I Blame You Dad: A Cult(ural) Experience

I have a propensity for befriending the strangest of strangers., and for this I fault my father. You see, over the course of my childhood I would often run errands with my dad, as most children do, however running errands with dad was more of a social extravaganza than a time to just get things done. More often than not, we would set out early on a Saturday morning with an extensive list of things to do, and on a productive day we would accomplish three of the tasks we originally set out to do... maybe. This is because dropping a check off at the mechanic was never as simple one would think.

Dropping a check off at the mechanic was a drawn out political debate with Gary about whether or not Ronald Reagan was a good president (which he was not), or a lengthy discourse on the effects the Panzer tank had on the scope of WWII. Going to Home Depot to buy an extension cord was never just going to Home Depot to buy an extension cord. It was a forty five minute discussion with one of the salesman about the current price of raw copper and then deciding that we could go home and make it ourselves for half the price. No matter where we went, there was a character in our strange story to befriend.

Now, this seemingly hereditary quality has spilled into my life, as I have the same quirky behavior and think nothing of spending an hour talking to a stranger. It's fun. It's a game. It's a part of who I am. However, the expansion of my unorthodox circle of friends was temporarily stunted by moving to Taiwan, but it only took a little time before I accumulated a small handful. To name a few, there's my squid-ball guy, who's name I can't remember so we will call him Robert, there's my Mian Chian lady, restaurant proprietor, and there's Mrs. Huang, hardware store owner.

Robert is an interesting guy. He grew up in Taichung, went to university in Taipei, and spent some time in L.A. working with underprivileged children in the ghetto to keep them off the streets. Since returning to Taiwan, he opened up a food stand in the Shida Night Market. I suppose there's more money in squid-balls these days than there is in banking. Now, every time I go to his stand, I get an extra ball or two. Also, he claims to know Tom Cruise.

Next there is my Mian Chian lady. I eat at her "restaurant" at least twice a week. It's a block away from my apartment and super delicious. Her restaurant entails four huge pots sitting on four tiny burners with four different entrees bubbling away. The pots are on a table, beneath an awning that stretches out onto the street, packed with tables and stools. It's always crowded, rain or shine. Each delight is the same price, but whenever I go I order the same thing. Two bowls of spicy Tofu and a bowl of Mian Chian. She laughs at me whenever I see here, because I seem to always end up in front of her looking rather disheveled, maybe from a bike ride in the poring rain or a long day of Frisbee. And when she's done laughing at how I look, she begins to laugh at my poor, poor Chinese. She knows I'm trying though. I just think she likes to laugh.

And then there is Huang Liu, hardware/junk store owner. She sells anything you need, from tools to toiletries and most of it is cheap crap. However, whenever something needs to be fixed in the apartment, I go to her first. About a week ago, on my most recent apartment improving adventure, we began to talk about the little Chinese philosophy I studied in college. We talked about the Daodejing and she told me she was somewhat of a Daoist/Buddhist. We decided that on the following Saturday, she would accompany me to a temple. She told me that for three days before going to the temple I was not allowed to eat meat, and I agreed.

So, for three days, I struggled as a vegetarian, fighting off cravings to devour an innocent baby cow, raw. All this despite the fact that it is extremely easy to eat well as a vegetarian in Taipei. I was under the impression that I would be going to a famous temple, accompanied by someone who knows the culture, though, so I made the effort. I would finally be seeing the practical version of the theories I had studied in college. Hopefully I would learn something about the culture, of Buddhism/Daoism in practice. Three days passed and I arrived at the hardware store a few minutes before noon, followed by ominous clouds in the distance. I parked my bike under an awning, to escape the eroding effects of acid rain, and headed inside. I met her husband who would be watching over the shop for the afternoon and we hopped in a cab. The taxi began to hurry away from Taipei, so I asked which temple we were heading for and was met with a flurry of Chinese, of which I only caught a few words: food, friends, temple. Awesome.

