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Hongmonay
Mince Pies, mid-process.
I had, in my thirty years, never been away from my village for Christmas, bar trips to family around the country. As adorable as that is, it was high time I flew the nest during the festive period.
Thoughtfully, my sister agreed with this and timed delivery of a new addition to the family to coincide approximately with Chinese New Year. As a result, I instead decided to fly back for a visit in early February, leaving Christmas ominously without family. Eeek!
There seem to be two distinct types of forriner in Taiwan; those that refuse to put any effort into celebration, and as a result sit around in a haze of depression as the Taiwanese population continues about their daily business; and those that band together to meet, cook, eat, drink and proclaim proudly how very jolly their Christmas was. I decided to jump two-feet-first into the second camp, and I am fortunate enough to have friends and flatmates that felt the same way.
Rather than settle for your common-or-garden set of meals, we opted to go completely overboard, inviting about a dozen friends over for a Christmas Eve meal. This was to be followed up with an invite to even more friends for an evening ‘Desert Party’, no doubt washed down with some booze and Christmas cheer. And we hadn’t even got to planning Christmas Day yet.
Planning, prep and purchasing for this set of events began about a week prior to the date. Served up with fresh Christmas decorations, a sober realisation dawned that this was not going to be as straightforward as we expected. Number one, single-handedly ferrying the food around Taipei is not easy; even with taxis. Second, while with some effort it was clear we were going to be able to get hold of American-style delicacies and comestibles, hunting down British ingredients was sadly not going to be a ‘cake-walk’.
Exhibit-A: Mince Pies. No, they do not contain meat. Yes, apparently they used to. In the UK, complete packs of pies are sold, or the ‘mince’ is sold in jars for assembly in your own kitchen, and has been allowed to mature for a decent period of tim prior to sale. Try as I might, I could not find either; thus a resort to mince pie manufacture from ‘first principles’. This involved sourcing my own beef fat in place of suet (note to self; do not ever use a food processor to cut up beef fat – pink goo is not a pretty sight!), currents and sultanas. I decided to substitute in some cranberries and chopped-up figs, add plenty of booze and allow just under a week for maturing and soaking. While the pastry was a little hard on day one, I would proclaim these a success!
Photo taken with my iPhone and the Tiltshift app … quite a fun way to get creative.Exhibit-B: Brussel Sprouts. This perennial favourite, and source of greenhouse gasses, is clearly not on the menu of the average Taipei resident. Understandable, perhaps, but a bit disappointing. Luckily, teams of British people were scouring the city, and tracked down a tray of the little gas-bombs in one of the hotel delicatessens – absurdly expensive, completely overcooked, but just the thing to add a splash of colour to the table.
Exhibit-C: Meat. I can proudly claim that I have never once had turkey on Christmas day; our family instead tends to go for a more traditional range of birds, such as duck or goose. This was clearly not going to fly with the American contingent, so we decided that while the larger Christmas Eve event should feature turkey and a shoulder of lamb, the Christmas Day meal was centred around a pair of ducks (still sporting heads and feet, as I discovered to my mild horror). Turkey was marinaded in beer, chilli and garlic for several days and was as good as I have ever had, lamb was not half bad and a world better than our previous attempt; and the ducks were juicy and flavourful, just lacking a little in the way of crispy skin that is so loved by everyone.
Exhibit-D: Suedes, Turnips and Parsnips. Nada. No way. Couldn’t find ’em. A shame, but we subbed-in some great mashed pumpkin. Tensions were also raised over the method of roasting potatoes … of course you peel them! Get that duck fat in there! … I have a feeling no matter what we did, without Maris Pipers or King Edward potatoes, nothing was going to work very well. Never the less, very enjoyable, and a nice project for me the next time we have a big meal.
A small package also arrived from my mother in the weeks approaching Christmas. Christmas cake(nobody ever eats it anyway, so the bite-size portion was perfect), Christmas pudding (okay, I admit she sent it one year previously! But it keeps, right?), various nuts and a pack of decorations. Add to this the 3Kg bag of almonds from Tasha for our family tradition of toasted nuts, and iTunes access to a completely overpriced ‘Nine Lessons in Carols’ from the King College Chapel Choir, and we were set.
Christmas Eve. 4pm. Our family members over the globe tune in to Radio 4’s broadcast of Nine Lessons in Carols, and take a moment to think of each other. Our tradition of roasting almonds is one of my favourite aspects of Christmas, and I believe it comes from my Mother’s expat roots in Spain.Two full days of preparation and effort from all of us paid off handsomely. We had a splendid meal with some great friends, and a lovely time meeting some new people at the desert party. Indeed, I felt I did my bit when I sent off a British Graphic Artist resident in Taipei with a pack of Mince Pies and cakes for a day when he had to work. A very satisfying Merry Christmas indeed.
Heroic efforts from the guys made for a great time. Effort in = rewards out x 2.
Armando does his bit.
Devoured in seconds, each Christmas Pie took me a total of about fifteen minutes to make … all worth it!
Checking progress …
Mmmm.
Dawn preps the stuffing.
Food porn.
Resource-allocation of ovens and hobs drew ridicule … but it worked!
Birds of a feather.
People arrive for the desert party.
Chefs and cheffetes.
Abe and Tasha, sitzing in a tree!
Party photos. We were treated to three splendid bottles of high quality scotch Whisky; Highland Park from Orkney and both Bruichladdich (pronounced ‘Brook Laddie) Bowmore from Islay. Noel had given up drinking a few years ago, and we certainly offered a good home to them!
Uncle Ken asleep on the couch for most of the party.
A slightly more austere, but no less enjoyable, Christmas day.NYE in HK
Phase 2 of the festive for me usually involves meeting up with good friends, and putting a fair amount of effort into traveling somewhere to celebrate it in some style. This year was no different, but for the first time in about half a decade (maybe more?) I did not reunite with Phil for the bells. Perhaps next year!
