Tainan

The last few days were really precious as Mich and I got to spend some quality time with my parents down in Tainan. And though this blog isn't meant to catalogue our travels, Taiwan is a place we have grown to love. There are always neat places and little pockets to cities to explore. So if you ever find yourself in Tainan, take a good stroll around. You'll be captured by its old-world charm and amazing cuisine. You'll probably gain a few pounds too.

A snack before dinner the first night. 老肉麵 (minced meat noodles). The garlic broth packed a punch.

Hayashi - A newly restored department store from 1932. Really neat and refined products inside.

The best way to explore the city - by bike. Free from the hotel as well!

On the way to 安平 (Anping district) the old Dutch quarters

Anping Tree House

Crazy Banyan Trees

Chou's Shrimp Rolls on Anbei Rd. 

The shrimp rolls might not look the part, but they are amazing. The inside has a chewy, bouncy texture the Taiwanese call QQ.

安平老街 (Old Street)

Throwbacks

Dad getting distracted by an Antique collector

Oyster Omelette - Oysters, Egg, Rice flour goop, Bean sprouts, Sweet sauce, stuff

Coffin Bread - deep fried toast with some goopy congee-like filling

Deep-fried oysters. Delicious. Did not get sick. 

There's a little small street in Tainan called Shennong St. There are some really hip local boutiques in this lane.

Dad doing his thing

If you happen to see this red wall, you are close by

Overall, we had a really fun time exploring Tainan. The Anping sights were interesting and the street food suited dad who wanted to eat everything. I think it wasn't just the city but also the company that made it great. It was such a blessing to have mom and dad visit us here in Taiwan and see what we're doing here. The extra bit of travelling and time together was the bonus.

Apparently there are hot-springs to visit in the countryside of Tainan, but that'll have to wait until next time.

gods

A few weeks ago a god parade rolled through our town. I've heard that Taiwanese god parades are typically done during the day time to bring blessings to citizens in the light of day, but because Puxin is a small cluster of villages on the outskirts of a larger town, we got the leftover blessings as the procession came through through town after the sun had set. No matter. I'm sure the parade was just as festive as it would have been in the light. The fireworks crackled and glowed in the growing dark as people clamoured out of their homes to catch a glimpse of the passing spectacle. And as the gods passed, along with a marching convoy of exhausted highschoolers drumming away and the bored go-go dancer girls seated atop flashy trucks thumping out dance beats, people lined the streets to take pictures of their gods and invite blessings into their homes and shops.

In our brief time here, through conversations with locals and discussions with missionaries, we've had a chance to observe and piece together a sparse understanding of the unique religious climate that is Taiwan. In this polytheistic nation, where all gods are openly accepted- especially if they bestow blessings- three main religions reign: Taoism, Buddhism, Traditional Folk Religion. 

We've found during our conversations with people that there is little distinction between these religions in the actual workings of people's lives. As long as people perceive their gods to work, they will worship. It matters not what set of ideologies are proposed by a religion. So long as a business is saved, a child gets a good grade, or a felt-need met, a god is deemed worthy of worship. The interesting thing we've noticed is that religion is not about ideologies but simply about getting about something. Most Taiwanese we've talked with adhere to a mix of all three of these religions and don't think twice before crossing religious lines in their daily lives. So long as their lives are blessed.

As the parade passed by, I noticed a different god pass by every ten minutes. There is a different god for different aspects of life and creation: gods of wealth, gods of the harvest, goddesses of the water, the list could go on and on. Each diety can bestow or withhold blessings and favor can be beseeched if one would go to the temple to "bai bai" their god. 

That evening, as the gods bounced on by in their bamboo stilted stands atop the shoulders of frenetic young men; as neighbours entreated the favor of the listless statue with flashy LED lights powered by a trailing generator, I thought to myself, "This is so heartbreaking. Why are so many people revering something that can't stand on it's own two feet or stay lit with its own power?"

