It all began with a phone call. I was standing in the MRT station of Zhongxia Fuxing, almost positive about where to go but just unsure enough to call up Caleb to get some directions.
As soon as he answers I start in. "I know that I can get there, but I just want to make sure. You take a right at the big traffic circle right?"
"For what?"
"To get to Cubano's."
"Oh--that's tomorrow night. And it's canceled. But hey, do you want to go to Peace Fest with us? We're playing there tonight and we're on our way to the bus station at Taipei Main right now."
"Oh....k. I don't have a sleeping bag or anything."
"That's alright, neither do we. We'll figure something out."
"Ok then, I'll meet you guys at the bus station, in the main lobby."
* * *
We scrounged together a dinner at the convenience store in the bus station and glided up the escalator to the second floor to wait outside our gate. The Taipei Main bus station is unlike any bus terminal I've seen in the US. Granted I haven't been to many bus stations in the US, but I bet you can't find one like this.
The white tiled floors are impeccably clean, the walls as well. There's a number of conveniently located convenience stores, a few chocolate stores, bakery, apparel store and it's five stories high. It has see-through escalators which finally reveal the magic of moving stairs, something I've long wondered about. The bathrooms are neat and tidy, just like every other part of the massive building, and there are no homeless people bumming about.
The buses depart from their different levels onto every direction of the adjacent highway, which branches out in all directions. Each one whisking you away, and in great luxury, to any destination along the line.
The buses themselves are also incomparable to the Grey Hound service of home. I've been on a number of different carriers but the best that I've seen had individual leather massage chairs with attached television screens and video game console. The worst was a dimly lit, incredibly cold, tube of metal which was the most like a long distance bus back home, but the bright side was the fifteen dollar US fare which took us two thirds of the length of the island.
But I digress.
The journey was long and we chatted the night away, catching up after having not seen each other for two weeks. A little girl in the seat ahead of Mark and I began to play peek-a-boo with me which escalated into a blossoming friendship. At one point I was poking Mark's face while he pretended it was the worst thing possible as she nearly laughed herself to tears. Then she began yelling something in Chinese at me and finishing with "Ni!" which was the only word I understood, meaning "You!" So I countered, brilliantly, with "Ni!" and we shouted this back and forth about six times before I turned the tables on her: "Wo, ma?" ("Me?") which sent her into a fit of giggles. "Dui." ("Yes")
Her mom yanked her down and they moved to the front of the bus, getting off a few minutes later. I guess we were being too loud. She could have thanked me for entertaining her child, but what are you gonna' do.
When we got to the end of the line, we were less than surprised to find that it dropped us off in front of a 7-11. In Taiwan, all roads lead to 7-11. We popped inside to grab some beers and asked the man behind the counter if he could order us a taxi to take us the rest of the way into the jungle where our final destination lie. He acquiesed politely and grabbed Mark's phone to talk to the taxi driver.
While Caleb and Mika perused the beer selection I made for the door, noticing, as we got off the bus, a group of motorcyclists convened at the gas station across the street. "Hey guys, I'm going to see if I can make friends with that biker gang."
I walked across the midnight quiet street and stood around the edge of the gathering of vehicles and riders, inspecting with no knowledge what so ever of what I was looking at. "That one's big." I thought. Or, "Cool, red stripes, that looks nice." The bikers took me for an enthusiast and lobbed a few questions in my direction which bewildered me. I don't know if I would have understood them even if they were in English.
They laughed and, one by one, flicked their keys to send a roar of guttural power out of the back of the bikes. After everyone was up and roaring, they pulled out in one fluid line onto the black highway, nothing but their high beams to light the way on the snaking road through the infinite jungle.
When I returned to the group, our ride was already pulling up in front of the store, ready to take us away.
The taxi driver was fearless as he wound through the darkness, slamming on his brakes often to squeeze to the side of the road to make room for oncoming traffic. We found ourselves surrounded on all sides by dense foliage which was punctuated every few minutes by a cluster of buildings too small to be considered a town. We were really deep, and had no idea how long our ride would be or whether or not Caleb and Mark would even be able to play, as it was already half an hour past their purposed slot on the list. We journeyed on regardless, excited for the adventure of traveling to somewhere new, which we all agreed we hadn't done in a long time.
A few times I thought I glimpsed the tell-tale dim brightness over the top of a hill which signaled the massive lights of a festival. I also felt that the deeper we drove, the closer we must be getting to something, anything, even if it was not our destination.
Finally we found ourselves next to a wide river valley and on the far side could be seen a patch of buildings and some stadium style lights. To the right of this cluster, completely broken off and seemingly alone was a single DJ booth with balls of red, green and blue which projected huge sweeping circles of colorful light across the opposite valley wall. We pulled up to this solitary stand of bamboo and sound equipment, quizzically wondering if this was our "Fest."
At that moment a lanky blond haired nordic looking man lunged out of the darkness and stood in the empty grass in front of the lights. Caleb rolled down his window and in his best redneck impression shouted, "Yo dude is this the Peace Fest?"
The man turned and in a few lanky strides was next to our cab. "No, it's just over there, down the road a few minutes, this is the after party."
We decided that it looked like a pretty happening place and told the taxi driver, "Here's fine."
Over a slight hill and down again, in a small clearing, sat an elementary school. In the middle of the grounds to this elementary school sits a basketball court, ringed by a runners track and flanked on it's north and south ends with a half circle of soft grass. Next to this basketball court is a modest stage. This, is Peace Fest.
