Monday, 6 October 2008
Friday, 3 October 2008
A reason to drive carefully...
We drove down to Kenting yesterday and camped on BaiSha Beach. It’s by far the best beach I’ve seen in Taiwan. We left at noon and got there just before three.
The camp-site, where we had planned to stay, was trashed. Everything was gone. There was no one around so we decided to camp there anyway. After setting up, we headed off into town and had some dinner at a Thai place, then came back to the beach with supplies.
By seven the place was deserted. We drank rum on the beach, had a smoke, but it was too cold for swimming. Today we got up early – due to the daylight, and packed up the tent before heading back down to the beach.
The weather had cleared up and it looked pristine, so I hired an umbrella and Robyn lay in the sun. It was a good day for people watching. After lunch we decided to head home before it got too dark.
We stopped every hour to break up the driving. An hour and half into the drive, we were driving down a fairly busy section of highway when up ahead there was a terrific crash. Two bikes went flying across the road. Needless to say, we stopped to see if everyone was ok.
One slightly damaged ankle, possibly a broken nose and one guy with half his foot missing. I can’t get that image out of my head. All the skin off the top of his foot was hanging off to one side, exposing the bone and sinew below. It was like some thing from a horror movie.
It was a good ten to fifteen minutes until the ambulance arrived. R had the right idea and got him to lie down and relax. I really wanted to do something about the bleeding – but what could you do. I had sterile swabs – but there wasn’t enough for the whole foot. I considered a tourniquet – but the cops would be here soon and they would know the best course of action.
The best course of action was to wait for the ambulance, which the police officer did (when he arrived 5-10 minutes after the crash). He ignored the injured and just started directing traffic. I moved the two trashed bikes off the road. I couldn’t stand looking at that foot; I couldn’t stand doing nothing either, so I joined R chilling the dude out. He was taking it pretty well.
When the ambulance did arrive, they didn’t do anything but put him on a trolley, stick him in the van and drive off. I will never forget the look on the face of the ti-cur dude (Taiwanese version of a bogan/redneck). It looked as if he were going to cry with empathy.
I just felt ill with sympathy. As soon as the ambulance headed off, so did we: very, very carefully.
Friday, 12 September 2008
Swimming in Taiwan
Recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not going to die anytime soon. This is a mixed blessing. On one hand, being alive is a lot more fun than being dead (as far as we know anyway – the dead people I’ve met, never seem to be enjoying themselves). On the other hand, if you’ve made the decision that you are going to live, you should work towards ensuring that your life is going to have some sort of quality. For this reason, I’ve decided to exercise.
The other solution would be to give up the smoking, drinking and deep-fried foods. This is not an option in the short term. Exercise it is then.
I don’t like sports. Gyms are full of muscle-bound narcissists in tiny shorts. I have bad knees, so abhor running – if you ever see me running, follow me, as there’s something nasty coming. I’ve always enjoyed swimming though, so this is my exercise of choice.
The week I was born, a swimming pool was installed at my family home. There is some debate as to whether my siblings were more excited by me or the pool: the consensus lies with the pool. I’m told I could swim before I could walk, and even today, feel more at home in water than on land.
Growing up in Australia, where 90% of the population live near the ocean, swimming lessons are mandatory. There were school swimming competitions and Sunday mornings at the beach with the boogie-board.
It was interesting moving to Taiwan, another island nation, to find the majority of people I speak to can’t swim. I observed this in Thailand as well. There are swimming pools however, which are fairly well populated.
The first thing you notice about a Taiwanese swimming pool is the uniform. No boardies here: budgie smugglers, banana hammocks and dick slickers, as far as the eye can see; complimented by a compulsory, and usually matching, swim-cap.
It’s good to see people who are so comfortable with their bodies that they are willing to run around in their underwear. I’ve never been too much of a fan, but at the same time, I don’t have to look at myself. It’s either this, or die sooner rather than later.
