If you build it they will come

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I had another early wakeup today, even earlier at 4:45. I did, however, manage to get back to sleep until 8:00 and finally feel somewhat refreshed. I’d need that today as I would be all over Kaohsiung.

After a quick breakfast at 7-11, I made my way up to Lotus Pond, a few miles north of the city center. At Lotus Pond, I visited the large Confucius Temple and walked around the large man-made lake, seeing several pagodas along the way. At the end opposite the Confucius Temple, I climbed up both the dragon and tiger towers and was treated to views overlooking the pond from six stories above.

I took the MRT (subway) back into the city and walked through Central Park on my way back to the apartment. At the apartment I regrouped for a bit until I made my way back out for more touring.

After a quick lunch of Taiwanese fried chicken and some minicakes, I caught the ferry to Cijin, an island around the harbor. There I hiked up a hill to see the lighthouse and across the hilltop to an old fort. At both of these locations I was treated to impressive views of the harbor, nearby beaches and numerous ships on the Taiwan Straight.

Next, I proceeded down the hill to Cijin Beach where I originally planned to spend the next few hours soaking in the sun. The only problem was that the sun disappeared behind dense clouds this afternoon. I still went down to see the dark grey sanded beach and found a spot where I read and relaxed.

After an hour or two, I made my way back on the ferry and out to the former British Consulate, where I had hoped to see the sunset (heavily overcast skies made one aspect appear unlikely). As I approached the base of the hill on which the consulate sits, I noticed something I hadn’t seen yet in Kaohsiung - large tour buses comprised of people fitting the stereotype of a certain developed northeast Asian island, or perhaps from a much larger landmass to its west, a nation that has re-established its opulence of late. To paraphrase, this brought new meaning to “if you build it, they will come”.

The ordinary experience in observing these massive, unwieldy groups is as follows. A collection of no less than 15 tourists (about a third of the composition of one such bus), the women by and large carrying umbrellas to shield the sun for the few minutes they will be off their coach, works its way towards the spectacle of the hour. En route, the only concern is of communication with one another, ensuring that each is physically able to reach the destination. If a member falls behind, one or more of the others will stop on the slightest perception of their comrade’s dismay, no matter what precarious position they may find themselves in. To even suggest the effect of these actions on any bystanders would completely delude the thought process of either rescuer or rescued at this point.

Once the target is reached, the group will flock to the most bizarre of sights - anything imaginable - and begin recording their discovery in their photographic annals. Their attention to detail at heights unseen by any westerner, they are sure to create the most thorough of records, taking pictures with everyone in the group undergoing multiple scenarios of inclusion, juxtaposition, arrangement, posture, setting and illumination. Once the photographer deems that a particular scenario is to his liking, he finally takes out his camera, turns it on, adjusts its settings, repositions the subjects, restores his camera from standby, readjusts the settings and takes no less than three photographs. The process continues until all potential scenarios are executed in a sort of mental Monte Carlo exercise. The group then makes its way to its next target, to perform the process all over again.

To relate this to my affairs today, with much more brevity, I encountered one such group at the base of a hill and slowly followed them up the stairs to the consulate. On my way up, I stopped several times as the group in front of me came to a halt. Each time, a different person found it necessary to stop in the middle of a flight of stairs to look down two flights below to check on the progress of his or her spouse. If said spouse was struggling or not moving quickly enough, the line would hold until the originating party saw fit to continue. I wondered why this could not be done in an open corner at the top of a flight of stairs rather than in the middle of a narrow staircase that served traffic in both directions. It then occurred to me that I was employing lucid thought to a situation where logic was a mere mirage.

I finally reached the top, bypassing the lingering mass on a wide set of steps towards the top. I proceeded to the consulate’s entrance and found a sign which appeared to describe the consulate’s history and use. As I began to read this, another tour group came along and began snapping pictures of members of their party with the Union Jack that was mounted next to the sign. As they reworked the shots from their bulky Nikon and Canon DSLRs with lenses that could have distinguished specks of dust on the moon, they continually blocked the sign that I was trying to read. At first, I just let them go, waiting for what I expected to be one or two quick photographs and hoping that perhaps their heads would be removed from their hinds just long enough to see daylight and the man to their left who surely appeared to be attempting to learn something about the location at hand. Yet this was hope misplaced as these few represented a small cell of the most obtuse tourists in the world.

