trying to get out. There were only about 5 or 6 other people in the whole thing with us, which should speak volumes about its popularity.

I’ll try and give credit where credit is due: there were a couple cool, old cars and scooters parked everywhere, which were nice to look at. Also, a few rooms had been set up to look like old shops with antique children shoes and other trinkets; one had been set up to look like a dentist’s shop. I took a photo of it and posted it on facebook with a note to my mom, telling her that dental care in Taiwan was very cheap and state-of-the-art:

Open wide...

So while Storyland was a bust, we’ve done plenty of other fun things while we’ve been here.

Most notably, we visited the Lungshan Temple, which dates back to 1738. It was absolutely stunning. We arrived at just the right time, when hundreds of people gathered to provide offerings to their ancestors. Everyone had a different number of incense in their hands – some three, some just one, some five – which I wonder if it holds any significance. They would bow with it, holding to their foreheads briefly, and continue in prayer while monks chanted hypnotically from inside the temple. Dave and I were too sheepish to take too many photos since everyone seemed in a very thoughtful mood. We watched for a long time.

You can even see how much incense was being burned.

There are more photos to be seen, which I’ve posted on facebook. Most of you are my facebook friends, but if not, you can see what few I have here. We’ve just been too busy looking at things to bother taking photos. But hopefully we’ll remedy that soon!

Until next time!

Taipei: First Impressions

Finally! I’ve been here a grand total of 8 hours and finally feel a little bit less dizzy, so I’m able to write something up about the short adventure thus far and I have a few first impressions. Sadly, there are no photos just yet. I’m pretty bad about that. I tend to take in too much with my eyes and use nothing to document it for others.

But a couple things:

1) The Taiwanese are really okay with small spaces. Truly. Our hostel room, while very clean and cozy, is ity bity. It’s about 12×8 at the most, if I had to eyeball it. But it has a bunk bed with leopard spot sheets and covers, which remind me of my sister, Bethany. Not only that, but everything is tight when you walk around the streets. The shops are reminiscent of my closets: everything packed in very tightly, with just enough room to grab what you need.

2) They love scooters. I was already told that there would be a lot of scooters, but when I heard/read that, it wasn’t emphasized enough. There may as well be a scooter show on every street. They crowd the streets and are much, much more plentiful than cars, buses, trucks, and bicycles. But they don’t stop at the roads. Many a time I’ve been passed on the sidewalk by someone riding their scooter. No one bats an eyelash at this onslaught of scooters, which makes Dave and I stand out even more than we already do when we gawk at them. Did I mention I’ve only seen one other non-Asian person since we’ve been here?

3) They can sleep anywhere. On our flight over, Dave and I struggled to fall asleep in our seats. At best, we had sporadic sleep, certainly never reaching the REM cycle. But all the other Asian passengers seemed to fall asleep instantaneously, some of them sleeping while sitting up very straight. While exploring our neighbourhood, I spotted a man on his parked scooter with his feet on the handlebars and leaned back, sleeping.

4) They are very friendly. While they are thus far not super eager to talk to us as foreigners, I suspect it might be because of their lack of English. Those who can speak English smile and say hello, and are very appreciative of any Mandarin we can muster (mostly, it’s been “thank-you” so far).

5) Stuff can be quite cheap. We found a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant for lunch called Milky, which served breakfast type dishes and tea. We paid for two iced green teas and two dishes (mine was a strange but cool meal: spaghetti in some sort of sauce with pepper and corn wrapped in scrambled egg, served with a couple potatoes), and the total came to about $3.25 CAD. Afterward, we stopped at the corner store and got 1 giant bottle of water, 2 big bottles of Chinese beer, one small container of milk tea (which tastes like Earl Grey tea with lots of sugar and milk), and a big bottle of fruit juice, all which came to around $4.00 CAD. Also, our transportation total from the airport (bus to bullet train to taxi) came to $16.50 CAD for the two of us. It’s nice to be in a city that is budget-traveller-friendly.

As for myself, I’m doing quite well and so is Dave. Both of us are jetlagged, dehydrated, and a bit assaulted by the air pollution, which, as one can imagine, is much stronger here than in Halifax, the closest city to us in Canada. But it’s nothing a good night’s sleep can’t cure.

Until next time! (And I will have photos.)

