Monthly Archives: November 2013

Amy and I spent this week in the southern half of Taiwan, in the historic city of Tainan – a former capital of the island that was founded by Dutch traders, believe it or not. It’s a great city, with interesting temples and old forts, and incredibly nice people. We also made a few day trips. One was a half-hour south to the port city of Kaohsiung, where we dipped our toes in the Taiwan Strait, and had this incredible seafood dinner.

A few days ago we also went to the small mountain town of Guanziling to visit the hot mud baths. That’s right – Amy took me for a spa day.

Guanziling is touted as one of only three places in the world where you can take a hot-springs mud bath. The others are in Kagoshima, Japan and Vulcano, Italy. Not being anywhere near Italy, we figured we’d try this experience while we could get it. This was not an easy task. First we took a 40-minute train ride north to the small town of Xinying, where we had to transfer to a bus. At this point, outside of the “big city,” no one spoke any English. That said, neither of us speaks Mandarin. This led to a lot of pointing, gesturing, and simple guesswork. Fortunately everything worked out.

After a half-hour wait at the bus station, we traveled another half-hour to an even smaller town called Bai He for a second bus transfer at a combination bus station/7-11 convenience store. If you’ve ever been to Asia, you know about the 7-11’s. They’ve got everything – food, drinks, school supplies, magazines, healthcare products, candy, wine, beer, liquor, and disposable underpants. Yes, I said disposable underpants.

That’s four pair for under US $3. If you’re gonna eat a lot of candy, and drink beer, wine, and liquor, you’re going to need disposable underpants. What else might contribute to that need? Fish Peanuts.

Yep, there are little dried fishes in there, along with peanuts and little crunchies. Actually seems like a healthy snack. But with another half-hour wait before our final bus ride, and not wanting to eat Fish Peanuts, we grabbed lunch across the street.

Two very nice ladies, who didn’t speak a word of English, welcomed us to their stand. One was cooking pork steaks and eggs, and the other was making noodles. Not speaking a word of Mandarin beyond “Hello” “Thank you” or “Beer,” you can guess what we ordered: pork steaks and eggs over noodles. It was actually quite delicious.

Then it was on to our final fifteen-minute bus ride. This took us into the hills and to the spa town of Guanziling. With the aid of some other passengers, as well as some pointing, gesturing, and simple guess-work, we were able to let the driver know what stop we needed to get off at, the one closest to the King’s Garden Villa Spa. Turns out that bus stop is a fifteen-minute walk from the spa itself. After one train, two buses, and an uphill climb later, we arrived at the King’s Garden only three hours after we left Tainan. And having covered less than 40 miles. Had we arrived any later, I fear I may have needed some disposable underpants.

The spa is a nice wooded retreat in the hills, with a few views of the valley below. Seems a lot of Taiwanese folks will come for several days like we did at the onsen in Japan. We only got a day pass, which was plenty of time for us, but they do want to make it a nice getaway, as this sign indicates in a somewhat incomplete manner:

And it is nice. We don’t really have pictures of the inside, because you don’t really want to take your camera into a steamy mud bath, and likewise – you know…strangers don’t really like having their picture taken while they’re half-naked in a mud bath.

But we do have some pictures from the spa’s billboards, which are posted along the way on that fifteen-minute walk. These are what the mud baths look like:

Like the onsen in Japan, there are a number of these baths, some hot, some cold, some in between, and most of the warmer ones with varying degrees of hot mud in the baths. The most popular was a muddy brown like a café au lait. One was dark like a hot steeping tea. And another was a bit milkier. While it’s called a mud bath, and there is some of the natural hot mud in it, it’s really like going into a muddy pond – much more liquid than solid.

But they do have a few mirrored areas with bowls of more condensed, darker mud that you can spread on your body or face and let dry for a deep pore cleansing. While I was soaking in a hot tub, Amy said she wanted to put on a mud mask. She left, and I waited. A few minutes later, she came back. And I started laughing – “Do you have any idea what you look like?! You look like Al Jolson in blackface!” Thankfully the mud dried quickly to a lighter gray, and Amy looked less like a minstrel show and more like the Walking Dead. And speaking of race, I should add that as the only white folks there, we were definitely the subject of a lot of stares, and some questions – “Where are you from?” “Why did you come here?” But all in the spirit of curiosity and friendship.

