Day 4: To GaoXiung

A river in TaiNan

I left Sandra’s house at about 2PM. Clear skies, sun ahead of me, guiding this solo biker. It amazed me how far I had come, and had not yet thought of stopping. It also amazed me how boring it can be to ride a bike for hours on end, never feeling like you’re getting anywhere, but going on the faith that if you keep on going, you will eventually get somewhere.

Road to GaoXiung

At some point, you forget your legs are moving, autonomous circles revolving around the hub again and again; there is no pain, only a dull numbness reminding you that your legs are still attached; thirst, like hunger, is relative, and food is no longer thought of as pleasure, but necessity. Like a car gets no joy when gas is added, so too, the body is no better off when food is consumed, excepting the caloric intake that keeps it going. Food is chosen not by taste, but by a careful balance of subconscious nutritional factors to keep the body and mind in a state of functionality and satiation. This seems parallel to the Buddhist thought towards food. In all simplicity, food is to fuel our bodies to barely stave off death. Once this is achieved, food serves no other purpose; no consideration of flavor, temperature, spice, appearance, presentation, balance, etc. that French chefs live by.

I don’t have a whole lot to say about GaoXiung, seeing as how I got lost in the outskirts of the city, passed the train station, which was my initial destination, and circled around back towards the city center, all under the veil of night. What I can say is that the streets are broad and roomy, sidewalks are actually made for walking (not parked cars), and the night market (I’m not sure which one) is packed at 10:00PM.

I arrived at a hotel, the front desk saying that they were full for the night, being New Years and all. Undaunted, I hit the streets and ran into a fellow biker who apparently knew the area well enough to direct me towards what would be my final resting spot. It was about 9PM by the time I actually got there and settled. It felt good to be out of the dark and into a hot bath. This was my first night alone and a bit lonely, but endurable.

My Room in GaoXiung

After the heat soak, I decided to walk about, albeit carefully, on my injured legs, and find some diversion to keep my mind off being alone. In the streets were throngs of people milling about, scuttling to and fro, buying/eating/drinking/watching/talking/standing/walking, an environment only a night market can create. I bought a cup of watermelon juice, a perfect invention for thirst on hot summer days, and waddled through the night market in search of something to eat. The night market, like most in Taiwan, was centered around shops and vendors selling clothes, jewelry, accessories, and the like. Food wasn’t much to be found. I eventually wound up in a foreign owned Mexican restaurant. And against my philosophical digression about food above, I enjoyed the hell out of it. This was some of the best Mexican food I’ve had in a while, and whether this was due to my uncommonly stressed system, recent increase in dosages of Taiwanese food, or was genuinely good, I couldn’t tell you. But I can tell you that the chicken enchilada I had with rice and beans all topped with cheese and what the chef said was a new experimental sauce, was a culinary highlight of my trip, if only for the fact that it was something I hadn’t tasted in a while. Screw esoteric food-haters. This food was pleasure. If I drank alcohol, an icy Corona would have made it so much greater—but substituted apple juice served well enough. I read Walden and reveled in the aftermath of an enchilada slaughter. I think he would have been disappointed in me for my attainment of gratuity from food. I don’t care.

Soon after, I headed back “home” and decided to call it a night. I would have another long ride to KenDing the next day.

Day 5: KenDing

Ipanema Beach House

I left GaoXiung at a fairly early 11AM, this being due to the fact that I had no company and was able to move unadulterated. Once again I was blessed with sunny weather, sparsely-trafficked roads, and long stretches of flat land. The weather would hold out, but the flat part turned hilly as I got closer to HengChun. I am always stupidly deceived by maps. The map always shows the road as being flat, but I as I found many a time, was far from. Even if I had a contour map, it wouldn’t have properly displayed the magnitude of riding up the smallest mountain or hill. Then again, accompanying every up is a down, which is rewarding but never seems long or fulfilling enough as the uphill part would make you believe.
I was headed to my friend Max’s place, the Ipanema Beach House. I had stayed at his place two years ago while hitchhiking around the island. I had met up with a friend George on that trip and we had met some of his friends and stayed at the beach house. It is in HengChun, often confused (also by myself) with KenDing.

Backside of Ipanema Beach House

Max was a surfer who had lived in Brazil and other places before he decided to settle down in HengChun and open a bed and breakfast (they are called so in Taiwan, but there is no breakfast). He had long dread-like locks and spoke with the energy of the waves he rides, playful and full of joy. Upon returning this time, he had a military cut, and an expecting wife, along with his surf-inspired personality. He said with the recent release of the movie, Cape No. 7, a Taiwanese film shot in the vicinity, business has been good. This area had been popular with the beach going crowds and surfers looking to get away from the smog-filled cities. The movie opened the area to many other kinds of people wanting to see some of the places in the movie.
My plan was to stay in HengChun for two days, this being the most southern part and a marker as the half-way point of my trip. I also wanted time for rest and relaxation on my trip. As I mentioned before, during this trip, I always felt rushed to get somewhere, meet someone, stay out of the dark, or get started. Now would be the time to forget about the schedule for a while and just chill on the beach.

Day 4: Morning in TaiNan

A recurring theme of my trip seemed to be: leave late, ride in the dark, arrive late. Not a very good way to see a country. I guess I am a procrastinator at heart, even with my vacation time.
I awake clear headed, the sun casting a warm glow from the balcony window. I hobble downstairs to see everyone having already eaten, going about the day in the relax mode that a vacation engenders. Fruit and coffee are had; I have a sandwich and milk tea. Throughout the morning I am in back and forth conversations with my friends who are supposed to come down from Taipei and meet me in GaoXiung. I can hear their hesitancy on the phone, as I try to convince them that the previous day's record breaking traffic jams won't continue today. I give them the guilt trip. Eventually, they give me the no trip. They say that they don't want to spend the day sitting in their car, and I agree with them, sorta.
Sandra must have mentioned my interest in her father's sculpting, so he offered to take us to the previously mentioned temple to show us his art. I accept gratefully. The temple, as with many Taiwanese temples, are a colorful explosion of reds, yellows, blues, greens and gold, intricate dragons gnarling their way through weaves of smoke, reverent statues guarded by depictions of gods, stories molded into the reliefs, shaped by the hands of masters as if they were the gods themselves. He explained to Sandra the history of the temple and she diligently translated it to me. The temple was a national treasure, due the fact that it housed to works of a world renown Taiwanese artist, his works also found at the Louvre in Paris. A tourist, I took the opportunity to snap some shots of the works that never seemed so important until now, taking in the great history that places like these emit. Her father being a master also, the curator (?) let us into a section that is usually gated off. We were allowed to see up close the statues of gods, one said to be about 800 years old. To point at one of them was considered rude and bad luck, so I quickly learned as I pointed out the 800 yr. old artifact.