The Taiwanese Roll | 好運連連

There is no happiness like that of being loved by your fellow-creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort.
Charlotte Bronte, “Jane Eyre”

In this chapter, I…

Hike an obscure mountain for a view of “Old” Taipei
Continue my streak of successful dates
Face the cultural differences between Asians and Israelis
Question the superiority of Japan
Resolve two ongoing mysteries
Alleviate my sleep problems
Grow emotional at an art museum
Party too much again
Reunite with a Taiwanese friend I met in Kakunodate
Experience a New Year’s feast
Wonder why Taiwan has been nothing but good to me

List of volunteers at the hostel:

Leeshy, 23, from Singapore. The only girl in the group
Bob, 24, a blue-eyed, blond-haired Russian construction worker from Michigan traveling Asia while home is too frozen for work
Ewan, 21, an aspiring architect from Bristol with a buzz cut, a deep voice, and a piercing look, like the rugged version of young Ewan McGregor
Jack, a twentysomething Brazilian from the US, tall and mellow “gentle giant” teaching English remotely while traveling the world
Brother Neal, 75, a dubious Taiwanese volunteer who we called Big Brother Neal

Table of Contents

1 February 2023
- Mt Jimnian-shan
2 February 2024
3 February 2024
4 February 2024

1 February 2023

14:54-15:01 Ximen station to Nanjing Fuxing station metro (Songshan-Xindian line), 15:07-15:21 transfer to Xihu station (Wunha line)
Jinmian-shan AKA Scissor Mountain – going up (30m)
Jinmian-shan AKA Scissor Mountain – peak (1.5h)
Jinmian-shan AKA Scissor Mountain – going down (20m)
18:03-18:16 Xihu station to Nanjing Fuxing station metro (Wunha line), 18:24-18:33 transfer to Ximen station (Songshan-Xindian line)

Last night, I’d taken melatonin at 2:30 after failing to doze off. This morning, I woke at 6:30. The infrequent buses to my hiking destination departed at either 8:30 (to start hiking at 10:00) or 9:30 (to start hiking at 11:40).

I couldn’t do it. My head hurt from fatigue; my legs felt heavy. I would collapse on the trail.

Today would probably be my last sunny day off, so I was looking forward for that. Yet I couldn’t fall back to sleep. What was wrong with me? Not only had I done so swiftly in the weeks before Taiwan, I’d even napped in the afternoons. Now, I was more exhausted, and more sleepless. Like my life before this trip.

At 8:00, I took melatonin. Yet again.

At 13:00, Bob woke me. The volunteers were about to eat lunch with the manager.

I joined them a groggy half hour later. It was a feast even grander than usual. Truffle and cream soup; black sesame steamed buns; vegetable gyoza; and hot pot.

I grabbed a piece of fresh lettuce. Leeshy gawked at me.

“We don’t eat this type of lettuce raw,” she said. “We put it in the soup.”

I gawked at her in return.

After this unexpectedly delicious lunch, I took the MRT to a nearby mountain, to take advantage of my day off.

Mt Jimnian-shan

Yesterday, I’d hiked the uber-popular Xiang-shan in southeast Taipei for a view of the “new” city, spearheaded by the 101. Today, Jianman-shan turned out to be the opposite: no signage, apart from those in Chinese pointing at temples; no foreigners; and a view of “Old” Taipei, with Shong-san airport in the foreground and the 101 in the background, from the northern outskirts.

The trail was half paved inside a forest. A lot of bird sounds and airplanes. Having failed to acquire a SIM card, I consulted my offline map and picked the right-hand trail to Zhuyue temple. At the next intersection, I turned left to Lunjian pagoda.

Then the fun part started: using ropes to rock climb. The ropes disappeared later on, when the trail got less steep. I jumped from boulder to boulder, until I made it to the summit.

A pile of exposed boulders on the edge of a cliff. Beautiful and breezy. It felt like a ball pit made of giant stones. A short yet exciting trail, accessible from the city, easily surmounted in an afternoon. Once again, a Seoul-filled déjà vu.

I stayed on the summit for 1.5 hours to soak up this view. Forests, boulders, buildings, airplanes flying over the 101 in the distance. Grey and misty, the sky was a shy blue.

Trails like this were a priceless advantage of Seoul and Taipei over Tokyo. One simply didn’t have rapid access to a variety of mountains with city views. Let alone mountains with thrilling rock climbing (Gwanak-san, Bukhan-san, and this one, to name a few).

