The life of a traveling teacher means you are endlessly staring down the clock. You have a one year contract, which may or may not be renewed, but for most of us the moment you land a meter begins to run like a maniacal Taipei cab driver going for the land speed record, counting out your days until the terminal point is reached.
This past week has brought with it a lot of hugs and well wishes. I had to say goodbye to one of my most trusted friends that I've made during my stay, as well as some friends which have shaped my experience and brought about many entertaining adventures. I'm going to lose a confidant, a care taker, a literature buff, and many opportunities for continued joy.
Though these are a time of goodbyes, they are also happy reminders of the friends that can be found anywhere in the world, the kind of people who you can bump into on any given patch of terra firma and be once more whisked back to the days of Taipei madness. We've had our laughs, we've shared holidays away from our families, we've developed lasting bonds. The beauty and color of Taiwan, for me, will be forever changed in their absence.
Alright, enough of that.
This weekend I found myself, once again, in Kenting. We took our midnight ride down the island and I enjoyed a not-so-unpleasant ride in the luggage hold of our tour bus, which was the only place where I could truly lay out and relax. Upon arrival we had a delicious, and cheap, breakfast at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning before checking in to our home away from home, the catholic hostel. We unceremoniously barged in on our friends who had been staying the week there, living the good life before leaving Taiwan for England. We quickly changed gears, and clothes, and ran straight to the beauty of the beach.
A typhoon had almost ruined this entire trip. It was supposed to be right over the south of the island all weekend, killing any chances of us making it down to see our friends off. Fortunately the only glimpse of this typhoon, if it did in fact exist at all, were beautiful arching waves crashing into the shore with enthusiasm. We lathered up with sunscreen and made a mad dash, undeterred, into the charging waves. Glen was in the water for no more than six seconds when he was flipped onto his back and drug across the sand to the edge of the beach receiving a baseball sized fiery red scrape across his shoulder. We were humbled immediately by the power of the waves, but dug in our feet and took on the onslaught with determination.
By one o'clock our numbers had swelled with the arrival of James and his friend from Chingyi, the four who were in the hostel, and our friend Amelie from Taipei. We were twelve strong and we roamed the idyllic beach as a pack. That same night we set up a circle on the beach and lit some gigantic beach-torch-candle contraptions that cast a dancing light upon our party as we soaked in the cool ocean air under the stars. We were the only ones on the entire stretch of beach. As we sat and chatted over drinks, a lightning storm began to the west which sent flashes across huge cumulus clouds in the distance, reminding us once again that some people somewhere were in for nasty weather. Fergal and I discussed the constellations, of which we knew only one, and decided to rename The Big Dipper to The Great Sauce Pan. Interestingly, Fergal, Glenn and I could all recount, with vivid detail, nights spent under the stars with our fathers, gazing up at the sky and listening to their voices as they discussed the universe as they understood it. We also broke out into song a number of times and even teased the ocean's lapping tongue with our bare feet for a while.
Sunday morning came with a headache and a sour stomach which persisted long into the scorching afternoon. Fortunately we had a med-student in our ranks who was able to provide care in the form of pills. A few of us decided to go snorkeling, as James and I could not recommend it enough, and set out in a taxi for our trip. We floated along the choppy surface like ice cubes as the world beneath the waves dazzled our eyes. I have to say, it was more beautiful the first time we snorkeled in that area, but it was still a refreshing way to start our day and end our trip.
We hurried back to the hostel to catch our cab out of town at four o'clock and shared some strong hugs and more than one tearful goodbye. It was the last that many of us would see each other, and when a moment like that comes along, there really is no proper way to proceed. There's a lot of awkward standing about, a few hackneyed phrases and, if you're lucky enough to be with the kind of people I was fortunate enough to be with, a solid look in the eye and a simple smile. We waved ourselves off and headed to Kaohsiung to catch a ride back to Taipei.
I decided to take the high speed rail for my first time, which was an amazing way to travel. It lopped six hours off of my travel time. I am continually amazed at the efficiency and cleanliness of mass transportation in Taiwan and the people who frequent it.
As a completely inconsequential but all together too funny side note: I was discussing Taiwanese character with Amelie concerning their stringent and deeply focused care when it comes to education when a young Taiwanese man walked by with a shirt that said "Cal sucks" on the front and "Waging war on higher education since 19-diggity-penis" on the back. I struggled to breath as I choked on my own laughter.
It sums up my thoughts on Taiwan nicely. You have a high speed rail system which is recognized worldwide as being one of the fastest transportation systems conceived by man, that is populated by people who are dedicated to community and family, and then you get a guy wearing a shirt that says 19-diggity-penis on the back. It is a place that has bought the western manual on society and stuck to it with characteristic determination, even adding a few chapters to the mix, but remains polite, happy and unabashedly Taiwanese.
* * *
To all those who are leaving, you've made my time here unquestionably more interesting, and it won't be the same without you. I hope that your futures hold the same bright horizons that you've shown me.
