wanli hotsprings
Originally uploaded by Poagao.

We were planning to film in Danshui later Saturday, but I’d been invited to go to some new hot springs with my friends Harry and Otis, so I gathered up all my camera equipment, light, tripod, etc., and headed for the NTU Hospital MRT stop. We headed north to Danshui on the riverside highway when Dean called and told me the shot was cancelled. Oh, well.

We drove through Danshui, around the coast and on to Jinshan, where we stopped at Harry’s favorite temple restaurant. The place was packed, as usual, with tourist families gulping down cheap MSG-laden noodles. I could just make it though two small bowls.

The day was brilliant, but we passed through some clouds on our way to Wanli, where the hot spring was. Harry said that the place was run by the owners of Huayicun, which was reassuring. When we got there, however, we found that many parts of the complex were still under construction. For example, the men’s open baths. We were allowed in the women’s open baths, but there were no women there. I don’t know what they did with the women. There were hardly any men there, either. One patron was lying on the edge of the hot spring pool; the rest was empty.

We poked around the future men’s open baths for a bit. Later we learned it would be open in a week; we were a week too early. The water was nice, though, and the loud cicadas along with the rest of the natural orchestration one hears in the mountains was soothing.

A couple of other patrons came in later, but that was it. On a Saturday Huayicun would be packed with dozens of bare-assed Taiwanese men.

We left after we started pruning up, and headed back through Danshui, where it was raining, and on to Guandu Temple to have a look at the caves there. On both sides of the caves are little alcoves, each with some god’s statue in it, and a many-armed major god at the end, overlooking the river. I was surprised to see that they’d gotten rid of the rickety old food stalls perched on the riverside. It’s a clean railed sidewalk now.

I was in the mood for some western food, so we stopped in Tianmu for Jake’s Country Kitchen sandwiches, and of course I loaded up with goodies from Wellman’s Market while we were there.

I got a call from DJ but the reception was bad, so I called back later. He didn’t recognize my voice, and we two ahdoghas went on in Taiwanese for a while before establishing who the other was. Then it just seemed natural, so we kept it up. Turns out he had wanted to know if I wanted to go out earlier, but now he was too tired and wanted to crash.

I was too, actually. It was a long day, but nice. Wish I hadn’t had to lug my camera gear all over the place, though.

Some people seem to really dislike their time taking the MRT. I always have a book and my iPod to keep myself occupied, but I’ve lost count of the times a woman* has sat down next to me and immediately began fidgeting around, taking out her cell phone to stare at, rustling through her purse, etc. Eventually she’ll run out of things to do, and stay still…for about ten seconds. Then the cycle will begin again.

I suppose it could be sitting next to a non-ethnically Asian person. I love the little pause that ensues when a woman walks up to the empty seat next to me, most of the time the only empty seat in the vicinity. I count the seconds as she’s brought up short in confusion over my appearance and considers whether it’s worth it to take the plunge and sit next to not just an apparent foreigner, but an apparent foreigner in a bad mood.

Many times she’ll scan around for another empty seat in the next car and find one. If she can’t, she’ll stand. Occasionally I’ll get a real risk-taker or maybe just someone so tired they eventually decide they can’t stand standing any longer, and they’ll sit down. And promptly start to fidget.

It’s ok, though. As long as she doesn’t pull out the nail clippers, I’m ok. The instant I hear that click click, followed by the whizzing of nail shards past my head, I generally start the overt mocking.

*I say woman because not only are most of the passengers on the MRT women, but men seem to not really care who they sit next to or what they do when they’re sitting.

The going-away party for Hyatt was pretty fun. I had no idea he had so many friends; JB’s entire second floor was packed with well-wishers. I bounced around from conversation to conversation, but I never do very well in that kind of atmosphere.

Our last concert with Sheng Xiang and the gang, however, was amazing. The band met at the Sandcastle on Saturday afternoon to go over a few things, but everyone was late (of course), so it wasn’t long before we had to go catch a couple of cabs down to The Wall, scene of the Ramblers’ Michelle Shocked collaboration last year. Damn, it’s hard to believe I’ve been with the band almost a year already.

Sheng Xiang was in the middle of his sound check when we arrived, so we went upstairs for some Gusto hot dogs and drinks from the closest 7-Eleven, which turned out to be several blocks away.

Our sound check lasted until almost 9. The sound guys, one of them a fuzzy-headed punk called TC, seemed on top of things, though I didn’t like the sound of the bass. Not bassy enough, too plucky. I suppose I should have been glad I could even hear it in that cavernous space. We were in a line, using separate mics. I prefer the circle arrangement around condenser mics, but that was not going to work at The Wall.