Just in front of the stage there was a ring of about twenty people hammering away on bongo drums and a low rumble of conversation could be heard as we walked down the driveway of the school entrance. To the left of the entrance were three tables covered by fold up awnings which were brightly lit and contained a few more silhouetted characters.
Mark and Caleb were asked to play by the man in charge, Peter from England, and we decided that he would probably be found near the brightly lit tables as they were the most official looking part of the scene. He ended up being the first person we ran into and told us, "Well it's over for tonight, I can get you guys on the stage tomorrow at one though, if you're interested." We'd just traveled three hours into the jungle, with no place to sleep, and no gig to play.
Mark and Caleb agreed to start at one the following day and Peter directed us over to the other side of the stage where the bar was located. It was at this bar that we were to receive the biggest shock of all.
Walking up we could hear a few familiar voices, hacking away between sentences with wheezing laughter and shouts of jest and threat.
When Caleb originally moved to Taiwan, he found a three bedroom apartment online which was run by a woman named Trista. On the day he met her to look at the place, she arrived on her scooter, dwarfed by her tall, broad frame, wearing a tied up Taiwanese flag as a t-shirt. She led him and two girls whom he'd never met, Jess and Maddie, who would later be the female half of our band of friends, to look at the inside of an apartment which could be described in a flattering light as bohemian and in a more truthful way as a dodgy hole. It would become their home for the next seven months and we wound spend many nights and days hanging out there, learning the finer intricacies of Trista's madness.
She is a self-proclaimed "controversial" artist who dabbles in painting, poetry and journalism. She used to work for the China Post but was fired just before Caleb, Maddie, and Jess moved in. She had also just married a man known only as "Bay-Bay" whom none of the others would ever meet, despite the fact that he came to the house semi-regularly to pick her up. She threw wild parties which drove the neighbors crazy, and would ultimately lead to their eviction, and lived a life which seemed to be fueled by beer, cigarettes and, if times were good, some hash.
Her original offer for the apartment stipulated that she would use it only as an office during the daytime hours and return to her own home after she finished her work. This would very quickly deteriorate into her cordoning off a section of the living room, where her desk, computer, and exercise bike were located, by piecing together a wall made of tapestries, old clothes, a bookshelf and a folding screen.
It was not unusual to walk in the door and find her riding on her modified exercise bike, which is to say she duct-taped a pillow to the seat and a board to the handles to hold her laptop, while she flogged herself on the back with a Chinese back massager, smoking a cigarette and wearing a trucker hat and sunglasses.
Her friends included a man named Wu-bai, which literally translates to five-hundred, who was a gentle man and fun conversationalist, a Canadian man named Ross who Mark described to Mika before she was about to meet him as "The wost man in the world" and a whole cast of burnouts, aging hippies and shifty characters.
Ross particularly grated Maddie's nerves, and she would lock herself in her room whenever he was around because if she didn't, he would pester her to no end. This would work itself out into him pounding on her door at two in the morning while shouting "Maddie! Come out! Your man is here!" He believed that Maddie was secretly in love with him and even went so far as to email her about becoming his mistress.
The first night I met him he told me in one seamless sentence how he was married, had a young son, and was trying to hook up with this twenty-something that was at the party that night. He also offered, a half hour later, to take me to, "The best whore houses in Taipei," which he promised would, "give you a night you'd never forget. And perhaps an itch that you wouldn't be able to get rid of."
I politely declined.
It was with these memories floating around in my brain that we walked up to the bar next to the stage to be greeted by the whole gang. Ross was in charge of beer, Trista was taking the money and a bedraggled looking posse sat on make shift chairs behind the folding table where they drunkenly slurred back and forth to each other.
When we'd paid our money, said our hellos and walked away, Mark turned to Mika and grimaced. "These are the worst kind of people," he grumbled.
Making the best of a bad situation, Caleb and I decided to hop in on a basketball game that was taking place on the half-lit court in the middle of the field. The ball was mostly flat and the only light came from the few stage lights still going, but the rim was low enough to dunk on. We waited our turn and subbed on with another Taiwanese guy and began talking enough shit to cover our asses until the first ball was lobbed in the air. I ended up throwing a bullet pass to Caleb, unaware that he wasn't paying attention as it was too dark to see his eyes, and it clocked him in the face so hard that his glasses fell off. Everyone stopped and a loud "Oooohhhh..." filled the air as Caleb composed himself and picked up his now bent frames, "I'm a'right, I'm a'right. Good pass Brian."
We got our asses kicked but it was extremely fun, and some of the guys, aboriginals from the surrounding valley we found out, were really good. They delighted in showing us some tricky moves and even called out NBA players names as they made shots or blew past us.
When the game was finished, as well as our beers, we found ourselves feeling sleepy and ready for bed. Being three o'clock in the morning, we didn't have a lot of options. We debated climbing a twenty foot tower to sleep in a reproduction of an aboriginal hut on the school grounds but decided against it at Mark's behest. Noticing some still-lit lights up the hill from the school, we began to try a few doors to what we had heard were the hostels in the area which proved fruitless.
On our way back towards the school Caleb ran up a staircase where he'd heard some voices and found a group of guys sitting around a picnic table in the front garden of a quaint home. We followed him up and they informed us that the guy who owned the house would let us stay in the extra room for some money, as they'd done. We thanked our lucky stars and tossed our backpacks and gear inside the room where a few bamboo mats were laying on the ground, pillows included.
We spent the night drinking, chatting, and making new friends until the sun came up. Caleb and I, in an early morning frenetic, ran around the picturesque garden and took many photos of the surrounding valleys covered in mist which were just showing in the early morning light.
