Taipei’s Halloween Earthquake

Tonight, October 31, 2013 at about 8:00 p.m., there was a sizable earthquake in Taipei. I was working at my desk when I felt the first tremors. It quickly got worse; the bookshelves were swaying hard, and I thought they might fall over, but a minute later it was over. 

Taiwan is in the earthquake zone, and small temblors occur often, but this one was pretty strong—6.7 magnitude. Still, as far as I've heard, there was little real damage. The last really tragic earthquake in Taiwan hit central Taiwan in 1999, before I arrived here.

Broken netsukes—the brown ironwood one was holding a double gourd, and the lighter boxwood one was bent down and holding his tibia. 

 

Nevertheless, when I looked over my living room, I discovered a few casualties. I had put out some skeleton netsukes for Halloween, but the spirits-at-large must not have liked the irreverence of this display, for several of them had fallen and smashed. 

The strangest part is that although I looked and even swept carefully, I was not able to recover all the fragments. I can only assume that the malevolent spirit that swept through Taipei and through my apartment had come to retrieve them, like Madame Zena in A Drop of Water (from the movie Black Sabbath) reclaiming her stolen ring.

Netsukes, small Japanese carvings of wood or ivory, are found in an infinite number of designs, often depicting people, children, gods and animals, but scary themes such as skeletons, rats or insects, are also common.

I was amused to notice that this toy balancing bat, resting on its pinpoint on a narrow strip of wood, managed to maintain its perch through all the shaking. The god on which he has alighted, called the Fighting Money God, may have lent his protection, as bats often symbolize money or wealth in Chinese art.

All of you who can place delicate objects on high shelves, count yourself lucky, because here such freedom is not a given. I was fortunate that nothing happened to these lacquered wooden boxes, which I had riskily lined up on top of bookcases:

I just realized that all the books on this shelf are by P.G. Wodehouse--there goes my reputation for serious scholarship.

Often around Halloween there is a weird glow at night which adds to the spooky atmosphere. The view tonight from my balcony is a perfect example, reminiscent of the nighttime postcards I wrote about last year.

Have a Happy and Safe Halloween!

Who knows what strange spirits roam Taiwan on Halloween?

(All photos by the author.)

A good time to be in Taiwan

Taiwan is a food-lover’s paradise, and in late May two of its greatest seasonal specialties make their appearance, shu mei (berries) and Yu-he-bao lychees.   

Shu mei are the lesser known of the two. The name means literally tree-berry, officially Myrica rubra. Since I am in Taiwan I will call them Shu-mei  (樹梅 ), their local name; in China they are known as yang-mei (杨梅). There is also a host of English names, among them red bayberry. (They are related to the waxy bayberries that grow in the Eastern U.S., the ones made into candles. although the edible ones are juicy, not waxy.)

One of the most welcome sights in Taiwan—a bowl of shu-mei. (Click on photos to enlarge.)

The extremely beautiful berries are bright red in color, darkening to purple as they ripen. They are sweet yet very tart, and have one of the best fruit flavors I have ever experienced. The season only lasts a week or so, and shu-mei are often not seen in regular stores. This year I located my supply from a street vendor in the Shi-lin night market.

The jewel-like shu-mei as displayed by their vendor.

Shu-mei are one of the most delicate of fruits, so they should be consumed immediately, admittedly not a very difficult task.  Within a day or two they will turn to vinegar, even in the refrigerator.

They are best simply eaten out of hand. They have a stone in the middle, kind of like a cherry, and the fruit is composed of juicy cells that radiate from the seed to the outside of the fruit. The darker berries are sweeter and less acid, yet the sprightliness of the shu-mei comes from their tartness, so if you insist on very ripe ones, the flavor won’t be as exciting.  

I attempted to cut one berry open to reveal the internal structure.

I did try to get the juice out of a few and make a sort of shumei-ade. It was a beautiful pink-red color, and very delicious, but these berries are so precious that unless I had my own tree, I would prefer to eat them fresh.

The evergreen trees are very handsome with their long leaves, and even more ornamental when bearing  their bright fruit. They grow in a number of warm places, and I am sure that they would do well in Florida.

I wish I were in a position to grow a few of these shu-mei trees.  Source: http://034733543-2.tw.tranews.com/

Shu-mei are surpassingly beautiful berries. Yu-he-bao lychees, on the other hand, do not have such a prepossessing appearance. Regular lychees, as you may know, are bright red with a scaly outer shell, juicy white flesh, and a large seed that often takes up half the fruit. Yu he bao are green with a reddish tinge; even when ripe, they never turn completely red, and the shell is prickly rather than scaly.