L.A. Lesson #142: Be Careful Who You Listen To

Well, it’s 12:00pm here in Costa Mesa, California. In less than 12 hours, Dave and I will be off on a 15 hour non-stop flight to Taipei. The time here in California has been lovely, if not idyllic. The weather here has been ridiculous compared to what we would have had in Nova Scotia. Try: 20-25 degrees C every day since we’ve been here. In Nova Scotia, it’s rainy and nasty.

We did do a bit of exploring in L.A. before we came to my grandparent’s place here in Costa Mesa. If there’s anything I learned from that, it’s this:

Do not believe what the media tells you about any given place you’d like to travel.

That is, at least take it with a grain of salt. Of course you can’t throw caution to the wind entirely, but you have to question the motives of media giving lavish negative attention to one community of people in a particular area. In the case of L.A., I’m talking largely about the black community. Dave and I ventured to an open mic featuring jazz and poetry. We were the only white people there, hands down. We couldn’t have been treated in a nicer manner. Even when we walked in, we weren’t greeted with aggressive stares or disdain. Instead, we were approached afterward with handshakes and heartfelt appreciation for coming out and making an attempt to really see their culture firsthand. It was packed full of support and talent – the last thing the media seems to want us to see.

One musician we spoke to said when new music started coming out claiming Compton was so terrible, he said all his friends in Compton took a look out their windows and doors and said, “Really?” He knew people there who didn’t lock their doors.

I wonder if George Carlin locked his doors.

Again, I don’t think people should pretend that this whole world is carefree and everyone wants gumdrops and love, but we should also be careful about who is telling us what information. I felt so much love in that room, probably more than I have in many other places that I’ve lived that are supposedly “safer.”

A blog reading I recommend that is related to this topic can be found here. This guy is an American who wrote 20 things he learned about travelling in 70 countries. Now, the only point I disagree with him on is #13: America and Canada Share a Common Culture. Certainly we both speak English and we have a lot of the same media (mostly because the U.S. dumps their media on us), among many other things. But the biggest difference between the U.S. in Canada, not counting pockets of culture like the Southern states and Quebec, is the political climate. In the U.S., generally people are much more paranoid and much less trusting, and this attitude naturally lends itself to the general state of the country. Being a Canadian who has spent a lot of time in the U.S., I can definitely attest to this. That being said, I love both countries. I’m proud of being a Canadian, but I have a lot of American friends and a lot of family in the U.S., and I love and adore all of them. That being said, claiming Canada and the U.S. are essentially the same is like telling a Norwegian that Norway and Sweden are essentially the same. (I know that all of my Norwegian family here in California are cringing at that comment.)

In conclusion: be aware. That’s all. Don’t let what someone says limit your perceptions. Everyone’s got pockets to fill.

Stopover in LA

I want to make this a quick post today. I don’t feel like sitting around on the computer all day: I was staring at nothing but screens of some kind for five hours yesterday on our flight from Boston to LAX. When we arrived at our hotel – L.A. Adventurer Hotel – I was exhausted, but a trip to the bar fixed that. And let me just say, for the record, while it’s a bit cheesy, this hotel is extremely charming and clean. Trip Advisor was wrong, for once. I think it’s just a bit more relaxed for some people’s tastes.

We’re just trying to find something to do before we go to Project Blowed tonight, which doesn’t start until 10:00 this evening. Having not paid attention to our calendar, we forgot that today is Remembrance Day (Veteran’s Day in the U.S.), so there are very few places open, anyway. Oh well. A time to rest up and remember our vets.

image from carynmirriamgoldberg.wordpress.com

 

In the meantime, here is a hilarious, witty story that I found today. Hope you’ll enjoy:

————

Cookies by Douglas Adams (author: “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”)

This actually did happen to a real person, and the real person was me. I had gone to catch a train. This was April 1976, in Cambridge, U.K. I was a bit early for the train. I’d gotten the time of the train wrong.

I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of cookies. I went and sat at a table.

I want you to picture the scene. It’s very important that you get this very clear in your mind.

Here’s the table, newspaper, cup of coffee, packet of cookies. There’s a guy sitting opposite me, perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase.

It didn’t look like he was going to do anything weird. What he did was this: he suddenly leaned across, picked up the packet of cookies, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.

Now this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with. There’s nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone who in broad daylight has just stolen your cookies.

