Seoulmate

However insignificant it may seem, I must talk about splash-back. Splash-back has always been an interest of mine, and while I try to bring it up in conversation as often as possible, I know there may be a few of you out there asking, “what’s splash-back Ian, please do tell?”

Splash-back is an unfortunate event that strikes when you least expect it. Sometimes, when males relieve themselves some of the "output" can hit the urinal and splash-back at the emitter. It’s rather embarrassing, but sadly it’s a fact of life. Under normal conditions it’s a rarity in the urinating world, but in anormal Korea it happens all too often. The bane of my urinating existence has a name, and it is the Lavatron. The Lavatron, with it’s Epcot like sensors, gives a courtesy flush as you step up the urinal. It coats the urinal wall with a thin stream of water as you’re peeing so that your business rinses cleanly away and all but eliminates that distinct and unpleasant urine bouquet. On paper, it’s a wonderful idea, but while the hydrological lavatory engineers are patting themselves on the back for a job well done, splash-back rears its ugly and embarrassing head.


While the female readers will never experience (the thrill of) peeing into another stream of water, gender aside, one can image what happens when a high-powered stream of liquid comes in contact with another stream of liquid flowing perpendicular to the first stream. Of course the result is none other than our good friend splash-back. So whenever I urinate at the public facilities in Korea, I always stand an extra couple of inches back from the urinal. Typically when men go to the bathroom they stand at the urinal as if the inside of the porcelain has got the most important and personal secret to share with Mr. Johnson. Normally, I too encroach the urinal, but because I seem to be the only one in this country concerned about splash-back, I stand at a safe, yet socially unacceptable, hosing distance. I hope that the Koreans don’t think that I am trying to showoff or make them feel inadequate. There are few exceptions, almost all the urinals in the country, even the ones in the public parks, subway stations and government buildings, are equipped with the Lavatron. This is a wonderful amenity considering the government doesn’t offer any social programs or assistance to those in need, the minimum wage is around $3.50 an hour and the tap water isn’t safe to drink. Priorities I suppose. See, there you have it, even in a seemingly trivial rambling on splash-back there is a nugget of poignancy about Korea.


I assure you these ladies have nothing to do with splash-back or anything splash-back related. We met them two weekends ago in the hills at the north end of Seoul. We couldn't help but fall in love with them.

This past weekend Kelly, an English co-teacher, and I travelled to Seoraksan – I returning for a second time and her for her first – to take in the beauty and fresh air. Kelly and I enjoy taking in the Korean culture and sights and so we’ve quickly become very compatible travelling companions.



Four of these cats were guarding the front of this particular temple. If I had to hazard a guess they probably ward off bad spirits. I asked the four of them, but it seems they don't speak English because I didn't get any response.


As a bit of a hiker here in Korea, I’ve noticed that this country doesn’t use switchbacks. Most other places I’ve been to have trails that traverse fro and to so that climbing to the top of a mountain is more manageable. In Korea that doesn’t seem to be the case. If there is a mountain to climb, a deal to close, an education to get, a sidewalk to build, or a bakery to open, they head straight for their destination. If that means they have to put 808 stairs (as is the case in Seoraksan) inclined at 75 degrees (which one could argue takes away from the natural beauty) and head straight for the top, then that’s what they do. It should be noted that this isn’t really a complaint or a criticism, merely an observation. The switchback has it’s advantages and disadvantages; as does the direct, heart-attack inducing stairs that take you exactly where you want to go as efficiently as possible. I think this metaphor accurately encapsulates Koreans and their outlook on work and getting things accomplished.


If you look closely you can see the stairs in the middle of this giant rock. Just some of the 808.


Heundeulbawi (tottering rock) is a 16-tonne stone that was placed there by the hands of mother nature. Half the Korean population (24 million people) have tried to push this boulder. Sit and think about that.


Jane Fonda's "Buns of Steel" has nothing on this. And don't even get me started on Claudia Schiffer's "Cheeks of Iridium." These stairs are the ultimate workout.