After three or four minutes - using no exaggeration - there was a break in the photo shoot so I made my way closer to the sign, blocking the potential for others to get in the way. In just a few seconds, a woman motioned to me to step aside so she could get a picture of her friends with the flag. That was it. My Neolithic communication skills lended themselves best to a series of gestures that denoted that I’ve been waiting here for several minutes and was tired of being blocked from attempting to learn something by a bunch of collectively inconsiderate, dimwitted jackasses. I did little to portray America in the best of light; recognize that when you hear about American boorishness, you must always consider the source and the provocation.

A bit later, having finally read the sign and wandered around the consulate, I came outside to regroup. I started making notes of the events that had unfolded here when a man came up to me and stared. At first I just looked at him and smiled. Then it occurred that perhaps he worked there and I was doing something wrong. Taking notes illegible to anyone but me seemed like it should be okay. He continued to stare. It was only then that I realized that in his own delightful little way that he was staring me down. My expression changed from a courteous smile to the universal look of bewilderment, my left eyebrow well below that of my right and my brow wrinkled. He continued to stare with his look more puzzling than intimidating. I imagined it to be the initial look of the locals when Europeans first set foot on the continent. No words were exchanged and he moved on.

All-in-all there really wasn’t much to see here. With the sunset typically being the highlight, a cloudy evening left little to behold.

I went back to the apartment, got cleaned up and placed a call (outside where the Internet is good) to Savoy, who had told me to let her know if I wanted her to join me at the local night market. We went over instructions and I took off to meet her near the market. I went to the spot where we agreed to meet and she wasn’t there. I waited around for a bit and checked some other nearby corners in case I had it messed up but didn’t find her. I decided that while I’m here I should eat. She knew I had been traveling alone for sometime so I didn’t think she would be worried that something had happened. It turned out I was wrong and she had left a note for me which I found later on my door. It ended up that we had communication problems and what I thought were instructions on where to meet were actually just a head’s up on where we would go.

In any event, at the night market, I tried a bunch more new and interesting foods. I started off with some sort of lasagna like food with what tasted like imitation crab (many scoff at imitation crab but I like it). Next was a duck wrap - duck meat and various other things inside a dumpling shaped like a wrap. By the time I finished my wrap, I found a place that served grilled squid on a stick like I had seen a bunch of people eating at the beach today. I ordered one of these and what I later discovered was sticky rice on a stick, also grilled. I looked for a jalapeño on a stick but to no avail. Lastly, after pointing to what someone else ordered, I had a sort of fruit milkshake. Everything was really tasty, especially the milkshake, lasagna and duck wrap.

I left the night market and made a brief stop on my way back to the apartment to pass through Central Park and see Urban Central, a series of urban artworks lit up at night along the park’s perimeter. The works were pretty but more interesting to me was one large building all lit up in neon lights that gradually changed colors.

Back at the apartment, after getting back to Savoy that I was fine, I read and went to bed. Tomorrow I head back to Taipei, my last stop.

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Photos

Confucius Temple
The main temple on the large grounds.

Pagoda
I know nothing more to add.

Dragon and Tiger Towers
The towers I would climb to get a great view of the entire pond.

Waves
Waves crash against an area of Cijin well below the fort.

Cijin Beach
I read that many people in Asia just wear their normal clothes to the beach and in the water. This is the first I experienced that.

Cihou Lighthouse
A view of the lighthouse from below the Former British Consulate.

Tour buses
If you build it, they will come.

Lasagna?
No idea what this is but it is pure goodness.

Duck wrap
Also delicious.

Milkshake
The vendor pours my fruit milkshake.

Building
Crazy lighting.

Smile
All I could do at the end of an adventurous day.