The spa also sported some kind of workout room with all these archaic weight-loss devices. Remember the vibrating belt machines that Bugs Bunny used? They had them. Here’s proof:

And see that little out-of-focus tabletop machine in the background?

With this device, you would lie down, put your heels in the machine, and it would shift and shake your heels rapidly back and forth – I think the idea was to loosen and align your spine. I remember this feeling from when I was a teenager, and my father would come in and use this method daily to wake me up for school. I never realized back in 1985 that he had correct spinal alignment in mind, but it was certainly effective in stirring you from a deep slumber.

There was also a platform that you stood on, held the handles, and the platform just shook like hell. I have no idea what this was supposed to do, but the people doing it looked ridiculous, and if they had any idea what they looked like, I assure you they wouldn’t have done it. There was a lot of thigh flab flying around. I tell you this, while I’m not the most fit guy in the world, this place did wonders for my body image. Sitting in a mud bath (on a weekday) with fat old ladies and scrawny old men makes you feel pretty fit and trim.

Speaking of fit and trim, there was a dependable scale at the spa. I weighed myself and discovered I’m now 72 kilos, or about 158 pounds. That’s what walking around all day and no snacking will do for you. The last time I weighed 158 pounds was when I graduated from college, and I know this from my arrest records that day (long story…).

We also used the steam room, and Amy used the sauna. But my favorite part of the whole thing was the “Doctor Fish.” Perhaps you’ve heard of these guys. It’s a small pool, about 18 inches deep, filled with little goldfish-type guys. What you do is put your feet in, and the fish come up and nibble on your feet and give you a pedicure. I found an image on Wikipedia to show you what I mean:

First, I’ll answer these questions:
Yes, it tickles at first.
Yes, it is kinda gross.
Yes, I know it’s banned in most of the US.
Yes, I found it highly entertaining.

Amy and I put our feet in at the same time, and we were the only ones using the little pool at that moment. You know how ladies have these cute little dainty feet, all moisturized and trimmed and cleaned? And guys have gross monster feet? Well, about a dozen fish went over to Amy’s feet, and weren’t terribly interested. Meanwhile, I was swarmed. Apparently there was a lot of disgusting fleshy goodness for these fish to feast upon. I have one gamey toe in particular that they loved. These fish worshipped at my feet, literally. But time had other plans, and soon we had to leave. I rinsed off, and then went to the outdoor swimming pool, where I gave my feet a good chlorine soak for about 30 seconds. I may have enjoyed those cute little fish, but I didn’t trust them… For all I know, they could be the main ingredients in Fish Peanuts.

Our trip home was much faster, only about two hours with good connection times, and to top it off, we got a fantastic sunset over Tainan.

Tomorrow we say goodbye to Tainan, and to Taiwan altogether, as we leave for Hong Kong. We’ve really enjoyed our stay here. These two weeks in Taiwan have encapsulated everything we love about travel – we came on a whim to explore a place we’d never been, and along the way learned a great deal, met a lot of very nice people, and had some unique experiences we couldn’t have had elsewhere. That’s why we do this. Xie xie, Taiwan. We’ll meet again someday.

One of the things I’m finding most enjoyable about this trip is the education you get along the way. We came to Taiwan because we heard the island is naturally beautiful, the night markets are fun, and the food is great (all true).

But just by virtue of being here in Taiwan, particularly after being in Beijing, you also get a much better feel for the history of the country and its current relations with mainland China. And no two men better exemplify that history than Chiang Kai-shek of the Republic of China (Taiwan), and Mao Zedong of the People’s Republic of China (which we call, you know…China).

A quick briefing for the uninformed (like I was): Taiwan is the last vestige of “free” Nationalist China, before the communists (under Mao) took over shortly after WWII. Led by Chiang Kai-shek, the remaining Nationalists fled to Taiwan, while Mao’s forces took over the mainland. This geo-political reality remains today, with both sides claiming to be the rightful rulers of both the mainland and Taiwan (although the United Nations officially recognized the communists in 1971, followed by the US in 1979 – something else I didn’t know until recently).