The weekend was wonderful, but on the subway ride back to Sindaebangsamgeori Kelly and I received a detrimental piece of news. An American, co-teaching couple decided to pack their bags and return home without warning, or anytime to replace them. Another English teacher is missing in action. I guess the chilly weather that has just arrived literally gave them cold feet. If Koreans showed emotion you’d be able to see that our director is a little stressed out trying to fix things. Because of this little Dongjak SLP bump, things are a little hectic for everyone, and this entry has a few more photos and bit less writing. It’s okay though, Seoraksan can’t be justified with words.






With aching cupidity,

E-on teacher

P.S. Watch out for nuggets of poignancy, you never know where they may lurk.

P.P.S. If you ever come vis-a-vis with the Lavatron there is a way to outsmart the robot. Approach the urinal and walk away. Once the pre-flush has occurred, quickly jump in front. Before the Lavatron knows what hit it, you’re done your business; splash-back free.

P.P.P.S. For the record that says cupidity, not stupidity.

The Horse's Ear from the Horse's mouth

Let me preface this entry by posing a question. Has the person, or persons, who invented the coach bus and airplane seat ever sat in one for an extended period of time? After spending ample hours in these bucket chairs I have no choice but to conclude they have not. These people must have designed the chair, hit it rich and spent the rest of their days being supinely transported around on beds comforted by their own egos. I wonder if the designer, or designers, suffered from a chronic case of scolioisis and have a personal vendetta against the rest of us. Seriously, try and sleep in those things.

This past weekend was a cornucopia of Korean experiences: BBQ, soju, “service,” noreabang (karaoke), bus trips, traditional folk villages, markets, jjimjilbang (a Korean bathhouse, but not the type of bathhouse that is conjured up in the minds of the flower power generation), hiking and temples. That’s a lot to try and condense into one post, but I’ll do my best to be as pithy as possible.


After school on Friday night, two fellow co-workers and I ventured over to our favourite restaurant to enjoy some delicious Korean BBQ. The owner, Mr. Jeung, speaks quite a bit of English and is extremely cordial with Canadians. One of Mr. Jeung’s favourite things to do is sit down with his foreign customers, Skelly (Kelly), Mr. Chris and Mr. Ian, and enjoy shots of soju (which is a bit like vodka lite).

It is necessary to digress for a moment and explain how “service” works in this country. All restaurants owners in Korea know at least one english word, “service,” and if you show any sort of loyalty or spend more than about an hour in their establishment, then food and nibbles are on the house. It is also important to become familiar with the Korean drinking custom.

1. Never pour your own drink.
2. Once someone pours your drink you must finish it, and drink every last ounce because they may take your glass and turn it upside down over your head if you leave a drop behind.
3. If you see that someone else's glass is empty pour them a drink.
4. Refer to step 1. and repeat until necessary.


Needless to say, it didn't take long for the “service” to kick in. Meanwhile a Korean in-line skating team was celebrating a teammate's birthday. They looked like a good group of people and we decided to send them a celebratory bottle of soju (a 500 ml bottle of 25% alcohol costs around $1.75). Our simple gesture quickly became a fount for even more debauchery. Soon enough, we were sitting at the birthday table, enjoying cake and wine and talking about the beautiful coming together of our respective nations. Perhaps the United Nations should stop meeting at that silly building in New York and instead find a really big bar if we are to ever know One world. "So I says... Kofi Annan... but I want a cup right now." (Boutros Boutros-Golly this is a tough crowd). Afterwards, a drunk Mr. Jeung treated us to norebang, and we in return treated him to a pitch-perfect, mellifluous rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

I woke up the next morning, and for some unknown reason my head was rather painful. All my other co-workers had gone ATVing for the weekend and I decided to do some much needed and much desired solo-travelling. I hopped on a bus and headed to the town of Jeonju.


