The Road Ends in Hong Kong

This story ends as the Ox Year New Year's Celebration comes to an end. (See the whole story here.)



Flying into Hong Kong, into the old Kai Tak airport, was one of Travel’s great thrills. (I don’t think flying into the new airport is the stuff of legends,)

From the Wiki descript: The landing approach using runway 13 Kai Tak was spectacular and world-famous. To land on runway 13, an aircraft first took a descent heading northeast, passing over the crowded harbour, and then the very densely populated areas on Western Kowloon.

Upon reaching a small hill marked with a checkerboard in red and white, used as a visual reference point on the final approach, the pilot needed to make a 47° visual right turn to line up with the runway and complete the final leg. The aircraft would be just two nautical miles from touchdown, at a height of less than 1,000 feet when the turn was made. Typically the plane would enter the final right turn at the height of about 650 feet and exit it at the height of 140 feet to line up with the runway. This maneuver has become widely known in the piloting community as the "Hong Kong Turn."

And it was a thrill. Looking out the window you saw those mountains coming up pretty fast, and then, like an amusement park ride, the plane suddenly turns, right over Kowloon, and you are flying between skyscrapers, where you can literally look into specific windows because the plane is slowing to land.

What an entrance. What a city. We are staying at the Marco Polo, around the corner from the Victoria Harbour of the Peninsula Hotel and the Red Star Ferries. It is deeply exotic to me to ride back and forth between the two halves of the city. I’m actually in the Technicolor “World of Suzie Wong”

In two days we see as much of the British colony as we can: a harbour-side dinner, with the British sterling silver place setting that includes Imperial Lion chopstick rests; a bus tour takes us up to Victoria Peak, where our Chinese guide speaks about the grim reality of the extreme overcrowding of the city; we see fireworks for the end of the New Year; I talk my way into a tour of the Hong Kong Stock Exchange (well, I was working on Wall Street myself at the time) and stop into one of the English pubs nearby; we take a ride on a junk in Aberdeen Harbour and go shopping for a tailored suit.

It was a veritable whirlwind. I did not find my destiny—-with a capital D--but I was very glad to have experienced a bit of the end of colonial Hong Kong.

Then it was time to start the long journey home, flying in one stretch Hong Kong, Taipei, San Francisco, New York. In a mere twenty-six hours, I am back in my own bed, where the images from the past three weeks dance together as though they were only a dream.

Some weeks later, my three 3 boxes of marble pieces arrived, and for a moment I am quite stunned by their sheer presence and beauty, and all that they represent for me and my dear friend.

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 Mapeel     2/09/2009     The Road to Taiwan, Travel   

The Gods Are Smiling On Us From Every Angle

A Story for the Ox New Year, part 5 (here is part 4)

From the industrial Kaoshuing we head north again to Fo Guang Shan--Light of Buddha Mountain--the center of Buddhism in southern Taiwan. The main god of worship here is Sakyamuni, who towers over the adjoining town, while statues of Amitaabha are placed on the left and right sides. More than 10,000 Kuanyin statues surround the temple.

Then on to Tainan, the seat of Buddhist scholarship and the oldest temples in the country. We zip around: The Koxinga Shrine, the Confucian Temple, the Dutch Fort Freelandia.

One memorable image was two young Englishmen right out of Merchant Ivory casting in proper linen duster coats, riding down main street on Victorian bicycles. They are laughing and smiling as they ride side by side—I imagine that they were doing research in at the Confucian center and got caught up in mystique of the old city. Taiwan has room for many fantasies.

From there we went to Taichung, the island’’s 3rd largest city—a highlight is the Bao Jue Buddhist temple, “unusual in that it is the only one in the city that also has a Shinto Shrine on its grounds (at left). It is most famous for the presence of a giant smiling Buddha that can easily be seen from the street despite the presence of a wall separating the grounds from the street"--and then headed inland to Toroko Gorge National Park, a place of stunning natural beauty.

Then on to the last leg of the motorcycle journey: Shih tou shan, Lion’s Head Mountain. Not far from the southwestern most part of Taipei’s megalopolis, it is a place of timeless isolation. The main monastery is the classic retreat on a mountaintop.