The humbling thing is that as I scoffed at these passing idols and the people who were bowing to them, I started to realize that invisible gods reign in our Western world so much as the visible ones do here in Taiwan. They fight on the battlefield of my heart and compete for a place on the throne of my life. So blind often are we to these insidious gods, yet we exalt them and sacrifice so much of our time and attention to appeasing them. 

In our culture, we esteem good things like education because a good education leads to solid job prospects and steady future income. There's nothing inherently wrong with desiring to do well to earn a living. But we've all seen when work and wealth becomes an obsession that overtakes our healthy passions and relationships. It becomes a god that we serve and bow our lives to. It sits enthroned as the most important thing we must revere at all costs.

the more visible gods

For me, those gods are frivolous things like social media: a desire for the "Instagram life" and the need to project my life as one to be desire. I spend so much energy chasing the values that this culture deems as beautiful. But what for? It has become my god, the idol I exchange my devotion to for a few pithy "likes" and scraps of social approval. For me, these gods are security which in itself is not a bad. But when I clamour to comfort and stability instead of clinging on to Christ who calls me upon the waters of risk and unknown, I put my hope in control and my own plans. I trust other gods.

So these gods parade, masquerading as innocent statues, creeping stealthily into our lives, choking out the wholesome parts and pushing away our affections for God. The struggle is real. We must beware. We need to take stock. We need to repent. And like Gideon, we must tear down those altars we have built.

I just want to end with a simple question for you. No matter where you live, whether in Taiwan where the gods are more visible, or in the West where the gods are inconspicuous, these gods exist. We all have things we bow and give our lives to. Take a moment to think.

What are the gods in your life? Are they worth serving?

Puxin: Sights, Sounds, and Smells

Hi Everyone,

So it's been a few days since we've arrived here in Taiwan. We are settling in well with the Chens. We had our orientation a few days ago upon arrival and have had a chance to see some of the students we hope to connect with after the school year starts. Today we had more of a chance to walk around town and explore a little bit, so we wanted to take this chance to share a little about this place we call home for the next half a year.

Sights: Puxin is a small sized town in Taiwan with around 35 000 people and several surrounding villages. It's closest bigger-city neighbour is YuanLin, so if you'd like to google it, you can probably find Puxin on its left somewhere on the map. It's got a typical main street with shops that line both sides, and then residential houses scattered about.

Main street stroll

Corner store beside where we live

A ride into the surrounding village

Sounds: We are situated on a rather heavily used street, so besides the overbearing stench of the stinky tofu stall a few houses away the next thing you'll notice is the constant din of traffic and the shrill of the passing moped. Still, it's nothing like what traffic is like in Hong Kong (thank goodness) and you can easily find your way across the street, though it would be wise to walk in a predictable manner so you don't get hit by the oncoming scooter!

putt-putt-putt-putt

The school across from our place

Smells: If you take a stroll along main street, the predominant aroma will be of boiling oil and fried goods (donuts, chicken, mushrooms, tofu, potatoes... I don't know how Taiwanese are so creative in finding all these different things to fry). But the other smell to notice is the incense as you pass by the different temples in town. This month in particular is interesting- it's ghost month in the Chinese calendar. Tradition states that the spirits of the dead come out to visit families, so to appease them and ease their suffering, it is important to leave offerings of food, drinks, and money out for them to use. Yesterday was the last day of Ghost month, so many families took the opportunity to send the spirits off with offerings and incense.

If you see a temple, you'll likely smell the incense

A store-front offering to the ghosts leaving town

What's next: The students at the nearby highschool start classes in September, so the next week or two will help us gauge our ministry priorities and what our schedule looks like. We hope to have an after-school hangout centre for them to relax. We will also have a Mid-Autumn Festival BBQ for them, so we are praying that event kickstarts a steady group of students coming to visit.

Personally, we will start our first begin our language learning this coming Thursday. We're already trying to practice our by speaking with students and watching Meteor Garden. I'm also trying to write down all the new words I encounter throughout the day on sheets of paper so I see them more often, but Mich doesn't like the papers so she has them on her phone.

 It's been a positive start so far. We're happy to be here and happy to be learning lots!

Blessings!