I assume that most of you have, at one point or another, heard the factoid that 90% of communication is non-verbal. Well, whoever came up with that statistic is full of poop and has obviously never taken a cab in Jeonju, Korea. If it wasn’t for my Lonely Planet I surely would have perished this weekend.


Thanks to LP, I found a tiny little room that would have even Gary Coleman saying “man, this room is tiny.” LP only led me astray once this weekend and it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I was trying to search for a nearby sauna so that I could relax and enjoy a good book. Eventually, a friendly man, named Shin-Bong Soo, who spoke a tiny bit of English, stopped and inquired about my ruffled brow. I said the word "jjimjilbang", and once he understood, he got on his phone and started calling around. Three minutes later he had the address and was telling me that we were going together.


I know that I’ve already talked about jjimjilbangs but, arguably, there’s nothing more perfect or ripe for blogging than naked Korean men and me (very arguably). I never realized it -- because the last time I was in one of these buildings I was a little tipsy -- but you have to be very comfortable with your naked self. You get off the elevator on the men’s floor and you are immediately confronted with bananas; not just one or two, but bunches of them. Men are just sitting in big leather chairs in nothing but their birthday suits, watching t.v. while other naked men are standing right beside them looking in the mirror and cleaning out their ears with q-tips. I tried to explain to Shin-Bong Soo how this would never be culturally accepted or common back home. Yet, in Korea this was just a normal, naked Saturday night. (I guess that's what happens when you don't have hockey night in Canada). Nobody’s eager to locate their clothes, or wrap a towel around their waist; it's such a huge contrast from our uncomfortable and homophobic culture back home. After about two hours, Shin-Bong Soo parted and I had the awkward pleasure of asking a nude stranger what floor the salt room was on. I am already a little apprehensive to talk to strangers, but I think asking naked, non-English speaking strangers takes the uncomfortable cake.


On Sunday, I travelled to Maisan Provincial Park, and visited one of the most stunning Buddhist temples (according to LP) in the country. Located at the base of two 650 m high stone peaks, which look like horses' ears, is Tapsa Pagoda Temple. The stone pagodas were arranged following the principles of yin and yang, and although they were piled up over 75 years ago, they have miraculously never crumbled or fallen and no concrete or cement has ever been used.







From my heart to yours,

Mr. Ian

Seoul Train

Again, it’s been a while since I last made a post, but rest assured that Hal Johnson and Joanne McLeod would be proud, for I have been keeping fit and having fun. Bert and his sister Gert would also be kosher, for I stayed alert and stayed safe. (To anyone who didn’t watch television at 4:00 in the afternoon in the 90's I apologize for the obscure references).

Two weekends ago I travelled with Dana, Mona and their South African friend Kaye to Seoraksan National Park, to enjoy the autumn foliage and crisp, fresh country air. We journeyed to a place called Osaek Hot Springs, with the intention of enjoying some hiking and relaxing in the natural, sulphuric baths. After enjoying some hiking, we learned that there weren’t any hot springs because of a major flood that hit the area in the summer. The name of the town was a bit deceiving and disheartening... although it wasn't nearly as disappointing as my trip to Lake Titicaca in Peru. And don’t even get me started about Intercourse, Pennsylvania... I suppose it was only fitting that I went to the Virgin Islands next.



The town of Osaek Hot Springs didn't have hot springs so we had to improvise. As the old saying goes, when life hands you a lemon, get in a bath tub with three super fun women.

The next morning we arose early, determined to scale the third highest mountain, Daecheongbong, in South Korea (1708 m). We were told that morning by our very amiable hostel host that we would be unable to climb the mountain. At first we were confused, but we soon discovered that he was questioning our climbing gear – track pants, running shoes and McMaster hoodies. Koreans take their hiking very serious and make it ostensible, nay, Koreans take everything very seriously and make all things ostensible and hiking is no exception. Every single person was dressed to the nines, many to the tens and some even to the elevens (which is the same as giving a 110% to getting dressed). Everyone wore “The North Face” this and “K2" that. All the Koreans had hiking poles, bullet-proof boots, ultra light drinking cups and that’s just to walk the dog in the park. I mean, if a Korean couple ever went on a romantic hiking getaway it wouldn’t surprise me one iota if they used North Face condoms. However, it must be said that the extremely difficult trail was crammed with literally thousands of people, the majority of whom were well into their forties, fifties and sixties. They all trudged to the top, proved that the tortoise really has some advice to offer and made North Americans look really torpid.