You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have very quickly been gunfire, helicopters coming in, CNN, you know. . . But in the end, I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn’t do anything, and thought, what am I going to do?

In the end I thought, nothing for it, I’ll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened. I took out a cookie for myself. I thought, that settled him. But it hadn’t because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another cookie.

Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the second time around. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice . . .” I mean, it doesn’t really work.

We went through the whole packet like this. When I say the whole packet, I mean there were only about eight cookies, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took one. Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away.

Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee, stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my cookies.

The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who’s had the same exact story, only he doesn’t have the punch line.

(Excerpted from “The Salmon of Doubt: Hitchhiking the Galaxy One Last Time” by Douglas Adams)

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First Detour: The Maine Event

Well, as per usual, it’s been a few days! Our journey has officially begun. We started it off well: when the cab came to pick us up Friday morning at 5:30am, we got halfway down the street when Dave realized he forgot his BA certificate (most job postings require the original, no copies allowed). The cab driver obliged when we asked him to turn around, so crisis averted. Since then, the list of forgotten things (that we’ve noticed) is as follows:

1) Both toothbrushes

2) All my jewelry, which I neatly packed in a box and just simply forgot to put the box in my suitcase

3) Dave’s shave brush and cake (though I remembered the actual razor and refills)

And I’m sure there’s more to discover along the way. But the Maine (pun intended) thing is that we remembered all our paperwork.

And now, we’re in Maine! While I am Canadian by blood, I partially grew up here, and it’s very familiar to me. But for Dave, this is his first time in New England. The reaction seems to be that it’s a lot like Nova Scotia, but more touristy – without the tourists. No one’s here for the Prelude activities just yet, the Christmastime weekend that Kennebunkport is so known for, and it’s far past the summer season. And better for it: it would be awful for him to visit when it’s so insanely busy in the summer:

image from laughmaine.com

The only downside is that Maine isn’t exactly brimming with things to do, besides shopping and seeing sightseeing. The latter is only exciting when you’re not used to Maritime scenery, and Dave is of course very familiar with that.

So generally we’ve just been relaxing and spending some time with my family. Dave is doing very well at impressing everyone from conservative Marines to art teacher hippies. We took a few photos on our trip downtown. One of the funnier finds was a boat in the harbour bearing the same name as my sister:

Maybe she has a secret admirer?

We also had a lovely night with my friends from my old workplace, Abacus. Sarah, Mary, and Paula treated us to Thai food at Mekhong Thai (best Thai food in Southern Maine) and then we had drinks at Bandaloop (a funky bar with excellent everything and music). Sarah’s friend James came along as well. As quiet as he was, he seemed like a pretty cool guy, and I hope we didn’t freak him out with our gregarious nature. I would show a photo of us hanging out, and we took plenty. You’d think we’d have one good photo of us together, but trust me – we don’t. So sad.

Anne Marie, my sister has been highly entertaining as usual and then my mother also played stylist for us. She dyed my hair back to its original colour (extremely dark brown; almost black), and then she cut Dave’s hair. As he says, it’s much more “grown-up.”

Just because his hair has grown up doesn't mean he has to

And that pretty much brings us to today: we are leaving tomorrow from Boston and landing in LA. My dad is bringing us to All Day Breakfast, his favourite place around here and I have to say, I love it as well. My mother has played 40 questions with us, making sure that we’ve covered all our bases, buying us extra socks and underwear, just in case they don’t have those things in Taiwan. Ah, Mom. She’s being an excellent sport about all this.

And as for me, I’ve finally calmed down. I was extremely anxious about this whole trip. Certainly I was excited as well, but I was split right down the middle with the two. But now we’re on our way and there is quite literally no turning back, so I have no choice but to press forward. And that has forced me to think positively – and I like that.

In LA, we will be checking out Project Blowed, a hip-hop open mic, and then spending the rest of the time with my grandparents who are graciously keeping us for the next few days after that. This will be our last leg before heading out to Taiwan (!!). More updates soon.

Three Days Until Takeoff

Well, it’s been quite the last few days! Dave and I have been doing a lot of packing procrastinating, but pretty much everything is in order. I had my last day of work yesterday. As is appropriate for a coffee house, they sent me off with a lovely ceramic mug and a card signed by everyone wishing me well. My favourite goodbye was from a coworker in the cafe, “Don’t leave me!!” Another told me my “tuna melts rocked,” and another asked me to “send food xo.” I’ll do my best. Dave also finished off his last day, and both of us celebrated by doing absolutely nothing.