Coming back to Tokyo knowing I might live here, I felt that at this point in my life, the world’s biggest metropolis was the right place for me.
“Sayonara, Yet Again” (23 January 2024)

Suddenly, I began to question this statement.

Tokyo fit my needs at this stage in my life. To not be lonely anymore, after Israel and England; and to become fluent in Japanese.

Yet the working culture was notoriously deadly; the yen was declining; and nature was not a day trip. Plus, there were too many people.

Taipei was cheaper, featured more nature, and the dating scene here was unsurpassed. No cruel working culture. No polite, indirect, polite veneer.

I’d always known exactly what I wanted out of life, and where. Suddenly, I felt bemused.

For my way down the mountain, I picked the Lane 136, Section 1, Huanshan Road trail, for a direct view of the setting sun. Yesterday, it had shone like a ball of plasma. Tonight, it resembled a sphere of magma. The sky was more orange than pink.

Crickets came to life as I descended the trail alone at dusk. The metro back home, as crowded as Tokyo’s, gave me my first rush hour in Taiwan. Somehow, it was still quiet.

In Japan, stations barked “DOORS CLOSING PLEASE BE CAREFUL STAND BEHIND THE YELLOW BRICK LINE DON’T MOVE DON’T BREATHE OR YOU WILL DIE.” Here, stations played soothing piano music.

In the evening, I met Ken, a 32-year-old guy with cropped hair, thick glasses, and a rare beard. We walked around Ximen as he gave me some recommendations. Why did every date so far in Taiwan go well? In Japan and Korea, there was no shortage of disasters.

I returned to my hostel at night. Sixty high school students had checked in, having come to Taipei for a field trip. A large group of them was sitting in the lobby. They were talking, eating, and drinking quietly.

The volunteers and I, sitting across the room, could not believe our ears.

“They’re so civilized,” I said.

“When my soccer team and I went out,” Bob said, “we trashed the whole place.”

No group of students from the West would’ve stayed this silent.

Today’s highlights: lunch at the hostel; rock climbing up Jinmian-shan; another beautiful sunset.

Stray observations:

A lot of pedestrian sidewalks in Old Taipei are actually road shoulders painted green, on streets too obsolete.
In stark contrast to metro seats, bus seats are tall and thickly padded – even the head rests.
Taiwanese homes come equipped with two front doors, for security. The outer one is made of steel.

2 February 2024

Israelis versus Asians

Another sleepless night. Hiking had worn me out even more, to no avail.

The sixty high schoolers checked out early in the morning. They’d made no noise throughout the night. Every single bed in the hostel’s four floors, apart from one bed, was to be changed today. In my floor, all the students had stripped their sheets.

Asian education.

Three days ago, on January 30, an Israeli guy and girl traveling the Far East after concluding their military service had checked out. They’d met two months ago in Laos, and decided to travel together.

Israeli people on their post-army big trip always did this. They met fellow Israelis through Facebook groups and banded together. My siblings had done the same in South America. I heard that Koreans did as well.

The girl had checked out in the early morning for her flight, while the guy had checked out during my shift. They’d decided to go on separate paths.

I’d gone to clean their room. Trash bags, old clothes, and a travel blanket had been discarded on the girl’s bed. Water bottles, dirty slippers. Guests at this hostel were asked to place their used slippers in a basket by the elevator, and strip their sheets upon check out.

“Did you forget to pack some stuff?” I’d asked the guy, who was lounging in the lobby.

After hearing about the mess, he’d sighed.

“She’s been doing this in every single accommodation,” he’d said.

He had felt so bad about it, that he helped me clean it. But not bad enough to prevent this situation to begin with.

At 13:30, after today’s shift, the manager made lunch. It was always hot pot with sausages and vegetables. I savored the dreamy truffles and broccoli soup instead. Staying at this hostel for free, scraping and battling giant duvets, and eating half of my meals for free: I felt grateful for this experience. The volunteers were fun to hang out with in the lobby, and the location was a gay chef’s kiss.

I decided to return here after sightseeing the south.

In the afternoon, with my muscles languid, my belly full, and my eyes stinging, I tried to nap. No luck. I’d deprived my body of sleep last week, so now it refused to grant me some.