Instead, a weekend invasion of Hong Kong was planned. This gave me the chance to meet up once again with Michael and Tanja (and new addition to the house, Moc Moc), and see Sam in his new natural environment. With more than a little pressure, I also persuaded Sam to finally complete construction of his new mountain bike, and thus the plans were set for a great weekend of wining, dining, hiking and biking in Hong Kong.
The ubiquitous red plastic ‘lanterns’ found floating above Hong Kong’s market stalls.
Raindrops keep falling on my head.
Cracking up!
Darkness & Light.
Hard at work.
Tramlines.
Love Handles.
Stolen moments.
Gates Foundation.
Goes like a Singer.
Flying in formation.
Broom broom.I have always been quite a fan of Hong Kong, as you may have guessed. It’s little nods to the UK, combination of high-density quasi-chaos, international atmosphere, and easy access to nature has always been a draw, and each trip I take there sees me finding a different angle through which to appreciate it. This time, I was armed with mountain bike and charged with a mission to enjoy a good new year.
And so I did. After a clumsy session of assembling my bike on the balcony while catching up with Michael over a beer, the first port-of-call was to meet with Sam at the Bloomberg offices in Central. Michael, Tanja and I spent a happy hour wandering around the studios, prodding Sam with questions about the interior design, software systems, HR policy and protocols for filming a TV show that is beamed across the world. The level of care poured into every aspect of the business was an inspiration, and left us jealous / inspired for the return to our respective offices the following Monday.
A happy day spent wandering the lanes of HK island, and a quick visit to Michael’s friend of
f=”http://www.voidwatches.com/”>Void watches fame (yes I did buy one, in white) meant we were well prepared for a feeding session to see in the bells later on that evening. Hosted by a new open ‘creative space’ initiative, we were surrounded by an interesting array of people, spanning fashion design, product and print – indeed the girl running her own printing business claimed to be heading to the North Pole in the new year, greatly impressing Michael and myself, and encouraging us to resolve to do something equally adventurous (and preposterous-sounding) at the earliest opportunity. Champagne flowed, and we saw in the new year drinking our way through the remnants of the bottles on the street.
Candlelight.
Streetlife.
Loitering.
Towering above Hong Kong.
The Late Show.The first day of 2010 saw a change of pace, and a mildly hazy hike up into the hills surrounding Taimo Mountain. A truckload of monkeys, an inspection of WWII fortifications and a mutual fondling of each others’ cameras and it was back to HK island to meet one of Michael’s ex-colleagues from ideo Shanghai. Great food, German beer served out of porcelain bowls, and another desert session in the street; not a bad beginning of the end for 2009.
Monkeying around.
View back towards the city.
Amusing icons.
WWII fortifications.
Colour combinations on storm covers.With hours to spare, Sam got his wheels laced up, and we met at the Lamma Island ferry terminal to jump into buses for the run up to Taimo Mountain – not quite the most efficient route, but it worked. We joined Hector (Head Chef of the Marriot Hotel, no less) and the guys from the Hong Kong Mountain Bike Association for a day in the hills. Michael risked it with his old wheels from Taiwan, and we set off into the clouds. It’s no surprise that the trails were highly reminiscent of Taiwan, but still the first kilometre or so had us all sliding around in extremely slippery conditions. The trails did open up as we approached the summit, however, and we were treated to a fantastic descent down a ridge, hugging the contours – truly memorable. The rest of the ride was a decent mixed bag of trails and conditions, and I came away rather taken with the riding in Hong Kong. I aim to be back!
Waiting for the bus.
Awesome trails.
Team HK.
Preparing to jump.
Landing zone.
New bike. New bike.
Quite jealous … my wallet starts quivering!Packing the bike up was marginally more straightforward than the arrival leg, but it was still amusing to squeeze the hilariously over-sized case into the taxi. Cathay Pacific really delivered the goods (literally), allowing me to use my 30kg weight limit to full effect in both directions with no extra charges. When I get my road bike sorted, I aim to see where else I can head to in the Asia region.
Happy New Decade!
…. and back to Taiwan! -
Borneo
I have always liked the name of the place, associating it with adventure and danger, with Tintin and mysterious happenings in the jungle. Right up there with Zanzibar, Madagascar, Peru and Tazmania in the adventurous naming competition.
It comprises territories from Brunei, Indonesia and Borneo, and is wedged into the water between peninsular Malaysia and Singapore, Indonesia and the Philippines. As is often the case in Asia, my geography is a little off-centre, and the northern tip of Borneo is actually further north than that of the mainland (in more news to me, Wikipedia says it is the third-largest island in the world). Since I had a pile of Air Miles to get ride of before the end of the year, I decided to fly business-class to the capital of Sabah – Kota Kinabalu – taking a night in Kuala Lumpur on the return leg.
View Larger Map
Beyond the impeccable branding, I was also drawn by the news that I could bag another peak, in the form of Mount Kinabalu. It bills itself as the highest peak in South-East Asia at 4095m, and a fantastic addition to Yushan, which I climbed just recently (3952m). I was therefore a little miffed to discover, right after I booked flight tickets, several mountains in Indonesia significantly higher. Onwards and upwards, as they say.The other major pull to the island was Sipadan; reputedly location for some of the best Scuba diving in the world. When I learnt to dive in 2003, my Swiss instructor eulogised about the place, and I have since heard it mentioned in hushed tones by those in the know. Add jungles, food (and hell, free flights) and it was a pretty easy decision to pack my bags and go.
