Just a Drop in the Bucket, Honey
After a full day of touring around Hualien, I desperately needed a nap. I’d arranged to meet Zuzanne, the German girl from the Taroko Gorge tour, at the Hualien night market later that evening... so I had a little time to recharge before heading out again.
Yay! Nap time...
It was actually really nice to have someone to do something with. I’ve been a little bit starved for company since arriving in Asia. I know I complain endlessly about group tours... but it's a bit of a double-edged sword, these damn group tours, you know. Company is one reason I keep signing up for them. Sometimes you just need a little human interaction. Someone to talk to, someone to laugh with. Someone to share an experience with.
And every once in a while... you actually make a friend.
Anyway, Zuzanne and I met up at the night market, and as luck would have it, we also bumped into the Swiss couple from our tour too. Of all the places to run into each other, it happened at a little wonton soup stall tucked away amid the hustle and bustle of the market. The stall had caught my eye because they had vegan wonton soup on the menu. That was all the convincing I needed.
And OH. MY. GOODNESS.
I swear, it was the best wonton soup I've ever had. DELISH. One of those unexpected food discoveries. Tasty... flavourful... to-die-for...
Zuzanne was particularly excited about visiting the night market because someone had told her she absolutely had to try Taiwanese wine.
Taiwanese wine?
I’d never heard of such a thing in my life.
But now... I was intrigued.
We wandered around the stalls until we stumbled upon several little vendors offering wine samples. Well... naturally, we had to investigate. Who were we to turn down a perfectly good opportunity to sample some Taiwanese wine?
It would have been downright rude.
Our vendor was quite entertaining... although I’m not entirely sure he meant to be. Bless him, but I don't think wine sales were necessarily his calling in life. He (very) unenthusiastically introduced us to his selection of wines with descriptions that weren't exactly what you'd call persuasive.
"This one tastes like vinegar."
"That one is too sweet."
Right.
Nothing about delicate floral notes, fruity undertones or beautifully balanced flavours.
Still... regardless... I bought one. A sweet Taiwanese peach wine.
Was it wine? Well, technically, I suppose that’s what they were calling it. To me, it was much more like a fruit liqueur. Very liqueur-forward, sweet and fruity, and nothing I would ever personally classify as wine.
But who am I to judge?
Someone had recommended that I try those little candied fruit skewers you see at the night markets around here. I had absolutely no idea what they were called, but they looked interesting enough. And when in Taiwan…
Turns out they're called tanghulu.
The three of us girls each bought one. I went with strawberry, Zuzanne chose grape, and Linda, the Swiss girl, decided on candied tomatoes. Yes. Tomatoes covered in sugar. We all agreed they were pretty good... although I think my strawberries were the clear winner. Both girls eventually threw theirs away and helped me finish mine.
The fruit was covered in a hard, shiny sugar coating, and the whole skewer was wrapped in what looked like a thin layer of plastic. Naturally, we all started trying to peel it off... only for the girl selling them to explain that it was actually edible rice paper.
Anyway, I've tried tanghulu now. Another Taiwanese treat ticked off the list. It was good, but I can't say I'll be rushing out to buy another one anytime soon.
I came to Taiwan knowing absolutely nothing about its food or drink scene... and here I was, leaving the night market with a bottle of peach something-or-other wine, a belly full of the best vegan wonton soup I’ve ever tasted, and my first tanghulu experience under my belt.
Not a bad evening, really.
And really, that’s what I love about travelling.
Not a bad way to end the day at all.
On the way home, Zuzanne and I stopped at a little bar for a drink. She ordered a Moscow Mule, and I went with a margarita.
Big mistake.
I think it might have been the worst margarita I’ve ever had. It was so sour that drinking it was like biting directly into a lime. I actually had to ask for more simple syrup just to make it remotely drinkable. It was still marginal... even after all the sugar was added. After a few sips, Zuzanne and I started comparing our cocktails... and we concluded there might not have been any alcohol in either of them.
I think they forgot a pretty important ingredient.
I didn’t even finish mine... which... maybe says quite a lot about just how terrible it was.
Eventually, I made my way back to my hotel, and I cannot tell you how happy I was to discover that there was nobody outside shouting into a microphone. No endless announcements and no amplified voices keeping the entire neighbourhood awake.
Just peace and quiet.
Absolute bliss.
I fell asleep almost immediately.
Next stop: Kaohsiung.
The following morning, I caught the train to Kaohsiung. My hotel was only about 35 minutes from the train station, so I took the opportunity to enjoy the day... and a brief walk. There were no creepy religious processions... or terrifying costumed beasts waiting to greet me this time.
I only had one night in Kaohsiung, so I knew I had to make the most of my time. I’d already pinpointed a few places on my map that I wanted to see. I briefly considered a group tour, but after all the tours I’d been doing lately, I decided to give myself a break and explore on my own.
