校園民歌演唱會 Outdoor "Campus Folk" concert on a Sunday afternoon

Hearing the "campus folk songs" on a Sunday afternoon on the lakeside lawn of the NCTU (our neighboring university), I discovered some hidden emotions and sentimentality from my adolescent years. The melodies, harmonies and lyrics brought back a feeling of home that I hadn't experienced before.

Some of the songs were familiar; I was surprised that I could remember most of the lyrics to hum along. Years ago, sitting in front of my desk with textbooks which I was supposed to study and memorize, I enjoyed the guilty pleasure of taking out my guitar, strumming the only few harmonies that I knew, the major chords, C, D, F, G, B-flat, and minor chords, e, a.... These simple chords and the lyrics took me to imaginary places, the aboriginal village in the mountains, a college campus, the first love, or a sentimental farewell.

Some of the songs were new, since the campus folk songs genre began in mid-70's. By the time I was old enough to listen to music on my own, I was catching the tail-end of the genre, when Madonna and Michale Jackson and rock were coming in to the Taiwan popular music scene. But even the unfamiliar songs me home. In particular, "The Wind of the Pacific Ocean", about an aboriginal village in the east of Hualien blessed by the wind blown over from the Pacific, brought me to tears. I don't know if it's purely the music that moved me, or if it's a feeling of being home, but I hadn't felt so close to a piece of music and to a singer in a long time.

If I were to answer the question of "Which is more home" today, my answer would be obvious.

Daddy, let me tell you all about the universe

Noah has, in his own 4-year-old way, figured out how the universe works. The solar system, the planets, the earth, volcanos, icebergs, the water system, the weather, life--animals and plants alike, machinery, even the big topic of evolution. Yes, penguins used to fly, but they no longer can even though they have wing-like flippers, and he goes on and on with certainty. He still occasionally puzzles over gravity a little bit ("Why can't you SEE gravity?") but he thinks he's got the basics down.

During the first two lectures of the "Statistical Methods for Epidemiology" graduate course that I sat in on, I thought that although I didn't get the formulas and the symbols, I had understood the basic idea. Okay, you design a study and find appropriate statistical tools to analyze it. And in the process there are many technical aspects that you have to deal with. But the gist is there. Fine. Understood. Ready to move on.

Wait. Not so simple. Now I realized I was just like Noah. The less you know about something, the more you think you've understood it. As the lectures got more and more obscure, to the point that I couldn't parse a single line in my 8-page notes, I decided to step back and study a basic statistics textbook. Five chapters later, I am humbled by the depth of the topics and have decided to stop going to the graduate course, as there's too much I still need to learn! It turned out that phrases I heard had specific meanings and whole theories behind them. I was too naive! So that's why I am home right now rather than in class. I should stop this entry right now and head Chapter 6 of my statistics book!

PS. On the other hand, it's rather nice to be Noah. He has no inhibition about learning anything. He hasn't been told that he couldn't do math, or he's not good at something. He embraces whatever knowledge and ideas that come to him and tries to figure out how they works in his own way. Don't know exactly at what point in life we become humbled, intimidated and hence inhibited.

Getting to know Wati

To those who's been waiting for the story on the "bad fish" in Jinmen, I apologize for not sharing it for so long. Had I tried to write about it sooner, it would have been terribly long with details and I would have gotten too emotionally caught up with it. Sometimes I wish I were a poet or a novelist, but [sigh] even when I share their sentiments, I just don't have the talent.

Now, two weeks later, I shall simply share the gist. The protagonist is Wati, a 21-year-old Indonesian domestic helper at our home-stay located in an isolated village in Jinmen.









Picture: Wati with Noah and Ben in the courtyard of my home-stay/B&B.


The home-stay hostess had been widely praised for her kind heart, great knowledge, outgoing personality, and of course, amazing hospitality. While all of these were true as we got to know her, over the three days, a dark side of her house slowly revealed itself.

