Partner in Crime

Whenever I get down, such as when thinking about home, a small child-like voice reminds me from the deep recesses of my skull that no matter how bad I think things are: "You're still a healthy 22 year old man who is living in another country and constructing the ground floor to the skyscraper of your life. Built upon the solid foundation of your upbringing, you are now able to grab life by the balls and wander the world."

Thank you voice.

Samantha came to visit me this past week and the thought of trying to snatch the butterfly of those memories in a net, makes me feel like a paraplegic reaching futilely for the box of cereal atop the refrigerator. It's impossible for me now boil those days, hours, and minutes down to the juicy details as I've done in previous posts.

All I can say is that having "a partner in crime" is one of the most wholesome reminders of the connectivity of human life. Being able to share the hidden gems I've been panhandling for months to unearth unleashes a childlike sense of pride as I strut about pontificating about this and that. Casually, I explain that this is the best place in Taipei for beef noodle, a traditional dish that captures the soul of the country in it's spicy broth. Or pausing to mention, in my best impression of a museum tour guide, that Taipei 101 is currently the tallest finished building in the world who's title is being challenged by a building under construction in Dubai that will be hundreds of feet higher.

I don't even flinch anymore while walking the crowded thoroughfares of the afternoon market where scooters, cars, bicycles and buses share the road with a mob of men, women and children. The thought of stopping to pause, while an entire family and their groceries squeaks by me by three smog choked inches on a sagging scooter, does not even occur to me anymore.


While passing a small stand where a butcher is preparing a hog, I calmly point her gaze in the direction of the shirtless man as he hacks through the thick neck of the beast, with sweat gleaming on his chest and belly as his arm comes down in smooth practiced strokes until the head can be tugged easily aside of the body.

These sights seem commonplace to me now and I forget the bewildering effect it can have on a first time viewer. I can only hope that I didn't forever scar Sam's view of the culture with my favorite shock and awe segments of the tour. Though, I am willing to doubt this as her enthusiasm to try nearly anything I put before her was reassuring. She is a bold explorer in her own right and I am glad to be able to say I shared the experience of her first trip across the Pacific.

* * *

To anyone and everyone who wonders what it would be like to live on an often forgotten island off the coast of China, feel free to drop me a line. I have three couches and lots of adventure to share, so don't be afraid to ask.

Pingxi Lantern Festival

The Pingxi Lantern Festival is the most awe inspiring event that I have been able to attend while in Taiwan. Thousands of visitors crowd themselves onto buses, trains, taxis, whatever form of transportation is possible, (even walking, in some cases) to get from Taipei to the small mountainous town of Pingxi in North Eastern Taiwan.

Their enthusiasm is not unfounded. The festival boasts a large stage for live concert performances that are free to the public, hundreds of vendors selling the Taiwanese staples: sausage on a stick, squid on a stick, and piles of shrimp, and the main event, lanterns.

Each lantern is about four feet tall and three feet wide at the top. It tapers from a wide top to a smaller opening at the bottom, similar to a light bulb, and houses a small wire frame which supports the kerosene soaked paper money which fuels the flight. Upon the colorful skin of the lantern is written wishes for the coming year which are to float up to the heavens so that the gods may read them and hopefully grant the wish inscribed.

Each color of lantern denotes a different theme for the wish such as, green denotes peace and life, red stands for good fortune and orange is for all things related to money. People can choose from one solid color or a lantern made up of four different colors, one for each panel of the lantern.

The earliest lantern-lighters begin setting their hopes and dreams aloft in the late afternoon, well before dusk. These are not the norm however, as the festival really kicks in once the sun goes down. The effect is that once it is dark, hundreds of floating globes begin to ascend gracefully to the sky, blown like leaves on a still pond as the wind takes them along.

One area in particular, in front of the main stage where the musicians play, has a set time when people are to release their lanterns. Every half hour, anywhere from fifty to one hundred lantern lighters gather around a central space in the crowd and begin to ignite their paper money. In the center of the crowd is an enormous, 30 foot tall, white lantern which denotes the moon, as the festival is held under a full moon. This lantern too, is lit and then everything is ready. All at once the lanterns are released in a hot burst as they begin their graceful trip to the heavens. They dance through the invisible currents of the wind. The night sky becomes a black pool filled with incandescent jellyfish floating lazily among the stars. Some of them catch fire in a spectacular blaze that is over in seconds, before their charred remnants fall back down to Earth.

The trees, river, and rooftops are littered with the remnants of lanterns who's life-force can no longer support their flight. An apt reminder that not all dreams come true.

The festival is a must for anyone who is in Taiwan during the end of March. I can say that it was one of the most inspiring moments of my young life and I cannot imagine that I will ever forget the beauty of those moments, in those mountains.