We pull up to a rather ordinary looking building, somewhere in Yonghe (outside of Taipei across the Xindian River) and pay the betel-nut chewing driver. Mrs. Huang leads me inside the building where I am met with a symphony of greetings, in both Chinese and English, by around thirty people, none of whom is younger than forty. I immediately notice everyone is dressed rather homogeneously: white collared shirts for all, black pants and skirts for the men and women, respectively. I am wearing a blue polo shirt. If my skin didn't make me stand out enough, the shirt does the trick. I bypass most of the crowd as I am pulled to the next room in order to be introduced to the head honcho. I first must bow to Buddha three times before I bow to the Daoist Guru in front of me once. He was in Kaoshiung this morning, but came to Taipei for today's ceremony. He tells me it is going to be a special one.

A few women begin to bring out our lunch and I am directed to sit down next to the head priest. Our meal is of course vegetarian cuisine, family style, although it doesn't feel like much of a family as the entire population gathered around the table are men, except for my translator seated on my left. As we are eating I grow uncomfortably aware of my presence as spectacle. The spiritual leader sitting next to me informs me he would like to share a story with me and I am regaled with a tale of a wayward man from Arizona who had lost his way until he found Daoism. The others have finished their meal and ventured over to the room where the women ate their lunch, leaving just the priest, my translator, a somber looking elderly man and I to continue with the story. I have lost my appetite but one of the women walks in and in the most motherly of tones encourages me to keep eating. The food is good, so I can't refuse.

The tale drags on as dessert is placed in front of us. All the while, constituents are poking their heads in the room, eagerly, impatiently. I am asked to make a small contribution and I say OK, the food alone was worth it. Finally, the story of the wayward soul comes to an end and I am ushered upstairs to the temple room. The room is small and filled with an aromatic haze. Everyone packs in, men on the right, women on the left. Three deities are seated on a table in the front of the room, enclosed in glass cases. Incense and candles are burning overwhelmingly. It feels like the room has not been this crowded in a long, long time. Another three bows for Buddha and I am given a front row seat. Six men clad in robes enter the room and produce a rhythm of chants and bows, inducing a direct line of communication with Buddha. We can now proceed with the day's ceremonies. Buckle up.

My translator takes to the podium slightly to the left of the main table and plunges into an electronically prepared speech regarding the nature of Daoism, in English. She speaks of Confucius. She speaks of Heaven. She speaks of Buddha. She speaks of the Eight Fold Path. She speaks of Laozi. She speaks of The Way. She speaks of Jesus Christ. She cites the Gospel of John and Revelations. She speaks of the Apocalypse. She speaks of Salvation. She speaks of Heaven.

The Dao master enters the room. He is greeted with another rhythm of bows from the six robed men as he whisks his whiskers, and takes to the podium. "We are gathered here today to witness our newest friend David receive the Great Dao." This is the nightmare of a twelve year old boy who doesn't believe in god. Twenty three years of living and the closest thing I have had to a religious experience is being sad and hungry in church at my grandfathers funeral, taking communion and being smacked by my mother because I didn't know any better. All I wanted was a cracker. Twenty three years and the closest thing I have had to religious indoctrination is a circumcision. I have always been proud to call myself a heathen. I can't do this. I need to leave. But it might get interesting. I've never been in a cult before. I haven't eaten meat in four days and I really want a hamburger. I can't do this. I need to leave. If I cross my fingers does it still count?

Sweat pours from my brow like the Nicaraguan rainy season. I smile and nod. OK. "Before you receive Dao, we must first teach you the three secret treasures." I am given the three secret treasures. I'm not allowed to talk (directly) about the three secret treasures unless in (direct) communication with Buddha, but I will do my best to outline them for you now. First there is the "Mysterious Door." This is the physical path through which the soul leaves the body to reach heaven. However, I cannot show you where it is. Secondly, there is the "Secret Password." If you couldn't guess, this is the password to enter heaven. It is also used to communicate with Buddha in the waking life. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you what is it. Lastly, the third treasure is the "Holy Hand Sign." This is the way one must situate themselves whilst communicating with Buddha. I can't show you what it is, though. However, I will say that the "Holy Hand Sign" is pretty gangster.