Whenever we were at 'home', we saw Wati diligently clean. She always carried a sweet but melancholic smile and spoke few words. It turned out that she only came from Indonesia three months ago, and knew only a little Chinese. In separate occasions, we found some disturbing information through observation and through secret conversations: She had only one pair of socks which she found in the trash can after some guests left. Her clothes were clearly oversized (later we figured out being from Java, of course she had no winter clothes suitable for the windy Jinmen weather). She had not been paid, and she had no money whatsoever. She works nonstop from 5:30am to 8 or 9pm. She doesn't get breakfasts everyday. The original contract specified that she was to be a comfort-keeper to the owner's elderly mother in Taipei, but ended up in Jinmen cleaning the B&B (This outcome is very common about hired domestic helpers: on the paper they are hired to take care of the elderly but in reality they do whatever they are asked to do: cleaning, cooking, selling things, babysitting). Worst of all, she had not been in touch with her parents in any way, so they had no idea of her whereabouts.

For some reason, Wati was extremely fearful of the owner and would only speak to me when hiding somewhere. So we spent a lot of time darting from room to room with her pretending to sweep and me seeping tea so we could exchange a few words. On the other hand, our interactions with the owner had been fun, interesting, and happy. I was confused, scared, disgusted, and compelled to take on the bossy and nosy self to do whatever I could.

I asked her to write a letter and promised to mail it for her. (Obviously, a day later, putting the letter into the mailbox was the most profound "mailing experience" for me.) I also gave her a pre-paid calling card, encouraging her to try making a call when her boss is out. I helped her contact her placement agency to inquire about her salary.

Saying good-bye was really hard, as I knew I'll never know what happens to her. She was teary and hugged me with such a gaze of appreciation that I didn't deserve. I left with a bad taste in my mouth about the entire Jinmen trip.

Thinkers' Club

Just came back from my second 清華思想沙龍 (Thinkers' Club) event. Like the last one on North Korea, the evening devoted to Rwanda and Africa was quite a learning experience for me, and I am sure, everyone in the room. It's a student-organized event founded by my favorite thinker, writer and activist, Prof. Long Ying-tai, for the purpose of opening the minds of students--including high school students-- and Hsinchu area residents. In the process, it trains a group of Tsinghua students to organize an event and conduct relevant research. What an admirable idea in action.

I agree with Prof. Long that Taiwanese students in general need a broader world view, much beyond the political fights between the Blue and the Green in Taiwan. When the documentary film ("Shake Hands with the Devil: The Journey of General Romeo Dallaire") and the ensuing lecture introduced the genocide, the ethnic hatred, the cold, selfish ignorance of the West including the UN, you heart twitches with sadness and anger, and you realize how trivial many of our problems are. You also see how much we can and should be learning from history, and yet how we fail, letting the same atrocities take place time and time again. Rwanda, Sierra Leone, East Timur, Dafur, North Korea, Iraq....

In 1994, the US was much more obsessed with the OJ Simpson trial and the horrific killings of 800,000 innocent Rwandans (in three months time!) was much outside public consciousness. Even though the West (in particular Belgium) partly contributed to the ethnic divide, it stood there doing nothing to prevent it or to protect the people. A massacre even took place in the sanctuary of a Catholic church!

What makes me despair is that the same atrocities are happening as we speak today, and you and I are doing little to stop them.

I did feel a comforting sense of hope during the Q&A session. The students, including some from area high schools, had excellent questions to raise. They are thinking, reflecting on lessons learned, and contemplating on the situation and ethnic divide and politicization that we are experiencing in Taiwan. As painful as it is to spend three hours learning about the horrible side of human kind, I came away feeling somewhat empowered as I saw 300 young people feeling equally touched or even compelled to take some action.

One question I always have for myself after this kind of thought-provoking event (book, film, lecture, discussion) is always "So what can I do?" I felt that today I had many potential answers for myself. From thoughts/consciousness to practical actions, from private conversations to class discussions, to blogging. I feel that I, like everyone, do have a voice.

Is it wishful thinking? Or blind faith?