Why the love of the leotard? One of my friends is convinced it’s for public hygiene: it keeps unwanted hair out of the filters. Fair enough for those of Asian decent. Personally, I have more hair on my face than most Taiwanese men have down their trunks, and the friend in question has more hair on his back, than could be found on the entire Taiwanese rugby team (if there was one).
Whatever. As with most stupid rules, I don’t make them, but I’ll follow them if it makes life easier. I donned the apparel and drove in. A quick 25 laps and…
…stop. A pair of legs in front of me. I stand up and see everyone is swimming breast stroke, at about one kilometre a day.
What can you do? I swam under them and kept going. Eventually, I developed a system of only choosing a lane with one other person then waiting for them to get half way towards me before taking off at a swift free-style. I make it to the end before they finish a length. Then I have a nice rest while they take their sweet time coming back towards me. Seeing the giant hairy foreigner streaking past them, is enough to make most Taiwanese people decide to swim elsewhere, and I get the lane to myself.
Breast-stroke seems universal, except for one group of chaps, who can occasionally be found doing bad butterfly impressions down the centre lane and creating miniature tsunamis that make it impossible for anyone else to use the pool.
At least they give it a bash. For most people, swimming is a mystery. “Spas” are quite popular though. I’ve spent many a hangover relaxing in the variously-coloured therapeutic pools and under massaging water jets at N-Spa. For a 250 NTD day pass they offer: an underused Olympic sized swimming pool, saunas, steam rooms, hot pools, cold pools, bubble seats and deck chairs.
Most people are there to sit in tepid pools of water, rather than to swim. Noticeably the elderly as well: is this why they live so long?
There is also a ubiquitous fear of the ocean. Every beach I’ve been to in Taiwan has signs saying: “No Swimming, Strong current”. This is true, it’s easy to get swept from shore, but with a few simple precautions there’s minimal danger. If you’re at a beach in Kaohsiung, you’re more at risk of heavy-metal poisoning.
God help you if there’s a life guard on duty and you go in past your knees. He will be riding his ATV across the sand, blowing his whistle, yelling and tossing his ciggie butt on the sand, quicker than you can say: “Littering is a crime you arse-hole!”.
This seems fine for most Taiwanese people. The concept of getting ready to get in the drink involves rolling up trouser legs. The braver souls can be seen inflating their adult-sized arm bands and floating devices, before venturing in to the waist.
We were recently on Green Island, which would have to rank in my top five places to visit in Taiwan. The snorkelling was amazing; such a plethora of tropical fish. Local tour operators run “snorkelling adventures”. It would have to be one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. Picture: 20-30 people wearing full-length wetsuits, booties, life-vests, masks, carrying life-preservers and being pulled over three meters of water on a rope by a tour guide. Hilarious.
The cultural fear of the ocean is deeply ingrained. Mazu, Goddess of the Sea, is one of the most popular deities on this tiny island. There’s about 1,000 temples dedicated to her worship. Right now we are in “ghost month” when spirits rise from the underworld. Anyone in the ocean is liable to pulled to a watery death.
Personally, I fear death by lack of exercise or execution for the murder of slow swimmers, rather than angry maritime ancestors. Either way, you have to die sometime. For now, I will keep up with the swimming, in the hope of extending my life just a little longer.
Sunday, 8 June 2008
Dragon Boat 08
Last year I gave you some background on the traditions of the Dragon Boat Festival.
This year, we've gone one better and can report from the inside, as a rower in a dragon boat team.
Getting it organised was easier said than done, our team were all foreigners, who are notoriously alcoholic and unreliable. Fortunately we had Rose to get it all together.
TECHNIQUE:
There are two types of dragon boat: one small and seek, the other large, cumbersome and colourful. The latter was the one we had. There are 22 people in a team with one person steering, one drumming and one to grab the flag.
First thing you need to do is get going. To do this you paddle quick, shallow and fast for twenty strokes or so. Then move into the long, deep, slow strokes, that take you to the finish. You pull with your back by leaning forward, not with your arms and in time with your team, dipping your oar as you hear the drum beat.TRAINING:
This began two weeks before the event. Down by the river the local government set up pontoons with all the boats moored alongside and a little marquee. We had about a dozen dates booked, but because of everyone's schedules, we never had a full compliment at any one session.
