My Last Week in Taipei
Because the pandemic drastically reduced the number of flights home, I had to stay in Taipei until Friday the 21st. I left my student apartment (or rather, I was made to leave) on Sunday, and I relocated to a hotel near Zhongxiao Dunhua station on the blue metro line.
I spent much of my
time working on various applications and seeing friends. On Monday evening,
several of us went to KTV along with a teacher from ICLP. I learned new
Taiwanese songs and also returned to some classic Teresa Teng hits.
On Tuesday, Alison and
I visited the Lin Family Mansion and Garden. The ornate and yet elegant
architecture left us both very impressed (even though Alison had visited once
before). I particularly liked the wooden panelling, while Alison enjoyed
walking through the numerous artificial caves.
After leaving the
mansion, we rode up to the Taipei Botanical Garden, where we were both tickled
to find that the word for succulent is 多肉植物 (Duōròu zhíwù), meaning “much meat plant.” To tell the truth,
the botanical garden is nothing very special, but it was there where we had the
most fun. As we were sitting on the steps overlooking a large lily pond, a
group of elderly women and three or four elderly men arrived and began to do
warm-up exercises. After a few moments, one lady came up and apologised to us
in English for the noise they were going to make: they were the Taipei Square
Dancing club. Alison and I observed in both amazement and amusement as the
twenty or so dancers separated into three circles, following which – to
instructions sung to the tune of disco-square dance renditions of popular songs
– ensued elaborate exchanges of partners and complex formations.
On Wednesday, Nicolas
and I visited some of the items on my Taipei metro red line bucket list: the
Dharma Drum Mountain Nung Chan Monastery and the Taipei Fine Arts Museum. I
puzzled over the word “mountain” in the name of the monastery, for although it
is relatively far away from the city centre, no reading of the map could
plausibly place it on some mountainside outside the city. As we were to find
out, the monastery – aesthetically more reminiscent of a modern art gallery
than of an old fashioned place of worship – offers impressive views of the
Yangming mountains, which stand behind it when viewed from the south (according
to my understanding of fengshui, such positioning is very auspicious). Since I
had just read two books about Buddhism, I bought myself a little copy of the
Heart Sutra at the bookstore.
Our next stop was, for
the lack of a better word, one of the most bizarre places I ever visited in
Taipei. The gallery overflowed with surprises, from psychedelic paintings of
figures in icon-like poses (the modern lollipop version of Hieronymus Bosch) to
an expansive exhibition of the last pictures taken by a European Republican
China. Some surprises, such as a vast subterranean and poorly lit exhibition of
figures in the midst of alternately sexual and cannibalistic revelries, were
somewhat less welcome.
I later went on a quest to find a battery for my portable suitcase weight, for my weight died and I had no way of telling whether my luggage weighed thirty-five kilograms or fifty. Nic recommended a store where I was indeed able to find the right battery, and I picked up two screwdrivers just in case. It later turned out these were completely unnecessary, but I learned a wonderful new phrase from Nic during the process: “righty tighty, lefty loosey.” After my stop at the shop, I made my way down to NTU one last time, and I finished decoding the Heart Sutra at Nic’s new apartment. In the evening, we went to watch Eli perform a five-minute stand-up routine at one of the greatest gatherings of westerners in Taipei – the Two Three Comedy Club.
Thursday was mostly an
administrative day for me, filled with the writing of letters and applications.
Dinner, however, was my last meal with Alison, Kayleigh, and Scott, so we
treated ourselves to a nice vegan dinner of curry, skewers, and suspiciously
delicious fake Beijing duck. We even hit two dessert places afterwards,
stopping by a cookie shop and a gelateria. I left Alison my guitar with the
understanding that she would treat it as though it were her own baby.
I spent the morning of
Friday, my final day in Taipei, trying to figure out the use of the respirator
my dad had ordered me from the internet. After an hour spent scouring various
online resources, I arrived at the conclusion that the respirator did indeed
offer some protection – not against viruses and bacteria but against organic
and inorganic vapours. I packed the respirator in my suitcase and decided to
wear two layers of masks.
Having completed the
checkout process, I made my way down the orange line to pick up an order of
numismatic memorabilia I had made for my dad. I circled the block to find a
bank, where I withdrew the exact amount of money I expected to need for the
rest of my time in Taipei: an inauspicious thirteen thousand NTD. It reminded
me of how I took the elevator in the morning – both of them were parked on the
thirteenth floor when I pressed the button. I swear I am not superstitious.
With the transaction
successfully done, I ate a leisurely lunch of fake chicken and fake fish with
Zach, after which we toured the rest of my metro red line bucket list: the Lin
An Tai Historical House and Museum and the National Revolutionary Martyrs’
Shrine. Just like the Lin Family Mansion and Garden in Banqiao, the Lin An Tai House
was surprisingly pretty. It is not large by any means, but has a number of
interesting features like strangely shaped portals and windows, and an oddly
pleasing penchant for red brick.
Without any extensive
planning, we arrived at the National Revolutionary Martyrs’ Shrine just in time
to see the changing of the guard. Clad in white, they walked from the main
building all the way to the gate, where they exchanged salutes for several
minutes with the two guards to be replaced. Sadly, it seems that because of
reconstruction, much of the inner area of the hall was inaccessible to the
general public. It was also at that time that I realised I had somehow lost my
public transportation card. I suppose that if, in the grant scheme of things,
this was supposed to happen at some point, the timing could not have been more
convenient, for I had reached a negative balance and I did not need it any
longer. Nevertheless, it made me sad, as my card had accompanied me for a whole
year and I had planned to stick it in my diary.
The day did not end
there, however, and in the evening I met up with Li, Adam, Eli, and Nic for one
last dinner. Much of the food was delicious, but the company was even better
(yes, I am flattering y’all because I know at least one of you will eventually
happen upon this post). Particularly heart-warming was Nic’s and Eli’s parting
gift of a book, in which they wrote me little goodbye notes. We spent an
inordinate length of time taking leave of each other.
Nevertheless, the time
of greatest emotional turmoil came during the last portion of the day. I
arrived at a practically empty airport, where the staff at the underused
check-in counters and shops almost matched the number of passengers. I could
not help taking pictures. I also found out my luggage was thirteen kilograms
over the limit, so I jettisoned a few disliked textbooks and stuffed a few others
in my backpack. I still ended up paying around 12,000 NTD for exceeding the weight
limit, though. My journey home via Paris (featuring, of course, none other the
tenth circle of Hell also known as Charles de Gaulle airport), was perhaps the
most mundanely uncomfortable experience in my life – I kept worrying about my
mask, disinfecting my hands, and my eyes were completely red by the time I got
to Paris – both because of little sleep and because the combination of a mask
and goggles meant I was continually blowing air into my own face. In total, I
had spent a non-stop twenty-eight hours in two facemasks, one pair of goggles,
and lugging two overweight carry-ons across half the world.
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