In any case, there is little news to report. This is more like a “checking in” entry. What little news there is:

1) There will soon be official itinerary changes to mark this, but it seems we will be taking a stop in Borneo to break up our first month in Taiwan. Not a bad break, eh?

image from destination360.com

2) We’re taking any and all mailing addresses and we absolutely promise a postcard to anyone who gives us an address. You can send me a private message on facebook with your address or email it to me. I would assume if you are reading this blog, you have one of the two. But if not, comment on here and we’ll do something about that.

We’ve been starting the long line of visiting and people calling to send us off (which is very nice of everyone, and I am genuinely more than happy to see everyone). All balanced between getting a few more last minute shots and then going to the police to get our background checks started. Oi vey. But I’d rather try and get all my ducks in line before we get to Taiwan rather than after.

This is my first trip ever to anywhere outside North America besides Ireland, might I add. The nerves are piling up like firecrackers, and I feel like I’m going to explode. But that’s normal. Right?

Taiwanese Goal #5: Visit a Hot Spring

The last few days I’ve been distracted. First of all, my sister visited this weekend. She is in her first year of university at St. Francis Xavier U and doing wonderfully. Considering we’re heading off for a while, it was good to have a visit. Secondly, I got a brilliant book about Taiwan called, simply, Taiwan. More specifically, it is the Lonely Planet guide on the place, and man, what a wonderful read it is. I’ve been stuck on it since in came in the mail last week. I recommend the Lonely Planet series in general.

image from taiwanderful.net

We also got a Mandarin phrasebook. While it is useful, I find it a looming and intense reminder of how shoddy my Mandarin still is.

But I have another thing on my mind today: hot springs.

After watching a documentary or two that showed how lovely these natural wonders seem, I am determined to visit one on our visit. Or two.

It seems that the hot springs are all over in Taiwan and so it just depends on the type of visit you want. I think I would want to go for more “authentic” and less “spa”-type visit, at least initially, so according to my aforementioned guide, I will most likely be visiting Dongpu, Sileng, or Fan Fan.

image from taiwan.net

Not only are these spots meant to be healing and relaxing, they are often quite beautiful, and I feel I would be skipping out on a major aspect of the country’s tradition and beauty if I didn’t go to at least one. In one documentary I watched, the host could hardly dip more than her feet in the water because it was so hot. I can’t imagine how people submerge their whole bodies or even swim. But I suppose, when in Rome.

Now. If only I had a new bathing suit…

Taiwanese Goal #4: As Many Markets As Possible

This one sort of goes without saying. It would be such a shame to explore any region of the world that had as many markets as Taiwan does and not visit them. Because it is not a place like 7-11 (and Taiwan is particularly notorious for its 7-11 culture) or any other enormous big box store, I would love to visit these markets almost exclusively for my food. Of course this will all depend on their prices, among other factors, but I feel this could be accomplished.

image from icouldiwilltravel.blogspot.com

You can watch a 10 minute clip of someone walking through Yongan Market on YouTube right here. It’s not quite the full experience and maybe watching the whole ten minutes might be a bit redundant after a while, but it gives a wonderful perspective on what these booths and streets look like. Pay special attention to the sheer quantity of motorbikes parked at the beginning of the clip. From what I’ve read, Taipei has more motorbikes than it does people, much like L.A. has more cars than it does people.

Taiwan has a particularly excellent night market scene from what I read on several websites. Dave tells me this is quite different than Seoul in Korea, and he’s very excited for this change – as am I.

In reference to the entry I posted about thousand year-old eggs, many bizarre foods can be found in these night markets. So much so that this scene was featured on Travel Channel’s Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmerman (you can take a look here). I’m looking forward especially to the stinky tofu. Apparently it’s wonderful if you can get over the smell. Andrew Zimmerman doesn’t think so on the show, though.

image from asianfoodgrocer.com

Dave keeps reminding me on how I will basically have to turn any perception I have of normalcy upside down for this trip. I’m sure he’s right. That’s why I’d just like to throw caution to the wind and try everything. Duck tongues, stinky tofu, 30 day fermented pork… bring it.