After receiving the three holy treasures, I am ready to receive Dao. I kneel before Buddha while my great master circles me with incense and advises me to stare directly into the flame of the brass, oil candle holder mounted on the ash stained white wall behind the Buddha. The rain is pounding on the metal roof, and I focus on the kerplunk of as many drops as I can pick out. He dictates an ostensibly ancient incantation and I repeat, in Chinese. I am being baptized by fire and spirit (so I suppose there's still room for Christianity). I state my name and the amount I have donated to the temple. I burn a piece of paper with my name on it and part of my soul leaves with my name on Route 66 to salvation. This is to inscribe my name in the scrolls of heaven and bypass the process of reincarnation. Impatient Buddhists. Jumbo-Shrimp. My seat in heaven will be somewhere behind the right field wall with the Bleacher Creatures. I have finished receiving Dao. I am humbly enlightened.

I am given a few more rules about receiving Dao and the day pushes on with the normal ceremonies of a typical service. Chanting and bowing. Offerings and sacrifices are made to Buddha; just fruit, no blood. Mrs. Huang never looked so proud. She beams at me. The ceremonies come to a close, we move back downstairs and I am again greeted with a symphony, this time of congratulations. I am a celebrity, as is Mrs. Huang. I continue to put on a wonderful show, but then again it doesn't take much. I have another sit down with the Dao Guru. He tells me stories of past reactions to the entire process. Others who have experienced great things while receiving Dao. He tells me stories of happy Buddhas and flying rooftops. Angels and deities. Mormons and epiphany. He is setting a precedent. He wants a story, so I give him one. He looks pleased enough, so Mrs. Huang and I make our way to the door and catch a ride home with another constituent. I leave the temple with two books, three pieces of fruit, and a membership card. The rain has refused to let up all afternoon. We are dropped off at the hardware store. Mrs. Huang gives me a blue poncho and I ride my bicycle home. I call up Josh. He is going to bring over a few steaks to cook up for dinner.

Some final thoughts on the day. Due to the fact that I will now be bypassing reincarnation, all hopes of coming back as a monkey are out the window, or rather, the mysterious door. I now have an incomplete soul. Will I continue to make friends wherever I go? Of course I will. They all turn out to be interesting characters, this once just happened to be in a cult. There's a Hare Krishna festival coming up in a couple of weeks. I think I'll attend, however, I will pass on the punch.

Earthquake!

I awake in a pseudo-drunken stupor, unable to maintain a sense of balance just after 2am. For a little longer than ten seconds my bamboo mattress pad seems to be floating atop the rock-hard, coil-spring mattress I call bed. The whole building is shaking. Nature has gone quiet. This is unlike anything I have experienced before (except maybe stumbling home the other night and losing the top half of my ice cream cone). Devastating.

I pop up and stand under my door-frame, just like mama always said, and lock eyes with Antoni and Phill who are doing the same. We wait for aftershock that never comes. The choral ambiance of crickets and cicadas returns after half a minute. Do a quick sweep of the apartment and nothing is broken. "Whelp, see ya in the morning." Back to bed.

I lie back down and still feel as if the world is floating to and fro. The aftershock has merely resided in my mind. Earthquakes are common in Taiwan, but this one was significantly noticeable. It struck just off the coast of southeastern Taiwan. Luckily, no major damage occurred, but in the back of my mind I secretly wish the steel skeleton of the building being constructed next door had fallen over.

To Kaoshiung We Go...

As I walk through the white-tiled cafeteria, filled only with the healthiest of foods, Fei Fei points out some of the greatest athletes in Taiwan. My stainless steel tray is decorated with a mountain of spinach, some beef tips and a small bowl of rice. Our next game is in an hour, so I'm eating light. No need to have it all come back up on the field later. I go to the fridge in the center of the room and grab a couple of bottles of juice, and Fei Fei grabs three Pocardi Sweats for our small entourage. James and I are Fei Fei's guests and will only drink the finest of Taiwanese, Gatorade-like energy drinks. We sit down at our table and I notice a rather intense looking guy staring up at the 40 inch plasma mounted high on the wall. Taiwan sports highlights are the only subject matter being broadcasted on the many screens throughout the room. "Fei Fei, who's that guy?" "Oh him? Olympic gold medal. Tae Kwan Do." This is the closest I have ever been to a medal winning olympian. Do not get on his bad side.

