Shrimpin...

Having been part of the planning for the consulate's Fourth of July party this year, I really didn't feel the need to celebrate the actual holiday. Being in Taiwan among the in-laws also played a role in putting a damper on any celebrations of American independence. Instead, my family and I observed the holiday by dining in a local vegetarian restaurant with a friend of the wife who came up from Yunlin County 雲林縣. As most vegetarians in Taiwan opt for that lifestyle out of religious rather than health reasons, many Taiwanese vegetarian restaurants disguise their offerings as meat dishes. The food was delicious, but didn't really conjure up images of softball games and barbeques in the park:

Not long after, we drove off with my brother-in-law and mother-in-law to visit the mausoleum where my father-in-law's ashes were interred.  On the way there, my in-laws stopped to have lunch; as I was already full of ersatz meat, I took a walk across the street. There I captured that iconic Taiwanese image: in Japan, you have the bullet train 新幹線 passing behind a rice field with Mt. Fuji 富士山 in the background; in Taiwan, you have the high-speed train whizzing by a farmhouse made of corrugated metal:

Following lunch, we went to the mausoleum and paid our respects. There was a moment of embarrassment when my daughter turned out to be only one who remembered where on the fourth floor the interred ashes were located:

Filial piety observed, Amber, Pamela and I ventured into downtown Fengyuan 豐原, taking a nostalgic walk down Miaodong 廟東夜市, the district's most famous area, a narrow street filled with food stands:

Outside the Pacific Department Store, Taiwan Beer 台灣啤酒 was promoting its newest product, a honey-flavored brew. My verdict: best to leave the lambic beers to the Belgians, who know what they're doing:

After spending some time in the department store, we met up again with my brother-in-law, who took us to what can best be described as one of the quintessential Taiwanese experiences: shrimp fishing. Basically it means sitting around a murky pool with a fishing rod and some bait, and waiting for the shrimp lying within to bite. I'd always wanted to do this, but my wife would demur whenever I brought up the subject, saying those types of places were filled with gangsters and implying they were dangerous to visit. However, after learning that on a recent trip to Taiwan, Pamela and Amber had paid a visit to a shrimp fishing establishment and had a good time there, I insisted on being let in on the fun. And so I got to experience shrimp fishing for the first time. The clientele were on the rough side, but friendly, and the experience was fun, though after 3+ hours sitting around the pool fishing for captive shrimp, I'm pretty sure I've got it all out of my system:

Amber found a way to beat the heat and humidity of a July day in Taiwan by digging into a bowl of shaved ice:

We all had our moments of triumph when it came to hooking shrimp, although once snagged, I was left with the gruesome task of ripping off the crustaceans' biggest claws before removing the hooks from their mouths and placing them into a basket for safekeeping:

At the end of our allotted three hours, it was time to wash, salt and roast all the shrimp we'd caught - alive the entire time, of course (at least until the very end). An experience not for the squeamish:

While our shrimp were slowly roasting to their inevitably horrible deaths, Amber and I took a walk outside. Nearby was an old Japanese-era building that had been converted into a restaurant. We'd eaten there in the past; while the food wasn't spectacular, kudos go out for finding a way to preserve these attractive relics from the past:

Once the shrimp were done, we took them home, stopping at a restaurant specializing in chicken-and-rice dishes to pick up a few items to supplement our dinner. Fishing for shrimp at an indoor pool - it doesn't get any more Taiwanese than this. Pass the betel nut, please:

Taiwan, not Thailand

Niúròfàn 牛肉飯, an old favorite

It's been a busy past few weeks as our time here in Shànghăi 上海 winds down. Last week I completed my portion of my performance evaluation report, a highly stressful annual event that could be done in a much more efficient and simpler process were it not for the fact that I'm part of a vast government bureaucracy. The last few days were also spent sorting our possessions into groups of items traveling with us to the U.S.; goods that will be sent ahead to Washington, D.C., waiting for our arrival there in early September; those things (the majority, actually) that will go into storage in Europe, where they will greet us with open arms soon after we touch down in Vilnius, Lithuania next spring (if all goes according to plan, knock on wood etc); and finally the crap we've accumulated here but don't really need, and which can be given away or left behind. For much of this period I've been on my own here as the girls were in Taiwan spending time with the family there; however, over the Fourth of July weekend earlier this month, I did fly over to Formosa as well on what was essentially a quick "Nice to see you again-thanks for everything you've done-you're welcome to come see us in Vilnius anytime" visit. 