Reflections on a Bike Trip to Taiwan

It's been three weeks since my ride with dad through Taiwan. Since returning to Hong Kong, life has been a whirlwind of busyness: starting school again, attending church events, and re-adjusting to our routine after the holiday. In between all of this, our Under 12 Girl's Basketball team won a pretty epic Bronze medal. It capped off a long four-month season in which we took a team of eight girls who could barely dribble to nearly knock off the eventual champs losing by only one point. So suffice to say, I haven't really had time to settle down and think about Taiwan.

To be honest, part of me has been hesitant to cap off the trip with a reflection because it ended rather anti-climatically. Throughout the trip I kept waiting for some sort of profound epiphany that never materialized. And as dad and I finished our trip in Taipei, both of us were pretty tired out from the ride. Since returning to Hong Kong three rainy Sundays ago I haven't really caught up with him.

Looking back now, I realize that this trip was pretty special in many ways. How often will I be able to spend a full week of uninterrupted time travelling with my dad? And even though we spent less time talking about life than I had hoped for, the trip was meaningful because we shared in the experience together. It'll always be something we can look back on with fondness.

Here are a few lessons I learned looking back:

Put That Phone Away:

Technology: The bane of our existence. It's a gift that is so promising and a curse that robs us from the present moment. As our trip progressed, it because increasingly alarming was just how badly attached I was to technology, in particular my phone. I hadn't noticed this when we first started the trip, and in fact had even poked fun of dad for his constant updates on Facebook and his tendency to take photos at every turn. And yet, soon enough, I found myself constantly checking my phone at every pit stop, posting on Instragram, and updating our progress.

Granted, so many of the places we visited were absolutely stunning and taking a photo was justified, but it became more than that. I remember starkly realizing towards the end of the trip (when dad ironically broke his phone by dropping it) how enslaved we were to our phones. We had been sharing one phone between the two of us and using every moment to blog or update that spent more time typing away on our 4 inch screen than actually talking with each other. It seemed silly that on a father-son trip we would talk more about each other in our updates than actually talk to each other. How strange that on such an eventful trip we would spend more time with our devices.

I think we've entered into an age of paradox where our technology grants us the freedom to be so close to the world yet so distant from the people actually close to us. We use our phones to broadcast our lives to the world and yet when it comes to interacting with those around us, we freeze and hide behind the screens of our phones. And strangely, deep within each one of us lies the need to be known and connected and yet not to be known at all. We sterilize the messy bits of our lives and show only the presentable, the parts that get the most 'likes'. Without our phones we are unmasked beings, paralyzed in the present, afraid of what others may truly think about our true selves.

Since we're on the topic of technology, here's a little digression about an interesting guy we met in Taipei. In the art district at HuaShan 1914 Cultural Park, there were some art exhibitions on display in old warehouses. A photographer was displaying some of his photo projects in one of the rooms. He was a hardcore instant-film enthusiast and avid Polaroid camera collector (and by avid, I mean he has one of six limited edition Polaroid cameras in the world that cost upwards of 10 grand USD and dozens and dozens of others) He shared with us his distaste for camera phones as they have diluted the art of photography and eroded the care needed to craft each photo and capture the essence of the moment. "People just snap away at everything and anyone," he lamented. "There's no meaning to photography anymore." For Jacky meaningful photography lay in capturing a spontaneous moment on film that cannot be altered or changed because it frames into memory a person and his/her significance to you.

Indeed it is curious that we have technology that enables us to capture every moment, but the abundance of this medium itself cheapens the moment. We have album after album of digital prints of places we have been and things we have done - all so we can share with people who might not care and gain one more notch on our social media belt. What Jacky the photographer said was convicting and I found myself fumbling through my motives for always snapping meaningless pictures. Perhaps it's time to think about what it really means to be present in the lives of others in a more meaningful way.