The last few days have been particularly filled with Buddhist and Shinto deities, and it feels fitting to end the trip in a deeply spiritual place.


We stay in a tatami guest room at the monastery. It is starkly authentic, while vegetarian food served in the dining hall is fabulous. At sunset we listen to the ritual beating of the drums and the clang of bells and gongs, then climb to the Moon Gazing Pavillion and to see the Evening Star in darkness that looks like a velvet painting. Later we sit in one of the pagodas listening to taped music we brought of classic forties pop songs.

And then Paramount Steps In . . .

The next day I am sitting by myself on the bottom level of the pavilion, overlooking the valley, writing postcards, when suddenly, a man appears. He’s wearing a blue Chinese quilted jacket and grey trousers, so he is not a monk. He didn’t speak English, but smiling, he takes from his pocket a Buddhist medallion necklace and gives it to me. And then he puts some Hong Kong coins into my hand.

At the time there was no exchange rate between Taiwan and Hong Kong, so unless he left the country he could not use this money.

Let’s recap: I’m in a monastery. On the top of a mountain. Outside of Taipei. And a man is giving me Hong Kong money. My destiny must lie in Hong Kong!

BFF agrees that the Universe spoke to me on the mountaintop, and so when we get back to the city, we take a day to organize, to buy plane tickets and book a hotel.

And now, without really trying, it has come true: we are in the Hope/Crosby Road picture, The Road to Hong Kong. And off we go.

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 Mapeel     2/07/2009     The Road to Taiwan, Travel   

We Thought Grace Kelly Had Stayed Here

A Story for the Ox New Year, Part 4 (here is part 3)

From Kenting we started the trip back north. We stumbled on a horseback riding school of some sort. It’s something I had never done, and it seemed like the right time to start.

The elderly gentleman teacher was very proud of his English, which he learned from the Japanese during the occupation.

“Now I will teach you to ‘trot’—T-R-O-A-T.”

It was a wonderful lesson, but we needed to trade the horse back in for the bike and get going. We were going to Kaoshiung, Taiwan’s second largest city and its main shipping port.

We made straight for the Ambaassador Hotel, where THE BOOK said Grace Kelly had stayed. It turns out that that was wrong-—she stayed at the one in Tapei.

No matter. I am glad to be in a major hotel, because there is something I need to take care of.

At the beginning of the trip, just outside of Taipei, we had stopped at a waterfall where Fate put a vendor selling “Golden Fur Dogs.” They are actually roots that grow in the sheer stone of cliffs that the vendors glue rolly eyes onto, and the “hair” when rubbed into a cut or laceration stops the bleeding and promotes healing. We buy 4 of these Chinese mandrakes as gifts.

Shortly after, I lost my balance for a second when we were stopped at a light. The bike fell against my leg, and the exhaust pipe, which had been heating for hours, burned into my right calf. The pain is pretty intense, and I thought the trip would be over just as it began.

But wait! We have the golden fur dogs. Faithfully we pull off some hair and apply the balm that is released around the burn. It feels a little cooling, and on we go.

But . . . by the time I peel off my motorcycle pants at the Ambassador, I can no longer ignore the festering mess that is my right calf.

“What does gangrene look like?” I ask BFF, who springs to action.

Knock, knock. The Hotel Doctor enters, and giving me a “you look pretty healthy" look heads over to BFF, who is lying on the bed.

“No, no, not her.”

Knock, knock. It’s the Floor Manager and a Bellboy, who are there for propriety’s sake.

“It’s my leg Doctor,” I, say, so happy that he speaks English, “a motorcycle burn.”

“I see, when did it happen? Ten days ago you say. What have you been doing for it?”

“Well, we used this Golden Fur Dog.”

The Doctor picks up the root with a huge chuckle and with the timing of Grouch Marx says, “You believe in this?”

What does he want from two crazy people on a motorcycle trip—medical sophistication?

Knock, knock. It’s the Doctor’s Assistant with neatly wrapped antibiodics and a powerful sulfur cream. And now we are officially one person away the Stateroom Scene . .