Standing on top of a yellow picnic table surrounded by fragrant flowers and herbs, Caleb tried once more to tempt me into staying. The conversation was old ground for us, and it usually went something like "Dude, why don't you just stay? Look how beautiful this is. I've been home, you're not missing much." "I know, I know. I do love this country, and I will certainly miss these moments with you guys, but I just have this urge to get back. There are other things I want to do, I need a break from teaching and I just feel that at this stage in my life I should get out and do the things I'm really passionate about before I'm too old and saddled with responsibilities to make them a reality." "Yeah but, this place has it all. You've already got a job, good friends, beautiful scenery..." "I know man, I'm going to miss you too."
At seven in the morning we finally hit the sack as the first birds began to sing.
The white tiled floors are impeccably clean, the walls as well. There's a number of conveniently located convenience stores, a few chocolate stores, bakery, apparel store and it's five stories high. It has see-through escalators which finally reveal the magic of moving stairs, something I've long wondered about. The bathrooms are neat and tidy, just like every other part of the massive building, and there are no homeless people bumming about.
The buses depart from their different levels onto every direction of the adjacent highway, which branches out in all directions. Each one whisking you away, and in great luxury, to any destination along the line.
The buses themselves are also incomparable to the Grey Hound service of home. I've been on a number of different carriers but the best that I've seen had individual leather massage chairs with attached television screens and video game console. The worst was a dimly lit, incredibly cold, tube of metal which was the most like a long distance bus back home, but the bright side was the fifteen dollar US fare which took us two thirds of the length of the island.
But I digress.
The journey was long and we chatted the night away, catching up after having not seen each other for two weeks. A little girl in the seat ahead of Mark and I began to play peek-a-boo with me which escalated into a blossoming friendship. At one point I was poking Mark's face while he pretended it was the worst thing possible as she nearly laughed herself to tears. Then she began yelling something in Chinese at me and finishing with "Ni!" which was the only word I understood, meaning "You!" So I countered, brilliantly, with "Ni!" and we shouted this back and forth about six times before I turned the tables on her: "Wo, ma?" ("Me?") which sent her into a fit of giggles. "Dui." ("Yes")
Her mom yanked her down and they moved to the front of the bus, getting off a few minutes later. I guess we were being too loud. She could have thanked me for entertaining her child, but what are you gonna' do.
When we got to the end of the line, we were less than surprised to find that it dropped us off in front of a 7-11. In Taiwan, all roads lead to 7-11. We popped inside to grab some beers and asked the man behind the counter if he could order us a taxi to take us the rest of the way into the jungle where our final destination lie. He acquiesed politely and grabbed Mark's phone to talk to the taxi driver.
While Caleb and Mika perused the beer selection I made for the door, noticing, as we got off the bus, a group of motorcyclists convened at the gas station across the street. "Hey guys, I'm going to see if I can make friends with that biker gang."
I walked across the midnight quiet street and stood around the edge of the gathering of vehicles and riders, inspecting with no knowledge what so ever of what I was looking at. "That one's big." I thought. Or, "Cool, red stripes, that looks nice." The bikers took me for an enthusiast and lobbed a few questions in my direction which bewildered me. I don't know if I would have understood them even if they were in English.
They laughed and, one by one, flicked their keys to send a roar of guttural power out of the back of the bikes. After everyone was up and roaring, they pulled out in one fluid line onto the black highway, nothing but their high beams to light the way on the snaking road through the infinite jungle.
When I returned to the group, our ride was already pulling up in front of the store, ready to take us away.
The taxi driver was fearless as he wound through the darkness, slamming on his brakes often to squeeze to the side of the road to make room for oncoming traffic. We found ourselves surrounded on all sides by dense foliage which was punctuated every few minutes by a cluster of buildings too small to be considered a town. We were really deep, and had no idea how long our ride would be or whether or not Caleb and Mark would even be able to play, as it was already half an hour past their purposed slot on the list. We journeyed on regardless, excited for the adventure of traveling to somewhere new, which we all agreed we hadn't done in a long time.
A few times I thought I glimpsed the tell-tale dim brightness over the top of a hill which signaled the massive lights of a festival. I also felt that the deeper we drove, the closer we must be getting to something, anything, even if it was not our destination.
Finally we found ourselves next to a wide river valley and on the far side could be seen a patch of buildings and some stadium style lights. To the right of this cluster, completely broken off and seemingly alone was a single DJ booth with balls of red, green and blue which projected huge sweeping circles of colorful light across the opposite valley wall. We pulled up to this solitary stand of bamboo and sound equipment, quizzically wondering if this was our "Fest."
At that moment a lanky blond haired nordic looking man lunged out of the darkness and stood in the empty grass in front of the lights. Caleb rolled down his window and in his best redneck impression shouted, "Yo dude is this the Peace Fest?"
The man turned and in a few lanky strides was next to our cab. "No, it's just over there, down the road a few minutes, this is the after party."
We decided that it looked like a pretty happening place and told the taxi driver, "Here's fine."
Over a slight hill and down again, in a small clearing, sat an elementary school. In the middle of the grounds to this elementary school sits a basketball court, ringed by a runners track and flanked on it's north and south ends with a half circle of soft grass. Next to this basketball court is a modest stage. This, is Peace Fest.
Just in front of the stage there was a ring of about twenty people hammering away on bongo drums and a low rumble of conversation could be heard as we walked down the driveway of the school entrance. To the left of the entrance were three tables covered by fold up awnings which were brightly lit and contained a few more silhouetted characters.