Kota Kinabalu
First leg on my little adventure was Kota Kinabalu – capital of Sabah. A pleasant, if sleepy, little town, it was a good base from which to strike out into the jungle and mountains. Bombed by the Japanese in WWII, it was far from architecturally charming, but it more than made up for it with its vibrant markets and fresh seafood.
Holy mackerel, Batman.
These chaps look way better under water.
Taking a rest.
Red hot chilli peppers
Flying south for the winter.
Loved the market building.
Rows of tailors with immaculate sewing machines.
Charming chaps.
Fascinating to see the obviously incredibly rapid shift to cell phones. Rows of pay phones, and yet only one stool left. How long til they paint over the wear marks on the wall?
Bright colours abound. I am positive Taiwan has invested a similar amount in the actual buildings, and yet just a splash of paint and a bit of care makes such a difference.
I want to buy this car and cruise around in it, causing trouble.
… and onto the next location (this time with Air Asia; such fall from grace!)Mt. Kinabalu
View from the road, prior to the climb.So what, it’s not the highest peak in SE Asia: but after my interest was piqued by climbing Yushan in Taiwan, I felt the urge to climb me some more rocks. The overall set-up is not dissimilar to climbing Yushan; you start hiking at about 1800m, hike for 3-4 hours up to the hostel at Laban Rata (3273m), and again get up extremely early to take in the sunrise at the peak at 4095m – about 100m more than the Taiwanese peak.
Especially after climbing Yushan with associated altitude sickness issues, I was a little more prepared, packing Diamox and Aspirin tablets. The grading was a little steeper than Yushan, with more rocks and roots to clamber up, but in some ways I found this easier than spreading the ascent over a longer incline. Combined with slightly warmer temperatures, and the fact that the hostel provided all food, water and bedding, I reached the lodge in tip-top shape and enjoyed a chilled afternoon watching the clouds float by, fed and watered with provisions that the constant stream of sherpas were bringing up.
Watching the clouds roll on by.Awaking in a shroud of cloud, the ascent was still lit brightly enough by the full-moon that we barely needed head-torches. The most technical sections were laced-up with climbing ropes, but in actuality they were neither as exposed nor as technical as the ones on Yushan; the massif of granite was far more stable than the shale in Taiwan.
Drugged-up on Diamox (note for future reference: it’s a diuretic) we maintained a pretty good pace. Such a good pace, in fact, that we arrived at the summit with forty minutes to spare until sunrise. Clouds and rain met us at the top, and we spent the remainder of the time shivering in the cold, willing the sun to rise over the horizon and return some warmth to our bones. Rise it did, burning away the cloud cover an
d affording us fantastic views up the South China Sea and over to the forested interior of the island. Warmed up by the flurry of photographic activity, we lingered a while on the peak, but eventually gave in to the nagging from our obligatory guides to head down.
5:10am. Cold. Wet. Tired.
Waiting an eternity for the light to break through.
The clouds on the horizon seemed to rise at the same rate as the sun!
Skywalker – admiring the fabulous view.
4095.2m = Low’s Peak
Contour lines.
The scale of the place was amazing – those specks on the edge of the granite shelf are people, and a sign pointing towards the top.
The granite plateau transition made for some amazing live cloud formations – imagine these rolling by as if over an airplane wing; I could have stayed here for hours.
Sun blind
Moonscape
Ships in the night.
Life perseveres.
My Canadian descent-buddies.
Clouds descend, giving an ominous sign for the return leg.We returned to the lodge and all tucked into a hearty breakfast (infinitely better than more pot noodles on Yushan), and began the descent. Sadly, the weather did not quite hold, and we were met with rain for the entire duration, drenches and bedraggled by the time we reached the gates of the park, a long few hours later.
Next stop … Mount Fuji?
Garama Wetlands
Hold your horses, son! After all that exertion, I thought a more relaxing day should be on the cards, so I signed myself up for a trip down to the estuary region of Garama, to meet some of the primates native to the island. What could be nicer?
Clearly, large groups of elderly Asian ladies feel the same way. It was therefore with a faint sinking sensation that I boarded the bus, and was joined by permed hair from Hong Kong, Korea and Australia. Sat at the front with my iPod blaring, I had a particularly satisfying hour or two of adolescent seat kicking before we arrived and were gently inserted into position on the boats, ready to penetrate the jungle. I was really, honestly, trying my best to hate the whole experience, but they were just so amusing to watch that I could not fail to break into smile.
After a few minutes of cruising, we came across groups of ‘Big-Nose Monkeys’ (AKA Proboscis Monkeys) that were shy but fascinating to look at, and found only in Borneo; Silver Leaf Monkeys, who are smart enough to wash their hands before they eat; and some other sort of primate that I only remember being called ‘David Beckham Monkey’, because of its fetching Mohawk haircut.
Top it off with some synchronised fireflies (the smallest in the world, apparently), and my day shuffling along with the geriatric jet-set was far from dull.
Silver Leaf Monkey awaits dinner.
Abandoned river houses.
The Proboscis Monkeys were very shy, and essentially impossible to photograph … on the other hand, groups of boats filled with Chinese people taking photos of shy monkeys is much more fun.
Reflections.
We seemed to be in a very great rush to get back … but nothing phased my ladies!
In the event of an emergency…Sipadan & Mabul
Sipadan is one of the finest dive-spots in the world. Ostensibly to protect the fragile marine environment, the Malaysian government has seen fit to limit access to only 110 people per day, meaning an end to the possibility of staying on this jewel (although the kidnapping of a dozen tourists in 2000 by Filipino pirates surely played a role in this decision). Instead, most visitors stay at one of a number of locations in the vicinity. I opted to stay on Mabul – only slightly less perfect, sporting a much larger bar, and itself one of the best ‘muck diving‘ sites in the world.
