Hello All!
Remember me? Gee, it was only, uh, May that I last wrote. I think we were in the middle of a SARS crisis and evacuating the country to go isolate ourselves in Asbury Park, NJ. People in Asbury Park had no idea of our hidden motives: hiding from friends and family until ten days had gone by. Was New Jersey the ideal place to exacerbate, I mean experience, culture shock? Probably not. We went to a mall - I hate malls - but we went to a mall in New Jersey. I was afraid. People looked, well, different. Granted, Americans are slightly more fond of fatty foods than the rest of the world, but it was unusual seeing so many large humans sampling high calorie foods. It was also strange seeing people defensively entrenched in certain cultural styles. I saw a forty-five year old man looking like he was ready to punch anyone who dared to scuff his snow-white puffy basketball sneakers. He looked more concerned about his white sneakers than he did about his young child, who was trailing alone behind he and his wife as they walked across the rather busy parking lot.

But I didn't start this post to write about New Jersey. Or about our several weeks in Connecticut. Or our trip to Pennsylvania, Maine, Florida, Los Angeles, Seattle, or the other locations we visited in the past four months.

I was going to write about going to the beach.

We went to the beach today. In Taiwan. It was the first time we went to the beach. We had, once or twice, seen the ocean from Taiwan, but we hadn't technically packed our suits and gone to the beach. So we got out our green backpack, loaded it with swimsuits, a towel, cameras, and no sunscreen, and headed off to the front gates of TAS to meet up with Love Shack Holodak, The Core-meister, Mason and Cara, and Robin & Chris - new to TAS from Oh Canada!. The eight of us rode four scooters high up into the mountains of Yangminshan National Park. Megan appreciated the back rest on my scooter as we maintained an upward angle for quite a stretch. We crested at a pass nicknamed "The Saddle" where we stopped for a look about. A group hiked up to see a gaping hole in the earth vent large clouds of steam. A friendly local volunteered to take group photos of us with our many cameras. Later I shot a picture for him of his cute son atop my red Vespa.

We began our descent down the other side of the mountain, Cory navigating with the ease of a cartographer, while Nancy illuminated turns in the road with arms celebrating high in the air. It was an amazing experience to be so high up, twisting and turning on mountain roads relatively free of traffic. Peaks rose high around us, misted in the bottoms of clouds, as we leaned and zoomed down the far side of the mountain pass.

I wish I could remember the name of the town we leveled into, but I cannot. We gassed up at a Formosa station, my low fuel light blinking for attention. Our party wandered across the street to a small grocer where we loaded up on garlic peanuts, seaweed-flavored Pringles (maybe we skipped those - foolish of us), crescent-shaped crackers, Oreo cookies, and Pocari Sweat. We munched in front of the gas station, but decided to eat the rest of our comestibles at the (not so) sunny beach.

Cory again led the way, my bright red Vespa bringing up the rear. He paused at a narrow lane, telling us that he was sure this would be a shortcut to the beach. Not entirely sure, but pretty sure. Off we ventured, past barking dogs and smiling locals, chickens pecking in chicken coops (I thought of my nephew Casey's chickens..). The skinny road ended in a parking lot. Through an opening between plots I saw a sandy path leading to crashing waves. We had arrived.

Changing into our suits, we wandered out onto the beach. Glimmering white sand, fine as sugar, sparkled on a beach somewhere else in the world. Our beach was a carpet of rust brown sand and wide swaths of jetsam composed of plastic bottles and litter. We stepped carefully.

We were blessed, though, with waves. Thunderous, punching, pounding waves. Waves you braced yourself against, and they knocked you silly anyways. Waves that failed to acknowledge any minor opposing strength you exhibited. They just pushed you down into their frothy rolling path. Girls held fast to their bikini tops. My butt rose above as my bathing suit descended a few times. I finally cinched it tight, only to result in a parachute-like effect as the nylon filled with air each time a wave came in. You just looked silly no matter what.

A few other TAS'ers were there, and we chatted about the surf, ate our food, and generally enjoyed ourselves. The afternoon was underway, but we soon decided to start the ride home, as a few of us had evening engagements. Me, I'm sitting here in my underwear typing this. Megan is out getting doh-pi and sushi. We'll nibble at home tonight. You, you get to enjoy some pictures. Click here for the pictures of our day at the beach. Or, you could click here for pictures of last week's hike to see the large ruminants in Buffalo Meadows. Heck, I'm even going to throw in pictures of Florida, only because the light there was so incredible. So indulge yourself in vicarious pleasure of two souls parked on the other side of the world. Love to you all.