Mark and Caleb were asked to play by the man in charge, Peter from England, and we decided that he would probably be found near the brightly lit tables as they were the most official looking part of the scene. He ended up being the first person we ran into and told us, "Well it's over for tonight, I can get you guys on the stage tomorrow at one though, if you're interested." We'd just traveled three hours into the jungle, with no place to sleep, and no gig to play.
Mark and Caleb agreed to start at one the following day and Peter directed us over to the other side of the stage where the bar was located. It was at this bar that we were to receive the biggest shock of all.
Walking up we could hear a few familiar voices, hacking away between sentences with wheezing laughter and shouts of jest and threat.
When Caleb originally moved to Taiwan, he found a three bedroom apartment online which was run by a woman named Trista. On the day he met her to look at the place, she arrived on her scooter, dwarfed by her tall, broad frame, wearing a tied up Taiwanese flag as a t-shirt. She led him and two girls whom he'd never met, Jess and Maddie, who would later be the female half of our band of friends, to look at the inside of an apartment which could be described in a flattering light as bohemian and in a more truthful way as a dodgy hole. It would become their home for the next seven months and we wound spend many nights and days hanging out there, learning the finer intricacies of Trista's madness.
She is a self-proclaimed "controversial" artist who dabbles in painting, poetry and journalism. She used to work for the China Post but was fired just before Caleb, Maddie, and Jess moved in. She had also just married a man known only as "Bay-Bay" whom none of the others would ever meet, despite the fact that he came to the house semi-regularly to pick her up. She threw wild parties which drove the neighbors crazy, and would ultimately lead to their eviction, and lived a life which seemed to be fueled by beer, cigarettes and, if times were good, some hash.
Her original offer for the apartment stipulated that she would use it only as an office during the daytime hours and return to her own home after she finished her work. This would very quickly deteriorate into her cordoning off a section of the living room, where her desk, computer, and exercise bike were located, by piecing together a wall made of tapestries, old clothes, a bookshelf and a folding screen.
It was not unusual to walk in the door and find her riding on her modified exercise bike, which is to say she duct-taped a pillow to the seat and a board to the handles to hold her laptop, while she flogged herself on the back with a Chinese back massager, smoking a cigarette and wearing a trucker hat and sunglasses.
Her friends included a man named Wu-bai, which literally translates to five-hundred, who was a gentle man and fun conversationalist, a Canadian man named Ross who Mark described to Mika before she was about to meet him as "The wost man in the world" and a whole cast of burnouts, aging hippies and shifty characters.
Ross particularly grated Maddie's nerves, and she would lock herself in her room whenever he was around because if she didn't, he would pester her to no end. This would work itself out into him pounding on her door at two in the morning while shouting "Maddie! Come out! Your man is here!" He believed that Maddie was secretly in love with him and even went so far as to email her about becoming his mistress.
The first night I met him he told me in one seamless sentence how he was married, had a young son, and was trying to hook up with this twenty-something that was at the party that night. He also offered, a half hour later, to take me to, "The best whore houses in Taipei," which he promised would, "give you a night you'd never forget. And perhaps an itch that you wouldn't be able to get rid of."
I politely declined.
It was with these memories floating around in my brain that we walked up to the bar next to the stage to be greeted by the whole gang. Ross was in charge of beer, Trista was taking the money and a bedraggled looking posse sat on make shift chairs behind the folding table where they drunkenly slurred back and forth to each other.
When we'd paid our money, said our hellos and walked away, Mark turned to Mika and grimaced. "These are the worst kind of people," he grumbled.
Making the best of a bad situation, Caleb and I decided to hop in on a basketball game that was taking place on the half-lit court in the middle of the field. The ball was mostly flat and the only light came from the few stage lights still going, but the rim was low enough to dunk on. We waited our turn and subbed on with another Taiwanese guy and began talking enough shit to cover our asses until the first ball was lobbed in the air. I ended up throwing a bullet pass to Caleb, unaware that he wasn't paying attention as it was too dark to see his eyes, and it clocked him in the face so hard that his glasses fell off. Everyone stopped and a loud "Oooohhhh..." filled the air as Caleb composed himself and picked up his now bent frames, "I'm a'right, I'm a'right. Good pass Brian."
We got our asses kicked but it was extremely fun, and some of the guys, aboriginals from the surrounding valley we found out, were really good. They delighted in showing us some tricky moves and even called out NBA players names as they made shots or blew past us.
When the game was finished, as well as our beers, we found ourselves feeling sleepy and ready for bed. Being three o'clock in the morning, we didn't have a lot of options. We debated climbing a twenty foot tower to sleep in a reproduction of an aboriginal hut on the school grounds but decided against it at Mark's behest. Noticing some still-lit lights up the hill from the school, we began to try a few doors to what we had heard were the hostels in the area which proved fruitless.
On our way back towards the school Caleb ran up a staircase where he'd heard some voices and found a group of guys sitting around a picnic table in the front garden of a quaint home. We followed him up and they informed us that the guy who owned the house would let us stay in the extra room for some money, as they'd done. We thanked our lucky stars and tossed our backpacks and gear inside the room where a few bamboo mats were laying on the ground, pillows included.
We spent the night drinking, chatting, and making new friends until the sun came up. Caleb and I, in an early morning frenetic, ran around the picturesque garden and took many photos of the surrounding valleys covered in mist which were just showing in the early morning light.
