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Published: October 4th 2007
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This is the View from My Classroom Window
The East Rift Valley is one of the best-kept tourisim secrets in Asia, if not in the world. When we lived on Xin Hai Lu in Taipei during our first year away, there used to be a handyman in a little truck coming around to do glass repairs. I remember having taken pity on him for what was obviously a meager income, and having been tempted to pay the local hooligans (if any) to drum up some business for him by smashing a window here and there. I’m digressing, already.
Anyway, the guy had a little loudspeaker, through which he would announce his business by repeating something that sounded like “Harmony, hit my knee, wobbly, hit my knee” over and over into his mike. I had an interesting encounter with a similar handyman the other day, on my way to work. I buy my train tickets in the form of a monthly pass (cheaper that way), but since I’m working in town next week and off the next I just rode my motorbike to school and back every day this week. It’s a wonderful ride on a sunny day, with the mountains and the rice fields and whatnot.
Motorcycle lanes and sidewalks are never used for the intended purpose over here. In fact, they should be renamed
Riding Through the Garden of Eden
Life doesn't get much better than this. “general purpose activity areas”. The sidewalks are so jammed up with parked motorbikes and restaurant tables and who knows what--and here and there even a pedestrian trying to walk somewhere--that people spill out onto the motorcycle lane. Everyone then spills out into the traffic (kids, dogs, and all), but the car drivers know it and accidents seem rare. Between towns it’s even worse because of the speed, and scooter riders might find their way obstructed by wheelbarrows, school kids riding bikes two-by-two, old folk in electric scooters, farm workers walking with poles and baskets over their shoulders, or even a city guy pulled up in his car for a roadside wizz. Driving here is an interesting and challenging obstacle course. Anyway, I was on the highway the other morning, tootling along at the 70 km/h speed limit by which I usually abide, when I saw a “harmony hit my knee” guy driving quite slowly and blocking my lane. I didn’t change speed, but before I played in the traffic to pass him I honked my horn. Not to show anger, just to alert him to my presence in case he pulled out to let me through just as I was
passing. As I went by, he switched on his microphone to say “dwo bu chi” (sorry).
Little Esmerelda is whisper-quiet unless cranked. Just think, if I had a big Harley I would have missed a wonderful example of Chinese courtesy. The main idea of Chinese manners is that it is more important to be kind than to be right—a concept that we in the west could do worse than to emulate.
By the way, beautiful ring-necked pheasants (introduced into Canada from China for sport shooting) are native here, and it is quite a thrill to see them in their natural environment. For some reason, magpies are protected in Taiwan. There are bears in the hills around here (Formosan collared bears), and wild boar, but we never see them.
I have a pronunciation tutor now. Meg can actually make me sound Mandarin when I talk. Lao-puo is miles ahead of me, and a lot of my Chinese comes from my students and is pronounced in the Taiwanese way of county folk. It’s the tones that kill me. Depending on how you say “da pee goo” you could be saying either “fat ass” or “spanking”. “Bee” can mean “nose” or “kiss” depending on the tone. I should be able to gradually make some sense of it, with the eventual goal of not sounding stupid any more frequently than I do in English.
I once saw a bumper sticker to that effect. I took Hwy 11A back to the city the other day. It’s flat and straight through my beloved East Rift Valley, and 11A has four lanes plus ‘my” lane. The 70 km/h speed limit is a suggested minimum. It was late January, and I rode home at 90-100 in my shirtsleeves under a mostly-blue sky, beside the flowering trees with the green hills in the distance. There is very light traffic in mid-day (all of Hualien County is only 350,000 people), and there was nobody around to annoy me. Esmerelda is the least expensive vehicle (in 2006 dollars) that I have ever owned, but also the one from which I have derived the most enjoyment.
OK, that’s a quote. Sue me. I stole it from a guy flogging non-stick frying pans at a home show in Victoria some years ago. Lao-puo was tied up doing some Chinese stuff, and had already eaten so I went down to “Train Street” for dinner. This is where the train station used to be, right downtown, only a block from what we call “four corners” (Zhong Zheng Lu and Zhong Shan Lu). I parked Esmerelda right in front of the chicken lady, bought a drumstick and a beer, and wandered about in a vibrant outdoor area we have come to love. I wore sandals without socks, and shirtsleeves, and it was dark already. Lao-puo and I love our vibrant street life, and our balmy, tropical February nights.
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