A few things I'll miss

There are a few things that we take for granted now that I will miss about life in Taiwan. For my own record and memories, I'll list a few of them:

--The kids' lunches at school. There are few things better for a working mom than being able to send your young kids off to school without lunch and knowing that they'll be fed well. The lunches and snacks are just amazing, from an American lunch and snack standard. Just to give you a sense, today Noah is having taro cakes and papaya for am snack, braised pork loin, tofu noodles, vegetables and turnip soup for lunch, and dumplings for pm snack. Ben gets waffles and soy milk for am snack, stir-fried noodles, chicken soup and guava for lunch. All we needed to do is to wash the three stainless steel bowls and spoons to send them back with Noah every morning.

--Fruits. Every single overseas Taiwanese misses the selection of fruits. Guavas, java apples, loquat, Buddha's head (Shih-jia), lichee, melons, citrus, you name it. With good fruits comes inexpensive fresh squeezed juices of all kinds sold on every other block.

--Customer service. Salesperson are generally helpful and very friendly, though it's not a good feeling to know that most are overworked and underpaid.

--Convenient location and biking to work and to markets. I know I'll miss the feel of living in a university campus, though now our Arlington house feels huge and so cozy in comparison. A single family house is an unattainable luxury for most people in most places. For now, I definitely don't have any urge to make our house larger--we've got plenty of space already!

--Cheap and good haircuts! For $10 you get a really good cut, for an additional $3 or 4 you get a thorough wash with head and neck massage. Why not while you have it!!

--Traditional markets. I've talked about this one earlier already.

--Mild winter, or lack thereof. Well... winters are not so bad, but being able to go for a hike and catch bugs in mid January is not such a bad idea.

Just a random assortment for fun. Of course there are many things I miss about the US, like the respect for pedestrians, orderly driving, tranquility and fresh air of parks, ample space. But knowing that I am in Taiwan only temporarily makes me anticipate the loss more than welcoming the comfort and familiar.

Shells and empty paths

[special guest post by Paul]

A very surprising thing about Jinmen is just how undiscovered it is. Much of it is a national park in a fairly wealthy country with people who love to travel. And yet, on the beaches you can find beautiful shells that would be picked up by somebody within seconds at any other beach I've been on. In Florida, I spend hours looking for one perfect little shell or sand dollar, and that instinct led me to pick up dozens of pointy spiral shells within feet of where the path deposits you on the beach near Oucou.

On the afternoon we departed, Sylvia and I took a walk while Popo and the boys had a nap.
We visited the beach again, and the decided to walk back on a paved path we crossed between the beach and the road. The path was well-built, and had a stone pointer in the pavement for Jhushan, where we stayed. We walked and walked, the path had been maintained, there were a few rest areas with shade and benches, and many bilingual signs about the flora. The views of the hills, wetlands, rocks, and beach made for a perfect nature stroll. There were no people whatsoever. After a while, the walk seemed too long, and afraid we'd miss our plane, we walked faster and faster. A half an hour after we expected to reach Jhushan, we found ourselves all the way at the tip of the island, near the tunnel we'd visited on the first day, and a good half hour walk back to Jhushan. After several nice stone markers pointing you towards Jhushan, they neglected to tell you where to turn off the path. I guess it doesn't matter, if tourists never take the path. We had to call our hostess to come pick us up.

Anyway, I'm emphasizing some of the ways in which the political/military isolation of Jinmen can make for a wonderful visit for those who love nature.

From corporal punishment to minding others' business

In my oral training class, students are divided into different groups to present on different themes such as gender, education, health care, and environment. The groups pick a focus and select articles for the entire class to read, then they lead a discussion on the readings. The education group picked the topic of corporal punishment of young children, an issue of interest for all.

As the discussion went on, I was surprised to find that not only were 100% of the students physically punished by parents, and many by teachers, but quite a few had regularly endured severe punishment, at least two to the point of abuse. After many shared their experiences, we concluded that these beatings are most commonly caused by parental anger (which is caused by drinking, financial burden, family discord, then triggered by minor misbehavior of the child). We also learned that the attractiveness of corporal punishment for parents stems mostly from its ability to cause the children's immediate compliance. It was a very stimulating discussion, albeit a painful one for a few students. I was surprised and disheartened to find that the culture of "Spare the rod, spoil the child" is still prevalent, at least among parents kids who have now reached college age.

