I can't believe it's not: 7-11

Summer Xpat

Download the full issue at:

http://www.xpatmag.com/

or

http://matt-gibson.org/

Favourite Billboard

One of my favourites, if only for the name of the business:
Pants Kingdom

Caption reads:
"Even the Biggest of birds can if in our pants."

Note:
"Bird" is a euphemism in Chinese for penis

Comparison

Taiwan — Population: 22,858,872 (July 2007 est.)

Australia — Population: 20,434,176 (July 2007 est.)

Taiwan — Area Total: 35,980 km²

Tasmania — Area Total: 90,758 km²

I Can't Believe it's not... "I Can't Believe it's not Butter"

Ma's Birthday Vid-e-card from Kaohsiung

East V. West

I did a "cultural awareness" workshop for work and came across this simple illustration of the key differences between east and west. It was produced by Chinese-born graphic designer / artist, who lives in Germany.

Click here to see the full set

Funky Frog Food

I've just got back from dinner with my students and had an experience that has to be shared.

These students, over the past month, have taken great pleasure in shouting me "2nd dinner" after class. They are always ordering stuff they think will make my stomach turn.

So far I have consistently disappointed them, by eating what ever they put in front of me.

The first week it was pig's blood pudding. That was nothing, it tastes a bit like liver.

Photo from Jas

The next week it was "four gods soup". Apparently all four gods take the form of intestines. Bah humbug, I had plenty of that in Thailand. They say it's good for you but it tastes as good as it sounds.

It was served as a side dish to a collection of delicacies including pig skin. I'm quite fond of pig skin - usually roasted and glazed with brown sugar; also known as "crackling". This pig skin however, seemed to have been boiled and reminded me of undercooked crackling. It was fine, the little hairs threw me a little though.

This week though it was frog. The direct translation from Taiwanese is "field chicken" which is pretty accurate, it tasted a lot like chicken.

It was just looking at the leg, dangling from the end of my chopsticks, that made me feel a bit cautious. All I could think of was "Kermit the Frog". The skin had this amazing colour: black with grey spots.

It was so... frog like.
You get that I suppose.

Anyway, it was another string to my culinary bow.
You never know until you give it a go.

Well, I have,
and if you don't want to:
the answer is - it tastes like chicken.

Quite tasty really.


Photo from here

Kaoliang - Local Fire-Water

Kaoliang jiu (literally "sorghum liquor") is a national drink in Taiwan but it is also popular on the mainland and in Korea. Made from fermented sorghum, it's a powerful spirit, which comes in percentages of 38 and 58; one the ladies and one for the gents.

It can be bought almost anywhere for as little as 150 NTD ($US 5) and is commonly drunk straight with a water chaser. In my experience it tastes like ethanol and gives you with the feeling that there's a hole being burnt in your stomach lining.

According to the Taiwan Tobacco and Liquor Corporation:

"The body is so full that drinkers feel mellow and sweet."

I've had it a few time and very rarely felt sweet afterwards.

Try it and see for yourself.

Perhaps this is the bio-fuel of the future. We'll see.

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?

Monkey Mountain

Yanshuei Firecracker Festival

When I was quite young, I was at a birthday party. At the dinner table some bastard child set off on of those damn party poppers that are shaped like a champagne bottle and shot out streamers right in my face.

Since then I’ve always had an intense and irrational response to loud bangs and explosions.

So heading to the Yanshuei Firecracker Festival might seem a bit unusual. However, it would have to be one of the best things I’ve done in Taiwan so far.

“...the county hosts a fireworks ceremony in front of the Guan Yu Temple and then circulates around the whole town for 2 days. On January 15 at 8:30 pm, the Yanshuei fireworks are gathered together and set off in the Yanshuei High School playground.”

-Tainan County Government Website

On the spur of the moment we decided to take the car up the expressway to the north of Tainan County for the fireworks festival. It was something distinctly Taiwanese and something you would not be able to do anywhere else in the world.

“It is said that the Yanshuei Fireworks started in July and August of the Guangsyu Emperor’s 11th year. Cholera was widespread in Yanshuei at that time. Because pre-modern medical care was inadequate, many people died. Residents were panic-stricken and prayed to the Guan Yu divinity to save them.”

In preparation we gathered the necessary safety wear.

“Though the Yanshuei Fireworks sometimes damages property and hurts people, this is not a good reason to ban this traditional folk activity.”

We found parking at an exorbitant price and wondered which way to go.

Follow the guys with helmets.

At 7.45 we passed through a road block and followed the crowds. We passed vendors and market stalls. The helmet, gloves and safety glasses merchants were doing a brisk trade.

