Cycling Trip to Taiwan: Day Three

Day Three started off with breakfast, which luckily was a far cry from what is typically served in Japan. We weren't served much, but the soup tasted good and the "one-sided" toast with the piece of hard-boiled egg on the side was a nice change from rice. (The following morning, at the next place we stayed at, we were also served the same kind of toast with a topping, and I saw the same thing at a buffet-style restaurant later during our trip, in Kaohsiung, so I figure that this kind of toast must be fairly popular in Taiwan.)

We originally expected the ride to (just north of) Hualien to be mostly flat, since we were going to be riding along the coast. At the party the night before, however, we were warned (correctly, I might add!) that the road was actually rather hilly, and that there were going to be about five up-and-downs along the way. Since we had just finished a fairly difficult 150 kms, we were kind of disappointed upon hearing that news. The next morning, however, with fresh bodies and plenty of fuel in the tank, we were looking forward to the day's challenge ... sort of.

We headed out fairly late (after 10 a.m.!), quickly found our road, and made good progress toward our goal. From what I remember, Joe and I both ate a bunch of snacks around lunchtime, rather than stopping for a meal, and we were simply pedaling along, taking in the sights, with Joe slightly ahead of me.

At around 12:15 p.m., after (what I believe was) the second of five climbs of the day, we rolled into one of the countless rundown towns that we rode past during the week. At one point, we heard music coming from down a side street to our right, so we decided to go check it out. It turns out there was a huge wedding party going on, and, just by staring long enough at the crowd (and being a couple of foreigners wearing weird clothing), we got ourselves invited in! That all started when this little kid came up to us and busted out this pose for my camera.

We certainly felt a bit awkward, not to mention under-dressed(!), but during our stays in Japan, we've both had plenty of these wow-look-at-the-foreigners-they're-like-celebrities-how-cool moments that we simply smiled at each other, shrugged, and walked right in.

Amazingly, we were led to a table at the very front of the place, right next to the stage, as if we had been invited and were part of the VIP crowd. The people at "our" table quickly made some room for us, plopped us down in chairs, and offered us food and drinks.

Even though I wasn't hungry, I was really looking forward to hanging out for a while, especially since I'd never been to a wedding, or a wedding party, in Japan. Furthermore, it's the rare times that you stumble upon these random events that makes traveling all the more fun and unusual. Joe, however, ever the wise one, advised that we get going after only a brief stay, since we had many kilometers ahead of us yet, including plenty of the "up" variety.

Therefore, after chatting with our tablemates, having a drink, nibbling on some sweets, and even posing for some pictures, (including one with this supposedly famous politician!), we hit the road again.

But first, a few notes: When the politician handed his business card to Joe, Joe summarily dropped it on the floor! Oops! As for me, well, after he handed his card to me, I have no clue where it went! I thought I eventually put it in one of my pockets, but for all I know, I left it on the table or also dropped it. That's why the politician we met will forever be referred to as "the politician."

Also, even though as we rode into town we noticed the road heading out of town was uphill, before we left we tried to confirm with some of the other guests that we indeed had quite a bit of climbing to go, since, if we didn't, we wouldn't need as much time to ride and could thus stay at the party longer. Well, the same guy who told us "the politician" was "famous" also told us that the rest of the road was actually "flat all the way."

That guy must have been a politician himself, since he told us what we wanted to hear. Just like the other politicians we met at the top (not!) of our climb the day before.

Using our better judgment, we decided we better believe the people we met at the Christmas party and boogie on outta there.

Cycling Trip to Taiwan: Day Two

Sony rode for about 50 km with us, up to somewhere near Sanxia, a little town southwest of Taipei, before she headed back home. Joe and I continued on our own. We had a good 100 km ahead of us, since the plan was to ride across the mountains to the east coast town of Wujie. The weather conditions weren't great: it was slightly chilly as well as a bit rainy. Nevertheless, the booties that Joe brought along helped to keep our feet warm and dry and we were a lot warmer than we would have been had we still been in Japan, so neither of us was complaining.