Everyone in Taiwan knows what a treat is waiting in these plain-looking fruits.

They are larger than most other lychees, and amazingly, when you open them, the seeds are very tiny, giving you a generous quantity of  extra-juicy flesh. Most people also believe that Yu he bao have the best flavor-- they are very sweet, with a tiny sub-acid addition that underlines the taste and gives it complexity.  The season is much longer than for shu-mei. As a rule, the first lychee to appear in May are the Yu-he-bao, and their season can last over a month.

The Yu-he-bao lychees cut open show their plentiful meat and small seeds.

These fruits are a perfect example of something better enjoyed in its native habitat. I can’t imagine that shu-mei could travel at all, and while I have eaten lychees in America, they were only a shadow of their luscious perfection in Taiwan, consumed within hours of their picking. In the same vein, the crisp tartness of good fall apples, or the honeyed sweetness of fruits like mayapples, will have to remain a closed book to those who live in warm climates.

Taiwan has many types of exceptional produce and a plethora of regional dishes, but when shu-mei or Yu-he-bao are available, other specialties are forgotten, and my life suddenly centers around them. They are such a treat that my top priority becomes getting as many as I possibly can.

A fresh package of shu mei, about to disappear.

(All photos by the author, except where noted.)

Holiday Post

The recent post by Parvum Opus about Christmas crackers reminded me of the cracker-pulling scene in the 1913 Russian silent stop-action animated film, The Insects’ Christmas, by Ladislav Starewicz. If you have never seen this, please click on the link to Youtube and watch it now. Those not already familiar with Starewicz probably think that I am tricking you into watching something scary, but I guarantee that you will be charmed by this short film and that it will become your new holiday tradition. Let me know in the comments what your favorite part was--mine is perhaps the breaking ornament, or the doll that keeps waking up. Incidentally, Fröhliche Weihnachten! is German for Merry Christmas.

Father Christmas is distributing the presents to the insects.

Pulling the cracker. One would imagine that inviting Mr. Frog to an insects’ celebration would be a disaster, but I suppose that Father Christmas knows what he's doing.

I haven’t been out much recently, but the other day I went to the electronics plaza, and this tree outside was cleverly decorated with neon ornaments showing computers, digital cameras, cell phones, cd’s, etc.

The Taiwanese don’t seem to have gotten Santa quite right;  he’s not as jolly as in the Western version. Maybe it’s his glaring expression or emaciated body, or perhaps it’s that gun he’s reaching for.

You better watch out! 

If that’s what Santa is like in Taiwan, it’s just as well that there are no chimneys or fireplaces here. For those of you in more temperate places, I would like to wish everyone a Happy Holiday Season.

Cihu: Taiwan’s most surreal tourist site

Taiwan has many traditional tourist sites, loaded with beautiful scenery, monuments, and architecture, which reflect Taiwan's long and varied history. One of its most interest sites, Cihu, is remarkable for a different quality, its sheer air of unreality.

Cihu is a short drive from Taipei City and the Taoyuan Airport, and well repays a visit, but first you must understand a little of the history of Taiwan and Chiang Kai-Shek. When the Chinese Communists defeated the Nationalists in 1949, General Chiang brought the Nationalist government to Taiwan, where he served as President until his death in 1975.

As a result of his importance and long reign, statues of him were put up everywhere, including virtually every park, school and public building. However, in recent years, Chiang Kai-Shek has become somewhat of a political football, and many of these statues were taken down.

That is where Cihu comes in. Cihu was Chiang's home in Taiwan, and in fact his former house has become his mausoleum. There was a small lake and park attached to the house, and when the Chiang statues were taken down elsewhere in Taiwan, Cihu offered to provide a home for them. 

Chiang Kai-Sheks for all tastes and attitudes. (Click on any picture to enlarge.)

The result was the Cihu Memorial Statue Park (慈湖紀念雕塑公園), perhaps the world’s most bizarre memorial, with hundreds of Chiang Kai-Shek statues and busts edging the lake and scattered around the grounds. These statues are of many materials and different poses, and are mounted singly and in surreal conversational groups, all of the same person.

You will first want to visit the Chiang Mausoleum. People line up and wait patiently to file one by one past his sarcophagus in his former living room, where visitors pay their respects by bowing as they pass by. It is a solemn moment, and you wonder what is passing through the minds of the older people who remember Chiang, perhaps even fought with him, and whose lives were greatly influenced by Chiang and the period of Chinese history which he represents.

