Month: August 2018

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Family vacations

Family vacations were not common in Taiwan in the 1960s. Although the economy had been strengthening throughout the decade, taking a vacation was still considered a luxury. Under martial law, international traveling was tightly controlled. When traveling within the island, one needed to carry proper identification and register when staying at hotels.

Like most educators, dad had long summer breaks. They offered him some free time for his translation works. On the other hand, they also meant the absences of regular paychecks. Dad used to get depressed, worrying about finances and his teaching loads in the upcoming academic year. Family vacations became mom’s way to distract him from these troublesome thoughts.

When we were too young for long trips, we would go to scenic spots near Taipei. Our first overnight experience was at Wulai, well known for its waterfalls and hot springs. It is home to the Atayal indigenous people. Today, it is a southern segment of New Taipei (Taipei county) and a short drive from the city proper. In the old days, it was only reachable by limited bus services. And, there were no fancy touristic developments. Still, being able to enjoy the hot spring and to sleep in a “hotel” was a real treat for me and Little Cop.

One summer, we went to Baishawan (白沙灣, White Sand Bay) Beach, north of Taipei. We were not quite ready to swim in the ocean but had great time playing with sand, chasing crabs, collecting seashells and splashing water at each other. Our simple hotel room was right by the ocean. At night everything turned dark, very ominous to a child’s eyes. The waves breathed heavily and relentlessly, like a wounded monster right near our door.

The next day, we traveled along the coast to Yehliu (野柳) cape, an area known for picturesque rock formations. I had seen photos of the most famous rocks. It was the experience skipping around the rocks and finding various small sea creatures between rocks that really excited me. And, there fishermen hauling their recent catches in the nets. Cacophony of a moment of life verses silence in eternity!

When Little Cop was strong enough to take care his own luggage, we began taking longer trips: each a lifetime memory.

More about Yehliu:
Yehliu – Wikipedia
Yehliu_Geopark_Google_Images

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Walker

This entry is part 24 of 28 in the series Goldfish

Our neighborhood sat in between National Taiwan University and National Taiwan Normal University.  Residents were mostly faculty or staff members of the universities or white-collar governmental workers.  It was known to be a gathering place of cultural elites.  There were blocks and blocks of Japanese houses like ours, divided by small alleys.

When I first started school, mom would take me to school and pick me up in the afternoon.  Soon, she allowed me to walk by myself.  A few times, I attempted some minor detours.  Every time I was reprimanded.  So, I realized that I wasn’t really walking “alone” and stopped making unnecessary turns.

Getting out of bed in the morning was never my favorite thing.  Being rushed through breakfast also wasn’t fun.  But, I enjoyed stepping out of the house and wandering through the maze of gardens and houses.  The air, crisp but musty, wakened my senses.  Plants, dressed by morning dews, looked greener and more pleasing to the eyes.  For a few minutes every day, my world was undisturbed.  Feeling in control, positive and hopeful, I was ready for a new day at school.

My piano teacher Ms. Lee moved to the other side of the aqueduct, about ten-minute walk from us.  Since we had to cross two major roads, mom didn’t let me go alone until I learned to watch the traffic and was familiar with the direction.  I would go for my lessons and, occasionally, to practice a few times a week.  There was a long stretch of narrow two-lane road off the main street.  On one side of the road, there was a lumber mill.  The intermittent noises from the machines and the shouts from the workers made me uneasy.  The smell of freshly milled wood and sawdust permeated the air.  There was always a large inventory of bamboo timbers, standing tall and pointing to the sky.

From time to time, mom would stop by the lumber mill; pick up a few cut-off bamboo sections; and ask the workers to make a small cut near the top.  These tubes would become our piggy banks.  We drop the coins through the opening.  When the tubes were full, mom would split them open.  We would cheer watching the coins falling out all at once.

Near the mill, there were always free-range black Muscovy ducks.  Unlike the friendly brown ducks at American parks, these feral birds were aggressive, especially the female adults.  As I got near, they would make alarming sound and come after me.  Mom said that they were protecting their babies.  I didn’t always see baby ducks around but was sure that the mama ducks really didn’t like human children.

In my memories, my walks to school were always calm and pleasant.  The walks to piano lessons, on the contrary, were clamorous and adventurous.