As we passed, locals were setting the mood, launching fireworks outside their houses. The pedestrian traffic passed by without as much as blinking while I stood back fearing them ricocheting off nearby buildings.

The crowds built until we reached the main intersection between a police station and a 7-11 where thousands of people gathered in full mask motorbike helmets before a road block.

If everyone had been wearing the same colours it would have been scary, bringing back memories of riot police. As it stood however, they looked more like mismatched storm troopers at a Star Wars convention.

Levels of protection varied: from knee high children in shorts, sandals and tee shirts, young beetle nut chewers who only brought a rain jacket through to the hard core – young guys with super thick winter jackets and towels or foam padding taped to their helmets. Some chose to carry shields of clear plastic or cardboard.

We waited in the crowd about ten meters from the front to see what would happen.

The tension was building. Rockets and firecrackers were going off all over town. Bright, multi coloured, sulphurous lights casting shadows and silhouetting buildings.

“On the night of the Lantern Festival, the Guan Yu divinity ordered General Jhoucang to lead the way. The sedan chair of the divinity followed, with disciples behind it, setting off fireworks along the route. They went through the streets and alleys until dawn and drove away all the disease demons.”

At about 8.15 a giant, red float swung out from behind the road block, the tops covered with rockets the size of rolled up editions of the Sunday Times.

A huge “Wahhhhhaaooooo” came up from the crowd.

A man on top the float took off the covers and made preparations.

We looked up at the neighbouring buildings and saw faces crowed around the windows. The steps of the police station were a blanket of bike helmets.

Unfortunately my camera was running out of batteries so this is all the footage I managed to get:

What happened next was chaos.

At 8.30 some carts at the front started to rock back and forth as though possessed. There was a swak swak swak of thousands of face masks coming down on helmets.

A wave of tension and anticipation swept through the crowd.

The carts shook more violently and it was on...

It began with firecrackers

pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop

Then the bottle rockets fired directly out at the crowd.

swoop crack swoop swoop crack swoop crack swoop swoop crack swoop crack crack crack

I ducked as they sprayed out across the sea of helmets leaving trails of sparks.

They were coming from every where: over the tops of people’s heads, off the tops of people’s heads bouncing off buildings and scooting across the ground.

Exploding next to your head and right at your feet

The adrenalin raced, the heart pounded, screams from all directions

Then the big rockets of the top of the float went up -streaks of colour through the smoke and mist from inside the helmet’s visor.

It lasted maybe two minutes.

As soon as it stopped the crowd was on the move. The carts, maybe four or five of them, followed by an ambulance and a fire-engine moved down the street to our left. We were swept along in the crush.

One thing that Taiwanese people are good at, it’s getting ahead of the pack. There was pushing and jostling through to the next stop: a school.

We found a place in the throng and waited; maybe ten or fifteen minutes and it stared again:

Carts rocking violently

Visors snapped

“Wahhhhhaaooooo”

pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop

swoop crack swoop swoop crack swoop crack swoop swoop crack swoop crack crack crack

Rockets lighting up the night sky

R caught one on the leg. That would leave a mark. Another pinged off her helmet.

I was too busy holding up small children to deflect the fiery onslaught

Then the carts, pulled by ultra protected faithful, were off again. As they passed I managed to get a peek inside, through their Perspex shields. It looked like some sort of golden deity but it was hard to make out.

We followed them up until they stopped outside a temple.

Across the street a string of fountain fireworks were lit and the sparks poured down on the crowd for about ten minutes.

All over town a myriad of coloured flowers filled the sky. Screams and plumes of smoke came other centres where attacks on the disease demons were taking place.

More carts came up from behind and joined the ones at the centre of the crowd.

We waited.

And waited

All of a sudden a behemoth float came out from a side street (I later noticed it came straight out of a temple).

“Waaaahhhhhhhhaaaaaoooooooo”

Visors slapped down, carts rocked, people began jumping from foot to foot – a practice we soon learned to stop the rockets going off up your trouser leg.

Another float came from the other end.

We were trapped.

And it was on:

pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop poppop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop

swoop crack swoop swoop crack swoop crack swoop swoop crack swoop crack crack crack swoop crack swoop swoop crack swoop crack swoop swoop crack swoop crack crack crack crack crack crack

Rockets

When the rain of fire subsided we moved closer to the point of impact.

Outside the temple a group of young guys, jacked up on adrenalin, yelled at each other over their sudden deafness. They were hyped. The backs of their ski jackets were burnt and the foam padding was hanging out.