And something else I learned: while Mao is revered in the People’s Republic, Chiang is revered here in Taiwan. So much so that they built him a massive Memorial Hall in Taipei after his death.

I tell you this – Mao may have “won” the war, but Chiang won this battle: when it comes to memorials, the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall crushes Mao’s Mausoleum. It’s not even close. Amy and I checked it out.

First of all, Chiang’s Memorial Hall in Taipei overlooks a massive park, and faces two beautiful buildings, the National Theater and the National Concert Hall – unlike Mao’s Mausoleum seated on the large parking lot called Tiananmen Square.

As you approach the imposing edifice of Chiang’s Memorial Hall, you look up at a massive structure with ornate steps and a blue tile roof. It inspires awe like the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. It’s like you’re ascending to greatness.

Then you go into the Memorial Hall. The Lincoln Memorial comparisons are greatest here, quiet and reflective. There’s a massive statue of Chiang, surveying the nation he helped build. But unlike Lincoln, Chiang’s got a smile on his face.

Why? Despite his troubles with Mao and the communist horde, Chiang led a long and seemingly happy life. How do I know? Because unlike Mao’s Mausoleum, Chiang’s Hall has a museum downstairs where you can learn more about his life and see some of his personal items. Like this:

It’s Chiang’s thermal underwear! Yes, his undergarments are on display. The old man wore termal underwear, and they let you know it. Then there was this display:

That’s Chiang’s slippers, desk lamp, globe, and clock radio. It’s fascinating. If there’s ever a museum dedicated to me, will they display the ceramic bowl I throw my change in, the tin can that holds my pens and pencils, or the pair of old flip flops I used at the YMCA pool? What about the trophy I won for Most Valuable Bowler in the New York All-Media Bowling League? Surely that’s a museum piece.

Here’s something I noticed – look at this photo of Chiang and Madame Chiang outside grillin’ and chillin’. Do you see the stove?

Here’s a closer look…

And here’s that shot, flipped over so you can read it…

Carling’s Black Label! The old boy took a few Canadian beer cans and made a stove! I love it. He not only drank imported beer (from a can), but he was also an avid recycler. Here are some more personal effects:

He’s father of his country, and they show you his soup spoon and chopsticks?! But wait – it gets worse:

Chopsticks that he NEVER EVEN USED! Amy and I had about 40 pair of unused Chinese food chopsticks sitting in our kitchen drawer, but there’s no way they’re going into my museum with the bowling trophy and my flip flops.

My favorite part of the memorial was in this little room that talks about the history of the building itself.

They have some displays about the actual construction of the Memorial, the fundraising, and then there’s a photo presentation of all the dignitaries who’ve visited – heads of state, ambassadors…and this guy:

John Ritter! John Ritter is in the photo gallery of the VIPs who visited! How bummed were the Taiwanese, back during the heyday of Three’s Company, expecting Suzanne Somers would come with him, Thighmaster in tow? Or Mr. Furley? Oh man, I bet they were upset.

All this said, there were some things notably missing from the museum. Chiang may have been the father of modern-day Taiwan, but he had some major flaws that were conveniently left out. For example, the fact that he got beat by the Maoists. That his military record is mixed. And that the people who were in Taiwan before he fled the mainland weren’t thrilled with his arrival, and their protests were met with a massacre. He ruled both the Chinese mainland and Taiwan with an iron-fist.

Overall, despite some of the more questionable things in the museum portion, it was really interesting, and honestly an impressive tribute to the man. Chiang has a fantastic memorial hall, a top-stop in Taipei. In fact, here’s Amy wearing the CKS Memorial Hall as a hat:

TOOTH UPDATE!