I was relieved to have the wound attended to, and now I wanted a drink. Alas, one thing the Ambassador did not do well at that time was to make a cocktail. I had such a craving for a whiskey sour-—I have no idea what combination of some sort of alcohol was served, but pouring packets of sugar into it helped a little

The journey north back to Taipei continues.

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 Mapeel     2/06/2009     The Road to Taiwan, Travel   

Marble and Sand, the Yin/Yang of Taiwan's East Coast

A Story for the Ox New Year, Part 3 (here is Part 2)

Hualien is a special city because of its marble industry. I was dazzled by the marble goblets, and vases, and decanter sets, and went on a bit of a spending orgy. That led to piling boxes and boxes and boxes of MARBLE onto the back of the bike. We didn’t just shop; we did the usual zipping around: at the Temple of Eastern Purity the women praying couldn’t get over how tall I am!

The plan was to ship the marble, but because it's New Years, the post office had very limited hours. So we continued south, down to Taitung, where we found one open, just as the motorcycle battery was giving out and had to be replaced. I stayed at the post office as BFF went off to talk a roadside garage guy into taking a traveler’s check for a new battery--another downside to New Year’s travel was all the banks were closed for days, and we were very low on cash.

The shipping documents had one other language than Chinese: French, which I had studied. But under the circumstances my brain was seizing, and it took me forever to fill out the forms.

Somehow we got the marble safely shipped and the battery replaced, and we were set to zip off to the Buddha by the Sea and the Cave of the Immortals, the oldest archeological site on Taiwan.

We spend 2 nights in Taitung at the Eastern Hotel-—a little bit of Europe with telephones on all the restaurant tables, mimicking the Kit Kat Club--then go further south to the mineral spa town of Jhihben. The screeching monkeys in the trees at the hotel and the festive lights keep the spirit of the new year celebration alive for us.

We then headed down to the very tip of the island, Kenting. A storm followed us most of the way down, making for a very soggy ride.


Small dangerous Children Enroute
Another attribute to New Year’s travel was the continuous explosion of firecrackers. Children in every town and lonely isolated house were intent on setting off firecrackers right in front of us. The first few times the explosions were really scary. Then we became super attuned to any sight of “small dangerous children” anywhere near the road, and we had fewer near misses.

Hail, Caesar
It’s warm in the south, and flat, both a welcomed relief after the chilled air of the mountains. The road between Jhihben and Kenting National Park is quite a stretch of straight driving with some treacherous crosswinds, which made it exhausting. And the bugs-in-teeth meter was going off the charts.

The Insight Guide talked about a new Caesar’s Park International at Kenting, when suddenly, there in the distance, we saw the distinctive Trojan helmet rising on the horizon. The roar of the motorcycle disturbs the serenity of the grand entrance of the sleek modern resort as we pull up. The doormen are dumbfounded as one grubby American woman gets of the bike and walks across the lobby to register while the other waits. “You can’t park here,” they tell BFF, the same mantra we heard at every hotel we pull up to.

WE KNOW. WE’RE NOT TRYING TO PARK HERE. WE”RE JUST GETTING OFF THE DAMN BIKE.

It didn’t matter. In just a few moments we are in a fashionable room overlooking the South China Sea, absolutely giddy over the little amenities of a luxury hotel: the terry cloth bathrobes, the shampoos and conditioners, the sewing kit. I fall asleep listening to BFF on the phone with Wachung (ah, the days before cell phones), the sea crashing in the dark, and the sound of Spanish guitar playing drifting up over the balcony. The next day our time on the white sand beach is rejuvenating, and after a facial and a massage, we’re ready to start the long journey north.

First stop Kaoshuing

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 Mapeel     2/04/2009     The Road to Taiwan, Travel   

“We’re off on the Road to Taiwan; This Honda Is Tough on the Spine”

A Story for the Ox New Year, Part 2 (here is Part 1)

"The Suao-Hualian Highway was excavated from a sheer marble bluff in the Shimizu mountains, which shoot straight up to over 8080 feet. Its feet appear as if washed by the violent crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean. This marvelous and unique highway leaves men dumbstruck; beyond proclaiming its grandeur, there are no words to describe it." Japanese caption to vintage photo, @1930

Looking back, what astonishes me about this cross-country motorcycle trip around Taiwan is that we had no advance reservations anywhere. We only had THE BOOK--the Insight Guide to Taiwan-—and a map. This was "travel" with a capital T. We leave Taipei and go southeast to the great Suao-Hualien highway. The plan is to go down the entire east coast to Kenting, where the South China Sea meets the Pacific, and then back up the west coast until we go inland to Takoro Gorge, then Lion's Head Mountain.