This past weekend I participated in an “Amazing Race” in Busan (all proceeds went to a local orphanage. It was altruism and adventure in one, or as I like to call it, adventruism, which is the best kind there is). Busan, population 4 million, is the second largest city in Korea, and is on the other side of the country from Seoul. It’s on the coast and has a beautiful combination of beaches, city, mountains, fishing port and industrial mega-centre. Four of us took the bullet train, which had a cruising speed around 290 km/h, across the country to our destination. It was an impressive ride that was so smooth I could have used the on-board toilets and peed on a dime, if I was so inclined.

On Saturday me and my partner, an English co-teacher from the school, ran all across Busan, performing various tasks, solving problems, taking photos in front of popular tourist attractions and throughly enjoying ourselves. As foreigners to the city we were quite satisfied with finishing 19th out of 42 teams.


Amazing was this race.


One of the challenges: get a random Korean stranger to be the third person in a human pyramid.

Later on that night the town of Busan, quite serendipitously, happened to be having it’s third annual fireworks show. This was definitely the most amazing displaying of blowing things up I have ever witnessed. Imagine George W. Bush saying, “Forget the war in Iraq. Let’s scrap the national defence budget. Instead we’ll show those evildoers how free we are by spending all that extra cash on fireworks. Nothing says American freedom like lighting a firecracker made in China.” If you can fathom that sort of spending then you have an idea of what this show was like. The grand finale made daylight seem like a day in the life of Andrea Bocelli.




Ka-boom!

Accompany me on all these travels was my Korean co-teacher’s stuffed, toy pig. I, with the help and abetment of some friends, captured her coveted swine and took pictures of it, a la the garden gnome, during the week to lighten the mood in the t-lounge (teacher’s lounge) and keep things more congenial. Like the villains in a James Bond flick, I feel compelled to share my diabolical undertaking for it’s as satisfying to share your brilliance as it is to execute it, perhaps even a little more. Enjoy!






Amorously,

Ion

You've been taughten

I realize it’s been a while since I last made a post. You see, a group of us have gotten hooked on The Office. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the sitcom, it’s like The Drew Carey Show only funny.

After doing some blog reflecting I’ve realized that I have written very little on my teaching experience thus far, which is very disproportionate seeing that it occupies about 45 hours of my week. You may be interested to know that the traditional Korean word for teacher, pronounced geyosa, originates from the hangeul language and roughly translates to, photocopying strumpet. In the teacher’s lounge I find myself always rushing to the photocopier and making a dozen xeroxes here and there. I feel like all I ever do is make copies. To ensure it doesn't become a boring task I always try and use the photocopier with the Korean touchpad, just incase some stranger is looking over my shoulder and getting very impressed with my understanding of the language (I’ve memorized all the buttons... shhhhh!).