We were supposed to go on soon, so we just bustled around the coolish green room, getting dressed, preparing drinks, etc. I took some pictures of things on the stage, as well as David’s guitar and the lights on the shelves.

We got on stage at about 9:45. The stage at The Wall is behind a curtain; it was strange to be up there behind the curtain, listening to people talking and milling around out on the new wood floor. A little thrill and a good round of applause followed the curtain opening. We started up, and the audience only got more into the act. By the end of our set they were shouting and dancing. I could hear the bass, and the trumpet sounded hot. Sometimes it’s just easier to play, the sound carries further and seems brighter; that night was one of those times.

Sheng Xiang and Water3 got up for the second set and did their thing while we went out into the audience to listen and have some drinks. I ran into my friend DJ, who had come to see the show sporting the beginnings of a goatee. I also met some Forumosans, including a “Mother Theresa”, who thought I was Sandman, and a South African woman who goes by the moniker “Twonavels” on that site. She must have thought I was an idiot, because I couldn’t answer any of her questions about filmmaking in Taiwan, mainly because I’ve never bought film here and have no idea how much it costs. Nor could I remember the name of the Chinese instrument Yufeng was playing at the time (it was a big round yueqing, and she also had a pipa on the floor beside her).

For the third set, the two bands got up on the large stage together, and man, what a riot. We jammed as we never had before together, and the crowd loved it. They loved Will’s going down onto the floor and tap dancing from one side of the bar to the other.

Everyone was in a little glow afterwards, but I was really tired. Still, I stayed on and chatted with some people in the mini-mall outside the bar for a while before jumping in a cab with Sandman and Jojo. What a night. It was a fitting and splendid way to end our tour with Sheng Xiang and Water3, who are off on their international tour of the US and Europe now. As for the Muddy Basin Ramblers, I think we’re going to take a month or so off to rest, recuperate, send our regalia off to the dry cleaners, and refresh the other parts of our lives for a bit before diving into it all again.

Recently I got a new watch. The band on my old one was cloth and kept disintegrating in the summer heat. This wouldn’t have been a problem if getting a new band meant convincing the Casio shop to write a letter to Japan pleading for a replacement every time, and then waiting months for the thing to arrive.

My new watch is just as freakishly huge as my last one. Ever since my dad gave me an original G-shock, I’ve liked having big, solid watches I didn’t have to worry about breaking (I broke my first G-shock in the army, btw, but those were rather extreme circumstances involving crawling around in the mud with an M14 rifle). People laugh at my big-ass watches, but I’m convinced the size will come in handy someday, such as when I need to deflect a laser or knock out a guard in a warehouse.

This new watch is solar powered, which is kind of strange. A couple of times, mostly in bars or elsewhere late at night, I’ve looked down to see a completely blank display. The watch is “resting” I guess, and I need push a button to see what time it is. No biggie, just need to get used to it. Still easier than pulling out my (now nearly obsolete) phone and hoping it happens to be in the “Show time” screensaver mode. I got a marketing call today concerning 3G phones, but I’m going to wait for a phone that has a good camera and usable browsing and GPS before I trade up. Oh, and a holographic representation of whomever I’m talking to would be nice, too.

In other news, tonight is the farewell party for Hyatt, a co-worker of mine who works downstairs from me. We’re going to JB’s, where I shall strive valiantly to not eat too much. Tomorrow the Muddy Basin Ramblers are doing our last gig with Sheng Xiang and Water3 at The Wall. Come on down and see us on a real stage. I swear, what are we going to do with all that space? Maybe we can use it to stash all the umbrellas people will probably be bringing with them if this daily-deluge business keeps up.

Our performance at The Living Room went ok, I guess. I was in a bad mood and couldn’t get into the spirit of things like I usually do. The awful ventilation in the performance space didn’t help, either. Corbett’s trying to expand, having just hired a couple of assistant managers who seemed to take their duties very seriously, but we were definitely not used to the new management methods they were employing.

Sunday night we played at the venerable Blue Note on Roosevelt and Shi-da Road. The space was tiny, and the stage was apparently set up for a single or duo set, with a baby grand hogging most of the space. In the end we all got up on stage, but nobody was facing anyone else, so eye-contact was difficult, and some of us were set up right next to a speakers. I was feeling a bit better than the night before, so I kind of got into the performance, but I can’t speak for everyone. Water3 played after us, and did their songs as they usually do. They’re tight, they don’t deviate from the scripts, whereas the MBRs don’t really even have a script.

As I was enjoying Shengxiang’s music (I like “More Despicable” and “Job” best), a short woman sat down at my table and asked me for my autograph. This caught me a little off guard, and I admit I felt more than a little suspicious. Nonetheless I signed a paper for her, and she asked me if I was going to stay in Taiwan long. I said yeah, I probably would.