It reminded me of a painful and unforgettable experience of witnessing a six-year-old child publicly humiliated and physically abused by a mentally unstable mother. I won't go into the details as it's too painful to recall. It just makes you wonder if the ignorance of the public is to blame. Is it important for us to mind "others' business"? In my case I boldly intervened and got the police involved; I just could not stay silent in the face of an abused child. I may have harmed him further, as it's possible that the police let the Mom go with the boy, and he got beaten up even worse at home.

This ("What would you do if you witness a parent's severe physical abuse on a young child?") became the topic for discussion in class, an important question to ponder. For me, I often face the dilemma between saying something (and potentially be taken as a bossy, self-righteous 'smart ass') and keeping quiet. These moments occur more in Taiwan than in the US because, in my opinion, Taiwanese people's lives are more integrated and physically close, whereas in the US lives are more segregated, by 'good areas' and 'bad areas', by highways and strip malls. I believe these "injustices" are not unique to any country per se; rather, it's just a matter of how visible they are in our daily lives.

So, I wonder, should you see the following situations--as I have personally--would you do/say something or not?

1) A 3-year-old just finished a yogurt drink, and told his grandfather that he's done. The grandpa gestured the stream (which they live next door to), and the kid ran over and threw the plastic bottle right in.
2) A mother chain-smokes in front of her toddlers, blowing the smoke right in their faces.
3) A mother continuously beats her boy, telling him that he's worth nothing and she wants to ditch him like his father did.

An annoying habit of the Chinese people

The Ma's (pseudonym) are are old-time family friends dating back to our grandparents days. I had many fond memories of being with different Ma family members all throughout my life in Taiwan as a child and teenager. The "little ones", whom we played with regularly, were Noah and Ben's age, now ready to take the college entrance exams! And I adored the aunties, who were my age at the time.

So naturally I have been wanting to visit them after being away for 15 years. I've wondered why my mom doesn't initiate the meeting. One thing I did learn is that they are not doing well financially, and there's been some unhappy things happening in the family.

But in either case, I am eager to see them and catch up. Talking to the aunties on the phone felt like it was just yesterday that we talked. Their voices were familiar and sweet. I was looking forward to seeing them and showing them my husband and kids.

Well, guess what? As Mom predicted, Grandma M. insisted that we be treated to a fancy dinner-which will cost a fortune and potentially leaves little time and space for personal conversations. Why? Why can't we just visit with one another? Why can't we just go for a hike and just eat noodles? Why always a banquet which makes everyone uncomfortable and some guilty? This is very Chinese. I know that and I am sorry to say that I find it annoying.

The gesture of hosting sometimes requires "Slapping the face to pretend to be fat"打腫臉充胖子. It's about FACE. Your face. My face. Big presentable meals. Guilt. Politeness. It gets in the way of getting to know someone and to engage with someone more deeply. It's superficial, but must be done.

All of a sudden, a pizza party with beers where nobody feels the pressure sounds like a great idea.

An island that knows no water

The beaches in Jinmen are very nice, but to our surprise, each one almost completely empty. An island surrounded by sea, it acts as if it knows no water.

The tourist information center staff didn’t know what to recommend when we asked about beaches suitable for children. An Indonesian maid/elderly comfort-keeper at one village had been living there for one and a half years, and had no clue there was a beach two minute from their house. My friend Ivan, who spent 22 months of his obligatory military duty in Jinmen (by the way, 100% of them hated this island after the most boring 22 months of life), said military personnel are strictly prohibited on the coastal areas unless you’ve been assigned to one of the watch towers. A Mom of one of Noah’s classmates who grew up in Jinmen told me that of the 18 years she was there, she’s never once been to the beach.

In fact, when Mom told Dad on the phone that we enjoyed collecting shells and “cooking” (sand) on the beaches, Dad nearly had a heart attack: “There are land mines! That’s why nobody was there!” I know it’s not true that publicly accessible beaches are still filled with mines, as they have been ‘cleaned up’ leaving only restricted areas still armed. We heard that Africans from the poorest countries have been hired to do the dangerous clean-up job—at a high rate of life insurance! I also found out that Dad’s impression of Jinmen is the common view of the island: a place of national defense, war, mines, weapons, tanks, roundhouses, with the huge China lurking from simply 4km away. Yes, you can actually see what-used-to-be-scary-Communist China, its skyscrapers and all, right off the northern coast.

