Karaoke and Chicken Feet

"Let me show you something really cool." my friend Zac told me. We had just finished up with our Chinese tutor and he led the way as we set off on a brisk walk. It felt as if we were in the heart of the city, but the wonderful thing about Taipei is that one turn will take you to somewhere completely new. One minute we were walking on a busy sidewalk with traffic rushing by, the next we were climbing up a steep stone staircase completely surrounded in lush green foliage. We climbed and climbed working up a sweat. Finally we came out on an opening and spread out before us was the entire city. Neither words nor pictures can justify the feeling of looking down at it all spread before us, the river running through the middle, the bridges and mountains off in the distance.
As we looked for a way down, we ran into a couple climbing down. We stopped to ask for directions and to see if there was a hiking trail further up. From the little I could grasp, the only way left to go was back down. Things took an unexpected turn when the man grabbed Zac's arm and said "Karaoke!". Zac protested saying he couldn't sing, but the man wasn't taking any excuses; almost by force he led Zac down the path to and open pavilion. I was laughing, but of course had no choice but to follow. Out in the middle of nowhere, on the side of this mountain, there was a karaoke machine and a gathering of people singing and having Sunday fun. On the table was spread a variety of food ranging from chicken, fish, chicken feet, noodles, etc. No one questioned or wondered how we ended up there; instead, so hospitable, they began to force food on us. I was served noodles and plates were pushed in my face as the encouraged me to eat and not be shy. They kept peeling oranges for me and refilling my cup of tea - even when it was almost full. It was immensely hysterical because I could only understand a couple words - although Zac seemed to manage better than I did.
Then the inevitable happened - they asked us to sing karaoke. Zac pawned it off on me telling me that they had fed us and I should sing in return. A song was chosen and for the first time in my life I did karaoke. I had always sworn before that I would never be able to do it without at least a couple drinks in me, but it wasn't as embarrassing as I thought it would be. I rendered my own version of "My Girl" and then managed to get Zac up to sing "Yesterday". At that point I'm not sure what happened, everyone obviously assumed we were together and poor Zac (who has a girlfriend) kept saying "No! No!" but hysterically we ended up with arms on each others shoulders singing away. Finally, we left them and descended once again to the busy city below; but not without a feeling of having been refreshed.
I was so impressed by how lovely and kind these people were to complete strangers. They fed us, let us hang around, and didn't expect anything in return. Not something I would ever have experienced in the United States. So far, it is one of the most memorable moments I've had. I am very much reminded of the culture in Mexico - where hospitality is such a wonderful gift.

A night at Xin Beitou

The suggestion came at night. It was late and rainy, the weather was definitely less than ideal. However, Zac is apparently one of the more rambunctious Australians, because according to him the weather was perfect for a visit to the Hot Springs at Xinbeitou. I was less than convinced. We played a round of rock, paper, scissors with the winner deciding if we would go or not. I lost. Next thing I knew we are on the subway heading north. The dark night was not softened by the falling rain - in fact a chilly wind was causing me to continually regret having to go.
Dismounting the subway we walked through the rain. The 40NT (1.50) was paid at the door and I saw five pools of water. People lounged on the rocks next to them while others sat in the water soaking. Zac having abandoned me for the sake of the conversation of a young Asian woman, I was forced to discover the springs alone. I headed towards a pool in the center. Looking sufficiently bewildered, I drew the attention of a middle aged Taiwanese man who was exiting the pool. He paused and kindly explained to me how I should not just dip my feet (people would think I was washing them off and getting the water dirty), he showed me how to wash my feet off with the tiny bucket set on the stone steps leading to the pool, he explained how the pool below the one we were at was 'general' temperature, and the temperature increased the higher up the pool was located, he pointed out the cold water pool, and finally politely excused himself after cautioning me to enter slowly.
I did, the water was deliciously hot and relaxing. People lounged, and thankfully no one stared. I was the only Caucasian there, but people politely minded their own business. An older lady in a swimming cap that looked as if it had come straight out of another era sat beside me and inquired where I was from. She explained how everyone was very careful to not get the water dirty. People were considerate and followed the rules so that everyone could enjoy the springs.With restrained concern, she explained how it was dangerous for women to stay in the hot water for too long. She suggested that I climb up on the rocks and cool off for awhile. I followed her advice, climbing in and out frequently. My sore muscles relaxed and the rain that was still falling no longer felt so cold.
By the time we left at ten, I was done cursing Zac for dragging me out there. In fact, I was so mellow and relaxed that I couldn't help but smile. I am so lucky to be living in the best place on the planet.:)

A Random Thought

There is no happiness for him who does not travel!
Thus we have heard.
Living in the society of men, even the best man becomes a sinner.
Therefore, wander!
The fortune of him who is sitting, sits.
It rises when he rises.
It sleeps when he sleeps.
It moves when he moves.
Therefore, wander!
Aitreya Brahmanan, the Rigveda (800-600 BC)

Reading this poem, I was struck by two things; the first was how ingrained it is in the human nature to wander, the second was how narrow it seemed to say that someone who does not travel has no happiness. More and more, it is rare to find people who do not travel. Even those who appear to be complete homebodies travel - whether it be on vacation, to visit family, or simply driving to the next town for groceries. But what of the person who really doesn't travel? He who is born, lives, and dies in the same town, knowing the same people, doing the same things. Is he not happy? Perhaps the phrase 'There is no happiness for him who does not travel' isn't meant to be taken literally. You can travel places without even leaving your home. Perhaps it's merely the connotation that a person who travels not in life, is unhappy. And travel in life is inevitable. Every day that we change, try to make ourselves better, try to accomplish some ambition, or just the act of trying to live a good life, all of this constitutes a journey. Sure, it's not seemingly as romantic as traveling to different places, whether abroad or at home, but it is the greatest journey that anyone can take. Sometimes the greatest things in life are just hidden behind this facade of what often seems to be something arid or unexciting. So the greatest unhappiness perhaps comes to him who does not change, does not live life to the extent it was meant to be lived, does not embark on the great journey of constantly trying to reach one's fullest potential. In the end, we are all travelers, wanderers, and wayfarers, and it's exciting to think of all that we are constantly moving towards.