Turtles, normally a special treat on any dive, virtually littered the water. We would see three coming up for air, just suiting-up, in fact, on our night dive, one almost collided with me, and made a bolt for it between my legs. Nudibranchs, sharks, shape-shifting octopi … it had the lot.
World-class diving was for once matched with world-class company (uninterested or detached dive buddies can ruin a perfectly good dive!), hailing from The States, Spain, The Netherlands and Australia. I was also very excited to be staying next door to Les Stroud and the National Geographic film crew, who were filming a documentary on sea gypsies, who still live in the area. We amused ourselves greatly with this entry in his website;
“Stroud continues to forge new pathways as a prolific, creative force. He single-handedl
y created, produced, wrote, filmed, hosted, edited and composed the theme music for the first two original, one-hour pilots for what would eventually become the hit Survivorman TV series.”But all eyes were on Sipadan. My ‘package’ included a single-day pass into the park, and I had to keep reminding myself just how lucky I was, just to get in; imagine all the people coming from all over the world, turned away by bad weather at the last moment. It was all worth it. Diving into the mouth of turtle cavern was one of the very best diving experiences of my life. As if from the set of a particularly camp pirate movie, there is a network of caves under the island, and carcasses of lost turtles pay testament to their final journey. I have never seen such clear, still water, and looking back out of the cavern was a spell-binding moment.
Not my video, but you get the idea:
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFKy9mvk1zI]
Stayin’ alive.
Sipadan perfection.
Silhouettes
Just off the coast of Mabul – a converted oil rig that operates as a dive resort. Fun for about a day, I would imagine.
Structures … seems to preserve valuable agricultural land, in Borneo the workers live on stilts above the water.
Local industries.
Devil in the details.
Charismatic local kids.
Messing around.
Grins all around.
The sun sets on some great days on Mabul and Sipadan.With any luck, I should be getting my hands on some actual pics of me diving soon, which I am looking forward to seeing a great deal!
Kuala Lumpur
The trip concluded with a rather hedonistic evening in Kuala Lumpur with photographer friend Fiona. Since it was my first trip, trotting off to check out the twin Petronas Towers was a must; and I found it more complete, both in concept and in execution, than Taipei 101. Drinks at Zouk, some good times at an impromptu ‘rave’, late-night snacks in China Town and staff rates at a suite in The Berjaya … and it looks like I’ll need to head back at some point!
Petronas Towers (Canon Ixus 100)
Petronas Towers (iPhone + Tiltshiftgen app) … as a result of this augmentation, my iPhone is now a more interesting creative tool than a ‘real’ camera.
Out on the town. -
Climbing Yushan
Yushan National Park, TaiwanIt’s easy to get stuck in Taipei, and not make it out to see the rest of the island. Since I am regularly mountain biking in the hills around Taipei, I do make a better job than most at getting into nature; but I have not done a good job at getting into the high mountains of Taiwan.
Yushan is the highest peak in East Asia, but is obviously beaten out by peaks in the Himalayas and several in SE Asia (see Wikipedia for some more info). In the last few years, I have signed up on a couple of different climbing trips, but was never successful at getting a place in the hut at the base of the final climb, subject as it is to lottery. Luckily (or unluckily) a Scottish friend was leaving Taiwan, and she decided to apply for climbing access, with success. Good news, and a perfect excuse for me to go and buy more hiking equipment.
Rather than rush straight up on Friday, and begin the hike the next day, we opted to leave a day early and buy some time kicking around the Alishan Town area. At 2274m, it is already at a respectable altitude, and indeed some people on the team did not deal especially well with the lack of air. I could certainly sympathise, but was at least aware of the effects from previous skiing holidays; Val Thorens in France is located at about 2300m altitude.
Forested Alishan was quiet – no doubt because the train was knocked out by Typhoon Morakot.
Angles.
Team Chris & Co.With an early-ish start the next day, we bussed it up to the start of the hike at 2595m. The mountains in that part of Taiwan are stunning, and beginning the hike was pure pleasure in the cool air and warm sunlight. Slowly gaining altitude, we passed bamboo forests, thickets of ancient trees (the ones that Japanese didn’t cut down in WWII) and stopped to gaze at ever more dramatic views of pristine forested valleys stretching into the distance.
Due in no small part to our large ruck-sacks, concerns about how much water and food we needed, and plenty of extra dry clothes and insulation, we probably did over-pack a touch, and it was pretty slow going. We decided to keep it steady, however, and redistribute some of the extra weight between the stronger members of the group. None-the-less, we reached the point where daylight was beginning to fade and decided that an ‘avant-garde’ group should make it to the lodge and return to collect the other members – it was a decision I was not completely happy with, so I was delighted when the final pair of head-torches came bobbing up the hill through the darkness, 10km west of the starting point and 900-odd metres higher, at Paiyun Lodge (3402m).
Shadows of my former-self.
Views across the valleys were splendid.
Granny gearing it up the hill.
As clouds rolled in, everywhere looked like a scene from a traditional Chinese painting … and frankly the Taiwan I was expecting to see when I arrived a few years ago!
Old-growth trees were pretty spiritually-uplifting.
One or two moments of more extreme climbing, but nothing too hazardous.
More paintings.
More sunsets.
You’ll have to check the Flickr feed to get the full effect I think.After a not especially hearty meal of instant noodles, freeze-dried rice curry, and chunks of dried fruit, washed down with ginger tea, it was time to hit the sack at about 8:30pm. I had certainly never slept at such elevation before, and sadly spent the night tossing and turning, tormented by an epic headache, mild nausea, a dry throat, and subsequent trips to the toilet to try and expel the water that I was knocking back to counteract it. Altitude sickness.