Take a look at Joe's bike and you'll see that we really traveled lightly. Each of us had a small bag attached to our handlebars, plus a small bag in back for our gear, which included, at least in my case, not much more than spare inner tubes, rags, and a few tools; my wallet; some maps; a pair of walking shoes; and minimal extra clothing. We each took along so little stuff that when I was wearing my tights, long-sleeve shirt, and windbreaker (along with my riding outfit, of course), for example, about all that was left in my bags was a pair of sweat pants, an extra top and bottom to ride in, and an extra pair of socks, underpants, and gloves. (I ended up wearing my extra riding top not for riding but rather at nighttime when we went out for dinner or whatever, since that was the only shirt I had that wasn't stinky. My extra riding shorts were actually a bathing suit, and that and the extra gloves are the only articles of clothing that I brought but didn't wear. Had Joe had a bathing suit, however, I would have worn mine the one time we went to an onsen [but didn't go in!], since, unlike in Japan, you need a bathing suit at many onsens in Taiwan.)

We stopped for lunch a little before 1 p.m. This was our second time in a restaurant in Taiwan, but the first time we had to order for ourselves. (Usually when we stopped for lunch, there weren't too many places to choose from, and they were all kind of run-down looking, so we kind of scoped them out and eventually both agreed where we'd eat. Luckily, we made some pretty good choices!) Out in the boonies as we were, it came as no surprise that the staff could barely (if that!) speak English and the menu was only in Chinese, but Joe and I used a mix of Japanese, English, and sign language to get across that he wanted noodle soup and I wanted fried rice.

If you've read some of my other travel stories, you know that I pick up on a lot of little things when I'm in foreign countries and this trip was no different. One of the things I noticed in restaurants was that the chopsticks were not only disposable, but also wrapped in plastic. Furthermore, the Taiwanese usually eat with both chopsticks and a spoon, and the spoon is often of the throwaway variety. (I planned to bring along a set of re-usable chopsticks on the trip, but, regrettably, decided against that at the last minute.)

Joe and I each had two drinks and the total bill came to the ridiculously low amount of about 140 Taiwanese dollars, with TWD 100 being equal to about JPY 300, USD 3, and EUR 2.20. (I figure each meal was about 40 dollars and each drink about 15.) In other words, our lunch came to all of about $4.25. Talk about cheap! Prices for the most part stayed that low throughout the trip, whenever we ate at one of these mom-and-pop-style restaurants. (Naturally, in the bigger town of Kenting and, of course, in Taiwan's second-biggest city, Kaohsiung, the prices were more in line with the prices in Japan.)

Another food item(that we had later on the trip) that I remember the price for is what the Japanese call "gyouza," or what the Americans call "pot sticker." The standard price for those was $4 each. What you're looking at in the picture is a fantastic side dish for a pittance: $1.00.

Anyway, after lunch we started on the biggest ascent of the day (and of the whole trip, for that matter), the climb from about 600 meters (that's the Big Baling Bridge in the picture) to a little over 1200 meters. Unlike in Japan, there were kilometer markers along most roads, including the one we were now on, the "7," also known as the Northern Cross (Island Highway). Unfortunately for us, however, we weren't quite sure which kilometer marked the high point of the road. We thought it was Kilometer 66, but we had trouble believing that (or rather, didn't want to believe that), since the "real" climb started at around Kilometer 46 and would have thus meant roughly 20 grueling kilometers to go.

As we slowly grinded our way up and through the mountains, we counted down the kilometers as we passed each marker. I remember finally reaching Kilometer 56 and thinking, "Oh my God, only half way." And I remember reaching Kilometer 58 (or so) after approximately 1 1/2 hours of riding and sarcastically saying to Joe something like, "Only 8 kilometers to go." We were both pretty exhausted by that point, though I honestly must say a lot of the exhaustion, at least in my case, was more mental than physical.

But just then a funny thing happened: We turned a corner, saw a group of riders, and decided to pull over and chat with them. Of course, one of our first questions was how much farther we had to go until we made it to the top. Imagine our surprise as they told us we were there!

