I armed myself with an almost-empty canister of Coppertone sunscreen, SPF 30. Once again, I severely underestimate the weather; my immortal enemy. My canister expires quickly into my journey, forcing me to intermittently seek refuge in shade to avoid getting scorched by the summer sun. Flashbacks surface of Sihanoukville and subsequent pain and peeling for weeks. Never Again. I equip myself with a New Era Milwaukee Brewers cap and cheap knock-off Taiwanese sunglasses, anything extra that might help keep me cool.
I strap on my red and black Burton backpack, purchased a few years ago with the help of my friend Kim’s employee discount at Sports Basement. My constant companion, this backpack has come along with me almost everywhere I’ve gone in Taiwan. It’s housed my dirty gym clothes, a handful of novels, water bottles, beer. It even served as a make-shift pillow when I made camp on the Kenting beaches. But today the backpack is a necessarily evil. Naturally I can’t do without it, but the combination of its weight and predominantly black exterior with the aforementioned heat make this journey even more treacherous.
I slip my fully-charged Ipod Nano into my pocket. My goal is to leave it there unperturbed, hoping to instead find a pleasant, natural soundtrack along the way. That hope quickly fades. Before long I find my thoughts nearly drowned out by the incessant roar of motorcycles and auto-repair shops operating, an orchestra that fairly accurately defines what it’s like to live in one of the densest nations in the world (Whoops, did I say nation? Sorry China). Sure enough I give in and put in my headphones. By the end of the day my battery is flashing the “low battery” warning.
Stuffed messily into my backpack is my Taipei City Map. Like the backpack, this map too has been with me through most of my time here in Taiwan. It’s taken quite a beating, been scribbled on numerous occasions, and all but lived out its usefulness. Yet, perhaps for sentimental reasons, I’ve chosen to stick with this map instead of simply grabbing another from the helpful ladies at the Taipei Main Station information kiosk. I carry the map for far more practical reasons, however. The map is an ally and a lifeline that somewhat alleviates the fear that I will become lost in Taipei, a phenomenon that has occurred far too many times as a result of my dysfunctional navigation skills, which are apparently incapable of improving. Today I’m on a mission. I don’t want to spend any unnecessary time questioning where I am or where I’m heading.
Sitting comfortably in the outer pouch of my backpack is my newly purchased Canon digital camera. I make sure to be extra cautious when handling this camera, constantly aware of my history with electronics and how sand murdered my previous camera in Kenting. The plastic cover remains over my LCD screen—I refuse to allow anything to taint the camera just yet. I’m actually impressed with my camera’s ability to catch the beauty of the day as I snap shots from a bridge overlooking the XinDian River. I hope in vain that some of the boats from the Dragon Boat Festival will sneak their way into the shots. Alas they don’t, but I smile knowing that I had been fortunate enough to capture some the day before. The pristine view of the XinDian River, with a combination of mountains and buildings adorning the background, is simply an added benefit of today’s adventure.
I strap on my water-proof digital watch that I received several Christmases ago. I typically opt to sport my other, sexier Puma watch which my brother Austin so graciously gave me as a graduation present last June. However, this is once more a decision of practicality. I need a watch that can take the heat and tell me exactly what time it is. Today I’m timing how long it takes me to walk from my new home to my school. Tired of being daily sucked dry by MRT and bus fare, I decided to seek alternative means of transportation. Noticing the relatively short proximity between the two on my map, I decided to time how long it would take for me to walk. If the time were reasonable enough, and the path more or less safe, I told myself I would buy a bicycle. My watch reads 1:11 when I first exit my apartment. Once I discover I’m walking in the wrong direction, I double back and officially start past my place on my way at 1:25. Another 14 minutes of my life wasted on directional disability.
Finally, I slide my wallet into my back pocket. Immediately aware of it weighing down my pants, I decide instead to put it in the trusty backpack. I’m carrying 5000NT on me, a significant sum of money. I do so because of the exhilarating prospect of buying a bicycle at the end of the day. I finally make it to my school at 2:36. A grueling 70 minute journey was complete, and a celebration at the local Mos Burger was in order. I spend 135 dollars on food, preparing myself to fork over another large sum of money soon for a bike. I spend the rest of the day walking around Ximending, Taipei Main Station, and the Taipei 101 Mall—where I seek a lengthy respite from the heat in Page One, which easily boasts the best selection of English books in Taipei. Unfortunately, by the time of my return at 6:30, the local bike shop has closed for the day, likely because of the holiday.
Yet the day was a triumph. Today, I got the confirmation I needed from my experiment. I got some healthy color and exercise. I got some great shots, capturing the day’s beauty. And to top it all off, I got inspiration to finally update this blog; to write a story echoing the style of Tim O’Brien’s classic novel. Tomorrow, I get a bicycle.