Following the debacle on the Great Wall, I got my tooth fixed – temporarily. I made a dentist’s appointment in Taipei last week. Here I am in the office:

And here I am in the chair:

Molds were taken. Measurements were made. Then Amy and I had to take a few hours off while the “provisional crown” was being made. So we went out for a quick lunch:

Then back to the dentist’s office, and after some re-fitting and adjusting…

It’s just a temporary crown which should last for several months. There wasn’t enough time to make a permanent porcelain cap, but once we’re in Australia or New Zealand in a few months, we’ll get that done while we’re there longer. Phase one is complete, and while I’m trying to be cautious about what I eat, at least I’m smiling again.

All in all, we’re fine, Mom.

Check this out!

See you in Taipei!

Beep beep!

Hello Mom!

After five days in Beijing, we’re now in Taipei, Taiwan. Sorry we couldn’t update you while in China – as you likely know, the internet is a bit wonky over there. No Facebook, no Twitter, no New York Times. In fact, here’s what our blog looked like:

Censored in China

No photos, apparently. And while e-mail worked for us, it took a long time to load and had glitches. So now we’re in Taiwan, back online, and ready to give you a Beijing report…

On our arrival, we met our fantastic driver, John Yellow Car. That’s what he calls himself, and if you search Youtube, you’ll find John hawking his services.

He speaks great English (especially compared to my Mandarin), he’s incredibly personable, and was a big help to us the first couple of days here. John Yellow Car – whose car is white, by the way – picked us up, and took us for a drive through Tiananmen Square. Here we got a quick glance of the infamous plaza with the massive portrait of Chairman Mao, the Great Hall of the People, and Mao’s Mausoleum. I turned to Amy: “Oh man, I’d really like to see the embalmed body of Chairman Mao.” Then I added, “I bet I can buy a bust of him here.”

First a little backstory about why we came to Beijing. If you’ve read our “About Us” page, you’ll know that Amy’s top goal for this trip was to take me to the Great Wall of China, and I definitely wanted to see it. But what I wanted from China is completely different. What I wanted was a bust of Chairman Mao.

When I went to Vietnam about five years ago, I bought a gold-painted bust of Ho Chi Minh on a lark. Since then, I’ve decided to collect the entire set of communist revolutionaries and strong-arm dictators – Ho Chi Minh, Mao, Lenin, Stalin – whoever fits the bill. People who know me well know that I collect posters and art prints, so I also thought I should look for some good Maoist propaganda posters in China, but:

A – I already have some from a stop in Hong Kong on that trip five years ago, and,

B – If you go carrying pictures of Chairman Mao, you ain’t gonna make it with anyone anyhow.

On Friday, I got my chance. We walked from our hotel to Tiananmen Square, and seeing fast-moving lines, I told Amy I’d like to go through the Mausoleum. Sure, Mao died in 1978, but people line up to see his body every day. I figured, after 35 years lying vacuum-sealed like a bunch of Omaha Steaks, I wanted to see how the Great Leader was holding up.

No pictures are allowed inside, but here’s what happens: after you go through security, all the party faithful (which you better be if you’re Chinese) buy a yellow rose conveniently sold inside. Then you slowly and silently file into the building to find a massive statue of Mao seated and smiling to his comrades. Here the yellow roses are laid on a special platform, which is about three feet deep in roses. Then you reverently head into the actual mausoleum, and there he is, in a big glass box, resting comfortably under a blanket with only his head, receding hairline, and shoulders exposed. He looks, well, pinkish and waxen, like an old bar of Avon soap left in the guest bathroom, but surprisingly good for a man who’s been dead since Love Boat was on television. Then you all quietly file out of the building, and as with all great institutions – airports, mental hospitals, the Korean DMZ – the Mao Mausoleum has a gift shop, and I went.

There were all sorts of plaques and photos, buttons, medallions, bookmarks, even watches – everything Mao. Including this:

That’s a key-chain I bought for Amy. And you know what else they had? Porcelain busts. Porcelain busts of Chairman Mao. But I didn’t buy one. Why? It cost 200 yuan, about $33. That’s pretty expensive for China, and I’m pretty sure you can’t haggle at the Mao Mausoleum. And our next stop was the Pearl Market, where you can get just about anything and negotiate for it. So I decided to bide my time, and we took a bicycle rickshaw to the market.