In the annals of the world’s great thoroughfares—the Apian Way, the Kyber Pass, the Alcan Highway-—the coast road from Suao to Hualien must be granted a place. It is 70 miles of asphalt precariously perched on cliffs soaring above the Pacific Ocean. The road is a series of hairpin turns and sharp embankments. Its narrowness exposes its 1920’s origin, and there is no barrier at all guarding the precipice. The collective dangers of which necessitate that the traffic is permitted in only one direction at a time for much of the road.

We know we are approaching the first traffic checkpoint when we come upon the last car in a 3-mile backup. Motorcycles can fly to the head of the line, where they naturally clump. We are the only women waiting amid the sleek Chinese men on the motorcycles, and my blond hair-—yes, we did this entire trip without wearing helmets--screams foreigner that is clarified by the American flag on the back of our gear. Lots of doubletakes from the bikers, with “thumbs up” and smiles, smiles smiles.

The gates open, and the motorcycles are allowed to go ahead of the cars. We are engulfed in the fumes of 60 bikes as we reapply lipstick and get underway. The angles of some of the embankments demand greater and greater speed for us to balance, as BFF accelerates to 70 miles an hour. It takes a steady hand and quick reflexes to drive such a road, and it takes a stout heart and a cool manner to be driven: we are a harmonious team.

Our days pass quickly, and no two hours are alike. We ride through village upon hamlet upon city, eating squid on a stick at lonely roadside stops, swimming in the healing waters of remote mineral springs, and climbing mountain trails to forgotten temples. One day our road, which was clear on the map, simply vanished where there should have been a bridge, and we were suddenly in the middle of a salt field. The old woman working the field had a completely deadpan expression on her face as we scurried to get off her property.

For all the thrill of the bike, there was one terrifying moment that should have ended everything. It was nighttime, and we were on another treacherous mountain road. The weather had snapped so cold that I could hardly work the flashlight to see the map. There were miles upon endless miles of unrelenting curves. BFF was growing tired, and to complete all the hairpin turns she was drifting over the yellow line at the crest of each curve and then drifting back. We were nearly choking in all that darkness, and then there was a car coming at us. BFF quickly swerved around the car. But right behind it, drifting into our lane, was a bus! It was too late to do anything. For an instant we knew we were going to die, right then and there.

And then, in the next second the bus was at our backs. How was that possible? We should have smashed directly into it. It was an eerie, mystical moment. There is a mysticism to the East that cannot be denied. When our hearts stopped pounding we continued on our way.

Next, some of the great cities of Taiwan.

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 Mapeel     2/02/2009     The Road to Taiwan, Travel   

The Zen of Tea on the Road to Taiwan

A Story for the Ox New Year.
Travel to Taiwan for an American was still very exotic in 1987, before the Internet, before the English language invaded Asia outside of Hong Kong, which was still under the British flag.

My BFF had been living in Taipei for 8 months when I went over to visit. She met me at the sparkling, modern Chiang Kai-shek airport with her boyfriend, who we will call Wachung, and his black town car. BFF herself got around town on a small Honda motorcycle, like most of the city dwellers. Unlike many of her fellow expat English instructors, BFF did not live in an American enclave, but in a “real” apartment, and so I quickly got swept up into Asian city life.


We buzzed around the city on the motorcycle—zipping over to the Chiang Kai Chek memorial, the Long Shaun (Dragon) temple, the Shrine of the Martyrs, with it’s impressive changing of the guard. At the National Palace Museum we partook of the sublime ritual of a proper Chinese tea service. The teahouse was renovated in 2007 into modern blandness, but in 1987 it was still a replica of the Three Treasures room at the Forbidden City in Beijing with a spectacular carved and painted ceiling, dotted with songbirds in bamboo cages. (A traditional tea service requires the presence of a songbird in a bamboo cage.)