All sessions were scheduled for early morning (by Xpat standards) at ten, so there were many bleary eyes and weary limbs. We soldiered on as best we could.
Our usual hour training: pull the boat out, do a start and twenty strokes then rest for about five minutes. This would be repeated three or four times, then it was time to start heading back and go out for breakfast.
COMPETITION:
There was another team of foreigners sponsored by one of the local gyms. Their training began six weeks before the race and included running, rowing machine practice and getting started in the middle of the night (6am). These guys were seriously chasing the 300, 000 NTD in prize money.
Our team was sponsored by a local bar / bbq place and we were chasing the free beer at the end of the race.
Other teams chanted: Ji-yo, Ji-yo, Ji-yo (go, go, go)
We chanted: Pe-jo, Pe-jo, Pe-jo (beer, beer, beer)
Locals would stop and take pictures as we lackadaisically dragged our boat up and down the river.
LOVE RIVER:
The event took place on Love river, which didn't get its name because it is "Lovely". Not so much a river as a sewer, into which all the storm drains of the city expel their contents.
The fist week it wasn't so bad as the weather was hot and dry. Over the weekend though, the monsoon rains came and flushed out all the drains. It stank. It stank bad!
All manner of refuse was turning up. One story has it that a team in years past saw dead pig floating downstream. One wise guy thumped it with his paddle causing the bloated, gas filled corpse to explode and cover the team with the pig's grotesque contents. Nice.
RACE DAY:
We arrived early. Coffee-ed up and ready to go. We pegged out a spot in the shade next to some old dudes who thought we were the funniest thing in Taiwan since 1949.
Some of our listed rowers could make it so we had to round up some ringers to make up the numbers, some of whom, had never been in a boat before.
We lined up, ready to race and checked out the competition: the gym team, a foreigner team from the university and a group of geriatric Japanese. We were quietly confident of coming least fourth... in a race of four.
We pulled up to the starting blocks were the officials held us on long, hooked poles while a support craft floated around scooping up rubbish from the lanes. The banks for the river were full of onlookers. There was a brief discussion about the signals to start, which were all in Chinese. Wait for the gun and hit it. Easy.
Bang!
We were off, head down, short strokes 10, 20 then long and slow. Head down. Stay in time. We pulled out ahead of the Japanese... the rest is a bit of a blur.
Surprisingly we came third with a time of 3"55'. Even more surprising was that the Uni team beat the gym team. We were half way back to the pier by the time the geriatric Japanese grabbed the flag.
DRINKING:
Onto the most important part of the day: the cases of beer that our sponsors kindly delivered. That was it, more drinking and checking out the rest of the races... or so we thought.
We soon found out that, because we didn't come last, we were listed to race again at 7.00 pm. Tragic! The only thing to do was to keep drinking, so when we finished the beer, we headed for the pub where we spent most of the afternoon.
I wandered off down by the river to have a snooze and luckily woke in time for the next race.
SECOND RACE:
It was a different atmosphere at night. The neon lit up the banks of the river and all the boats had LED lights down the side. The water was inky black, a pleasant change from the usual poo-brown.
Once again we were lined up, paddles at the ready, the gun goes off and we make a dash.
There's shouting, something is wrong, we look around.
It took a few minutes for us to work out that the tiller man from another team had fallen in the drink, forfeiting their place and a restart was demanded. The guy who fell in the river, I'm sure made a full recovery but it would have been touch and go for a while.
So we turned around and started again. Once again, we came third which is pretty good out of a field of three. What was more impressive, was our time of 3"46'. After a full day's drinking we managed to shave 9 seconds off our time.
So there is the last tip for a dragon boat team... in your preparations, make sure you spend all day drinking before the event: increased stamina, raised blood sugar levels and anaesthesia.
What more do you need?
