Back on the Island (or, Vote me off, will ya?)

So, after way too many years of residence before, I'm back on the lovely island of Taiwan for about a month for business purposes which admittedly probably could be accomplished in a day or two (in the States) or maybe a week (here, assuming that various and sundry laws and regulations have probably changed and who knows what documents I'll need to produce.)

There are a lot of really big, really shiny, really new buildings around. Heck, I remember when the Taipower Building on Roosevelt Road was the tallest thing on the whole island -- what is it, 13 floors I think? It's still there as far as I know, but I'm sure it's feeling a bit inferior these days.

The weather is immediately cooperating in reminding me why no one wants to be here in May: the "plum rains" are at it as usual. It alternately dripped and poured all day, only letting up about seven or eight in the evening. Of course this means that one Needs An Umbrella Now, which in turn means dropping NT$199 at 7-11, instead of sensibly getting one at a mom-and-pop store for about half that much. But rain has a way of getting your attention if you're being deluged with it.

Of course the locals already had appropriate raingear deployed:


I got in about 5:30 in the morning, and was in Taipei by 8:00 (the intervening time having been gobbled up by Immigration formalities, nodding to the nice Customs agents as I breezed by without opening my luggage, finding the highway bus office, perversely speaking Taiwanese to buy the ticket (down that way, they don't even blink, which is nice for a change!) and then riding the big green bus through Nankang on the way to the highway north. Nankang certainly isn't up to much. In fact, the only reason anyone took that bus was that a) it was discounted and b) there wasn't another one that didn't go through Nankang until around 9:00. That's marketing you can't fail to listen to.

Having called the hostel owner from the airport, as the Web site asked, naturally no one was there when I showed up on time as arranged. I waited for about half an hour and finally called her again. Oh -- silly me -- I was supposed to go downstairs and find some Western guy I'd never heard of and wake him up to check me in. Once that was disclosed, things moved more quickly.

I had a meeting scheduled for 10:30 with the MA student for whose defense I am here, so there was just about time for breakfast before meeting her. At least the breakfast place I favor is still in business. You forget that soybean milk actually has flavor, living in the US.

The bulk of the day was spent wandering around the area near the train station, in hopes of getting a cell phone going. I have service on my T-Mobile phone from the US, but I can only imagine what the bill would look like if I used that over here, so my first stop was the FarEasTone office, where they quite efficiently relieved me of NT$500 (about $17) and presented me with a SIM card. I plopped it into my Treo and was good to go. Unfortunately none of the cell phone companies I've checked with has any clue that those who are in Taiwan for a short-term stay might just like mobile Internet -- all the GPRS modem plans require a two-year contract and have an early cancellation penalty the size of the disappearing Papua New Guinea diplomatic monies. (Which, for those of you who don't follow Taiwan politics, is a considerable sum, according to the papers.) So that is an issue that requires further consideration.

There are some new faces on the scene (at least new to me, compared to my last visit in 2006): Coldstone Creamery up by the train station (I've seen two thus far), a Mr. Donut right on Roosevelt Road, a Dunkin' Donuts on Chonghsiao W. Road. Scary stuff. The Big Mac index seems to be holding fairly steady at about $110 for a combo meal (no, I didn't eat there, but one has to keep abreast of economic developments, and I'll need pictures for class of course.)

I had forgotten how "special" I was when I lived in Taiwan. No, not short-bus special; I mean just having that little something extra that makes over-friendly locals who have actually set foot in the United States once feel that they should be my best friend, preferably in broken English. Any attempts to actually price a 3.5g wireless modem were cut short by one of this breed. You don't want to be mean to these folks, but how many times can I ask him what he just said before he figures out that his English is incomprehensible (and I taught English at a vocational high school here, which says something about what I normally can decipher).

After a trip back to the room for a bit of a rest, I headed over to the Shita Night Market area for some dinner around 8:30. Sadly, many of my favorite places to eat have finally given up. Many of them held on for a decade or more, so I can't really complain, but the loss of my favorite tiebanshao joint is something of a blow, not to mention the departure of the perennial "laoban" at the jiaozi stand on the corner. I was surprised that many of the employees in the places I did go to had not left (at least those who are older than college age) and actually recognized me, which is kind of scary if you think about it. Don't patronize a store for two years and then be met with "Long time since you've been in"?

The night market hasn't lost any of its popularity, judging from the crowds strolling through it. Just the place to get some spiffy new bra straps. Yes, that entire wall is covered with nothing but bra straps. Every color and pattern you could ever want. Strangely they did not seem to be doing a roaring trade. Maybe things pick up when the weather gets a bit hotter, or when the rain lets off. There were also the usual displays of clothing and jewelry, mostly hunkered in front of a tiny restaurant storefront on a strip of street maybe two feet wide, usually under the drip from the overhangs.

Other than that, business as usual. Crowded, mostly with students from the university. Here's the scene at the itinerant stuffed-animal vendor. Since most folks who sell things on the street do not have a license to do so, they display their wares in folding cases that can be taken down rapidly, or on a simple piece of canvas with ties at all four corners. The minute the word is passed down the street that the police are going to stop by, the entire street clears of vendors within seconds as if by magic. Granted the cops don't try too hard to find them (one sweep of the alley next to the street would net enough fine income to keep the precinct in beer for a month) but the important thing was that they (looked like they) were doing their job.