How difficult could it be?
I set off with my map, a few destinations in mind, and the determination to see as much of the city as possible. I ended up spending quite a bit of time wandering around Pier-2 Art Center, a creative district down by the waterfront. Once an industrial warehouse area, it's now filled with enormous art installations, colourful murals, quirky sculptures, galleries and all sorts of interesting little spaces.
It was such a cool area to explore.
Everywhere I turned, there seemed to be something else to look at. Some of the artwork was beautiful, some was fantastically strange... and other pieces left me wondering what on earth the artist had been thinking.
I loved the atmosphere.
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I was wandering, minding my own business… checking things out… taking photographs, when an older American gentleman approached me and began enthusiastically sharing all sorts of fascinating facts about fusing metal, railway equipment, and other train-related things I knew absolutely nothing about.
I wasn't particularly interested in learning... but I smiled and nodded politely.
He followed me around for a bit before eventually asking where I was from.
"Canada," I answered.
He looked genuinely disappointed. Brutal. Almost as though he'd been hoping to find a fellow American to spend the next hour discussing the finer points of Making America Great Again. I don't know. Maybe I'm being unfair.
Anyway, he quickly switched gears.
"What part of Canada?" he asked.
"Banff," I replied.
That opened up a whole new conversation. He immediately launched into a long story about visiting Jasper back in 1979. I told him that a lot had changed since then... and that both Banff and Jasper were very different places these days. He nodded knowingly.
"It's all gone now... I know," he said, confidently, though with a sombre tone.
Hmmm???
All gone????
I wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that.
He must have seen the confusion in my expression because he continued...
"It all burnt down."
Ummm... no.
I gently explained that while Jasper had suffered a devastating wildfire, the entire town hadn't actually burned entirely to the ground. But he wasn't particularly interested in my explanation. Instead, he launched into another little lecture about how Banff and Jasper were completely different because one was a town and the other was just a national park.
Ummm… again... no...
I politely pointed out that both Banff and Jasper are national parks... AND are both towns within those national parks.
He looked at me as though I was an absolute idiot.
"I'm pretty sure I'm right," he said.
Well... far be it from me to argue with a man who visited Jasper in 1979.
I tried again.
"Only parts of the town of Jasper burned down... and that was absolutely devastating. But the town of Banff is ok. It has not burned down."
He didn't seem particularly convinced. He stood there for a few seconds, apparently contemplating what I'd just told him. Then, completely out of the blue, he asked me how far apart Banff and Jasper were.
"About three hours," I replied.
THIS is where things got really weird. He actually SNORTED. He threw his head back, gave me this ridiculous, dismissive little laugh, and announced...
"Well, when you've travelled the world as many times as I have, three hours is just a drop in the bucket, honey."
And with that, he said, "Have a good night," turned around, and walked away. Just like that.
I stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.
What. The. Actual. F*ck???
How do I find these people???
After spending a good part of the day exploring Kaohsiung, I made my way back to the hotel, collected my luggage, and grabbed an Uber to the train station. My plan was simple enough. I'd drop my luggage into one of the storage lockers at the station and then head off to explore Lotus Pond, which was conveniently close by.
I found luggage lockers without much trouble, and everything seemed to be going according to plan. Except, of course, at these particular luggage lockers... There was one small problem. Every single one of the larger lockers was already taken. That left me with one of the smaller ones.
Naturally.
Even the simplest of plans needs a little complication. Now... did I, for even one second, think to venture off to find another luggage locker? No. And believe me, there were dozens of them. Sometimes when I get frustrated, I get tunnel vision...
There were very explicit instructions warning that absolutely nothing could extend beyond the yellow line inside the locker, or you might not be able to open it again. My bag was well beyond the yellow line.
I pushed, squished, rearranged, and generally persuaded my luggage to fit into a space it clearly had no business fitting into. Then I shut the door and took my chances.
Would I ever see my luggage again?
Well... that was a problem for future me….
Off I went to Lotus Pond.
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Lotus Pond is a beautiful lake famous for its colourful temples, elaborate pagodas and rather extraordinary dragon and tiger statues. Along the waterfront are some magnificent Taoist and Buddhist structures... decorated with intricate details, traditional Chinese architecture and enormous mythical creatures.
The most famous attractions are the Dragon and Tiger Pagodas, two striking seven-storey towers standing side by side at the edge of the lake. Just like the Hualien Temple, visitors are encouraged to enter through the enormous mouth of the dragon and exit through the mouth of the tiger. Oooh... and by doing so, it is meant to transform bad luck into good fortune. Allen didn't tell us that on our tour.