Chiang's sarcophagus in his former house. No photos were allowed inside, so this is from Wikipedia.

These serious thoughts are replaced by those of amazement as you pass on to the Statue Park. Rather than attempt to describe them, I’ll let the statues speak for themselves:  

Most of these standing Chiang Kai-Sheks are slightly larger than life-sized.

This dashing equestrian statue adds some flair to the mix.

With those beautiful woods and mountains in the background, one can see why Chiang loved his home at Cihu.

A row of Chiang Kai-Shek busts on pedestals borders the lake.

A large bronze seated statue is missing a few parts.

Standing perpetually can be tiring, so these seated Chiang Kai-Sheks are taking it easy.

 

The designers of the park did a very good job. They did not crowd the statues or have so many that it would become overwhelming or like visiting a storage facility. In spite of the surreal aspect, the park retains a pleasant and intimate quality.

That hillside might be a good spot for a picnic.

This bust seems to be sinking into its pedestal.

 

While these statues have been removed from many sites around Taiwan, there has been no major effort to obliterate Chiang’s memory. It is true that the Chiang Kai-Shek Airport was officially renamed the Taoyuan International Airport, and several large-scale memorials were dismantled, including the monumental statue in the National Palace Museum.

However, the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Plaza in Taipei is unaltered, and with its concert and exhibition halls, gardens, and spacious plaza, is an important place for both locals and tourists. And there are still many local statues and monuments scattered about. While some sites have been shorn of their Chiang statues, perhaps the mass display at Cihu provides an even stronger focus for remembering Chiang Kai-Shek and reflecting on his life and accomplishments.

A wide variety of poses visible here.

What is the most bizarre tourist site that you have come across? Please let me know what you think of Cihu park—whether you find it insane or an apt memorial.

(All photos except Chiang’s sarcophagus taken by the author.)

English Adventures in Taiwan Supermarkets

Caveat: I hesitated before writing this post, because I don’t want to appear to be making fun of people having trouble with English. I know that that every time I say something in Chinese, I make more numerous and more ridiculous errors than these. 

Yet there is a difference. In many countries including Taiwan, English is considered more as a decoration than as a way to impart information. Thus people blithely name companies, design packages, and commission neon signs with complete disregard for whether the English actually carries any meaning. Even for public or official purposes, they never double-check with a “native speaker”.

Every visitor notices with relish the surreal quality of the ambient English. Despite good intentions, the locals have an incredible tendency not just for getting it wrong, but for doing so spectacularly and memorably.

The simplest errors are small mistakes in spelling, although these can have a large effect. While snake is occasionally eaten in Taiwan, and there is even a Snake Alley featuring these restaurants, “snack” was obviously meant in this aisle marker. Likewise, in the second photo for “Smowdrop” cookies, the small deviation from “Snowdrop” makes the word peculiarly unappetizing.

SMOWDROP Square Cake Store

Many foods do not have regular English names, and strangeness creeps in when attempting a translation. These small, whole fish are frequently encountered in Taiwan, but this was not a good name for them:

Spinach Soup with Silver Fish

"Silver fish" sounds decidedly unpleasant, but the second attempt turned out even worse:

Everyone loves their wontons to be full of larvae.

Déjà vu: Sometimes the humor derives when a package is a clone of a more famous product.

Separated at Birth?

Look familiar?

Since the use of English is decorative, there is a tendency to use fancy words, resulting in severe thesaurus abuse. 

A hectograph is a type of mimeograph that uses a non-edible gel to copy stencils. 

"Chocolate Chip" must have sounded too common.

I am guessing that the “Happily Times” in this “House Drean” were meant to be ‘sweet’, but they came up with “treacly”.

Sometimes it is not easy to discern the original thought behind the translation, resulting is some of the most bewildering examples, such as this brand of hot dogs. Even the Chinese part is somewhat confused, assuring us both of “Japanese-style flavor” and “Fresh European spices”.

Don’t you want to bite into an Emulsion brand hot dog?

The English might be technically correct but still lame, such as using “House of Steamed Potato” as a brand name. The Chinese version sounds slightly better. By the way, why the post mark? 

House of Steamed Potato

Yappy Puffs—Take Easy!

Some brand names are just plain rude:

This example might have originated in Europe—no stranger itself to eccentric English. 

I’m not sure what can explain this picture—these peanut butter cookies have no cheese of any type in the ingredients.

Despite limited success with short words and phrases, designers frequently try their luck with more extended passages:

As always, click to enlarge.