“Why do I feel I can’t believe you?” she replied. Immediately a plethora of snarky come-backs flooded into my head, but I’ve been trying to control those particular demons, so I chose the most eloquent answer I could think of without resorting to cruel wit:

“I don’t know,” I said. That subject exhausted, I turned back to the band, and she went off to get more autographs.

After Water3 was done, the club owner, a short, stocky older Taiwanese guy and former fellow trumpeter himself, put on some jazz videos. Most of the people left, but Sandman and I were planning on staying until the last MRT train was at the station. Fortunately for us, two things happened. The first was Jojo showing up and telling us she could drive us home. The second thing was the arrival of a Japanese jazz trio. They were all named after electronic devices, i.e. “Mr. Casio”, etc., and man, did they rock. The sax player blew everyone away, as did the drummer. The sax player would break out a flute occasionally as well. Very, very nice.

I know, it seems like this journal has become a music journal, with all the Ramblin-related content lately. There are a couple of reasons for this. Mainly, we’re busy doing the ‘tour’ with Sheng Xiang and Water3. Our last performance together is at The Wall on the 18th of July. After that Sheng Xiang and the gang will be embarking on their international tour. David, Will and I met with Carmen, a reporter from the China Post yesterday at the Subway on Roosevelt near the Hsinhai intersection. He’s doing a story on us, so that might translate into some gigs in the future, and our sound is admittedly getting tighter and more focused. Still, I think everyone will be ready to take some time off after the tour.

Another reason for the music stuff all being here I don’t have the kind of time at work that I used to have at Ogilvy or at ITRI, so I don’t have the opportunity to slag my co-workers like I did before. I’ve also shunted all my my movie-related content over to the production blog, and some other content to my anonymous blog, which contains stuff I wish I could write about here, but I can’t because people actually read it, and there some things about me that you really don’t need to know.

Or maybe there aren’t, and I’m just trying to create a false sense of mystery. Ya never know, do ya?

It turned out that David and Robyn were on the same MRT train out to Danshui that I was, but we didn’t meet up until we got out the gate at Hongshulin Station. After a few minutes Tim showed up in the Thumpermobile; we piled in and set off.

About 50 feet down the road, however, we realized we didn’t know where we were going, so David got out and asked a shopkeeper the way to Wayaokeng. Luckily it wasn’t raining as we drove up into the hills, following the steep, dark and curvy road.

I think we were all expecting a small dinner get-together, but the media circus we found there was anything but small. Several guys with cameras were milling around, big lights illuminated the three-section house’s courtyard, where several large tables had been set up and piled with dishes for the guests. Apparently Sheng Xiang had invited the entire village, and there were several low-level officials there as well. Our place was at the head of the table in the center front position, a rather embarrassing site and right in front of the “stage” where Sheng Xiang and Water3 set up to play. We had some good food, Mark the harmonica player making fun of my chopstick technique, or lack thereof, while our host individually thanked everyone there.

Water3 played a few tunes, and afterwards Sheng Xiang called David, Tim and me up to play a couple of things. I had my pocket trumpet, but the third valve was sticking terribly, so that I would suddenly only be able to play a very limited amount of notes. I need to get that thing fixed; it’s crapped out on me too many times. Xiao Liu played bass for us and did ok, especially considering it was the first time he’d heard some of the tunes.

Sheng Xiang then proceeded to call on people to come up and perform, and there were many. One woman was so nervous she spent several minutes talking about how nervous she was, how she didn’t usually do this kind of thing, etc. A few elders got up and sang traditional tunes, including one in German.

I don’t know how long the party had been going on by the time we got there, but at least some of the villagers had definitely been drinking all afternoon. One woman, the cook I think was staggering drunk and had to be dragged off after falling down several times. Another woman, one I originally took to be a reporter as she had a bright green microphone to point in the face of everybody on stage, was apparently also a bit soused. She stuck her camera right in everyone’s faces. I don’t know who she was, but she sure has a future in Taiwanese media. Unfortunately.

The aborigine fellow who was handling sound went up and played a few very nice songs, but when one of the elderly guys brought out a songbook and started singing from it, we pretty much knew it was time to go. It was a lot of fun, but it was getting late, Tim was getting antsy, and that songbook looked really thick.

我們的樂團, ‘泥土盆地漫步者’, 明後天晚上要跟生祥與瓦窯坑３遺棄表演.
禮拜六晚上在小客廳, 然後禮拜天在一家藍調吧, 叫做’blue note’. 上一次一起表演在巫婆屋滿不錯. 今天晚上要去淡水跟他們一起玩.