So this gives you an idea of the morbid and militaristic nature of the island. Visiting it brings you up close with the ugly, gruesome reality of war. Battles were fought, in fact air attacks occurred regularly for 20+ years, soldiers and civilians lives lost, homes occupied, common people’s lives turned upside down. This is the reality of war, something continues to haunt millions of lives in the world.

At a different time, with a different mindset, our family saw the other side of the same land: unpolluted coast, white sand, pretty shells, and a happy family strolling on the beach. An ironic fact illustrates the point: a 'lake', a large nature’s reserve, was a commercial port before the 40s, when the KMT military, for defense purposes, built a concrete bridge over the alcove, artificially creating a peaceful dwelling place for many unusual species of migratory birds. These birds are luckier than the people in Jinmen.

A typical scene of Jinmen

I shall save the "bad fish" for a later time, but first to show you this very typical scene in Jinmen. An abandoned western-style home among ruins of charming Min-style homes/homestead of one clan. A wondering child in their midst. This 4-year-old boy lives in the same village (聚落 is the more appropriate word) as our home stay, 珠山聚落. According to our host, this boy's parents married as teenagers and quickly divorced and left for China, leaving him with his maternal grandfather, who hangs out in front of the village temples, and from what we could see, doesn't do much with him except threatening to hit him when he misbehaved. As soon as he spotted us, this scraggly boy stuck with us the whole way. No matter what we said or did, he would not say a word or show any hint of emotion. He just followed us and stared at our kids and Paul. An hour later, I still couldn't get a word out of him.

This picture is all but unusual on the island: the only sources of livelihood are governmental jobs and tourism. The former is shrinking with the decrease of military presence, and the latter is not at all popular for the infrastructure that had been invested into it (Jinmen is a national park). The island is tired, and young and middle-age generations all leave for China or Taiwan, leaving the elderly and young children and collapsing (beautiful) old homes.

Abandoned village, abandoned child. This about makes up a taste of a bad shrimp.

P.S.
Visit our home-stay online at http://www.z02.com.tw/index.jsp
For info on home-stay in Jinmen old village homes, see: http://guesthouse.kmnp.gov.tw/about/about_house.asp.
For Jinmen National Park, see: http://www.kmnp.gov.tw/index01/index.htm.

Working cows

This is something we don't see much anymore: cows helping to work the fields. You can see scenes like this all around Jinmen.

The soil is poor and technology undeveloped, so besides for peanuts and sorghum, not much grows well on the island. There's an idyllic charm to this picture, but I recognize that this sentimentality comes from a visitor rather than the local residents.

Egg hunt: Poor men's version

Happy Easter! Since we missed the fun of egg-hunting with friends in Arlington, I suggested an egg hunt at Noah's school. Originally it was going to be held near our house one afternoon after school, but the teachers complained that they would not get to attend it (Can you believe that? I would have imagined that they couldn't be happier for the kids to be picked up early!) so it was held across from Noah's school on the lawn next to a big lake.

The event was unheard of here, and unfortunately I didn't do the necessary research, so I could not explain to the class the origin of egg-hunting. And since we couldn't find easter chocolates or those plastic shells, the teachers bought little chocolate soccer balls (1/8 of the size of an "American" egg). So as you can imagine, 23 kids running all around a huge lawn carefully looking for minute 'eggs'. And, due to the limited supplies, there was a rule that each kid can only get three. As I recall last year's egg-hunting experience, where a few kids were to find huge, colorful eggs, each filled with multiple candies, this year's shows the poor men's version of egg hunting. Just as fun nevertheless.