We endure pain for the things we feel are worthwhile: 

I hate dislike cycling (for hate is too strong a word). I dislike riding because it is tedious, mostly painful and generally a slow going to get where you need to be. It came as no surprise that I struggled through many parts of the trip. My butt ached, my knee hurt, and I was bored of the tedium of pedalling mile after mile. Dad on the other hand had no such problems. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy the process. For him it was worthwhile to bike, perhaps for the exercise, perhaps for the adrenaline, or maybe for the thought of accomplishing something great. His motivation for enduring the pain lay in his goal and finish line. All I saw was the pain that lay three steps ahead of me.

This led me to think about how we as humans and spiritual beings are actually quite willing to endure and sacrifice for the things we hold dear. As a teacher, I always lament that our youth don't have the discipline or gumption to sacrifice. But now I see that it's not that we don't sacrifice, but we sacrifice for lesser things. There are plenty of us who are willing to endure the pain of working out to look good, the toil to earn a good paycheck, or the long hours of hitting the books to get good grades. There are even those of us (myself included) who are willing to pour hours of our lives into video games, watching youtube videos, and checking social media. We pour our lives into these things, clouded with myopic vision and blinded to the greater things to which God calls us to sacrifice. We are unwilling to endure for the Kingdom's sake. We forget to look heavenward.

In Hebrews 12, the Scriptures admonish us to lay aside every encumbrance to run with endurance the race that is set before us. We are told to run in the example of the saints who went before us - the great cloud of witnesses who stand beckoning us onward - and we are called to run toward Christ, the author and perfecter of our faith. He is our goal and he is our prize. We are told to fix our eyes on Him.

What drives my dad to endure the pain of a 42K marathon or a cross-Taiwan bike ride? He sees the prize at the end. We too then, ought to run our spiritual journey with the end in mind, for surely our prize at the end will be worth every hardship we endure now.


Relationship with my father:

The last thought is something closest to heart and something I'm least able to write about because it's something that I'm still trying to understand.

I don't think I've ever spent this much one-on-one time with dad in my life. Ten days isn't a lot, but when it's just the two of you and all you're doing is riding a bike, it's a lot of time together. On the trip I got to see a glimpse of the real Otto that gets overlooked by all the people that follow him on Facebook. There are so many great traits I admire about dad: his humility, optimism, wisdom and determination. And then there are all the flaws, habits, and pieces of brokenness that surface in the friction of nearness and relationship.

When I look at myself, I see so much of him passed on, I can't help but think just how profoundly powerful my relationship with my father can be. I see the same insecurities, the same tendency to withdraw from conflicts, and the same fear to get close and invest emotions. I see our shared history that entangles us, the same reluctance to hatch up the pass hurts, and the ambiguity of what it means to be father and son. All these things clearly known, but unspoken of because neither one of us dares. These living momentos are passed on and affect every part of my life. Most of all, they shape my relationship with God.

I'm learning more that I need to unlearn a lot of how I relate to God. I often approach Him with a sense of hesitance, unsure if He is emotionally vested and present. But I'm learning that God loves perfectly and completely and I can pursue an intimacy with Him like no other. I can't say I understand what that looks like, but I'm learning.

Don't get me wrong - my earthly father is pretty awesome. I love him and wouldn't trade him for any other. I'm learning, as I work through the convoluted mess that is life and relationships, that he isn't perfect. And that's okay. I have a Father in Heaven who is.

Day 5: Rain, Pain, and the Killer Si Fu

Ok. Straight up reports today. No lesson or profound experience. Just lots or riding, lots of rain, and an unexpected healer who fixed the both of us up. 

After last night's jail stay we woke up this morning and realized the stay wasn't as bad as we had thought. I suppose the rain had painted everything a darker shade and put dad in a foul mood. With my knee hurting badly and 60kms before us, prospects weren't too good for a successful ride today. That's when dad had an ephipany. We would ride south instead of north to Taipei. We would hit Taitung and take a train up to Taipei and bypass the mountains. And guess where dad had this brilliant ephipany? That's right, in the jailcell toilet!

Turns out our stay was close to the sea and there were some nice views to be had. There were some nice rolling mountains and a rural village feel to the place that really started off our day serenely. 

We found the sea. It's by a place called Chisingtan (七皇潭) near Hualien. 