“Sweat” for “sweet” was an unfortunate mistake on these chocolates. Is Volunteer’s Day really Valentine’s Day?

Perhaps there is nothing wrong with this last picture, but I find it amusing. It reminds me of the lyrics “Eat a plate of fine pig’s knuckles, and the undertaker chuckles” from the old song Some Little Bug.

Do you want a knuckle sandwich?

I find it fascinating how mistakes made in rendering a second language reveal the mindset and characteristics of the speakers attempting to use it. Sometimes they employ their own language patterns substituting English words, which rarely works. Other times they try to follow an English rule, but get into trouble with English idiom—some words for example have a correct basic meaning but cannot be used to describe foods. 

Taiwan, like most countries, is a synthesis of many cultures and languages, and slip-ups like these remind us that language should be used with a sense of fun, and not to make judgments against people.

All photos by the author; none have been edited or modified.

Shan Fen Yuan—Easiest of All

Shan fen-yuan, ready to drink.

This refreshing drink may look odd to Westerners, who think they are seeing frog’s eggs, but in Taiwan it is sold everywhere by street vendors. Shan fen-yuan is also called basil seed drink, and for once this is not a misnomer; it really is made from the seeds of sweet basil, which when soaked in water develop an outer gelatin-like coating.

I dislike using the herby word ‘basil’ to describe shan fen-yuan because the seeds have no real taste or odor on their own. The drink is usually flavored with lemon juice, although it can be made simply sweetened with sugar, and lately I sometimes find myself enjoying it just plain—no flavor or sweetening.

 

The really fun part of shan fen-yuan, apart from its appearance, is the texture while drinking it. It is hard to describe, but if you drink it quickly, the soft seeds rush through your mouth and create a feeling something akin to caviar, although of course not that flavor. It is extremely soothing, both to the throat and to the stomach, and quickly becomes a favorite comfort food.

The dry seeds as they come from the package.

 

The shan fen-yuan seeds can be purchased in any Asian grocery, and are amazingly inexpensive.  There is a similar kind with much smaller seeds from South Asia called hạt é  in Vietnamese; these can be used interchangeably. The shan fen-yuan in the package should look like actual little brown seeds;  regular fen-yuan balls (without the ‘shan’) are made from tapioca starch and most be cooked—these go into the famous pearl tea.

Recently I wrote about bai mu-er, which is pretty simple to make, but absolutely nothing could be easier or quicker than a satisfying drink of shan fen-yuan, made right in the glass. Simply place the seeds in a glass, add water, let expand for about 3-5 minutes, add sugar and lemon juice, adjust to your own taste, and enjoy.

By the Glass

Scant teaspoon shan fen yuan seeds (山粉圓)

Heaping teaspoon sugar or simple syrup

Half teaspoon lemon juice

About 1 cup water.

For a Party

1/4 cup shan fen yuan seeds

1/2 cup  sugar or syrup

1/4 cup lemon juice

One half gallon water.

Soak seeds in water for several minutes; add sugar and lemon juice. Adjust to taste.

These are about half ready after soaking one minute.

Tips:

---Honey can be substituted for the sugar, and in fact honey is often traditional with this drink. 

---If you makes this frequently, it is convenient to use simple syrup, made by heating 1 cup sugar and one cup water. This mixes instantly, and there is never any sugar at the bottom of the glass.

---Be sure to add the lemon juice at the end, or at least after all the water is added; otherwise the seeds will not expand.

---The seeds will expand in any temperature water;  it just takes a few minutes longer in very cold water.

---I like to soak it in about 1/3 room temperature water;  then add ice-cold water when the seeds have expanded. Of course you can add ice cubes, but this impedes you from sipping it quickly.

Shan fen-yuan can also be drunk hot. I mentioned above that it has a very soothing quality, and if you sweeten it with honey, the combination of honey, lemon, hot water, and shan fen-yuan makes a most welcome and effective drink for a cold or hoarse throat.

Be sure to locate a supply of shan fen-yuan now if you are planning a Halloween party or are considering what to take to one.  Its outré frog-eggs appearance, while not remarkable in Asia, will be the hit of the party, and everybody likes it.

Incidentally, ‘fen-yuan’ means tiny round objects in Chinese, and the ‘shan’ in front means mountain. Shan fen-yuan may look strange, but it tastes great and quickly becomes a favorite. Nothing could be faster to prepare or more foolproof, so why not pick up a bag of seeds and try it for yourself.

(All photos by the author.)