Standing on top of a yellow picnic table surrounded by fragrant flowers and herbs, Caleb tried once more to tempt me into staying. The conversation was old ground for us, and it usually went something like "Dude, why don't you just stay? Look how beautiful this is. I've been home, you're not missing much." "I know, I know. I do love this country, and I will certainly miss these moments with you guys, but I just have this urge to get back. There are other things I want to do, I need a break from teaching and I just feel that at this stage in my life I should get out and do the things I'm really passionate about before I'm too old and saddled with responsibilities to make them a reality." "Yeah but, this place has it all. You've already got a job, good friends, beautiful scenery..." "I know man, I'm going to miss you too."
At seven in the morning we finally hit the sack as the first birds began to sing.
* * *
The next day, still the same morning since we'd been up all night, we woke up to the sound of pots and pans banging outside in the courtyard where the owner of our house, who liked to be called "Coach" as he was a swim coach at the elementary school, was busy making breakfast for us. We hadn't realized it, but our accommodations included a free meal, which we enjoyed heartily with cups of soy milk and thick slices of buttery toast.
Mark and Caleb grabbed their gear and got down to the stage to set up, being the first act of Saturday afternoon. Mika and I lingered for a while, meeting people as they passed through the garden to buy breakfast and relax at the picnic tables.
A pretty, young, outdoorsy couple showed up first, ordering egg sandwiches with cheese and sat down next to me on the bench. His name was Aki, which didn't seem to fit his brainy glasses and distinctly eastern European nose. He was working as a researcher for a team of neuroscientists who were using some new form of imaging hardware to look at ADHD and it's effect, or influence on brain patterns. His girlfriend, Carmen, had a beautiful accent whose origins I forgot to query. They were a fascinating couple and had spent the night camping at the adjacent camp site where they'd apparently had a hellish sleep. "At one point a pack of dogs was outside our tent sniffing around and no matter how much we tried to shoo them away, they just came right back to our tent." Mentioned Carmen. "And then I couldn't find a bathroom and I had to go so badly that I just decided to find a nice secluded tree to do my business. It was not ideal." Aki piped up, "There are bathrooms at the police station, it's only twenty feet from our tent." "Why didn't you say something!"
After finishing my last cup of soy milk, which I don't like but the chance to talk to these two interesting people kept me sipping away happily, I excused myself to find Mika so we could get down to the stage.
We sat down on the edge of the track, right in the front of the completely empty basketball court to enjoy the sounds of Red Cliff, Mark and Caleb's two part acoustic band. They played all our favorite hits, and by the time their set finished, the crowd had increased dramatically to over ten people. During their entire performance a group of aboriginal children, who surely attended the school during the week, were having a relay race around the track, slapping hands and dashing around the corner as fast as their tiny legs would carry them.
When the show was over Mark and Caleb came and sat down next to us, both sweating profusely and looking like death warmed over. "I'm dying," said Caleb. "Water," said Mark. They got up, Mika joining them, and searched around for some food and beverages while I sat on her ground pad and enjoyed the tunes coming out through the gigantic speakers. At this point a few friends from Taipei showed up, Danny, who I work with, and his girlfriend along with his usual buddies whom I rarely see but enjoy hanging out with.
We relaxed on the basketball court drinking beer and talking about how we'd all made it out to this remote school to find a good time.
Caleb was feeling ill, and Mark was in no mood, so I asked Mika if she would be interested in going with me to hike down to the river and explore. She happily agreed and threw on some shorts before joining me on a great adventure along the rivers edge.
We discussed geological formations like stratification and uplift as we inspected the wavy lines on the rock faces and hopped around joyfully as we followed the water's path. Our minds were set on the task of jumping from rock to rock and the conversation was sparse, but when one or the other of us had something to say we'd just pop out a question or statement and discussed everything from neighborhood bar-be-ques to music to the best way to make a path through thick, clinging bushes. It was the first time that her and I had a one-on-one conversation and it was good to finally pick the brain of the girl who was so important to one of my best friends. He's a lucky man, and I can see why they fit so well together.
When we finally made it to the base of a tall, spectacular waterfall, we found Caleb waiting for us, feeling refreshed after a long nap on the basketball court. He described to us the best way to climb a narrow, fifteen foot high, slab of rock which led to the pool at the base of the falls and we were glad to have him back. Mark even made it out too, which I was surprised and happy to see, and the three of us made the journey back to the festival together.
As the afternoon crept into evening, preparations began for the event that apparently had become a tradition, passed on from the past eight Peace Fests. The idea was that everyone in attendance would hold hands and create a gigantic circle around the court, where room was made for a group of fire dancers to put on a show.
The announcer, an aging hippie who was a friend of Trista, grabbed the microphone and, as the lights dimmed and a blast of fog came out from the back of the stage he began to mumble over the loudspeakers. "Hello everyone, welcome to peace fest." His voice was raspy and low, eerie in its grasp on the attention of the crowd. "I want you all to hold hands now. Find someone who," he paused, "you do not know. Someone," he paused again, "who looks like they are completely opposite from you."
At this point Mark turned to me and shrugged, "This is weird." He was not enthused in the least about the thought of holding strangers hands and even less so about the hippie circle he was supposed to become a part of.