Another Successful Date

In lieu of slumber, I went out with Heron, a 28-year-old local. He’d spent his life in New York and London, and recently moved to Taiwan for his PhD in military history.

“I’m Taiwanese, but locals say I’m not,” he said.

I could see why. His glasses, circular with a top bar, differed from the Asian thick, black rectangles or wiry ovals. His dress shirt and puffer vest were more Western than locals’ own version of Western clothes. And he had that rare, five o’clock shadow. Only the hair was the same: spiky and cropped.

We strolled at a park two minutes from my hostel, opposite Yanping S Road, where the remains of a Japanese temple stood. The random decision to meet there unleashed a gushing over topics only a couple of nerds could rave about.

Japanese temples and history; political theory; literature; Greek mythology. It was impossible to stick to one subject, as more and more common interests popped up.

He was intensely shy, nervous enough to babble and delve into the breadth of his immense knowledge in a manner of minutes.

That was at least how he, per his words, described his behavior. I was engrossed.

“It’s not often I meet someone who I can have these conversations with,” I said.

In our avid stroll, we stumbled upon Bopiliao Historical Block, one of the oldest areas of Taiwan, featuring restored buildings near Lungshan temple.

Then, we saw a vending cart with a man cooking rice puffs. Basically, the Far Eastern (and superior) version of popcorn. It tasted light and delicious, with just a hint of sweet. Heron treated me to a large bag, because I hadn’t brought my wallet.

He seemed as well-read as he was awkward. I wanted to continue talking for hours. But he had dinner plans.

Back at my hostel, I snacked on rice puffs and oyster omelet crisps with the volunteers. The Swiss guy from a few days ago came to say hi. He and Leeshy finally cleared an ongoing mystery.

A year and a half ago, Big Brother Neal had stayed here for two months without paying, because it was possible to self-check in. He’d lied to the manager about investing in real estate to pay her back – she’d found out his company hadn’t existed – and now acted as the night shift volunteer. He’d had a Swiss wife and a Japanese wife. Not only had he not paid the manager, he’d actually been borrowing money from her every week.

“So why doesn’t she ask one of us to do the night shift?” I asked.

“She probably sees this as compensation for the work he does,” Leeshy said.

Not to mention the fact that she was giving him a roof over his head. I grew even more appreciative of her.

As the evening progressed, Ewan and I discussed classic literature, such as Homer. A favorite subject of mine – yet I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to go out on a weekend. So at 23:00, I walked for ten minutes to a local bar.

Partying in Ximen

It was packed, with only other three foreigners around. Staff members were daring customers to do push-ups on a wooden pole. Those who rose to the challenge wore tank tops, to show off their muscles. I felt like I’d stumbled upon a gym.

Then I encountered another hurdle. I’d forgotten Asian guys went out in groups. How was I to talk to someone?

I approached a solo guy. He turned out to be a tourist from Hong Kong.

So I chatted to a couple of tourists from New York. They left at 1:00. I found myself sitting alone and passing the time on my phone. Taiwan didn’t feel so easy anymore.

I was about to leave at 1:30, when Walt appeared. We’d gone out last Saturday to a drag club.

It was nice to see a familiar face. He showed me another side to the club, where I stayed despite my fatigue, wanting the night to pick up. Last week had set the bar high.

An hour later, I left the bar satisfied and crossed bright yet quiet Ximen, hopeful that I would never have a bad outgoing in Taiwan.

Today’s highlights: lunch at the hostel; a geeky afternoon with Heron; rice puffs; the bar at night.

3 February 2024

18:30-18:40 NTU hospital station to Yuanshan station metro (Tamsui-Xinyi line)
Taipei Fine Arts Museum (1h)
20:35-20:55 Taipei Fine Arts Museum to Ximen station bus number 310
Bar @ Ximen

The New Taipei City Date

I fell asleep swiftly at 3:00 and woke at 12:00. My first good night’s sleep in Taiwan.

Another day off was wasted, however, by not visiting somewhere remote. Instead, I had breakfast and lunch at the hostel. In the afternoon, I went out with a twentysomething from New Taipei City who took me on his scooter to show me around Sanchong district, west of Tamsui River.

We raced through Zhongxiao Bridge and a stream of scooters. There were so many of them, that the lack of any bumping or accidents seemed like a marvel. The river glittered to my left and right. I wished I could’ve filmed us.

The view over Taipei was just as rewarding.

