My travel buddy took up an invitation to visit our lantern guide friend and her family. He was headed for the northern hills while I chose to spend a couple of nights south in Kaohsiung. Our plan is to rejoin each other at my new temporary home before we say goodbye to Taiwan and fly to Hong Kong. Here’s hoping for my solo travel muscle memory to return over the next couple of days? But I can’t leave Tainan without a final visit to the Scallion Pancake Lady. A decent way to start the day.
I made my way to the train station on an unusually warm morning. Two large water bottles and my two suitcases – problem was I had only two hands. The ordeal was nearly over, only two flights of stairs were between me and a comfortable train seat. Hot and sweaty, I was making groaning noises like a dog giving birth to a litter of pups with every step. Half way down the stairs my baggage strangely became lighter, the caffeine must have kicked in? I looked around to see an old lady lifting up one end of my large suitcase to help me get down the stairs.
The dream of that comfortable train seat evaporated unlike my sweat. It was standing room only with me trying to engage whatever core strength remained in my guts to remain upright until Kaohsiuing Station. The station itself was impressive. Modern design features included a reading library for the kids and the toilets had a map that showed which cubicles were in use. Redundant technology, that’s why they invented doors with the Vacany knob?
Rather than take a taxi to the hotel and wait around for hours to check in, I took advantage of the favourable weather to manufacture this into a long walk with food stops. There was one particular block where the footpaths were occupied by parked cars, outdoor dining or were non-existent due to greedy infrastructure. The only option was to play a real life game of Mario Kart in the traffic (anybody have a banana skin?). Once I was forced to line up for the lights on the road, my grid position was behind a scooter and in front of a family sedan. Needless to say the old gal in front made me eat her dust, my athleticism and the wonky wheels on my two suitcases were no match for her scooter.
My first pit-stop was taken as I was running low on fuel. It was nearing lunch and the line up for this place was starting to snake around the block, as everybody had heard that this Michellin awarded bao bar was worth risking sunstroke for. Four variations of bao – lean pork, medium fat pork, extra fatty pork and vegetarian – I ordered one of each. Three ladies working in such perfect harmony, the Taiwanese Army should study these woman and take notes. The bao were the size of my hand, more flat salad roll bun than small, doughy garden variety bao. Chilli and a sugary peanut concoction dusted on top of the pork for good measure. Found the nearest park to gather my senses and savour these. The “medium” was my personal favourite, mirroring the Goldilocks and the Three Bears fairytale.
Nearly two hours later I got to the hotel, one that reminded me of my days of internet dating. Me, rocking up all hot and sweaty, the hotel looking nothing like her pictures. A double garage sat under a large unit which was frozen in time, allowing you to recreate the mischief and excess of business travel in the 1970s. The long staircase had lights at the bottom that automatically shut off, prematurely. This left me stranded halfway up the staircase in total darkness trying to keep my balance whilst lugging two suitcases and with shoes that were disintegrating with every step.
The bedsheets covered up a stained mattress which had three different shades of bodily fluids, the faded red polka dot curtains weren’t a nod to the odd colour palette of yesteryear, they were simply old curtains with spots of blood. The remote control, which was connected to the bed by a cord, was illuminated in an electric green and doubled as the primary light source when the main lights decided to go on strike. The walls were covered in a variety of wallpaper, each pattern more jarring than the one that overlapped it.
The bathroom was the size of a large house, as it needed to accommodate a shower that could cater for at least seven people, and a spa bath that could house the same seven people and a toilet that could cater for one. For some reason there was a television in the spa that managed to tie the whole room together. The television screamed retro business trip – five channels that had reception, one business channel, one news and the others pornography.
The one bright spot, other than the glowing remote control, was the bakery at the end of the street. The only thing getting more use than the in-store tongs used to make your selection was my jaw. It was here that I was reunited with my friend who managed to navigate several buses and a couple of trains.
The next day breakfast was an uninspiring buffet of orphaned scraps in a bain marie. I managed to create something edible but when I got one of those dumplings caught in the throat it was debateable as to whether I had succeeded. Mood changed with a walk through the expansive park and a second squirrel sighting of the week. Ended at the cultural precinct where I was able to catch a train into the city from the ‘burbs to experience the hussle and bussle.
The train line ends at a dockside development which closely resembles Southbank in Brisbane. Art installations are scattered amongst eateries, souvenir shops and open green space. Whilst no art aficionado, the mosiac tap gave me a chuckle, unlike the red cat/lion thing which was more confronting. Art is supposed to make you ask questions, however the question isn’t meant to be, “Why has he got a growth on the end of his “fifth leg” in the shape of a face?” If you presented to a vet and asked for it be lanced the bill would be astronomical?
Normally the only souvenir I bring back into Australia is an overpriced fridge magnet. This time I thought I would make some extra effort after seeing the Wooderful Life flagship store. A sea of handmade wooden toys that will bring a smile to even the most grizzled of faces. After much deliberation I settled on a wooden calendar and a spinning music box featuring a capybara family saving water by bathing together. The first capybara in the history of the species that has been diagnosed with vertigo. If you are reading this and didn’t receive either of these don’t wait around for a present, you’re out of luck.
For our last supper in Taiwan there was only one choice, the 7-Eleven at the other end of the street from the hotel. Whilst drowning my rice dish in soy a stranger walked in and started up a conversation. One part drunk and one part stupid his attempts at English weren’t helped by alcohol fuelled slurring. Whilst friendly, I thought the best way to get rid of him was to move from my stool and head to the back of the store and hopefully get lost in the aisles. The problem with this scheme was I had to crouch and waddle in an effort to keep my head lower than the level of the shelving.
My friend feigned an important phonecall and watched on from outside. By the time I straightened my spine he had thankfully vanished. My Plan B was to offer him a taste of the yoghurt beer. One sip would have sent him running out of the store, spitting out his tastebuds. Plan C, a chopstick to the kidney?
The Kaohsiung Airport experience would have to be one of the most memorable that didn’t involve free alcohol from an airport lounge. The taxi was a pleasant ten minute ride, staff were friendly, vending machines selling drinks were cheaper than the corner stores and there were massages available for $10AUD for ten minutes. My friend decided to get a cheap massage while I stood transfixed at the automatic ramen vending machine.
Taiwan, you have been a wonderful host the last couple of weeks. I’m already planning a return trip. Countless calories and even more laughs. Given that I have officially hit middle age I have wonderful memories to last half a lifetime.