Just to see the sunrise, waking at 2:30am therefore seemed like a bad joke. Beginning the hike, my heavy head and bags / luggage under my eyes were slightly relieved by Chris’ thoughtful packing of Diamox to counteract the effects (reading the Wikipedia entry now explains why I was peeing every ten minutes after taking it). It helped, but the pounding returned every time my heart rate went up, and as such climbing was an exercise in restraint, as my legs felt so much stronger than what my pounding head could handle.
All-in-all, it felt like the final approach to Mordor, surrounded by near-darkness and staring up at pin-pricks of light coming from the head torches of teams of people that had managed to get up a little earlier than us. I was by far the coldest I have ever been in Taiwan; but was wearing just about enough clothes to fend off the shivers.
Coming up to the final few hundred metres of the peak (sadly lacking a huge, burning, all-seeing eye), we again split up, and I left Tasha and Chris behind to make the final ascent. The rocks surrounding the peak require a bit of a scramble, but I felt pretty confident after the training session in Wales earlier in the year, up Snowdon, which is the highest mountain in Wales, and a lofty 1085m (Ben Nevis in Scotland is 1344m, which puts the whole endeavour in perspective).
After several hours of climbing in the dark, it was a relief to make it to the top, and the sun duly emerged from behind the clouds to allow some respite from the frosty and sub-zero temperatures – the first encounter in Taiwan, bizarrely. I was expecting to be more ‘in the mood’ to compose more considered pictures, but the cold, blurry head and mild desire to get back down meant I rattled off a bunch of shots; and with the extremely high-contrast between light and dark up there it was not that easy to nail shots I was really happy with.
Sunrise – finally! – we were immensely lucky with the weather, considering it is mid-November.
Solitude.
Conquistador.
Tasha – yay!
Tasha and Chris – our heroines of the day.
In the mist.
Descending down the initial track was not that straightforward.
The views were magnificent.Beginning the descent, I was delighted to see the purple hood of Tasha and Chris slowly winching themselves up the final climb. Accompanying them to the top, I retraced my steps to the top, and I was glowing with pride to see them reach the top together. Very satisfying.
Heading back down was harder on the knees, but it did not load the lungs in the same way, so we avoided the nausea and headaches. Noodles, drinks, dried fruit were doled out back at the lodge, and with a mild spring in our step we headed back down the hill, cutting about two hours from the ascent time. Getting back into Taipei, the only thing I could think of was sleep … deserved, I do believe.
So, I broke my duck on the high mountains, and I am extremely keen to make it back down there at some point to bag some more hills and trails.
Winding roads.
More atmospheric forests.
And one last one.
Big mountains. Bigger skies.
Almost there …
The bus to the final meeting point … and looking a little bedraggled.
Inexplicably, this was our ride back to the train station in Jiayi – a San Francisco-style tourist bus. We got some strange looks!Flickr
http://www.flickr.com/apps/slideshow/show.swf?v=71649Google Maps
View Yushan in a larger mapA few links if you want to do it yourself:
Wikitravel – Yushan
Yushan National Park Protected Area – Application Site
Everytrail – Yushan – Some GPS maps and tech wizardry -
Cat Burglars
The door was locked.
The cats, beyond the door sounded like they had just knocked something over. “Silly cats.” Taking out the key and turning it in the lock, I didn’t get the usual three-stage series of weighted clicks; instead just a solitary single rotation, signifying a flatmate was home.
“Hello!”
No answer, I walk into my room, but catch a glance of Abe’s. “He must be doing washing.” Clothes everywhere. Cupboards open. Something is not right. Thoughts of Abe or his girlfriend in a frenzied argument wander through my brain, as I pass into my room and see a symmetrical display of laundry. Something is definitely not right.
The penny drops at about the same speed as my jaw as I glance round my room. Lenses and camera intact. Passport strewn on the bed. Computer accounted for. I run back into Abe’s room; again I see his camera equipment and computer, and am even more confused. The trifecta of laundry-themed rooms ends in Armando’s, as I run past on the way to the living room, and awaiting brand-new Macbook Pro. What is going on?
Abe. No reply. A quick word with Armando, and he cuts short dinner to run home. Obviously avoiding touching anything at all, I do a quick second sweep of the rooms – the only stuff missing seems to be Abe’s computer and our beloved three-legged cat, Tripod, who is likely hiding in a dark corner somewhere. Armando arrives – pennies and jaws dropping all around.
“What’s the number for emergency services in Taiwan? … 012?”
I try Abe again. No response, so I call Natasha and ruin one more evening.
Time to dive into emergency Chinese, and I dial. The guy on the end of the phone is calm and positive, and he dispatches a policeman to arrive in the next few minutes. Just before hanging up, he compliments me on my Chinese; and even under such stress my ego still pauses to be stroked before I shake myself out of it. Meanwhile, Armando is doing his own sweep of the house, shocked that he had only left home an hour previously at 6:50. We play out the scenario – the door, the lights, the stuff left lying around – nothing quite making sense. I grab the camera, take some shots of each room, and run a video around while narrating what I remember.
Laundry
My dirty laundry
Armando’sAbe one more time. Or maybe two. His phone is clearly off.
The first cop arrives, and I rattle off what happened to him. This shit clearly happens all the time, and he calmly listens to our story while he wanders around and takes photos of the most pertinent details. He sits me down and I sign some forms that seem to allow detectives to come in and do a formal inspection. Switching between his Nokia cell phone and radio, he radios for backup, and Armando and I look up to see the househould Hulk cookie jar, well, ajar; it’s head and shoulders telling the story of a very polite burglar taking a peek inside and returning the lid.
The phone rings. A conversation completely out of context is difficult enough to grasp at the best of times, and it was only after a minute that I realised it was the police call centre asking to see if I was ‘satisfied’ with the timely service so far? Satisfied? What… yeah sure. Thanks. Slightly knocked sideways, it seemed all the more natural to strike up a conversation about our cats, while watching the policeman edging towards Datou. A few photos are collected on his official camera; and in mild disbelief I watch as he takes out his cell phone and adds a couple for himself. Are we looking for a cat burglar here?