Recently things have been going much better in the classroom. I still wish I didn’t have to spend so much time worrying about classroom management with the younger kids, but I suppose I too was obstreperous at that age. The worst is when you’re in a class with 10 unruly students and you have to get their attention. You ask for everyone to focus and that doesn’t work, so you start by saying the names of each student individually: “Jenny eyes up front please, Sarah paying attention okay?, Dylan, James, Edward can you stop that, Michael, Leslie, Olivia, Jessica sitting in your seat please, Annie, good.” And by the time you’ve said “Annie,” Jenny has now become distracted by her pencil case, Dylan is picking his nose and the name game is afoot all over again. But for all of the bad things there are an equal number of good things (that's so Buddhist). One of my favourite things about the younger classes occurs when I mention the word "partners."
“Okay, so now we’re going to get into partners and practice our speaking.” At this point, all the girls are waving across their desks and pointing back and forth at each other like they’ve got an unabating palsy. They're so excited they can no longer speak in sentences, all that stutters out of their mouths is "me, you, me, you, me, you, you, me, me." The girls are not to be outdone by the boys though. Many of the young lads have strong bonds with their partners as well. They'll turn to their friend and give them a bear hug so tight you’d need the jaws of life to pry them apart. It just might be the most adorable thing in the world. So sometimes, when I am feeling a little low because of classroom management problems, I like to announce that we will be getting into partners so I can observe this precious ritual. “Oh, actually no, we don’t need partners just yet, sorry everyone.” (But really I am not sorry....shhhh.)

I also have older students and the other day, in arguably the most advanced class in the school, I almost broke out in tears. I was checking their homework; they had to use the conjunctions (conjunkie-what-tees?), "but", "though", "where", "because", and "so", and make their own complex sentences. All of the students in this class have spent a year living in the United States and travelling the world (all six of these 12 year-olds have been to at least 4 different countries in the world, and they’ve all been to New York City, The Grand Canyon and California). One girl in this class tries so hard to complete her homework, and spends many more hours studying than her counterparts so that she can match her other classmates. She’s a lamb of a student, and is so polite and respectful. If she didn't worry so much about the self-imposed burden she put on herself, she'd be answering questions all of the time and reading so much more strongly. Anyway, I was reading through her conjunction homework and came across the following sentences, “I try so hard, but it never enough,” and then two sentences later, “I can’t run very fast because I am heavy.” I almost broke down in front of the class. I didn't feel like teaching for the rest of the day because I was so despondent. I was also upset at the utter cruelty and insanity of a world that makes someone – a 12 year old no less – feel this way. While this is a sad account, it does demonstrate my favourite part of the job. I love having aproximately 60 students with whom I get to slowly learn new traits and characteristics about each and everyday. It’s a great thing walking into the classroom, and challenging yourself to try to connect with each one of them and gain greater insights into who they are, and then trying to use that knowledge to make them better people and educate them.

Below are some photos of my recent weekend travels. Some of the pics were taken in Seoul and some are from a lantern festival in a town called Jinju, about four hours southeast of Seoul.



Silkworm larvae. A Korean delicacy that no one who isn't playing Survivor should ever think about eating.


It's always Survivor time for Horse. 24-7


The Korean way to leave your mark and say, "Mike was here." or "Sarah and Tony 4 ever."


What would happen if David Suzuki quit his day job.

Licentiously,

Me

Eclectic Entries

When you’re in a foreign country that’s similar to the one you come from in many ways, and yet so different in others, it’s the little things that begin to irk you. The other day I was shopping for soap in a store identical to those in North America. The soaps were easy to recognize by their characteristic boxes and shapes; the only difference was the fragrances. I was looking for an invigorating and manly bar – something that screamed shirtless man in Ireland, whittling away at green slabs of lye – and instead I found things like green tea, cucumber and charcoal. It’s the almost insignificant things like this that can ruin your day. I guess I shouldn’t complain though, it’s probably much harder for a Korean to shop for soap in North America. Can you imagine being confronted with bars that have names like Icy Blast, Ocean Surf, Arctic Mist, Fresh Rush and Aqua Sport? Those aren’t fragrances, they’re snippets of poetry. Poor immigrants, “Okay Minho, don’t panic, there’s a lot of choices, just relax and think: how would the cucumber soap play this one?”




Another little thing that gets to me here in Korea are the cookies. They taste the exact same, the only problem is, they’re individually wrapped. This is devastating to someone who’s used to eating oreos by the sleeve. I was surprised that Korea, a country which is quite environmentally conscious, would allow unneccessary packaging. While it’s bad for the environment, I must say, it’s been quite good for my waistline. Come to think of it, individually wrapped cookies might even be saving the world; coronary bypass surgery probably has a huge carbon footprint.


