October Songs

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name. (From "A Vagabond Song" by Bliss Carman, Canadian poet [1861-1929])

October's at once my favorite and most dreaded month. I love its gold-drenched splendor even as I sorrow for the end of summer's pleasures and the onset of winter's privations. Since nomadic cultures have always enthralled me, Carman's lines came as a piquant surprise when I discovered his poem a couple of weeks ago. Most of what I've been watching and reading lately deals with wanderers; just now it's documentaries about the roving tribes of today's Rajasthan and the steppes of Central Asia, and memoirs by Himalayan explorers from Queen Victoria's time. Given such exotic reality, writing fiction has been difficult.

Others, however, have been spinning wondrous yarns, in particular my friend Ilana Teitelbaum (pen name Ilana C. Myer) whose debut epic fantasy Last Song Before Night is fresh off the presses and reaping richly-deserved critical acclaim. Synopsis and first chapters can be found here, and clicking the lovely cover links to Amazon.com. An enchanting world awaits.

Visions Of The Mystic East, Part One

Note: Click the photographs twice for the biggest view. Part Two is here.

I've been busy since my last entry. This was the most traveled summer I've had in a long time, and it started early. For three amazing weeks in May I drank in the extraordinary energy, spiritual depth, and pervasive civility that make Taiwan unique in the world. Enter the dragon...

The Taipei experience would certainly have been far less eventful had Hub and I not been fortunate enough to be shown the city by our friend T. C. Yuan of the Institute of Physics at Academia Sinica. Not only did T. C. introduce us to fascinating places and wonderful delicacies we'd otherwise never have known about, he did so with patience, charm, and stamina. Xie-xie ni, T. C.!

T. C. at the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Gardens.

Taipei is huge, with a vast population, but the principles of Confucianism and Buddhism go very deep. During the three weeks I was there, I noticed some surprising, extremely pleasant things about the city. First, there are no 'bad areas.' You can go anywhere in safety, any time of the day or night. The subways are marvels of pristine efficiency, and people actually line up politely to board. There's no homeless problem. Cars don't blast thump speakers, and graffiti doesn't seem to exist. Young people seem happy and purposeful. Education is highly esteemed, and courtesy is endemic. There's no custom of recreational drinking; public intoxication is virtually unknown. Children and the elderly are treated with touching kindness and respect. I hope none of these things ever change.

Because many people agree that one of the most memorable parts about travel to exotic places is the food, this entry will focus on the cuisine of Taipei, and the ways and places I enjoyed it. I'll be posting a second entry later about Taipei's many other fascinations, and some sights outside the city.

Since the climate's hot and muggy, people like to go out in the evening when things cool off, and they throng the night markets, which are another of Taipei's notable features. Eating is a popular activity, as can be seen from this picture taken at Taipei's biggest such market, Shihlin.

Above, traditional night market cuisine. Although I sampled and enjoyed many of the wares, I have to admit I never tried one of the most touted offerings, stinky tofu; I couldn't manage to get close enough to taste it. Seriously, it's got a pong you can detect a block away, but braver souls than I insist it's delicious. Maybe next time...

Night market fruit. Taiwan is famed for its fruit, and this particular stall had some of the best I've ever tasted. I particularly recall the melt-in-your-mouth mangoes; the fragile yangmei berries that I'd never seen before, dearly love, and can't get in the U.S. because they don't travel well; and the crunchy, juicy wax apples that deserve a much more appetizing name. I'm sure I'll eventually learn to savor durian; Hub adored it.

Culinary adventures:

One of Taipei's thousands of hard-working independent food vendors. Sidewalks are crowded with stalls selling all kinds of food and drink, from early morning until into the wee hours.

Another takeaway stall, at a covered morning market.These do a brisk trade until the lunch rush ends, after which they shut up shop. Morning markets sell everything from food to clothing to housewares to jade jewelry, at bargain prices. I had an enthralling time exploring them, and although I was always the only Westerner there, no one seemed to notice save to smile in welcome.

A visit to world-famous Din Tai Fung is de rigeur for any Taipei stay. In the steamer are the restaurant's signature delicacy, crab roe dumplings; T. C. has just enjoyed one of them. The restaurant features charming waitresses in crisp uniforms, and a big window on the kitchen lets you admire the impeccable skill that goes into making those little gems of edible art.

Pearl tea (or bubble tea) is a uniquely Taiwanese beverage: a tall cup of sweet cold milky matcha (there are variants, but matcha was my favorite) with a thick layer of pearl tapioca at the bottom, black from previous simmering in caramelized sugar. A wide-gauge plastic straw allows the tapioca to be slurped up along with the drink. It's addictively delicious, and oh, how I miss it. My favorite purveyor was Ten Ren, a chain of tea shops where you can be treated free of charge to a gracious ceremonial tasting of rare island Oolongs in delicate porcelain cups.

Food becomes art with the exquisitely fresh offerings at Farm To Table, a dining experience where ambiance combined with food in perfect harmony.

At a busy Cantonese restaurant we'd never have found without T. C.'s expert guidance, we ended a delightful dinner with this rich, gorgeous cake, reputed to have been Madame Chiang-kai Shek's favorite dessert.

*****

Most of our night market forays concluded with a visit to a temple. Used as I was to the spare, serene, unfrequented shrines of Japan, exploring Taiwan's places of worship was an adventure for the senses. I always came away dazzled by the gold and scarlet, my memories full of the murmur of chanting, the clatter of oracle blocks, the mingled fragrance of incense and jasmine, the riot of gods. Temples and other otherworldly venues will be the subject of my next post, which can be found here.
 
Xai jian for now,
 
CK
 
Note: All of the photographs, with the exception of the pearl tea image, were taken by me on my Canon PowerShot SX110.