We had our second performance with Sheng Xiang and Water3 last Saturday at the Witches House near NTU. Our first joint concert had been a little rough, probably because the mostly Taiwanese audience was composed of Sheng Xiang fans and didn’t quite know what to make of the Ramblers’ style. This time, however, everyone was really into, creating a nice feedback loop between us and the audience. Halfway through some Tuvan throat singer friends showed up and sat in. They included Xiao Bang, Zhenya, and Albert. Xiao Bang played a one-string instrument like an erhu, Zhenya played the drum, and Albert played guitar. They all spoke Russian, so I got a chance to prove to myself just exactly how much Russian I’ve forgotten over the years. With Sheng Xiang on stage, Xiao Bang on the steps, and the Ramblers crammed in the aisle, the two bands and extras played several songs all together, and the result was simply beautiful.

Afterwards we all went out to the sports track on the NTU campus and jammed some more. The handle on my poor trumpet case, after nearly a quarter century of use, finally disintegrated, so I had to carry it with the one remaining rusty wire digging into my hand. At the track I set up the tub on the dirt surface, which worked well enough for our purposes. Sandy and I played an incredibly long extraneous…duet thing, with Zhenya on the drum. Xiao Bang retuned David’s banjo in interesting and mysterious ways, while Conor took flash photos of everyone for our Flickr site. Occasionally late-night/early morning joggers, mostly elderly people, would shuffle by, thowing us curious glances. The sky was lighting up with dawn by the time I climbed in to the Thumpermobile and, after dropping Zhenya and Xiao Bang off at their hotel, headed home.

The next day I met up with my old college roomie DJ. It had been years since I’d seen him, and while I’ve gotten a bit wider, he looks basically the same. We shared a suite at Washington & Lee one year, probably the best time I had at that school. He’s teaching at William & Mary, but he’s doing research in Lugang for a couple of months now. If only Clar had made it out here, we could have had a real reunion on our hands. Alas.

Anyway, it was fun talking with him again. We ate veggie fare at Bitan, took a hike up to the abandoned fairgrounds on the neighboring hill, taking pictures of the intensely green water in the fountains, and then up the new path that leads over to the group of buildings overlooking the water treatment plant, the smell of baking railway ties pungent in the hot afternoon sun, and then down to the ferry and over back to Bitan to get splashed by one of the multitude of golden retrievers everyone is buying these days. It’s a little sad because I just know it’s due to some movie or tv show that people are buying these wonderful dogs; I just hope that, when the dogs are out of fashion again, they aren’t abandoned en masse like every other “trendy pet” in Taiwan.

Anyway, it was a nice little walk. We then went up to the drink/snack place on the cliff next to the suspension bridge, the one with all the cats, and chatted over fruity drinks and peanuts. The weather was perfect, the air cleaner for the distant typhoon heading up towards Japan. After DJ left I couldn’t stand the thought of going back indoors, so I walked back behind Taiping Temple to the old community there and chatted with an old retired army guy who showed me the Japanese fish he was raising in pond in front of his house. As we were talking and walking through the alleys, an old woman came towards us holding a wiggling bag. Apparently she’d been given some live fish and didn’t know what to do with them, so she was going door to door, asking her neighbors if they wanted the fish.

It’s been very pleasant recently, and the pool downstairs is open and full of cool water to swim in. The air on the mountain-side of the river where I live is always cooler and fresher than down in the city, and I’m still sleeping with the windows open, despite high temperatures during the day. The other morning I took a good bicycle ride up the river to Banqiao and back. I really should get a better bicycle, however. This piece of RT Mart-bought crap is going to fall apart on a hill someday if I’m not careful.

Tomorrow night we’re playing at The Living Room, and then at The Blue Note on Sunday. Tonight Sheng Xiang is having a party out at his place in Danshui to celebrate their winning three Golden Melody awards after being nominated for seven for their latest album, so I’m going to take the MRT out and meet up with the others before going up there. It sounds cool, though as I look out my office window I see dark clouds threatening rain.

I was waiting for a friend in front of the big Mitsukoshi building near the train station. A lot of people choose that area to meet up, and every so often one or two people would approach, meet up with someone who had been standing there, and take off, talking about what they wanted to eat. One rather tall guy was approached by a smallish woman wearing bright green. She marched right up to him and said, without any kind of salutation, “Did you bring the coupon?” The guy apologized when he answered her demand in the negative, wincing as he did so. It was immediately apparent why: the girl launched herself into the guy, both physically and verbally, pummelling him and shrieking. Everyone in the area, including me, stepped back lest we be inadvertantly hit. I looked at the girl, wondering if she knew I understood what she was saying, but I guess it didn’t matter to her what anyone thought of her. Suddenly wandering over to take a look at the new Apple minis in the store next door seemed like a good idea.