Flashback: Remember when I said we didn't always get the best information from people we talked to? Well, this was one of those cases! Joe and I were really happy to have made it to the top of the hill, but we were still fairly skeptical. The group of riders insisted, however, that we were at the top, and the road ahead certainly went downhill, so we figured they must have known what they were talking about.

After a short rest, we started our long descent. Or so we thought.

It turns out that the road ahead went up and down, up and down, up and down ...

for the next 8 kilometers or so ...

all the way to ...

Kilometer 66.

So for all of you out there who are thinking about riding this route, believe me, you haven't reached the top until you see the sign for the Mingchih Forest Recreation Area.

As you can imagine, the rest of the ride was mostly downhill and flat, all the way to our destination, the Ilancat B 'n B in Wujie. We had to ride in the dark for about the last hour and a half of the 150 km ride (since we simply couldn't out-pedal the setting sun that goes down at around 5:30 p.m. in these parts), found our goal easily (thanks, again, to the kilometer markers in Taiwan!), and were immediately blessed with more good luck: A Christmas party!

We had some great food at the party and got to meet some lovely people. What I liked most about the party was that it was so relaxing, as opposed to the parties that I've been to in Japan, which are usually characterized by a stiff atmosphere. What's more, there were no official start and end times for the party, as there would have been if it had been a Japanese party. After having spent so much time in Japan, where the people are überpolite and afraid to express their true feelings, the party in Taiwan gave me that taste of normalcy that I had so sorely missed.

Cycling Trip to Taiwan: Day One

Here's a little secret: If you want to be fed earlier than the great majority of the passengers on a flight, order a "special" meal, such as the Asian vegetarian one I ordered when I reserved my China Airlines flight from Fukuoka to Taiwan.

And if you're lucky, something unusual and incredibly fitting will come with your meal, as it did with mine. There I was, on December 24, about to start a cycling adventure around Taiwan with my buddy Joe, and the naan (bread) that was the centerpiece of my meal was shaped exactly like a bicycle seat! Go figure!

Once we landed and finally got our bikes put back together again, our next order of business was to make our way to our first pit stop, Jingmei, in the southern part of Taipei. Naturally, we had to compete with cars and scooters for space and we also had to battle the pollution, so the riding wasn't much fun. Luckily, however, many of the roads we rode on (all over the country, as it turned out) had dedicated scooter/bicycle lanes that kept us feeling fairly safe. This particular stretch of road had no such lane, but most cars nevertheless kept to the left. That's Joe in red. (By the way, we started our ride directly at the airport, just after we took a shuttle bus from Terminal 1 to Terminal 2, which we probably could have skipped. We were then supposed to take another shuttle from T2 to the Cargo Terminal, but we decided to start riding from that point, despite the police officer's warning about doing just that that we were given while we were unpacking our bikes.)

One of the funniest places we saw along the road was this little shack with a (ahem) big "D Cup" sign above it and a scantily-clad woman inside. Naturally, (boys will be boys) we first thought it was a hooker advertising her wares. It turns out we were half-right. The woman wasn't a hooker, but she was advertising her wares, the most prominent of which was that thing on the far left of the sign on the left (and on the far right on the sign on the right), namely: betel nut. After we rode on and saw more and more of these shacks, I remembered having read about them before the trip. Nevertheless, this one had me fooled. Later on our trip, we saw millions of betel-nut stands, most of which were rather tame compared to this one.

Joe and I had a rough idea of how to get to Jingmei, but every once in a while we'd stop to ask for directions, just in case we were going the wrong way. (Considering we didn't have much of a clue where we were, besides what we could tell by our map and the road signs, we really did a great job of navigation.) One person we came across was this fellow, Chih-Li. His English was fantastic, since he was home on vacation from the States, where he studies at Texas A&M. He was sitting outside a 7-11 (or some other convenience store), so we joined him for some snacks and he assured us we were going in the right direction. So many Taiwanese people we met later gave us terrible information, but not Chih-Li (pronounced like the hot pepper)! Thanks, man!

The reason we were heading to Jingmei was to meet Sony (pronounced "Sunny"), a biking-crazy girl I met through couchsurfing, whose grandmother was happy to host Joe and me. What a great deal that turned out to be! Sony's grandma not only put us up for the night, but also took all of us (Joe, me, Sony, and two of Sony's aunts) out to dinner to a local restaurant! Talk about starting off a trip on the right note! That's Sony (not Malcolm) in the middle.