These guys were the avant-guard – the ones standing right at the front with their backs to the wall of bottle rockets.

We managed to get up and have a look at the float:

It was about three meters tall, six meters long and two meters wide. The first two meters of its height were racks where literally thousands bottle rockets - row upon row of them, all facing directly out into the crowd.

The ground was covered with rocket refuse. Your feet didn’t even touch the ground for the spent cartridges.

There were more screams from the crowd around the city and there were more people coming in as we decided to move off and find some dinner.

Heading back the way we came, less organised fireworks displays were happening in the streets.

In the middle of the road we came across three guys who had gathered a crowd. They had a string of those red firecrackers, maybe about six meters long. The guy in the middle wrapped it around his neck. The other two held the ends out to his left and right.

They lit the end of the firecrackers. He span around.

pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop

Crazy bastard!

As we sat down at a street vendors stall to enjoy peppery noodles on a sizzling hotplate with a cracked egg and big lump of pork, we reflected on the experience:

Exciting more than fun but definitely a buzz

As I say, it would have to be one of the best things I’ve done in Taiwan....

...so far.

Chinese New Year Break

The beginning of a new lunar year is the biggest holiday on the Taiwanese / Chinese calendar. It’s Christmas, Ramadan and New Year’s all rolled into one.

More importantly, its six days paid vacation – Wednesday February 6 to Monday the 11th.

We could have stayed in town and had a cultural experience joining the locals for a family dinner, exchanging red envelopes (filled with cash) and lighting firecrackers to scare away the “Nien” (year) monster; but instead we decided to head out of town and get back to nature.

As much as I love the vibrancy of the city, I miss the trees, fresh air and stars. So we loaded up the car after work on Tuesday night and hit the road under the cover of darkness to avoid the reportedly torrential traffic.

We were meeting up with L & N on Wednesday, who were already on holiday, relaxing on Green Island. So we thought we might get half way there and camp overnight at Shuanglio National Forest Recreation Area which lay on the winding, mountainous Highway 9 that linked the east and west of the Island.

When we arrived however the park locked and barred. Bastards!

Keep going or sleep in the car next to the busy road.

Keep going

The roads became more treacherous. Narrow passes with slow moving trucks, insane overtaking and our headlights left a lot to be desired.

We turned off onto the county road to Muden and pulled up.

Relaxing on the bonnet with a glass of red, we looked up at endless stars like dandruff on a black velvet jacket.

The red made the sleep in the back of the 1989 Rover Montego (aka Monte) a bit easier.

Wednesday

Surprisingly refreshed we woke and hit the road at eight.

The road descended from the mountains and headed north along the some rugged coast line next to turgid azure seas.

We arrived at Taitung where the ferries from Green Island get in and picked up L&N who regaled us with stories from the spit of volcanic land jutting out of the ocean where they’d spent the last week.

After lunch in town and a convoluted shopping expedition, we headed back down Highway 9 to the small hot spring town of Jhihben.

With a little help from the locals and out newly acquired piece of Chinese vocabulary “Lu-ing” (camping) we managed to find a good spot with a fire pit, concrete tent slabs and our own hot spring pool.

Notes on Taiwanese Camping

I’ve found that it’s not a common idea outside Western countries – the desire to go and sleep under canvas on cold ground with no TV or toilet facilities. In Taiwan it’s just cheap accommodation. When you do find a camp ground it usually has a toilet/shower block, a cafe/restaurant attached and some hard flat surface on which to put your tent.

We were the only people there. Our host kindly provided a stack of wood for the fire and would often pass by on his scooter intrigued by our cooking and drinking skills.

Taiwan Camping Fire Pit

The evening was spent in the sulphurous waters of the hot springs, where keeping your fluids up is recommended, which we managed to do, mainly with vodka and black label whiskey. The half bottle of Kaoliang (50% rice spirit) remained untouched at the bottom of the kitchen box.

Thursday

Wake, bake, breakfast, dry tents

Walk to the National Forest Recreation Area

Notes on Taiwanese National Forest Recreation Areas

Where I’m from, a National Park is somewhere nature is preserved. Here it is for nature to be tamed and to provide an area for families to come on weekends, relax and observe nature in the same way a security guard might observe a CCTV monitor – from the safety of a comfortable place far from anywhere danger may occur.

Shhh... Don't scare the deer!

So we wandered around the manicured gardens, along well laid concrete paths, down a wooden walkway to observe the waterfall and stopped at the hot spring pond to soak our tired feet (having walked a whole kilometre from our camp-site).

L&N having a soak in the hot springs

We were even granted an audience with a few local macaques who were observing us with a lot less interest than we were observing them. We didn’t manage to see the “restrictive games” however.