Datou has a new friend.More police begin arriving, and questions begin to be asked of the likely location of the other keys. Abe is out of contact, Natasha is on the way, and I don’t even have the cell phone of the landlord. Raised eyebrows, inspection of ID card etc etc. This is getting a bit frustrating.
The CSI dude turns up, and he begins inspecting the main door lock. No joy. Then, his eye wanders over to the window opening into the living room; a brief flash of the light and it’s clear that’s where they came in. Bars block the windows of most houses in Taiwan, and ours is no exception. The only surprise is how easily they prised the bars – with an adjustable spanner, no less. So, let me ask you – if you can get through the bars with such a crude tool, and the bars themselves work as a ladder, what is the freaking point. Strike one for Taiwan. Not in our favour is the fact that we often leave that window open to allow air in, and it was unlikely that it was locked – lesson learnt.
Clueso
Breaking and enteringPrints are taken on the window, and … Hulk. Gloves. They came and went through the same place, which probably explains the scuffling sound when I arrived. We chat briefly about what to do, and his advice sounds like it is coming from a man that has seen this way, way too often. The adrenaline starts to fade as he leaves, and we assess the damage. Tasha arrives, slightly breathless.
Yes – Hulk. Please take him in for more questioning, by all means…It’s quite clear straight off the bat that we got away amazingly lightly. A few hundred dollars in American cash, and all the expensive equipment and travel documents are still intact, as far as we can see. But still one cat missing.
Tripod is timid cat at the best of times, but she was not to be found in any of her typical hiding places. I shine a light quickly outside, and nothing. I go and get my camera, and set the flash on, hoping to capture some reflective eyes; nothing. Did they really steal her?
Another shot with the torch, and the other guys hear a loud “meow”. Tripod, except for Gizmo-like sound effects simply does not meow, ever, and I am in disbelief that it is her. Datou, on the other hand, makes a bolt for the window, clearly in distress – what a hero! Some more flash photographs taken down the alleyway, and sure enough it is her, lurking behind an air conditioning unit. I grab a torch, throw on some shoes and run out of the door, with Natasha in hot pursuit.
Safe!The rear of the apartment building is dark, dim, and not easy to access. I catch sight of her, and she scampers off (with three legs it’s hard to do much else), and I worry that we are about to start a bizarre game of mouse and cat. But I corner her, and manage to pick her shivering body up. Safe. And I pass her up to Armando, manhandling herself up the bars and into the warm light of the apartment.
Covered in the muck of a million scooters, I head back to join Natasha and walk back around to the apartment entrance. Call Abe a dozen or more times. Talk at length about what the hell just happened, and wait for his arrival. And it was about this point that we realised just ho
w hungry we were. The adrenalin surge comes to an abrupt stop.We didn’t need to wait to long for Abe to come back. Without wanting to get too dramatic, we walked him through the house, and it was clear that he was as shocked as the rest of us. Turns out his phone had run out of power. It’s at times like this that I realise my daily Chinese skills have definite limits – vocabulary that Abe is talented and dedicated enough to learn. Still, we got through, and in the end what more is there to say? We were amazingly lucky.
We’ll be lodging the full report with the police tomorrow, but until then I have rather an important gathering to attend – the departure of Nick Chaney from Taiwan. But I’ll leave that for the next post.
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Jiufen Tea Ceremony
Company team-building activities are a fairly regular activity on the Dell calendar. One of the more community-spirited activities is the annual Jinshan beach clear-up operation at one of the surf hot spots on the other side of northen Taiwan. As a result of Typhoon Morakot, the area was in severe need of some affection, and we were glad to help. Rubbish and driftwood were dispatched in double-quick time and arranged in a relatively neat pile at the head of the beach, and we were so efficient that we were told to ‘stop’ lest we ruin the beach cleanup effort of subsequent companies doing similar initiatives – irony.
Once we had that done and dusted, we took the opportunity not to squander our time on that side of the island, and made a beeline for the Gold Ecological Park, where my ex-Chinese teacher works. A pretty nice place, and worth a trip up the amazingly meandering road.
Highlight of the day, though, was an evening spent in Jiufen – a place I have inexplicably never been to. What a mistake – the place was magical, and we spent a happy few hours spiriting away time in a tea shop watching the sun set over the hills towards Taipei, and subsequent glide down quite the most charming street of hanging lanterns. All in all, a fantastic little adventure.
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Trans-Pacific Adventures
Connections in DallasI just landed from a three week trip to the USA, taking in Miami and Austin, with brief stops in San Francisco and Los Angeles. The last time I was here, was right at the end of my Cambridge University masters; and it therefore offers rather a convenient moment of Texan-style punctuation from which to reflect and digest.
What a long way I have come. The first time was trans-Atlantic with nothing more than a backpack, a Greyhound ticket via San Antonio, a whim and perhaps a prayer. The next was trans-Pacific, taking in a global design conference, and with an extended stay at the Austin mothership, visiting colleagues that have become firm friends. I have, geographically-speaking at least, come full circle.
It also allows me to look at my Asian experience and life through a different, Americana, lens. I am positive I could feel myself being ‘reculturalized’ (as our resident Cuban, Pedro, so eloquently puts it) back to Western ways in a way I did not feel when returning to Blighty, perhaps because I am on holiday when I head back there. It’s a good feeling to head back to the office with a bit more confrontational spirit and less of the passive-aggressiveness reticence.
Usually, I enjoy writing these blog posts on the way through the trip. I think I felt some mild feeling of vertigo, however, as I imagined a virtual life in the USA, and re-imagined my Asian life; which felt more like a daydream, frankly – Kyoto to Taipei to Shanghai to Miami to Texas … what a head spin!