If you look closely at the picture (or click on it for a better look), you'll see a staple of Korean food smack dab in the middle of the table: kimchi. The kimchi was already on the table when we sat down, so I thought that it was left over from the previous customers. Nope. Apparently, the pickled dish is rather popular in Taiwan as well. Personally, I stay as far away from the stuff as I can!

Anyway, after dinner, our lovely hosts took us for a walk to some of the nearby "night markets," since they were eager to get us to try some more typical Taiwanese tidbits. One of those that I tasted was "stinky tofu." I guess it's the Taiwanese version of Japan's very own natto: It doesn't taste all that bad, but it smells so horrible that eating it is a truly unpleasant experience. Consider stinky tofu "one and done" for me.

We were also treated to a weird-looking dessert that I have to admit tasted rather good. Joe was brave enough to order first, and I simply grabbed a spoon and helped myself to some of what he was having. It was basically shaved ice covered with taro-root balls (the dark ones), some other white and pink ball-shaped somethings, and some kind of fruit (perhaps).

Sony ordered a different kind of dessert that consisted of boiled peanuts and tofu, I believe. I also tried that and, though it wasn't anything special, it really wasn't bad. Still, when it comes down to it, I prefer much sweeter desserts, such as cake and ice cream.

Yet another product our hosts were kind enough to buy for us was something that the Taiwanese call "bell fruit." This apple-like fruit (which apparently also has many other names, including "wax apple," "love apple," and "water apple," depending on the country) is really lightweight, rather watery, and, as you might guess, not very sweet. Luckily, despite the added weight it meant I had to carry, I decided to take the bag of 10 or so of them along when we headed out on our bike ride the next morning.

Last Fuji Pix

As some of you (now) know, there is a post office atop Mt. Fuji. As you can see in this picture, besides some postcards, I also bought a sheet of commemorative Fuji stamps (on the left), and, believe it or not, as if it proves anything, a "Certificate of Successful Ascent of Mt. Fuji" (on the right). Why? Why not?











Peeking through the clouds, you can barely see the parking lot where I started my climb.











Everywhere you go in Japan, you see toriis, including on Mt. Fuji.











Here's another shot of a torii.











As I descended the mountain, I got closer and closer to the sea of clouds below. It's now 5:10 p.m. and, as you can see, there are still plenty of people making their way up the mountain. Throughout the short climbing season, there is a constant stream of traffic heading in both directions on the trails.












Fuji vegetation.











Just before 6 p.m., I spotted this young boy heading up Fuji. At that point he still had over 1000 meters and, I'm guessing, at least 5 or 6 hours to the top.











Who knows if that kid pictured above even made it to the top. Many people don't, as they succumb to altitude sickness somewhere along the way. I talked to one young couple, for example, who turned around just about 300 meters from the summit, because they were feeling rather sick. And here's a picture of a young boy sucking in some badly needed oxygen. Even though this scene took place at about 3200 meters, I witnessed the same thing several times all along the trail, including at around 2500 meters, practically at the start of the climb! By the way, you don't need to bring your own supplemental oxygen; it's sold at the "stations." And I'm glad to report that I didn't suffer any ill effects from the altitude. Or did I? After all, I did seem to have trouble addressing postcards. In one case, I wrote the wrong zip code, and in another case, I left off a part of a person's name (in Japanese). Hmmm...











Clearly, not everyone suffered on the climb. These three guys were probably having the most fun on the mountain!











Besides the relatively small crowds, I was also pleasantly surprised at how little garbage there was along the trail. I heard Fuji-san was full of junk, but most of the litter I encountered was of the tiny variety, similar to garbage I find on just about any trail anywhere in the world.











Back at the starting point at 6:30 p.m., a little more than 9 hours after I started the hike. There's a saying in Japan: One who climbs Mt. Fuji once is a wise man; one who climbs Mt. Fuji more than once is a fool. So I guess I won't be climbing Fuji again any time soon. But there are different trails to explore and I may want to climb her at night someday. So who knows? Maybe I'll go climb her again in the future. Fool or no fool.