Last weekend I was in the southern city of Kaoshiung, where the World Games will be held in upcoming weeks. I was playing Ultimate Frisbee with a group of guys from Taipei, The Renegades, under the shadow of the brand new, eco-friendly Kaoshiung Stadium. Seven teams from all parts of Taiwan competed over the course of the weekend. Our team, a degenerate mix of expats and Taiwanese, took second place, losing only to the Taiwanese National Team. I am fortunate enough to play alongside an incredibly talented group of guys and gals who have had just a bit more experience playing Ultimate than I, so my learning curve is steep, but I'm getting there. At the very least, Ultimate has been a great way to run around and get some exercise in every weekend... despite the heat.

Kaoshiung is the latitudinal equivalent of Cuba, so to say it's hot is an understatement, especially when you're running around in the blistering heat of mid-day. Weather records show that the temperature hit 100 degrees on Saturday. So, at the end of our last games on Saturday and Sunday we decided to rehydrate with a couple of Taiwan Beers and watch the remaining matches of the day... and heckle of course. Needless to say, a few new friends were made, as well as a few new rivalries, and in the spirit of the game we headed home Sunday with our heads held high and our trusty cooler in tow.

Transportation (Part 1)

Some months ago, I expressed a great deal of interest in joining the madness that is traffic here in Taipei. This dream, born in my mind with volcanic blast force, is now but a cool, oozing lava flow. Sure, I trust myself on a scooter or motorcycle. I more than trust myself. For the most part, my younger, speed-loving soul has found itself reincarnated in some 17 year old from Wichita. Life experience has made me a safe and careful driver. In the words of the great, late Notorious B.I.G., "Damn right I love the life I live."

I absolutely do not trust the Taiwanese on the road, even for just a second. Forget driving for a moment. Let's talk about walking. Yes, walking. The most basic of life skills proves to be a bit difficult for the people of Taiwan. It never occurs to anyone that stopping in the middle of the sidewalk during rush hour to answer their cellphone could be an inconvenience to others. Or that walking like a parabola makes it nearly impossible to create a flow of pedestrian traffic. I have yet to put my finger on the reason, whether it be a lack of self-awareness, or maybe a misunderstanding of spacial relations, but whatever the reason is it can be quite difficult to get from point A to point B on the sidewalk. Now, let's put millions of these people onto 2 wheeled vehicles. Sounds like a blast.

Since landing just over 3 months ago, I have had 2 friends get into 3 accidents. None of them were very serious, but they easily could have been. This is to say that scooter accidents are commonplace, and scooter abandonment is just as popular. Walking along the streets of Taipei, you will often see a busted up bike lying on the side of the road, left for dead. There are so many bikes in Taiwan that it's actually just cheaper to buy a new one instead of repairing a wrecked one. So, when one gets into an accident, their scooter will sit on the side of the road, wallowing away in 2 wheeled misery while it is slowly stripped naked, part by part. As you can see, this scooter abandonment phenomenon is a bit of a Catch-22. No one takes the time to repair their rides, but who can resist free parts on the side of the road?

Besides the whole minor point of traffic safety in Taipei, there's the traffic itself. Green Island was great. I could let loose on the throttle and not have to worry about anything, however, the scooter traffic in Taipei is outrageous. So much so, that I am perfectly content to get around via public transportation. And since better judgment has gotten the best of me and a scooter is not in my immediate future, I might as well say that I'm doing it because I'm making a conscious decision to protect the environment. The subway system, known as the MRT in Taiwan, does the trick, just fine. There are actually two different systems that run in Taipei, a French one and a German one. The French system is above ground and the German system is both above and below ground, connecting at various junctions. And, while I'm not the biggest fan of either of the aforementioned countries, or rather the people in them, they do know how to make a pretty efficient system of transport. Se efficient and effective that Taiwan has great plans to expand. Construction is happening all over hte city as the infrastructure expands. Pasted below, is a map of the future MRT system. I live right by the stations that says Guting. You see it?