A fruitful visit to the island of Jinmen

The three-day visit to Jinmen was unforgettable in many ways. The island was beautiful and morbid at the same time, exciting and tired at the same time. I'll have to slowly share my experience over the next few days. I would definitely recommend it to the following people:

--Bird lovers
--Military/war history enthusiasts
--Those with a historical and cultural fascination, especially old-style (Min) villages and homes
--Those craving tranquility and solitude
--Those with little kids--beaches, cows, birds abound, plus a 55-minute airplane trip (just the right length for the fun of it!!)

I would not recommend it to those who enjoy trips such as "Europe in 7 days" or a five-star hotel or gourmet travellers. To experience Jinmen, you have to take it easy and be comfortable with simple food and lodging and minimal souvenir shopping.

Personally, my memory of the trip can be compared with a fantastic meal with all sorts of delicate dishes, but towards the end, a bite of bad fish tainted the palette, disturbing the entire experience. Stay tuned for more....

Two security guards

Walking and biking are good ways to meet people who you wouldn't otherwise get to talk to. I have befriended the security guards at the entrances of the campus. Here's a quick description of their work life.

The guard at the west gate is a thin man probably a few years my junior. Always cheerful and jolly, he does his job dutifully and cheerfully. He sits in a small guard house, checking the cars and mopeds to make sure they have the university permit before they enter. Occasionally he assists the campus security in towing illegally parked mopeds on the parking lot near the entrance. He works from 6am to 7pm, seven days a week, with no paid vacation days all year round. He makes about NT$40000 a month, a salary he considers incredibly handsome. (I heard that the average salary for a recent college grad is NT $20000+. This is lower than 10 years ago.)

He is married to a kindergarten teacher, and has a 4-year-old daughter whom he rarely visits, as she lives with grandparents in Kaohsiung. He told me that he plans to save all his money and send his daughter to an English-speaking country for education, so she "will have the advantage of being bilingual, which will make her competitive in the work force". These are his words. I feel sad for the little girl.

In comparison, the guard at the main gate has it much harder. He told me that he works 15 hours a day, from 7am to 11pm. He doesn't have a guard room or shelter. The campus entrance is now under construction, so his job is to stand in the traffic and direct the cars to a detour. I asked if he ever gets to spend time with family, and he said "I only go home to eat and sleep. " "Aren't there labor laws?" He shrugged, "This is Taiwan, you work and you get money, you don't work and you don't get money. Do you want to get the money or not?" I don't know about you, but I have a hard time imagining someone working 15 hours standing in traffic, in cold rain, in high humidity and heat, every day, all day. He must be just a few years older than me, and with a family to feed. Does he HAVE TO work so many hours? Or does he just think he has to work so much? Actually, he doesn't look as unhappy as I think he should be, which makes me wonder if I am worry for him unnecessarily. Time with family, time to get out into nature, time to relax, maybe he doesn't perceive any need for these things. Maybe he is just fine. I should ask him.

In either case, it's sad for me to hear the lives of these guys. They are very nice and cheerful folks. So why am I upset? Should I be upset? What do you all think?

Trip to Wanli and Yangmingshan

Thanks to Paul’s recent complaints of loneliness, we took a wonderful trip to the northern coast of Taipei this weekend. The weather was warm but breezy, just perfect for the activities we had. Saw the pretty-and-yet-garbage-strewn rocky beach, played on the sandy beach by the Howard Hotel/Resort where we stayed, enjoyed the amazing array of snack food at the famous Miaokou Night Market in downtown Keelung, and best of all, took two great hikes in the north-eastern part of Yangminshan.

The beaches on the northern coast are famous for strange rock formations, most famous of them being Yeliu. All growing up, I remember it being a prototypical example of how the Taiwanese didn’t care about the environment. The renowned rock, “Queen’s Head”, named after its shape, had been repeatedly damaged by cutting and sawing, and covered with words like “XXX was here”. I remember feeling outraged by these thoughtless and bored people, and ashamed of my people for the garbage they have left in nature. Well, revisiting one of the beaches brought back these feelings of upset and helplessness. So obviously I was distracted. The kids, though, enjoyed climbing on the rocks and catching baby fish and hermit crabs and releasing them back to the ocean. Noah and Paul, however, each slipped on the algae covered rocks twice. No big worries but a slightly hurt (Paul’s) wrist.