The Climb, Continued

Perhaps the oddest sight of the day was this guy jogging down the mountain. After he passed me, he stopped briefly to take my picture (that white thing in his right hand is a camera). I was too flabbergasted to ask him whether he had jogged up, too, but something tells me he did.











Yes, even babies "climb" Mt. Fuji. This little girl was the youngest person I saw on the trail. (The oldest person I came across, who I failed to get a picture of, was about, oh, perhaps 80! I passed him on my way down, probably at about 2800 meters. He was moving incredibly slowly and climbing by himself. I was absolutely amazed at his efforts.)














I packed plenty of snacks and drinks, but supplies are readily available on the mountain at each of the "stations" along the way, at least during the brief climbing season, which only runs from about July 1-August 31. The goods cost more than they do at sea level, but the prices are still rather reasonable.











The "stations" also serve as mountain huts. Many people spend anywhere from a couple of hours to an entire evening in the huts, trying to catch some valuable z's, usually before heading back out in the wee hours of the morning so they can catch the sunrise from the top. I decided I'd rather climb in full daylight. After the fact, I'm glad I did. The trail was way too rocky and slippery at times for climbing in the darkness, even with the aid of a headlamp. Perhaps one of the other trails is better suited for climbing at night.











I didn't expect to see any snow on Fuji, but the little snow I did encounter wasn't a surprise, either. This was at about 3500-3600 meters.











Just before reaching the top, the trail got a bit more crowded, but it was never as bad as what I expected.











Finally, just barely over three hours after I started the ascent, I reached the top of Mt. Fuji. Or did I? Actually, I reached the crater rim of the volcano, which included a shrine (rear, center) and a post office (rear, left). Do you see the guy just off to the right of center? Look carefully and you'll see that he's making a phone call. Not bad, eh?











To get to the actual summit, I had one last climb in front of me, Kengamine, where the weather station is located. That was about another 100 meters to the left and, of course, up. After a quick 10 minutes... I was finally... drum roll please...











on top of Japan!











Here's the view looking down upon the shrine and post office area.

Climbing Mt. Fuji

My biggest concern about climbing Mt. Fuji was what the weather was going to be like, especially since the weather forecast wasn't all that promising and my climbing window was rather narrow. In fact, I planned to climb on Monday, August 3, and about my only other option was going to be Tuesday. But that really wasn't much of an option. So when I arrived at the airport in Fukuoka on Sunday and was told that I wasn't able to check in for my flight to the new Mt. Fuji Shizuoka Airport since the weather in Shizuoka was so bad, you can imagine how I felt. Nevertheless, despite the initial delay, my plane actually took off on time, and, even though we were told that our flight might be diverted to Nagoya, we landed where we were supposed to. (Check this: The folks at JAL told me that if we did divert to the other airport, we would have to make our own way back to Shizuoka, nearly 200 km away! Huh?)

Believe it or not, I didn't get my first glimpse of Fuji-san until I woke up early on Monday morning. I spent the night in a town called Fujinomiya, since that was where I was going to be able to catch a bus to the trailhead in the morning. At about 5:45 a.m., I awoke and immediately thought, "I wonder if I can see Fuji." And there she was, right outside my hotel window. And the weather was great. So I knew the climb would be a success.











There are several trails leading to the top of Fuji (3776 meters). For logistical reasons, I chose the Fujinomiya trail that starts out at 2400 meters. Before I even started my hike, I could go shopping and dining.











Many people buy a traditional walking stick before they begin their hike and have it branded (for a slight fee) at each "station" along the way to the top, generally from fifth to ninth. I elected to do without the stick.











Many people told me to be careful on Mt. Fuji (two climbers froze to death about a week before I climbed, for instance) and there were several signs along the way warning of falling rocks, but I was never worried. Fuji was more difficult to climb than I expected, but still far easier and far safer than many other climbs I've been on. Despite the warning signs, I never once felt as if what I was doing was unsafe.