Taipei Fine Arts Museum

After this, I went with Ewan to the Taipei Fine Arts Museum. It was free on Saturday evenings.

We crossed the Expo Park. It wasn’t the hangout I’d been aiming for, when I’d invited him to join me, after realizing he also liked literature and art. He was listening to music the entire time.

Moreover, “Fine Arts” was a misleading name. This museum exhibited contemporary art. Dirt on a staircase and a hole in a wall; video art that seemed weird for the sake of being weird; mechanical arms operating in front of eerie screens with sounds of a malfunctioning TV.

What was artistic about a recording of a cheetah chasing prey? About canvases with a solid circle painted in the middle? Malevich had done this 100 years ago. Another video art showed a woman getting liquidated.

I liked a couple of dark rooms, one with neon psychedelic drawings, another with a black inflatable maze that seemed more horror-movie-playground than art.

Then I heard a song playing on a screen. “Moonlight Serenade” was the name of this adaptation of a classic film song called “Sayon Bell”. It was a sad torch song about a person confused by the emotions in their heart, unable to tell love and nervousness apart.

It moved me so much, that I recalled a key moment from Korea.

I took the bus back to my hostel, where I ate my pastries for dinner. The staff was throwing their daily, lively dinner party. A sad Korean song was playing. I looked up a translation of the lyrics to English. It was about an unrequited love. I wondered if I’d experience it someday.
“A Blue Day” (26 May 2023)

Then, on my last day in Korea, I’d written the following.

I mark the end of the Korean leg of my trip with my favourite Korean song: Waiting by Younha. The original version is fantastic (I’ve been listening to it for weeks on repeat), but it’s the acoustic version that I heard first, on May 26, while feeling lonely in Jeju Island.

The unofficial English translation I found online was so poignant, that I decided, back then, to make it my last song.

What didn’t go as planned, however, was the song gaining a new meaning for me. A couple of lines from the lyrics – I feel them now. I would like to understand the original version someday.
“Annyeonghi Gyeseyo” (2 August 2023)

Now, I wondered if I’d get to understand the serenade someday.

Partying in Ximen… Again

At 22:00, I went out with Rom, a 24-year-old guy. Wavy bangs, bespectacled, and smartly dressed. We walked to the same bar as yesterday, because Saturdays were supposed to be even wilder.

As soon as we entered, a Taiwanese guy not older than 18 or 19 was getting tied with ropes and hoisted into the air.

I doubted any venue in Japan or Korea could recreate that.

We grabbed drinks. The conversation flowed quite well. Around us, the packed bar was getting steamy. To my surprise, it was BDSM-themed.

I saw things one wasn’t supposed to see in public, including two guys who were chatting as casually as possible while being stark naked.

Near the end, I noticed a familiar face. A 41-year-old staff member from my hostel.

I wasn’t sure if I was imagining things, and if it was okay to greet him. At 2:00, I left, satisfied yet exhausted. Tonight had given me the craziness I’d wanted.

The next day, I learned that, at 3:00, while I was sleeping, the four volunteers had joined the staff member at the bar.

We could’ve gone out together. Pity.

Today’s highlights: the scooter ride to New Taipei City; the Fine Arts song; the bar with Rom at night.

4 February 2024

11:00-12:20 shift
Lunch @ noodles shop
14:36-14:39 Ximen station to CKS memorial hall station metro (Songshan-Xindian line)
CKS memorial hall (1h)
16:31-16:35 CKS memorial hall station to Ximen station metro (Songshan-Xindian line)
Early New Year’s dinner @ hostel

The Master of Energy Reunites with the Expert of Autumn

I slept well last night, dozing off rather quickly and waking only because of my alarm.

After a short shift (no cleaning, just making beds), I met Autumn, a Taiwanese friend from Donggang.

In late October, I’d stayed at a guesthouse in Kakunodate for a fortnight for free, after befriending the owner and seeking a place to crash because of the new war. Autumn had stayed there with his mom and sister. The day we’d met, we’d gone to bed late, unable to put a stop to our conversation. The next day, I’d joined his family in visiting Nyuto Onsen in peak foliage.

Based on my kanji, he’d dubbed me The Master of Energy. Based on his, I’d called him The Expert of Autumn. We’d stayed in touch ever since.

Today, he’d come to Taipei for a visit. We met outside Ximen station, incidentally his favorite area of Taipei as well. How good it felt to see him again, this time in his country! To have friendships that transcended geography. It was as if no time had passed.