"That's right everyone, grab someone's hand and let's make a circle for peace. Circle, for peace." He began to chant now as a few bongos on the stage came to life, "Circle, for peace. Circle, for peace." A woman with a didgeridoo added to the rhythm and the chanting kept on. "Circle, for peace. Circle, for peace." The fire dancers gathered in a corner of the basketball court and lit up their various flaming weapons of choice, a baton, a hoola-hoop with three balls of flame, a couple of long staffs, and a few women who just danced around to their own beat. At this point a local who seemed mentally handicapped rushed out into the circle and began grooving to the music, playing a make-believe violin as he bobbed and weaved around the skinny hippies trying to pull him back out of the fire dancers arena. "Circle, for peace. Circle, for peace." He finally made it back to the edge of the circle, grabbing a hold of both Mika and Danny's girlfriend Elly's hands and solemnly closing his eyes and tilting his chin towards his chest as he dutifully joined the circle. "Circle, for peace. Circle, for peace." It was becoming very cult-ish, and Mark was visibly shaken by what he was seeing. He was five people down from me in the circle and yet I felt like I could feel his agitation coursing along the entwined hands of those between us.
"Circle, for peace. Circle, for peace." A man ran along the outside of the circle, whispering for us to begin walking in the same direction, making sure any people not connected were firmly grasping their partners hands. The walk began as a slow shuffle as those down the line were informed of the plan. Eventually it picked up steam and everyone was bobbing and winding around the gigantic circle as the fire dancers kicked into full gear, tossing and swinging their balls of flame, making streaks of light as they pierced the darkness.
Mark let go of his partners after about one revolution and stood on the sidelines as it gained speed and split off into faster and slower sections, breaking down further into groups of spinning, giggling, bodies. "Circle, For peace. Circle, for peace." The didgeridoo and bongos kept at their hypnotic rhythm which found a home in the movement of the fire dancers. I finally let go of the hands on either side of me and found Mark, who was stony faced and perturbed. "So, how much longer do you guys want to stay at this thing. Want to get back to Taipei tonight?" I agreed, and even I was slightly weirded out by the cult-vibe I was getting from the music and the dancing.
We ordered a taxi to the nearest city with a bus to Taipei and laughed as we recounted what we were thinking during the circle of peace that we'd taken part of. Along the drive, again through the pitch black night of the jungle, we ran over a possum that was trying to cross the road. A fitting end to a festival of peace, I thought.
The next day, still the same morning since we'd been up all night, we woke up to the sound of pots and pans banging outside in the courtyard where the owner of our house, who liked to be called "Coach" as he was a swim coach at the elementary school, was busy making breakfast for us. We hadn't realized it, but our accommodations included a free meal, which we enjoyed heartily with cups of soy milk and thick slices of buttery toast.
Mark and Caleb grabbed their gear and got down to the stage to set up, being the first act of Saturday afternoon. Mika and I lingered for a while, meeting people as they passed through the garden to buy breakfast and relax at the picnic tables.
A pretty, young, outdoorsy couple showed up first, ordering egg sandwiches with cheese and sat down next to me on the bench. His name was Aki, which didn't seem to fit his brainy glasses and distinctly eastern European nose. He was working as a researcher for a team of neuroscientists who were using some new form of imaging hardware to look at ADHD and it's effect, or influence on brain patterns. His girlfriend, Carmen, had a beautiful accent whose origins I forgot to query. They were a fascinating couple and had spent the night camping at the adjacent camp site where they'd apparently had a hellish sleep. "At one point a pack of dogs was outside our tent sniffing around and no matter how much we tried to shoo them away, they just came right back to our tent." Mentioned Carmen. "And then I couldn't find a bathroom and I had to go so badly that I just decided to find a nice secluded tree to do my business. It was not ideal." Aki piped up, "There are bathrooms at the police station, it's only twenty feet from our tent." "Why didn't you say something!"
After finishing my last cup of soy milk, which I don't like but the chance to talk to these two interesting people kept me sipping away happily, I excused myself to find Mika so we could get down to the stage.
We sat down on the edge of the track, right in the front of the completely empty basketball court to enjoy the sounds of Red Cliff, Mark and Caleb's two part acoustic band. They played all our favorite hits, and by the time their set finished, the crowd had increased dramatically to over ten people. During their entire performance a group of aboriginal children, who surely attended the school during the week, were having a relay race around the track, slapping hands and dashing around the corner as fast as their tiny legs would carry them.
When the show was over Mark and Caleb came and sat down next to us, both sweating profusely and looking like death warmed over. "I'm dying," said Caleb. "Water," said Mark. They got up, Mika joining them, and searched around for some food and beverages while I sat on her ground pad and enjoyed the tunes coming out through the gigantic speakers. At this point a few friends from Taipei showed up, Danny, who I work with, and his girlfriend along with his usual buddies whom I rarely see but enjoy hanging out with.
We relaxed on the basketball court drinking beer and talking about how we'd all made it out to this remote school to find a good time.
Caleb was feeling ill, and Mark was in no mood, so I asked Mika if she would be interested in going with me to hike down to the river and explore. She happily agreed and threw on some shorts before joining me on a great adventure along the rivers edge.
We discussed geological formations like stratification and uplift as we inspected the wavy lines on the rock faces and hopped around joyfully as we followed the water's path. Our minds were set on the task of jumping from rock to rock and the conversation was sparse, but when one or the other of us had something to say we'd just pop out a question or statement and discussed everything from neighborhood bar-be-ques to music to the best way to make a path through thick, clinging bushes. It was the first time that her and I had a one-on-one conversation and it was good to finally pick the brain of the girl who was so important to one of my best friends. He's a lucky man, and I can see why they fit so well together.
When we finally made it to the base of a tall, spectacular waterfall, we found Caleb waiting for us, feeling refreshed after a long nap on the basketball court. He described to us the best way to climb a narrow, fifteen foot high, slab of rock which led to the pool at the base of the falls and we were glad to have him back. Mark even made it out too, which I was surprised and happy to see, and the three of us made the journey back to the festival together.