It must be said that not all these little Asian idiosyncrasies are bad. Koreans love to use cartoons to market things and this always makes my day a little brighter. This past weekend I stumbled across a condom vending machine that had elected to promote their product with cartoon condom characters. Carl the condom says, “Treasure your life, stop AIDS.” I think my favourite part of the composition is the couple canoodling at the base of the latex glove in the lower right corner. The guy giving a high-five to the condom is a pretty awesome touch too. I also enjoy the green, female looking condom. I don’t mean to generalize, but I think it’s safe to assume that no male would ever personify his condom as a female. I mean boats, cars and baseball gloves are obviously shes, but unless your French (because then it’s le condom), I can’t imagine a prophylactic sheath being thought of as female. Especially on the outside of a vending machine in a park bathroom.

This weekend I stayed in Seoul and spent some much needed time with my co-workers. On Saturday I decided to wander around the city and soak up some of the sights, sounds, smells and, most memorably, touches of the place I call home. After a bit of a hike I found myself walking through a market that wouldn’t pass a health inspection in North America. There weren’t many people around and besides the vendors I think I may have been the only person there. (I later discovered that a massive corporate department and grocery store had opened up in the neighbourhood, and all but ruined the once thriving bazaar). Each turn in the labyrinth like market revealed a more remote, grungier and intriguing part of the shopping area. After about an hour of exploring, I came across a small clothing stall that was selling zip-up hoodies. In this stall there were shirts hanging everywhere and clothes stacked to the roof, as there was in every clothing vendor at this market. Upon showing an interest in the merchandise, a friendly, 60 year-old, Korean man, bursting with gaiety, appeared from behind the hanging sweatshirts. He was very excited to see me, as business was slow, and asked me to come inside and peruse all of his goods. He looked up at me with his watermelon slice smile and said “bigger,” while gesturing with his hands that I was much taller than him. I corrected his English and said “Taller. Yes, I am much taller.” All the while, we were both sniggering because of the awkwardness and confusion. He then lightly grabbed my arm, pulled me closer and correctly said “taller.” At this point I thought he was trying to measure us “back to back” only “front to front.” It seemed like a plausible scenario although there was something a little awry; his hand was firmly on my butt and he was pressing me up against him. I stood there thinking that perhaps he was unaware of where his hand laid. I thought that he was probably just happy to see a foreigner that had managed to navigate his way this far into the market, and was being extremely friendly because... and that’s when his hand cupped my genitals. I politely declined, said "no, no, no, no," freed myself from his embrace and left.



Now it’s a bit of a shame that I tell this story, but it is the way of the blog and life in general. I’ve been helped, guided and directed by countless kind individuals while in this country. Why just this afternoon, a lady at the post office showed me the utmost kindness and civility, but her mannerisms are not worthy of note. Instead, it is the pejorative man who concaved my junk that is the tale to tell. Now whenever Seoul, or Asian street markets are mentioned you’ll all be quick to recall that someone you know got the Michael Jackson treatment while in a lonley stall.

With burning embers of desire,

Ian

Taiwan ROCked

For Chuseok, Korean Thanksgiving, me and four other SLP teachers left Korea, a country which technically is always at war with its next door neighbour and could conceivably be attacked by nuclear weapons at any moment, and headed for Taiwan, a country which is technically always at war with its next door neighbour and could conceivably be attacked by nuclear weapons at any moment. I am thinking Iran, or maybe Syria for my next vacation, although I wouldn’t want to rule out Venezuela completely.