You can get clothes, sneakers, handbags, electronics (all of them knock-offs), and all kinds of Chinese souvenirs – including porcelain Mao busts. I found one I liked, and started negotiating. But the woman selling it wasn’t going as low as I hoped. She claimed the one I wanted was exceptional quality porcelain, and that I needed to up my price. I held firm, and she lowered, but not enough. She wouldn’t even go under the 200 yuan price given at the Mausoleum itself. Eventually, she countered with another, different bust of Mao, but this one made of a lower-quality porcelain.

Apparently, some porcelain is better than others.

In retrospect, I wish I had the haggling skills of my father, who’s made a profession of nickel and diming car salesman. Or my friend Ari, who I once saw get a reduced price AND an upgrade at Enterprise Rent-A-Car by repeatedly saying, “if I’d have known that, I would have gone to Hertz.” I knew we were never going to agree on the high-quality porcelain, so I turned to the lesser quality one. And after a few minutes, still standing firm, I became the proud owner of a porcelain Mao bust, for the low price of 125 yuan.

The next day, Saturday, it was time for Amy’s objective. We got up early and met James, our guide for the Great Wall of China. We were going to visit a part of the wall that’s a little further afield, less traveled, and more difficult to climb. And it’s not even supposed to be open to tourists, but James knows the locals. It was fantastic.

We spent several hours walking, climbing, and learning about the history of the wall along with another couple from Australia. It was really fascinating, and James was a great guide. Then it was time for lunch, which we enjoyed with this incredible view:

And for dessert, a Snickers bar. I took a bite. And then – DISASTER!! Something wrong happened in my mouth. A strange feeling. And I discovered my front porcelain crown had snapped off into the Snickers bar. OH THE HUMANITY!

Apparently, some porcelain is better than others.

If I’d have known that, I would have gone to Hertz. I mean, really?! The Great Wall of China has stood for nearly 500 years, but my damn crown crumbled in less than twenty. Hell, Chairman Mao’s corpse has lasted almost twice as long as that crown. (Interesting fun fact: 1978, the year of Mao’s death, may have been the year I knocked out my front teeth on the side of a swimming pool. Coincidence? Eerie!)

I realized it was just one of those things, and with no other options, we ventured onward, with the remains of the porcelain crown safely thrown into a bottle of pills. Here’s Amy and me together after – please enjoy this iconic photo taken on the Great Wall of China:

Eventually a fantastic day of hiking the wall was over, and we were driven back to the hotel to contend with the remnants of my broken crown. So what to do? We went out and bought Chinese SuperGlue. That’s right – I super-glued the sonuvabitch back onto the post. It’s not perfect, but it works, at least temporarily. It’s not like I was going to some Chinese dentist (and boy, do I want to tell a really old joke about what time the appointment would’ve been if I had…).

The next day outside the Forbidden City

So we’re in Taipei as I write this, and we’re working on getting a dental appointment. Hopefully I’ll get a new crown, and all will be good with the world. We’ll keep you updated on what happens. And as for Beijing – well, Amy finally got to take me to the Great Wall, and I got a porcelain bust, and some busted porcelain. We both got what we wanted – at a price. But we’ll always have a good story to tell, and a reminder sitting quietly on the shelf, head and shoulders only, for the next 35 years and beyond…

We ate this. (Be sure to play the video.)

Before:

After:

More proof:

These were caught by the Haenyeo, Jeju’s lady free divers. We saw them in action yesterday. The women of Jeju have been doing this for centuries…diving with no oxygen tanks, gathering seaweed, shellfish (conch, abalone), octopus, anything edible. They share their catch and the profits. They can hold their breath for up to two minutes and work year-round, despite the weather. Many of the Hanyeo are 60 or older. No offense, Mom, but I can’t imagine you and the aunties doing this. But maybe you should try it?

We ate two abalone and a conch. Added a bit of soy or hot sauce and it was sushi! Slightly chewy and rubbery sushi, almost crunchy in the case of the conch. But it was a fun experience and we supported the Haenyeo, who were very nice. They gave John a conch shell!