Jet lag is oozing from every pore of my being right now … time to sort out some photos, unpack and have a coffee. Good to be back to the daydream!
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Austin City Limits
ACLFinally, after 18 months of pestering, I got the tickets booked to Austin, Texas; and a visit to our mother ship. Ostensibly to indoctrinate myself with some ‘new hire training’, and learning techniques and approaches of the chaps in ADC, I was also more than happy to piggy back the trip with calling in at the IDSA conference in Miami, and spending some serious time in and around Austin … timed perfectly for the Austin City Limits (ACL) music festival; one of the largest musical gatherings in the USA (it’s almost like I planned this trip…!).
At the classic Continental club, with local Country fixture, Dale Watson.
Gorgeous skies at ACL – at least on the first night. Highlights were the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, though I also caught Thievery Corporation and Kings of Leon.
There can only be so many sunset photos. Or so I thought.
Dedicated fans.
ACL bracelet, plus the ticket to the fantastic secret Broken Social Scene after-show party.
Paul B rockin’ the ‘Bans.
See of digitalia.
Renovated power station was a fan-tas-tic venue for an after-show.
Broken Social Scene in Austin.
Team Dell.
Wall of staples are a testament to the amazing amount of live music on offer here.Now, before I joined Dell, I had barely spent 24 hours in Texas, crossing through from Louisiana, en-route to El Paso and Meso-America. On that occasion, I had woken up on my Grayhound ordeal merely to see tumble weeds floating through a very one-and-a-half-horse-town, and again at the charming border crossing. I therefore had very few positive preconceptions, building my mental image from a bevy of cowboy films, maps of voting behaviour, and the ultimate social barometer; Homer Simpson.
It has been somewhat surprising, therefore, to hear positive story after positive story about the place, both from people that grew up there, and from people moving in, or merely visiting. Much like my university town of Glasgow, or indeed Taiwan, this was a well-kept secret that I was more than happy to hear about.
Austin is a strange town. Somehow reconciling the diametrically (trimetrically?) opposed facets of A. Triathletes B. Hippies and C. Partying, often in the same person, it offered a plethora of activities that I was delighted to partake in. And partake I did, squeezing it between bouts in the office, and spending time with colleagues that I have got to know pretty well while they have visited Taiwan.
The view from near my hotel, up to the State Capitol.
And yet, at the same time there is a large ‘alternative’ vibe, manifesting itself with these FABULOUS Airstream caravans, dishing out cup cakes, burritos and coffee. Adorable.The first activity, mountain biking, I have already eulogised about in my post here. To counterbalance the first, the second activity must be the food. And eat I did. Texmex is a food that I have eaten plenty before – or so I thought. The care taken in preparing the dishes, and the obvious affection that people displayed was infectious. The food was a delight, tingling the taste buds and delighting with a subtle balance of fresh ingredients, spices and contrasting textures. I had several memorable meals, and was so enthusiastic that during my time there I kept a record of where I was visiting on a map, that I must present below. Highlights for me: the ‘charcoal’ salsa at the Iguana Grill, Mole at Manuel’s, and something that sounds like Rilletos at Chuy’s. Foolishly, I did miss out on the breakfast tacos. Next time.
View Austin in a larger mapThe other staple of the Texan weekend diet is the barbecue. A delicious, cholesterol-packed bolus dose of meat and potato salad is great the first few times, but I have to say I was turning my nose up at it by the end. In fact, for the first week after I got back, I could hardly look at a chunk of meat in the same way. The sheer amount of flesh that is consumed in this country is absurd, and it really is part of the psyche. Or a major cause of – I am not sure. Delicious and crazy – but in short-lived doses please.
Pioneer Spirit!End-of-term assessment; a resounding positive. It was an unmissable two weeks of professional development, mixed in with a much deeper understanding of the ingredients that came to make up Dell. Texas is undoubtedly a very different culture from that of the coasts, and I would hazard a guess that Austin is different once again from the surrounding state. Certainly, it is a place I would like to return to and learn a little more about – but next time starting the day with a proper Breakfast Burrito!
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Mountain Biking Austin
Myself, Tony, Ken and Sandra … ready to roll!I am almost positive that if I did ever end up moving to Austin, my waist line would do one of two things, depending on a series of decisions I would need to make. These decisions would essentially revolve around two of the central tenets of Austin culture; high-intensity sport, and high-calorie Texmex food. Until the middle weekend in Austin, I had done a fantastic job at tackling the second of the two pillars, but an astoundingly poor job of moving the centre of gravity (literally and figuratively) the other way.
Luckily, Ken (my big boss), Sandra (big boss’ wife, and former pro-mountain biker) and Tony (shave-legged roadie compatriot from the Austin design team) were on hand to lead me round a few of the best trails in and around Austin; quite literally on a large portion of the population’s doorsteps.
I spent the week sorting a bike out, eventually opting for a 5″ Trek Fuel EX8 from Mellow Johnnie’s bike shop – owned by Lance Armstrong no less. I also took the opportunity to top-up on bike kit and clothing that tends to be more expensive or simply unavailable in my size back on the ROC.
Trek Fuel Ex8We tackled the Green Belt the first day, escaping the rain just as we returned to the cars (the best type of rain?). It mixed in highly technical rocky sections that were reminiscent of our own ‘Graveyard’ run, but with long flat-out sections where it was possible to stretch your legs in ways impossible in Taiwan. Tony is pretty bleeding fit, and we laid down some rubber for the final kilometres, with Sandra hot on our tail whooping encouragement and tips at us sweaty guys in the engine room at the front. Texmex perfectly filled the hole left by the early start and the exertion.