It was a short flight on Friday the 3rd from Shanghai Pudong International Airport 上海浦东国际机场 to Taichung Ching Chuan Kang Airport 臺中清泉崗機場 in Taichung 台中, where I was met by Pamela. After taking care of some insurance paperwork in Taichung, we reunited with Amber at her grandmother's home in Fengyuan 豐原. The three of us borrowed my brother-in-law's car and, with Amber's second cousin (and playmate) in tow, drove to Pamela's hometown of Xiluo (Siluo) 西螺 in Yunlin County 雲林縣. The main reason for the trip was to visit a couple of Taoist temples in order to pay respects to my father-in-law, who had died on Christmas Eve last year. I wasn't able to attend his funeral at that time (probably a blessing for all concerned, as Taiwanese funerals are long, elaborate affairs, and an ignorant foreigner would just have gotten in the way), so it was expected that I show some proper filial piety before we leave for the U.S. and (later) the Baltics. The first temple was called something or other, and was founded in 1644 according to a sign on one of the walls inside (though it doesn't appear the building itself is that old):

Amber and I followed Pamela as she made the rounds, incense sticks in hand, of the various altars, mimicking her bowing and praying motions, though my wife wasn't always so sure of the proper way of doing things, either. Like most Taoist temples, the temple was a blend of colors and statues that could hardly be described as subtle, but which here exuded an usually quiet aura of contemplation (Taoist temples can be cacophonous at times, reverberating to the sounds of gongs, firecrackers and chants):

With the first temple out of the way, we stopped by the house of Sister-in-law No. 2 to say hi and to drop off Amber's cousin, who proudly showed me the soap sculpture that Amber had gotten for her while we were in Thailand late last month. The girls later enjoyed a local snack (the name of which escapes me):

Then it was off to Fuxing Temple in Xiluo's "historic" downtown area (there are a couple of blocks of old buildings known as Yanping Old Street 延平老街, dating from the Japanese period, which fortunately haven't been re-branded yet as snack stands and souvenir shops catering to tourists, the sad fate of many other "old streets" throughout Taiwan). Despite all the times I've been to Xiluo, I hadn't really explored this temple, so while we went around with the joss sticks, I also took advantage of the opportunity to take some photos:

Fuxing Temple is one of the stops on the Dajia Mazu pilgrimage that takes place every spring. What was once a ramshackle procession through the central Taiwanese countryside has been elevated by bloggers and guidebook writers in recent years to the point that it has become a major religious "event", and local governments have worked hard to turn it into a sightseeing attraction (aka, the "Dajia Mazu Sightseeing Cultural Festival"). Fuxing Temple had its own souvenir counter to cash in on the devotion to Matsu 媽祖 (and, yes, I did purchase an amulet. Matsu be with you.):

Generally speaking, I'm not impressed with Taoism and Chinese folk religion 中國民間宗教. All religions are essentially amalgamations of rituals and superstitions, based around beliefs that one's fate in life is determined by magical beings, and Taoism is certainly no exception. What makes me especially uncomfortable about Taoism/Chinese folk religion in its modern form is its exclusionary appeal to people of Han Chinese ethnicity (other folks simply don't exist in the Chinese cosmological point of view). The tendency of believers to pray for material success and well-being to the exclusion of almost everything else is also risible; most of the world's other major religions at least pay lip service to the ideals of peace, love and goodwill to all men. On the other hand, you could make a case that Taoist followers are refreshingly honest when it comes to beseeching the gods for good fortune; unlike in certain other houses of worship, there's no certainly no whiff of hypocrisy in the air when you visit a temple. And I've always been impressed with the role that local temples play as community centers in Taiwan; in Fuxing Temple, kids were taking skating lessons in the courtyard, while inside, a group of teenagers paid their respects to Matsu, then stepped to the side, turned on some music and started practicing their dance moves. Try doing that in your local church, mosque or synagogue:

As we left town, we drove across the Xiluo Bridge 西螺大橋, at one time the longest in east Asia and still a great source of local pride. I've lost count of how many times I've visited Siluo, and on each occasion, I can't wait to leave. It's a typically drab Taiwanese town in most respects, with very little to do and a local population that doesn't see many non-Asian visitors and often reacts accordingly. Somehow, it's a popular spot among a small coterie of Western expat cycling enthusiasts. One of my resident American Facebook friends called Xiluo an "amazing place", a statement which I found to be equally amazing (assuming he wasn't being sarcastic). I think I understand the attraction, however: if you've been cycling for several hours in the featureless central Taiwanese countryside, passing a never-ending procession of small factories and the ugly concrete boxes that pass for houses in Taiwan, the red Xiluo Bridge and the town's small section of Japanese-era period buildings can seem wondrous in comparison with the crimes against aesthetics that constitute modern architecture in Taiwan. I'd wager, however, that few, if any, of these Taiwan-based avid cyclists would want (or could stand) to spend more than a weekend there:

Returning to Fengyuan sans my daughter's second cousin (safely back home in Xiluo), we ended my first day back in Taiwan by dining on life-shortening but taste bud-stimulating fried goodies from a favorite street stand:

As this day was primarily about honoring my father-in-law, I should point out that he was a good man who accepted me into his family, and who loved his granddaughter very much. His death late last year at around the age of 90 wasn't unexpected, but my wife still took it hard as she felt very close to him. In many ways, Pamela's family is a microcosm of Taiwan's postwar history: my father-in-law was one of those who had to flee with the Kuomintang 中國國民黨 to Taiwan from China at the end of the civil war, leaving behind a wife and children there. When it became clear that the KMT wasn't going to "retake the mainland" anytime soon, he married a local widow (my mother-in-law, of course) who had three children of her own. My wife was the sole product of their union, and she grew up in a bilingual household, speaking in Mandarin 國語 to her dad and using Taiwanese 台語 with the other members of the family. As a result, Pamela grew up with some serious identity issues, believing in "One China" (no doubt her father's influence), but at the same time (subconsciously) proud to be Taiwanese (she speaks Mandarin with the Taiwanese accent, and refers to herself as being Taiwanese when asked about her background). It's been interesting these past two years in Shanghai to see my wife slowly realize just how different the Taiwanese have become from their cousins in China (a pattern that's also being played out in Hong Kong). I'm looking forward to what effect (if any) living in Eastern Europe will have on the way she identifies herself. 

Full moon in Fengyuan

 

Thailand - Final days in Bangkok

From the laid-back beaches of Ko Samui to the frenzied streets of Bangkok: our last two days in Thailand were spent back in the capital. This time we stayed in the Siam Square area, which could be accessed from Suvarnabhumi International Airport via the Airport Rail Link and the elevated BTS, aka the Skytrain. This was the view from our room at the Evergreen Place hotel:

What to watch on TV?:

Vendors were conveniently located outside the hotel to take care of all our fried food needs:

Not far from our hotel was the Siam Paragon shopping mall, apparently one of Bangkok's swankiest. As in China, many of the shops were of the high-end luxury brand variety, but there was also a Kinokuniya bookstore, the view from which looked like this:

The food court in the basement was huge. Despite the temptation to go Japanese or Western, we stuck with the local cuisine, though afterward my daughter cajoled us into taking her to Swensen's ice cream for dessert:

Friday night traffic on Th Phayathai:

The next morning we walked from the hotel to a place I'd long wanted to see: the Jim Thompson House. Thompson was an American who settled in Bangkok after World War II, and soon established a successful business dealing in traditional Thai silk-woven textiles. One day in March 1967, Thompson went for a walk while vacationing in Malaysia's Cameron Highlands and was never seen again. The nature of his mysterious disappearance has led to a number of theories being put forth, from being eaten by a tiger to dying at the hands of the CIA due to his opposition to the Vietnam War (though why the U.S. government would want to eliminate a silk-trader in Bangkok has never been satisfactorily explained). 