There are not a lot of photos of our ride south today because most of it was in the rain. We took lots of stops because of my knee including several stops at 7/11s which so conveniently line the main roads. 

The riding was mostly flat. On any given day most people should be able to average 30-40 kms on the road but we took much longer because of my gimp knee and the rain. We did get into the town where we're staying a lot earlier. I think it was four in the afternoon when we got into Fenglin. On arrival we were both sopping wet. 

Ahh, the blessing of today in an otherwise mundane day was that we landed in an awesome inn. After last night, this is such a blessing from the Lord. It's decorated as the classic Taiwanese BnB with the tackiness but friendly hospitality. The place is SO appropriately named Loveshouse. And here is Otto with a fitting amourous pose. 

Here's the bonus of the day: the host found us a neighbour who does Tui Na (Chinese massage). This guy was a killer. He bears the gifts of wisdom and pain. He also lectured me for drinking not enough water and too much beer. He also told me I had bad eyes and poor insides. I guess I'm going to die soon. Anyway, enjoy our grimace faces. 

He was so good one of my pant legs fell off. 

Here's our Si Fu. 

I'm not sure whether I like you or not, but thank you. We feel much better. 

Day 4: Foresight

Ok. Time to blog. I'll try to keep it short. 

Recap of the day: we descended from HeHuan Mountain and arrived in Hua Lian. It was around 120km and 3000 meters of descent. 

This morning we started off watching the sun rise at He Huan Mountain. I've always thought sunrises were overrated but that's because I'm not a morning person. This one was cool because I got to spend it with my dad on the trip and were doing this crazy biking thing. So it's sentimental I guess. 

Our descent started around 10. The ride was absolutely amazing. I think for around 2 hours I didn't have to pedal at all- which to me is the best part of cycling! It was literally all coasting and carving down the curved roads that hugged the mountainside. The view was also amazing. Imagine descending through a blanket of clouds and catching occasional glimpses of mountains peeking back at you while you try to not steer off into a ravine. Pretty fun stuff. 

So anyways the more memorable part of the day unfortunately wasn't the scenery but the fact that we got lost trying to find our inn. Well actually it's kind of Google's fault and partly Otto's fault, but basically the inn hadn't updated their address and instead of calling to check ahead of time, we just rode into Hua Lian thinking we knew where we were going. We spent an hour biking in the rain- from when the mountain pass ended and we reached town. It all ended in disappointment when we wound up in an alley lane and at a random guy's doorway. We then spent the next 30 minutes looking for a motel room but all were fully booked. There are no photos to commiserate this endeavor in the rain- only wet jackets :( 

Dad called the motel and they told us to cycle back to it's new location (I think just 20 km up the road) - and dad replied by asking them to pick us up. They couldn't do that as their car wouldn't fit us, but they offered to come and lead us to a nearby inn that they also own. 'Great!' we thought. At least we'll be out of the rain. 

Oh so naïve.

We followed the lady for a few blocks. A few blocks turned into a ride out of the town centre, and that turned into an excursion past the airport and to the sea-side. This is where we ended up- a jail cell on the 3rd floor of a beach-side 'house', except the 'house' part is loosely defined and subjective depending on whom you ask. 

We showered, for there was a shower! - and dried ourselves off with old clothing - for there were no towels. There were no restaurants nearby but we were lucky enough to dig up an old pizza from the freezer. Tonight's dinner is not the best, but we feast in gratitude. Kinda.  

During our ride, Dad had some words of wisdom to pass on to me. He said, "in life... there is no such thing as foresight. There is no 'if only I knew.' One has to go through experiences to truly learn," he counselled. 

Heh. How ironic that Dad got a little miffed when we got duped by the innkeeper. "If only I knew, I would've just stayed in the city and kept looking for a motel instead of coming to this hell-hole."

I can't say I really enjoy the room, the pizza, or the nasty neon-yellow sheets, but it is enough. I am happy that I'm out of the rain and not wrecking my knee pedalling a bike. And I'm also happy to experience all this firsthand because according to some, experience is the best teacher. 

Life lesson: Don't follow strange women into the dark on your bike. They will lead you into hell-holes.