To give everyone the cole’s notes, in 1949 the Nationalist Chinese government (KMT) and the Chinese Communist Party were involved in a civil war in mainland China. When the battle was over, about 2 million people, many of whom were military personnel, Nationalist politicos and business-persons, refuged to Taiwan and thought they’d give a little something called capitalism a shot. Communist China didn’t take too kindly to this and considered (and still do to this day) this part of their Republic a “renegade province.” Mainland China reserves the right to bring Taiwan under control by any means necessary, including militarily action, despite the fact that the Taiwanese have their own democratically held elections and are all but independent. Five days before we left for Taiwan, the county’s bid to have a seat in the UN was thwarted by the General Assembly. Wang Guangya, China’s full-time, permanent UN representative averred, “The Taiwan question is purely an internal affair of China... Although China is not yet united, the fact the both Taiwan and the mainland belong to one and the same China has never been changed.” (And you thought this blog was all hot dog toasters and espying naked Koreans in spas). Of course not an ounce of this crossed our minds as we took to the city of Taipei for five days; I think the photos and accompanying stories will attest to this, but that’s the recent history of this island.


Thanks Lonely Planet, you called it.


Taipei 101. (Three gold stars to anyone who can guess how many floors it is). The tallest skyscraper in the world, until Dubai and it's oil filthy hands complete their 152 story, 1853 foot building in 2008.
P.S. Come 2008: take a seat C.N. Tower


Longshan Temple. Thanks Buddha. Keep on keeping.

The first night was spent at The Source, one of the handful of gay clubs in the city, because we were assured by Frederick, a man who’s lifestyle takes him to these types of clubs often, that we would have a good time. I guess there was a little part of me that wondered what might happen if things got out of hand, uncomfortable and guys started to hit on me uncontrollably (hey you never know, it could happen). Apparently, I didn’t have to be concerned with too much propositioning because I was drinking beer and that’s got “straight” written all over it. Turns out that the club was all but empty because of the full moon holiday in Taipei, so we had the whole dance club to ourselves. We poured our own drinks, powered up the DJ equipment and took turns spinning our own private party until the wee hours of the morning.


Just bust a move. Is that boy in the blue shirt raising the roof? Oh dear.


This club had stripper poles all over the place and while I probably wouldn't be hired by the Chip'n'Dales, I think Spiderman might be giving me a shout sometime soon.

On the third day we woke up bright and early and headed to Taroko National Park to enjoy the Taroko Gorge. Upon arriving we rounded up 14 other tourists and hired two 12 seater vans to take us on a tour of the Park. Our tour guide charged us $600 TD (about $20 Canadian... and American (oh snap!)) each for 6 hours of van time, a tour of his jade and marble shop, lunch, which was served in the restaurant attached to his jade shop, and a ride back to the train station in his deluxe coach bus, which picked us up from his jade and marble shop / restaurant. (That capitalism stuff I mentioned earily is catching on in this country). When we arrived at the train station we were informed that there was only standing room left for all returning trains back to Taipei, so we bit the bullet and got ready for being erect. Before getting on the train we bought a deck of cards to help make the three hours more enjoyable. Our train car had a group of Taiwanese teens (who didn’t speak any English) and eventually I started to perform some magic for them. It was great to do card and coin tricks for them while bridging the language barrier.


Buddha's like McDonalds around here. If you need a Big Mac and a place to discover the Four Noble Truths then Taiwan is the place. A Buddhist temple deep in the heart of Taroko Park.


The Taroko Gorge and a perfect photo for the Outdoor Life Network.


A monument built to comemerate the 241 people who died building the scenic road along the gorge.


Posing for a photo with a fan of magic. The train was packed. It wasn't Mumbai, but one could definitely use a sardine simile if they felt like being banal.


I thought the museum was a tad boring. Apparently I wasn't the only one.


The Grand Hotel, once one of the 10 best hotels in all the world, certainly lived up to its name. When you're this big they call you Grand.


Treating ourselves to classy drinks in the lobby of the Grand Hotel. I decided to whet my whistle with a snifter of Johnnie Walker, the finest whiskey Scotland has to offer. When in Rome... right?

All in all, the trip was a terrific 5 days of fun, education and tourism. A wonderful group of us just became that much closer after our five days in Formosa (Portuguese for beautiful island).

UN for Taiwan. Peace forever.

With my all my heart,

Chief (and Hankie)