But while the man's story is fascinating, it was his house that I wanted to see. Thompson was a collector of Asian art; he also collected traditional Thai homes, six houses made of teak from various regions of the country, that he had reassembled and combined on his property close to the Khlong Saen Saeb waterway to make one large, fascinating home. His house can be seen on a guided tour, and it's an absorbing sight, very Thai but with some Western touches like dining room tables and a chandelier which surprisingly harmonize with the more traditional setting. The rooms were tastefully decorated with the antiques (many of which were Burmese or Chinese) Thompson collected during his lifetime.  Going through the different parts of the house and walking the lush grounds, I cursed the man for stealing my ideal dream house way back in 1959 (when it first opened to the public for limited viewings). If you find yourself in Bangkok, be sure not to miss the Jim Thompson House:

In front of the house demonstrations of classical dance and silk weaving were being given:

My wife had expressed an interest in riding one of Bangkok's express boats (which in effect function as water-borne subways). The resulting stench from the churned up water after one passed by made her quickly change her mind, however:

Following a shopping excursion tracking down a Thai national soccer team jersey in the neighborhood around the National Stadium (surprisingly difficult but ultimately successful), we had lunch at a Korean restaurant. At this point, Pamela decided the air-conditioned comfort of our hotel room was preferable to spending more time in Bangkok's sticky weather, so Amber and I returned to Siam Paragon, where I rewarded my child's patience with having endured Buddhist temples earlier in our trip by treating her to an afternoon at Siam Ocean World:

Satisfied daughter in tow, I did some souvenir shopping before returning to the other parental unit back at the hotel:

Amber was delighted with the squid plush toy I bought for her at the aquarium (and which she named "Jim Thompson") while I modeled my new jersey:

Twice a day, at 8am and 6pm, Thai TV channels play a video of the national anthem. Most of the scenes glorify the military, followed by images of the revered royal family (Thailand is notorious for its lèse-majesté laws), and concludes with a group shot of the choir demonstrating the diversity of the Thai state:

An early evening swim in the hotel's outdoor swimming pool left Amber and I feeling refreshed. Mom, daughter and I then ventured out to eat at one of the nearby street-side restaurants, dining alfresco on the sidewalk for our final dinner in Thailand:

Pamela buys a snack under the watchful gaze of the king. As I'd like to visit the country again (and those aforementioned lèse-majesté laws are pretty draconian), I'll refrain from saying anything more:

While the girls returned to the hotel room to pack for the next day's morning departure, I took one final walk around, trying to soak up a little of Bangkok's frenetic atmosphere, like the night market on Th Phra Ram I road:

With much satisfaction and an almost equal amount of regret, we caught the Airport Rail Link back to Suvaranabhumi Airport:

27 years. That's how long it took to finally make it to Thailand, but the long wait was worth it. In many respects, I'm glad I did go at this point in my life, as a curmudgeonly cynic with wife and child in two. Had I traveled there as planned when I was much younger, I might've ended up like those expats I saw on Ko Samui (and that's not a bad thing!). The beaches, the culture, the food, the people - it's too easy to lapse into guidebookspeak at this point, but Thailand was an amazing place to visit. I'd like to go back for again - there's more of Bangkok to check out, as well as the World War II-related memorials of Kanchanaburi, the northern foothill city of Chiang Mai and some more of the country's beautiful islands, to name just a few of the highlights. And as for the even longer-term future, well, who knows?

From the Airport Rail Link on the way to Suvarnabhumi