You encounter poor translations throughout Japan, including on Mt. Fuji! What's a PHSU?












Lots of people climb Fuji late in the day or throughout the night so that they can see the sun rise from the summit, like these two guys, who have made it most of the way down Fuji by 9:30 a.m.
If you look closely, you'll see people spread out higher up on the trail. There were a lot of people climbing, but no where near as many people as I expected, which made for a nice surprise.















A climber resting on the trail at about 2700 meters.












Two more climbers enjoying a relaxing moment on the trail at about 2800 meters.











A lot of people who climb Fuji are climbing a mountain for the first time in their lives. Hiking boots do come in handy, but some people climb in regular ol' tennis shoes.

I'm back!

Hey everyone! I'm back. At least for now.

Sorry about leaving you hanging all these months(!) since my last post.

Why haven't I written for so long?

Well, for one, since the new school year started, I've been going to twice as many classes as I did in the previous year. I now go to about 15-18 classes a week! And I go to the first class of the day pretty much every day. So sometimes when I have a brainstorm on the way to school and want to write about it when I get to school, well, off I go to class. As a matter of fact, I sometimes go to all four morning classes. So by the time I have a chance to write, well, I'm pooped!

For two, the mid-day schedule has changed a bit, and I've been given an additional, rather time-consuming responsibility just before lunch. So that has taken some of the air out of my blogging sails. (I'll fill you in about that soon!)

Also, well, I guess you could say it's because of a combination of such things as: 1) not being as dedicated to my blog as I need to be; 2) having been on vacation here and there and therefore not able to write; 3) spending a lot more of my free time studying Japanese; 4) spending a lot more of my free time with bicycle riding; 5) spending a lot more of my free time with other thoughts; and 6) not willing to make public a lot of what has been going on lately, especially at school.

In any case, it's now the beginning of a new month so perhaps this is a good time to start writing again. Also, August 6th marks the beginning of my third year in Japan! So that's another new beginning, right?

OK!

So... What can you look forward to reading about next?

Well...

Tomorrow I'm flying to Shizuoka.

Because on Monday...

I plan...

to climb...

Mt. Fuji.

Stay tuned for more.

As if you weren't already...

Thanks for your patience!

New Students Welcome Ceremony

When kids start school in Japan, it's a pretty big deal. The new students welcome ceremony is probably the most formal ceremony besides graduation.

So once again, the teachers bust out their black suits and mostly wear white underneath, including white ties for the men. (You'd almost think everyone was going to a funeral, except that then the ties would be black.)

About six months ago, I bought a white tie for just such occasions, but I’ve yet to wear it.

Just like at the welcome ceremony last year, I prefer to go with a more colorful look. So I’m wearing a dress shirt that has a combination of orange, pink, and white, and my tie is mostly dark blue with yellow whales on it. (It sounds wilder than it looks.) I’m not the only teacher not wearing white on white, but we are certainly in the minority.

Before the ceremony begins, the second-graders decorate the first-graders' classroom. I'm not positive that's a Japan-wide thing, but I bet it is. Unfortunately, most Japanese fail to ask me to check their English before they make big signs, so sometimes the signs have slightly ridiculous things written on them.

Take a look at one of the two chalkboards that the second-graders decorated this year. I absolutely love it, since it expresses how I feel quite often. I really got a kick out of it.

(For some more detailed info regarding today’s ceremony, read this blog I wrote about it last year.)

Faux Pas

This morning I made a little faux pas.

I owed a buddy 7000 yen (about $70), so I showed him that I had his money and put it on his desk just before he got there. (I'm not sure why I didn't just hand him the money. Maybe he had his hands full.)

As soon as I put the money on the table, it occurred to me that I was supposed to put the money in an envelope first. That's how money is handed from one person to another here.

Oops.

To make things worse, he even handed the money back to me and said, "Could you please put it in an envelope? I don't have my wallet."

Ugh.

I promptly found an envelope and gave him his money. I apologized to him and told him that the money-in-an-envelope concept is a Japanese thing. He kind of giggled a bit and also said he was sorry and that it wasn't that big of a deal, that he simply didn't have his wallet.

Live and learn.