We spoke both English and Japanese, taking advantage of the opportunity to practice the latter. I gifted him a rare matcha version of Kinoko no Yama, my favorite Japanese snack, unavailable at convenience stores. He gifted me two Donggang souvenirs, from him and his mom, who invited me to Donggang for New Year’s.

We wandered around Ximen in search of food. ‘Meatless’ posed quite the challenge. We found a small locals’ spot where we ate yang chun mian – simple noodles. When I tried to pay him back, he pretended to not understand English.

He was preparing for his working holiday in New Zealand starting next month. We were in a similar boat, only a year apart, escaping the countries we disliked to a culture as far away as possible. I hadn’t been to the East before this trip, nor had he been to the West.

During lunch, he unraveled the temple mystery for me. Jiaobei, or moon blocks, were Chinese crescent-shaped wooden divination tools people tossed on temple floors repeatedly in order to communicate with deities. They also used fortune sticks.

The yin side of the jiaobei was round, while the yang side was flat. A ‘flat plus round’ outcome meant yes; ‘flat and flat’ meant a displeased no; ‘round plus round’ meant the god was laughing. Worshippers who found themselves in a pickle tossed these again and again in the hope of receiving a positive answer, but until then – dismissal or laughter pointed at their misguidance. The problem wasn’t a non-positive answer. Humans simply needed to ask the right questions.

Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall

After lunch, we took the MRT to CKS memorial hall: a gorgeous, expansive plaza with the yellow, roofed National Theater and National Concert Hall on either side, that seemed like the most picturesque spot in town. In 2007, it was retitled Liberty Square, following the dismantlement of dictatorship in the 1990s.

This was Autumn’s favorite landmark in Taipei. Yet his sister disliked coming here.

“Some consider Chiang Kai-shek our Hitler,” he said, “because of 228. But he did fight communism. He’s a controversial figure.”

He explained that the beautiful, white gate featured five holes, per the tradition for an emperor’s tomb in China. The formidable sculpture of a seated CKS, a la Dr Sun Yat-sen, was visible all the way from outside the central hole.

We dashed up the 89 steps (Chiang’s age at the time of his death) to catch the hourly guard change. They put an even bigger show than in Dr Sun’s memorial hall. The floor was teeming with tourists, who obstructed my view.

Downstairs, inside the museum I listened to his explanations, instead of reading signs or documenting this information. I decided to return here in the future for a better look at the guards change and the galleries.

As a rightfully popular attraction not too far from Ximen, I understood why people came here to relax at the square. Today was particularly breathtaking, with a perfect blue sky, the white gate, yellow roofs, and well-maintained gardens. These colors were so vivid, that I felt like I was looking at an edited photo through VR glasses. It was one of the most attractive urban sites I’d seen.

We took the MRT back to Ximen, where we found his favorite street food snack – digua qiu, fried potato balls.

Lunar New Year’s Feast

After hanging out in the lobby of my hostel, the manager threw an early New Year’s feast for the staff, since Leeshy would leave before the actual date.

Unagi rice; entire shrimps; pork spring rolls; yam balls; lion head mushrooms; abalone; squid; vegetarian chicken; coconut water; beer; and salads like spinach and radish. I couldn’t possibly list every dish on the table, because, half of the time, I had no idea what I was putting in my mouth. This was usually the case in the Far East.

But I knew many of these were traditional New Year’s dishes, and I cherished my decision to come to Taiwan, to Ximen, to this hostel, and become the recipient of such delicacies and cordiality.

The whole time, the manager was snapping a gazillion photos of us (a habit of hers – her phone must hold the storage capacity of a supercomputer), and created an embarrassingly cute video of it.

After dinner, the volunteers and I played drinking card games – ride the bus, ring of fire, jack black. As I went to bed, a strangely auspicious realization hit me: I hadn’t had a single bad moment so far in Taiwan.

Neither disappointment in people, nor confrontation or trouble. I hadn’t had a moment to myself, either, because there was always someone who sought my company. Perhaps that was the explanation.

I was on a roll, and it felt so good, that it became suspicious. Something must go awry soon, I figured, as the final leg of my trip extended a ladder for me to cloud nine.

Today’s highlights: reuniting with Autumn; CKS memorial hall; fried potato balls; an early New Year’s feast.