Proper Chinese tea is a confluence of time, commitment, exquisite design, aroma, flavor, and textures: the cast iron kettle, the Yixing clay tea pot, porcelain cups and bowls, the linen of the tea towel, the bamboo of the songbird cages. It’s a tacit contract between the server and the served that presentation is essential, that every action is embued with artful thought. There is a fluid choreography to the motions of pouring and straining, steeping and drinking. It was a deeply memorable experience.

We spent New Year’s Eve at dinner at Wachung’s parents, who had gone out and bought knives and folks for everyone at the table. They thought that I might not be able to use chopsticks, and they did not want to single me out. It was extremely gracious though unnecessary. After dinner we went to watch the fireworks and then out to a club to go dancing, all to welcome in the Year of the Rabbit.

After giving me 3 days to adjust to my jet lag, BFF suggested the radical idea of taking the motorcycle on a 2 week trip literally around the country. Wachung didn’t like the idea. He did not speak much English, but he was quite clear with “M.A., you no go, you no go. You lady, lady no go.”

But what an opportunity. BFF and I were fans of the Hope/Crosby “Road” pictures, and here one was coming to life for us. We joked about needing to wait for the script from Paramount, but I had to stay on a schedule to get back to Wall Street on time. So without a script, and trading a camel for a motorcycle, we headed Southeast out of Taipei enroute to Hualien, a city of marble.

Part Two of the motorcycle adventure.

(top photo AngMoKio)

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 Mapeel     1/31/2009     The Road to Taiwan, Travel   

Gong Xi Fa Cai, 4707!

“People born in the Year of the Ox are stable, strong, dutiful, reliable, tenacious, practical, industrious, determined, honest, loyal, sincere, persevering, down to earth, and tolerant.”

We Oxen are entering our new 12-year cycle of the lunar year today. Based on the list of our characteristics, we don’t come across as the life of the party, do we. I know that I was born serious-—I was a serious child and have struggled my whole life to experience some moments of light-heartedness. Well, the ruling lunar power over me explains it. (Thank God the artistic streak of being a Libra tempers the rigors of the Ox for me.)

I’m in good company. Napoleon, Bach, Dvorak, Charlie Chaplin, Richard Gere, Meryl Streep, George Clooney, Princess Di, and yes, Barack Obama are all Oxen.

The Year of the Ox begins Jan. 26, 2009, and ends Feb. 13, 2010. The Ox is the second of 12 animals of the Chinese lunar calendar. According to a legend, a race across a river determined their order in the cycle. The rat crossed by riding on the back of the ox, jumping ahead at the last minute to win the race, and so he leads the pack: Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Ram, Monkey, Rooster, Dog, and Boar.

The lunar new year is observed primarily by people of Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, Tibetan, and Mongolian heritage around the world. It’s a 15-day celebration that starts with cleaning out the home to sweep away all the bad and evil spirits from the last year before welcoming in the new.

The U.S. Postal Service recognizes the celebration with a stamp. Kam Mark, a Chinese American artist, designed this year’s and put a Lion Dance forefront with the Ox image in the corner.

“I chose the lion dance because it is an important tradition that dates to the Han Dynasty in welcoming the new year. As a child growing up, the lion dance was always and still is the most anticipated event for me. I always have a preference for the green and black lion created in the style of the Fut San region of southern China.” Kam Mark.

In Chinese tradition, your lunar year is not necessarily a good time for you. You have to be very careful in your year-—prosperity and happiness are more likely to come to you during the year of your compatible animals. For me, that’s Rat, Rooster, Snake, and Rabbit.

And that’s why it was so very special that when I was 26 I was in Tawian and Hong Kong for New Year’s for the Year of the Rabbit with my BFF. She was teaching English as a second language in Taipei, and I was working on Wall Street, where my year-end bonus gave me the means to visit her. After 3 days in the capital, we took a motorcycle trip around the entire country. That story to come during the Oxen new year festivities.

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 Mapeel     1/26/2009     current events, The Road to Taiwan