As the afternoon crept into evening, preparations began for the event that apparently had become a tradition, passed on from the past eight Peace Fests. The idea was that everyone in attendance would hold hands and create a gigantic circle around the court, where room was made for a group of fire dancers to put on a show.
The announcer, an aging hippie who was a friend of Trista, grabbed the microphone and, as the lights dimmed and a blast of fog came out from the back of the stage he began to mumble over the loudspeakers. "Hello everyone, welcome to peace fest." His voice was raspy and low, eerie in its grasp on the attention of the crowd. "I want you all to hold hands now. Find someone who," he paused, "you do not know. Someone," he paused again, "who looks like they are completely opposite from you."
At this point Mark turned to me and shrugged, "This is weird." He was not enthused in the least about the thought of holding strangers hands and even less so about the hippie circle he was supposed to become a part of.
"That's right everyone, grab someone's hand and let's make a circle for peace. Circle, for peace." He began to chant now as a few bongos on the stage came to life, "Circle, for peace. Circle, for peace." A woman with a didgeridoo added to the rhythm and the chanting kept on. "Circle, for peace. Circle, for peace." The fire dancers gathered in a corner of the basketball court and lit up their various flaming weapons of choice, a baton, a hoola-hoop with three balls of flame, a couple of long staffs, and a few women who just danced around to their own beat. At this point a local who seemed mentally handicapped rushed out into the circle and began grooving to the music, playing a make-believe violin as he bobbed and weaved around the skinny hippies trying to pull him back out of the fire dancers arena. "Circle, for peace. Circle, for peace." He finally made it back to the edge of the circle, grabbing a hold of both Mika and Danny's girlfriend Elly's hands and solemnly closing his eyes and tilting his chin towards his chest as he dutifully joined the circle. "Circle, for peace. Circle, for peace." It was becoming very cult-ish, and Mark was visibly shaken by what he was seeing. He was five people down from me in the circle and yet I felt like I could feel his agitation coursing along the entwined hands of those between us.
"Circle, for peace. Circle, for peace." A man ran along the outside of the circle, whispering for us to begin walking in the same direction, making sure any people not connected were firmly grasping their partners hands. The walk began as a slow shuffle as those down the line were informed of the plan. Eventually it picked up steam and everyone was bobbing and winding around the gigantic circle as the fire dancers kicked into full gear, tossing and swinging their balls of flame, making streaks of light as they pierced the darkness.
Mark let go of his partners after about one revolution and stood on the sidelines as it gained speed and split off into faster and slower sections, breaking down further into groups of spinning, giggling, bodies. "Circle, For peace. Circle, for peace." The didgeridoo and bongos kept at their hypnotic rhythm which found a home in the movement of the fire dancers. I finally let go of the hands on either side of me and found Mark, who was stony faced and perturbed. "So, how much longer do you guys want to stay at this thing. Want to get back to Taipei tonight?" I agreed, and even I was slightly weirded out by the cult-vibe I was getting from the music and the dancing.
We ordered a taxi to the nearest city with a bus to Taipei and laughed as we recounted what we were thinking during the circle of peace that we'd taken part of. Along the drive, again through the pitch black night of the jungle, we ran over a possum that was trying to cross the road. A fitting end to a festival of peace, I thought.
* * *
Sunday morning came and we all felt refreshed after a good night sleep in a familiar place. We called up James, who was in town to pick up his brother from the airport, and made plans to meet up at a parade that was going on outside Chiang Kai Shek memorial hall for Taiwan's Independence Day, the tenth of October.
The crowds were out in full force, but we managed to find our gang of friends and found a nice curb which provided great views of the floats and drum corps that made up a majority of the parade. It felt just like a parade back home except with Chinese dragons snaking through the crowd and mysterious robot-women on top of the floats flanked by skinny mannequins in sparkling dresses.
At one point, a group of people passed with nothing tying them to a theme except denim shorts for the girls and pants for the guys, with white t-shirts. "Wow, that is the tallest, skinniest group of Taiwanese girls I've ever seen." I mentioned to Mika, who was standing on my right. Then, as they passed, we read the back of their shirt: "Evanola modeling agency"
I'm a sucker for marching band music, and couldn't help but shake my limbs in an effort at dancing whenever one of the high school groups would pass by. I noticed that across from us, on the other side of the street, a few Taiwanese women and their young children laughed every time I began to dance. I smiled and waved to them, shaking my hips all the while and enjoying the anonymity of the big city.
When the last float passed us by and the crowd began to disperse, we gathered our ranks and marched off towards Shida street for lunch.
We hadn't met with James yet, as he was running late after showing his brother the spectacular views at the top of the Maokong gondola and he said he'd meet us at Zhongshan at seven for the fireworks show that was going down over the river which runs through Taipei.
We got ice cream and played cards in the park, biding our time on a sunny afternoon while we waited for the fireworks show that evening. It was a great, relaxing time spent arguing how to play card games and then packing them away again so we could play human pretzel. This is the game that everyone has played on their first day of camp where you put your hands out in a big group and grab a hold of any free hand that isn't connected to the person next to you. When you're all balled up in a nice big knot, you slowly begin to unravel, without breaking grip, until you miraculously unfold into a big loop of hands. We could not have picked a stranger display for the Taiwanese people around, who stood and stared in every direction as we shouted directions at each other, contorting ourselves and wiggling around until we finally had the knot figured out.