We stayed at the biggest hotel/resort in Wanli. While we were disappointed to find out that all the outdoor facilities were still closed for the low season, the room was fine and the sandy beach fun for shell-finding and water play. Children can spend hours on the beach. I guess it’s like a gigantic sand box with easy access to water. If you were to vote the #1 happiness factor for a four-year-old, I think “building a huge sandcastle with daddy” must rank in the top 3.

The hotel is next to this abandoned resort park made up of space-age pod vacation homes. How shall I described them? Well, the best way is through pictures. See a separate entry later on this strange discovery. I am fascinated by it.

While we could have stayed on the beach all afternoon, Paul and I were both tempted by our “guide” Tony’s descriptions of great ancient paths near Wanli/Yangminshan. We decided to rinse off everyone and head up into the mountains while there was still light. The trip turned out to be, as always when we headed towards the mountains, splendid.

As usual, we wound through country roads, passing a few abandoned homes and an elementary school and a bus stop, ending up at a nondescript area that is the trailhead. Following a stream on a tree- and fern-lined dirt path, we ended up at a small concrete bridge where we could access the stream. I figure rather than getting their clothes all wet, we might as well take off their shoes and shorts. There starts the “routine”: Noah catching little shrimp in the water and Ben throwing leaves (which are “boats”) and rocks into the water, “splat...splat….splat....” This guys is obsessed with this motion. So I sent Paul for an extra hike up the hill to the waterfalls. I read him Tony’s description, which is something like, “After the bridge, following the path which looked like it’s not a path, you’ll see a sweet potato field and an abandoned farmhouse, go up further and into the thick, dark forest, it’s so quiet that it was spooky… after 15 minutes you’ll come out of the forest pass and see the waterfall and finally, sun light.” So Paul did, and enjoyed the half an hour of solo hike while we continued to throw leaves and rocks into the water.

The night market was the absolute opposite of the afternoon hike: extremely crowdeed and bustling, you’ll find everything you’d ever want to eat in a Taiwanese night market. We had shrimp rice dumplings, traditional veggie “burritos”, seafood soup, shaved pickled mango ice, bean noodle soup, and drank bitter melon juice (Paul’s favorite) and avocado milk. I could have continued, but it was just too crowded and we were quite tired after a long day and plenty of getting lost.

On the way back from Keelung, we got lost yet again, and found ourselves in the dark mountains. Luckily, we asked some night walkers and found that we could just take this mountain road on for another 20 minutes until we reach the coastal road. While on the road, we found this café in the middle of nowhere overlooking the valley with city lights down the mountain. It was already 9:30, but Paul suddenly had a romantic thought and suggested that we took an impromptu stop for some teas and “hang out”. So, there we found ourselves amidst many pairs of cuddly young couples and student groups, all gazing down to the lights and enjoying the fresh mountain breeze. The two pots of teas cost more than all of the night market delicacies combined, but, what a special and romantic moment! Plus someone was setting off fireworks in the parking lot, which the boys thought was great. We sang our way back to the hotel to prevent Ben from falling asleep. It’s the first time the four of us went to bed together—all at 10:30!

The next morning, after a big and decent breakfast buffet (though Ben liked the fruit loops best), we headed south into Yangminshan, the big group of mountains/National Park north of Taipei. There we took a long hike up and down near the famous Qingtiangang pasture. Noah and Ben must have walked at least 2km of steep ups and downs. Well, at times Ben was a little scared and put off by the rocky steps so we held him some. Thanks to the lizards (three kinds: striped, big brown, and blue-tailed ones!), the stream, the cows, and the cookies we brought, the kids were quite cooperative. At the end we all enjoyed rolling up and down the pasture.

Finally, the two-day trip came to an exciting finale, a visit with Yipopo!!! Yes, my aunt, whom the boys have been yearning to see, came from the US to visit for 10 days. We had dinner with her in Taipei. The boys were overjoyed to see her and we look forward to taking her on a hike later this week near Hsinchu.

Okay for now, thanks for putting up with this long travel journal. Time for bed for a tired me.