Restricted Games!

The game of "bestriding" is the standard action of the adult monkeys mating. Minority little monkeys also make rehearsals. Perhaps they are imitation or playing for fun, which is often seen in their daily life.

We stopped in town on our walk back for a hearty local lunch and some fireworks shopping.

We decided to head north with haste so we could make an early start on Hualien and the highlight of the trip - Toroko Gorge.

We crossed the Tropic of Capricorn and immediately noted a downturn in temperature.

There was a town noted in the guide book that boasted both camping and hot springs. The hope was to find another gem like the one we had just left.

Following the signs from the main road, we found a number of flash hotels brightly lit in the dim twilight – not what we were looking for. We asked for directions:

“Just down there.”

“Excellent!”

“Oh tents”

We sent L off to investigate.

Someone’s family gathering – bugger

More directions:

“Over the main road to the train station and turn right.”

Off we go.

More directions:

“You go down there, turn left, see a police station and fuck off.”

“Sorry?”

“Yep just down there and fuck off.”

“Ok.”

Off we fucked.

At the 7-11 opposite the police station, more directions:

“Oh it’s about five minutes down the road; just follow me on my scooter.”

“Sweet”

We kept our distance.

I was having a waking nightmare about running her over.

Here it is... whoops of joy and delight!

We pull up next to a huge white concrete head which fronted a huge white concrete undercover area. Huge tents housed whole families under fluorescent lights where they cooked their noodles at marble counters.

We secured accommodation on small raised wooden platforms with steep A-frame roofs and power outlets. What was more exciting was the prospect of hot showers, dinner, scotch, fireworks and cards in the tent.

Friday

Up in Hualien we met up with Matt from Xpat mag. With some local connections we found ourselves seated in a flash little bistro off the main drag. Here we met Ryan who puts out a monthly magazine on the east coast called Highway 11. After a cheesy lunch and some networking we were off to the market for supplies.

To say the road to Toroko Gorge is steep, narrow and winding is an understatement. The track doesn’t just hug the mountain; it has full penetrative intercourse, slipping its length through tight, damp crevices carved into the rock.

Here I should insert some waxing lyrical about the impressive nature of the landscape – the towering mountains jutting into the clouds with the raging river below, the lush green vegetation and impressive rock formations but instead I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

Despite some crazy driving we arrived in one piece at Tiansiang. It’s at the heart of the gorge not far from more fabled hot springs which the river naturally carved from the rock.

After more detailed and incomprehensible directions, we stumbled across a true camping jewel: grassy tent areas, tables, benches, mountains views, overlooking a river (sealed off by a guard rail for your protection), a cafe next door with non-squat toilets and a fire pit. Luxury

We set up camp and had a couple of pre hot spring drinks, grabbed the bathers and headed up to town. On our arrival we were informed that the mythical hot springs had been demolished by a rock fall. Our disappointment was insurmountable, especially in the freakishly cold conditions.

Instead we stocked up on booze and takeaway to take back to camp where we sat by a dismal excuse for a fire before retiring to the self-generated warmth of the tent for a few rounds of (Extremely) Crazy Eights.

Saturday

Another hearty breakfast and off to the walking tracks.

We decided on the waterfall curtain walk which is about three k’s each way. Once again the pictures tell the story better than I can.

A bottle of Whizbee was purchased to keep the energy up and toward the end of the track we stopped for photos and beetle nut chewing.

On the way back a rather manky monkey sat by the side of the track to watch its cousins traipse past.

Greasy noodles were bought for a large late lunch and a couple of bottles of Chinese wine for the evening, before leaving Matt to the perils of the bus and returning to camp for to hunt for firewood and a siesta.

That night we were the envy of the campground with our roaring cave man fire... Ha ha barbarian make flame now!!

Notes on Chinese Wine

It’s not.

The wine was consumed despite refined viticultural sensibilities, followed by the Sang Som Pi Si had brought from Thailand but the line was drawn at the Kaoliang, which remained at the bottom of the food box.

Sunday

It was decided to head back to K-town with a brief stop at Sun Moon Lake so we could have a day of recovery before returning to work.

Now there are three ways we could get back:

1. Head all the way back the way we came,

2. Head all the way across the top of the island through Taipei and then back down, or

3. take the cross Island Highway 8 which is the fastest and our preferred route

Heading off we found we noticed the fuel gauge – redlining. Bugger - There was no going back. Town after town we found not a hint of petrol. My only hope was that we would run out on the other side of the mountain and be able to roll back to civilization.