When the time came, we raced to the river to find a good place to watch the fireworks, which proved completely useless.
If I were a Taipei resident, I would ask for a refund on whatever they paid to the planners of this years fireworks display. First of all, they set up a few floating barges with an hour's worth of boom and sparkle, only to shove them out in the river along a section of the bank where there was only one access point. Thousands of people flooded to a hole in the gigantic cement wall which surrounds this section of the river which was wide enough for only twenty people to stand abreast. Imagine dumping a bag of sand into a container where the only escape was a hole twenty grains wide. Add to this the fact that above and around this thirty foot wall was a major highway junction, and you find yourself staring at a skyline of 90 percent cement and 10 percent non consecutive skyline with which to see the show. People were standing around and rushing from one place to another in order to see even a glimpse of what sounded like a truly magnificent display. And from what we could see, it really was a nice show. I saw fireworks that I'd never seen before, like one that shot up a big circle of blue light, then as the light hung in the air, two red dots appeared in the circle, followed by a big green u-shape, creating a gigantic smiley face in the sky. The sound from the concussion of some of the larger explosions was amazing; bouncing off all the buildings in the city. A blind person would surely believe that China was finally owning up to all it's posturing and had actually invaded Taiwan, as thousands of people flooded the empty streets and gigantic blasts sent concussion waves that you could feel in your chest hurled their way through the screaming crowd.
I have to say, as a semi-professional enjoyer, I did have a good time, but it could have been so much better if the venue were thought through.
When the show was done we reconvened, having split off in the race to find the best place to see something, anything, that was going on over the river, and walked into the hustle and bustle of Ximen to have dinner. Over pad thai and Taiwan beer, we met James' brother Fred and his friend Rose and discussed our our various weekend tales. We introduced him to Taiwan in the best way possible, I felt, and I could see that he was glad to have found his brother in the company of such amazing people.
The crowds were out in full force, but we managed to find our gang of friends and found a nice curb which provided great views of the floats and drum corps that made up a majority of the parade. It felt just like a parade back home except with Chinese dragons snaking through the crowd and mysterious robot-women on top of the floats flanked by skinny mannequins in sparkling dresses.
At one point, a group of people passed with nothing tying them to a theme except denim shorts for the girls and pants for the guys, with white t-shirts. "Wow, that is the tallest, skinniest group of Taiwanese girls I've ever seen." I mentioned to Mika, who was standing on my right. Then, as they passed, we read the back of their shirt: "Evanola modeling agency"
I'm a sucker for marching band music, and couldn't help but shake my limbs in an effort at dancing whenever one of the high school groups would pass by. I noticed that across from us, on the other side of the street, a few Taiwanese women and their young children laughed every time I began to dance. I smiled and waved to them, shaking my hips all the while and enjoying the anonymity of the big city.
When the last float passed us by and the crowd began to disperse, we gathered our ranks and marched off towards Shida street for lunch.
We hadn't met with James yet, as he was running late after showing his brother the spectacular views at the top of the Maokong gondola and he said he'd meet us at Zhongshan at seven for the fireworks show that was going down over the river which runs through Taipei.
We got ice cream and played cards in the park, biding our time on a sunny afternoon while we waited for the fireworks show that evening. It was a great, relaxing time spent arguing how to play card games and then packing them away again so we could play human pretzel. This is the game that everyone has played on their first day of camp where you put your hands out in a big group and grab a hold of any free hand that isn't connected to the person next to you. When you're all balled up in a nice big knot, you slowly begin to unravel, without breaking grip, until you miraculously unfold into a big loop of hands. We could not have picked a stranger display for the Taiwanese people around, who stood and stared in every direction as we shouted directions at each other, contorting ourselves and wiggling around until we finally had the knot figured out.
When the time came, we raced to the river to find a good place to watch the fireworks, which proved completely useless.
If I were a Taipei resident, I would ask for a refund on whatever they paid to the planners of this years fireworks display. First of all, they set up a few floating barges with an hour's worth of boom and sparkle, only to shove them out in the river along a section of the bank where there was only one access point. Thousands of people flooded to a hole in the gigantic cement wall which surrounds this section of the river which was wide enough for only twenty people to stand abreast. Imagine dumping a bag of sand into a container where the only escape was a hole twenty grains wide. Add to this the fact that above and around this thirty foot wall was a major highway junction, and you find yourself staring at a skyline of 90 percent cement and 10 percent non consecutive skyline with which to see the show. People were standing around and rushing from one place to another in order to see even a glimpse of what sounded like a truly magnificent display. And from what we could see, it really was a nice show. I saw fireworks that I'd never seen before, like one that shot up a big circle of blue light, then as the light hung in the air, two red dots appeared in the circle, followed by a big green u-shape, creating a gigantic smiley face in the sky. The sound from the concussion of some of the larger explosions was amazing; bouncing off all the buildings in the city. A blind person would surely believe that China was finally owning up to all it's posturing and had actually invaded Taiwan, as thousands of people flooded the empty streets and gigantic blasts sent concussion waves that you could feel in your chest hurled their way through the screaming crowd.
I have to say, as a semi-professional enjoyer, I did have a good time, but it could have been so much better if the venue were thought through.
When the show was done we reconvened, having split off in the race to find the best place to see something, anything, that was going on over the river, and walked into the hustle and bustle of Ximen to have dinner. Over pad thai and Taiwan beer, we met James' brother Fred and his friend Rose and discussed our our various weekend tales. We introduced him to Taiwan in the best way possible, I felt, and I could see that he was glad to have found his brother in the company of such amazing people.