Pioneer spirit
I was pretty impressed with the Trek, both up hill and down dale.
It was certainly much tighter than the average rental bike, and seemed to have similar responses to my Giant Trance.
Tony, rocking a similar vintage bike to the one I ride back home.
Sandra – a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Wonderful to ride with!
Tony and I both flatted on the same rock step, within seconds of each other. As ever, the CO2 cartridges managed to spray a mixture of ice and condensed water everywhere except into the tube.
Trail vision
Hanging on, back up the hill
Tony – I want to see you with some better equipment next time – bloody impressive skills!The clouds returned the next day, so we opted to head a little further afield to trails that are a little more tolerant of erosion than the downtown trails. Indeed, I was quite impressed to see how protective people were of the trails; riding in the wet was positively anti-social. Not quite sure that would be feasible in the UK. Ending up at Mule Shoe (doesn’t that just sound so Texan?) and passing by banks of hill-top haciendas, the trail begins by weaving through an intricate series of tracks with entertainingly technical ups and downs. We managed to get in a few kilometres before the heavens well and truly opened once more, and we got thoroughly dumped on. I was like a pig in shit, but we opted to turn back, since flash flooding is a very real risk.
So, and early exit, but a great experience and two days of excellent riding. Hopefully, I will be back to finish the rest of that Mule Shoe trail some day. I hope I also proved that the opposite and opposing forces of mountain biking and Texmex may some day find a happy balancing point.
Single track heaven …
… and some more mechanical hell. Typically – just as the downpour begins.
Mud, glorious mud.
Water splash 1
Water splash 2
Rain stops play – and Ken has rather a nice toy!
Sandra and I enjoy drying off a little
While I am left with the distinct memory that Austin is wet and rainy! -
Miami Vices
Delightful Americana on displayPersistence pays off! Months of angling to score a trip to the USA, and I line up three weeks in Miami and Texas, with brief stops in San Francisco and Los Angeles.
Miami was host to this year’s annual IDSA conference – a meeting of minds and bodies from the Industrial Design Society of America. I expected great things – the finest brains in the industry, a broad cross-section of consultancies, in-housers and orbiting services, and five days in one of the most cosmopolitan style-spots in the Americas. The scene was set for some challenging debate about the future of the industry, questions around our changing roles as creative thinkers, and reflection on some of the global macro-trends shaping the planet.
But before all that, a brief Architectural interlude:
NeonIn order to at least slightly offset some of the crushing 12-hour jetlag, I arrived a day early, and set about taking in as much of the delightful Art-Deco district as possible. In their infinite wisdom, the area narrowly escaped complete destruction in the 80s at the hands of imaginative hotel developers, and we are today left with a superb slice of kitsch Americana that cannot fail to warm the soul in its bright hopefulness.
Add into the mix a large Latino population (fronted by our own Cuban-Miamian, Pedro), large quantities of aerospace-grade silicon, 22-inch rimmed cruisers and loud loud music … and you have yourself a rather efficient distraction from the more mundane activities at the conference.
Balmy. Barmy.
Cavalier Attitude
I did also see the place in the daytime, honest.
Post-modern postcards
Several of the hotels kept classic cars on-hand to tempt gullible photographers into stopping for over-priced coffees. Which, worked just great.
Heydays in the sun
There were new Camaros and Mustangs everywhere, but none of them challenges the considered delicacy of the original, if you ask me. The new ones just seem like they were designed as toys, and scaled up accordingly, which may have been true.
The style extends to the interior of the local restaurants, which in many cases seem untouched from the 50s.But enough of the tourist attractions – back to the conference, and some man-sized debate about … oh … everyone is by the pool?
A theme emerges. Perhaps different from the one envisaged by the organisers.
Friday night Ocean Drive showmanship.In the first days of the conference, I endeavoured to attend as many sessions as I could, constructing a buffet of strategy, techniques and more out-there subjects like how the Human Genome Project could effect design. I have to say, however, that I had a sinking realisation that the sessions were not as meaty as I was expecting, and that in actual fact, the people that I wanted to meet, and the people that I wanted to spend more time with were all creating their own buffet, and only dipping into the sessions that most piqued their interest.
The Pedromobile!And indeed, the most memorable events were those extra-curricular activities that had Pedro leading us a merry- dance through the back streets of Miami, ending up one night at a most delightful little bistro in Little Haiti. A Jamaican restaurant. Run by a pair of Indians. Cooking Indian-Jamaican fusion food out the back of a local store; complete with riot screen, security cameras and cans of Red Stripe to wash it down with.
“Culturalization”
Roti + Jerk Chicken = Yum
Washed down with some delicious glucose-delivery syrups
The tips jar was in no danger of walking off
Pedro bonds with the locals
Team Miami.
Big brother.
Time to leave.So what of the conference? I went expecting to professionally broaden my mind. For that, I was disappointed. The dialogue I expected to see – the rise of China, commoditisation of design, the role user-interface and software design, the notions around Design Thinking – simply were not successfully addressed; at least in the main sessions. There was a faint whiff in the air of self-congratulatory 1980s excess, and a blissful ignorance of the realities that face our profession. John Kolko of Frog Design pretty much nailed it in his article “End of an Era”, which sums up many of my own thoughts. You have to take it with a grain of salt – if there is one thing Frog seems able to do, it is talk the big talk. Indeed, Frog, Smart, Ideo and others are positioning themselves ‘above’ basic ID, and aligning themselves alongside the Andersons and McKinseys of the world, which I am not totally convinced by yet. I find it interesting that the ‘conversation’ that is driving ID is one of business, rather than a more philosophical skew, as-per architecture.
Above and beyond this, however, I met up with colleagues and old friends, made new friends and contacts, and took away some great memories.
MIAMI VICE