It wasn’t to be, the road just went up and up and up. Clumps of snow began to make appearances by the sides of the road. It was a sign.

It was looking grim until we rounded one corner and there, like a shining oasis in the desert of mountains, lay... a CPC gas station.

“Fill ‘er up.”

We feasted on (Taiwan’s worst) tea eggs and noodle soup.

Cars coming the other way featured lumps of snow on their bonnets shaped to resemble snow men.

Another sign

We continued stopping occasionally to marvel at the snow capped peaks.

The road continued to rise.

When we reached the turn off for the cross island highway we were confronted with a road sign blocking our entrance. There were pictures of snow chains and other ominous signs. Asking the locals:

“Ah, steep, winding roads, very dangerous!”

“Bah, humbug – there’s no going back now.”

We forged ahead.

The road went up and up and up. Now the snow was gaining a monopoly of the road sides.

Soon we found a convoy of cars parked by the side of the road next to an information booth and a copper guarding a road block – we drove up to him. He took one look at Monte and waved us into the car park.

At the information centre we were informed that we needed snow chains to continue. They cost 3 000NT and they would fit them for 300. The nice lady even made us up a little sign:

I want buy snow chains

We pooled our funds and found we had a total of 1900 in notes and change. Strangely enough there weren’t any ATMs for miles. There was no going back however.

We dispatched the ladies to solicit the requisite hardware while I decided it was time to dig out some socks.

The snow chain merchants were not having a bar of it. There was bargaining, there were pleas for mercy – it took some time.

Eventually some nice chaps sold us their snow chains for all the money we had on us. They were even good enough to fit them for us, as even the Canadians in our party, had never seen them before.

We were off.

Monte didn’t like the new footwear.

It was like driving over the worst corrugated road, but we made it through the road block.

We stopped about 100m up the hill to check if they were fitted properly.

All seemed in order

It was a high rev hill start which sent sparks and road flying.

The engine complained and only moved less than walking place up the hill.

Everyone out

We made it another couple of hundred metres before it gave up on the next hill.

Like your chain smoking author here – the car was having trouble breathing.

We were stumped.

Luckily, a 4x4 transit van coming the other way pulled up beside us.

A woolly hat clad, beetle nut chewing pixie jumped down and looked at Monte.

He opened the bonnet and pulled out the air filter. Good thinking.

We powered up the hill with our new air-rich engine once again throwing road behind us.

There was not a speck of snow on the road and wondered why we bothered with these stupid chains that cost us our last brazoo.

We decided to keep them on just in case.

Good move in the end.

Soon the road was covered in ice and snow as it seemed to be frozen to the side of the mountain.

Steering around less cautious drivers was not helped by the snow nor the chains.

Eventually we came to one stretch of steep hill that Monte just refused to go up.

By the side of the road a family of Mongolian trolls stood and watched our efforts with contempt as, run after run, Monte slid back down.

After a while the moustachioed head troll came over and offered to pull us over the peak.

Very accommodating

2 000

Get fucked

Now there really was no going forward

and no going back

We kept trying.

Others were having the same problem.

Newer and better equipped cars than ours, were sliding around on the slope.

Four wheel drives that had never seen more action than the speed bumps of Taipei were struggling.

It would have been funny if we weren’t facing hyperthermia.

L continued to push up. One of the chains broke.

I walked ahead to do some reconnaissance.

The road went up and up and up.

There were cars abandoned and even a scooter frozen into the snow.

This did not look good.

Heading back down, looking into the fog I heard a sound.

A familiar sound

That was Monte’s 1.6 litre engine all right.

The mists parted and through came a 4x4 transit with Monte in tow.

They pulled up beside me and I jumped in.

“How did you swing this?”

“He said he’d do it for 1000 on the credit card.”

“Say what?”

Regardless we were off up the hill.

By the time we made it over the top we had bargained him down even further.

He agreed to accept our half bottle of Kaoliang as payment.

After unhooking the car he grabbed the bottle, jumped back in his cab and headed back off up the mountain to fleece some more flat-land folk.

Amazing!

Down the hill we went. Soon we stopped and took off the chains which remain to this day in the boot of the car as a souvenir of the trip.

The rest of the story is pretty mundane:

Breaks smoking as we went down the hill

Stopping for supplies and the car refusing to start

Locals helping us find a mechanic

Two hours stop to have the alternator replaced

A high speed drive down the ultra-modern expressway

Then back to the now chilly metropolis of Kaohsiung

A great trip all in all. What’s a holiday without a few trials, tribulations and a couple of near death experiences?

Not much of a trip if you ask me.