My train to Taipei was painless. It was one of those high-speed trains... and took less than 2 hours. One minute I was in Kaohsiung... and the next minute I was in Taipei again.
I'd rebooked the exact same hotel I'd stayed at during my previous visit to Taipei. Except this time, I'd somehow managed to book myself a room with a shared bathroom. Not exactly my finest booking moment. The room itself was about the size of a jail cell... and the bathroom was a fair distance down the hallway. Not particularly convenient when you wake up in the middle of the night absolutely bursting for the loo.
I'd also been contemplating doing another load of laundry while I was there. But then I remembered that enormous MALFUNCTION sign on the dryer from my previous visit... and the fact that I was flying to Japan the following day.
Did I really want to risk another laundry disaster?
Absolutely not.
I decided my dirty, stinky clothes could survive another day.
For my final day in Taipei, I decided to treat myself to a little pampering and booked an 80-minute spa treatment. And it included just about everything.
A foot bath, foot and leg massage, arm and hand massage, facial treatment, hair wash, hair products and hair blow-dry.
Eighty minutes of someone fussing over me from head to toe.
I figured I could probably tolerate that.
Somehow.
And it was less than $100... score!
Although, I have to admit, the place was a little sketchy. It turned out to be a tiny room tucked away down a dark alley, and I was the only customer there. Not exactly the luxurious spa experience I'd been imagining. But beggers can't be choosers, eh?
Once my pampering session was over, I decided it was time to get my nails done. They were looking absolutely atrocious... and I really wanted to get them sorted before heading off to Japan.
I mean, I was in Taipei. A massive city with hundreds of nail salons scattered throughout the streets.
Surely finding somewhere to do a simple nail fill wouldn't be that difficult?
I wasn't asking for anything fancy. Just a basic fill. An hour of someone's time. That's it.
Easy enough, right? Well... apparently not. I had absolutely no idea what I was in for. I must have wandered aroudn the streets, looking for at least twelve different nail salons...
Every time I thought I’d found a place, it was nowhere to be found. Sometimes I couldn’t even figure out whether I was on the right side of the road, let alone the right building. And on the rare occasion I actually managed to find a salon... they’d tell me I needed to book an appointment for the following week.
FINALLY, I found a salon in the underground mall near Taipei Main Station. Perfect! I could get my nails done, hop on the airport train... and be on my way to Japan. Easy peasy.
Or so I thought.
I walked in, showed the girl my nails, and basically pleaded, “Help!”
She sat me down, brought over some colours, and I picked one out. The usual routine. I waited another five minutes or so before she was ready, and then she brought me over to her chair and immediately started removing the colour and gel from my nails.
So far, so good.
Then she stopped.
She told me it would be 400 Taiwanese dollars for the gel removal.
Fine.
That works out to about $25 Canadian.
No problem.
She continued working, finished one hand... and then stopped again.
This time she wanted to know whether I wanted new gel on my nails or whether I wanted to keep the old stuff.
What?
I was completely confused. I’ve been getting my nails done for years, and whenever I go for a fill, they remove the old product as needed and apply fresh gel. I assumed that’s what we were doing. Apparently... I assumed wrong.
Out came the calculator.
Another 1,500 Taiwanese dollars.
Excuse me?
Was that on top of the 400?
Did it include the 400?
What exactly was I paying for?
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Then she started adding more charges. Colour. Shaping. This. That. Something else. Suddenly, looking at the calculator, I was looking at over $200 Canadian to get my nails done. WTF???
No, thank you.
No, no, no, thank you.
I told her to forget the whole thing and just finish removing the gel and colour so I could leave. I’d deal with my nails myself. That’s when she informed me that removal would now cost 500. Not the original 400 she'd quoted me.
Hang on a minute!!!
"You told me 400!"
Apparently, 400 was only the price if I continued with additional services. Something she had conveniently forgotten to mention before she started working on my nails. Now I was irritated.
She kept insisting it was 500 unless I got what she repeatedly called a “sequel.”
A sequel?
I knew she meant additional nail services, but at this point, I certainly wasn’t about to spend a small fortune. I wouldn’t pay that much back home, even if they served me a glass of champagne and a bowl of soup while they worked.
She removed the colour and some of the gel... and I handed her 500 Taiwanese dollars... and walked out.
And now?
Now I have ridiculously long nails with a very thin layer of gel still left on them. They’re practically guaranteed to start breaking any minute. And once they start breaking... I’ll start biting...
Guaranteed.
So after searching all over Taipei for a nail salon... wasting an enormous amount of time, getting increasingly frustrated... and finally finding somewhere that seemed perfect, I’ve ended up with nails that are in much worse shape than when I started.
All I wanted was a simple fill before flying to Japan.
Was that really too much to ask?
My life is hard...
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