I went over to the Page One bookstore in Taipei 101 this afternoon, or rather what’s left of it. When Page One opened in the new mall complex that formed the base of what was then the world’s tallest building, it filled an entire floor with rows upon towering rows of books on every subject, featuring vast literature and fiction sections, a healthy art and photography selection, and the whole place was filled with that wonderful new-book smell. There was a huge Sony Store opposite with all kinds of cool gadgets, and the Jason’s supermarket downstairs was filled with tasty treats from all over the world, including Keebler Fudge Sticks.

Over the years, however, things have changed in the area. More buildings have gone up, mostly luxury apartments no normal person could ever hope to afford. More useful stores, such as electronics outlets and interesting restaurants, gave way to more and more top-end fashion accessory brands. The supermarket was left mostly devoid of Western goodies, settling down into more of a large-ish Wellcome grocery at three times the price. As this happened, Page One closed off one section after another, slowly shrinking until it could only be entered through an exit stairway door.

Now it’s scheduled to close in the near future. Most of the unsold books have been brought to the front of the store, including the children’s book section, which I found kind of sad. The whole thing is kind of sad, not just Page One but the entire area, although Page One seems like an apt metaphor for what’s happened, i.e. money chasing out culture. But I suppose it’s better to build that area up than to simply tear the old parts of the city down, which is happening, but not at the rate it might have had no land been available out at the east edge of the city.

After purchasing, somewhat out of a sense of guilt, a Star Wars notebook, I walked around the area a bit, remembering when it was mostly empty, and how happy I’d been when the Warner Village theaters were built. They’re still there, of course, along with a long series of expensive Mitsukoshi Department Stores. I stopped in the Gogoro Scooter shop and was impressed with the electric scooters dotting the showroom floor, though for me a city scooter is solving a problem that has been solved effectively with the arrival of the MRT and the YouBike system. If I were to buy another two-wheeler, it would an electric motorcycle with enough range to get me into and back out of the mountains for a day or so.

But the area around 101 has become markedly less interesting. The real action is happening, as it seems to always have done, in the alleys of Taipei as young entrepreneurs open up more interesting shops with their own vibe and audience. Perhaps the vacuous culture-suck that surrounds 101 is a useful lightning rod, drawing clueless rich tourists and spoiled rich locals away from places where they could do a lot more harm. The real soul of this city still lies elsewhere.

I took the big movie poster over to the new DV8 the other night. I figure that that is the most suitable place for it, rather than just sitting amid the clutter of the Water Curtain Cave. For one thing, the first scene we shot was at the original DV8, and Gary, who runs the place these days, also acted in the film (in a scene shot at Peshawar, which has long since been torn down). I’d never been to the new DV8, which is now on Fuxing South Road near the rear entrance to NTU, not far from one of my former haunts, actually. I should get a DVD to Gary, I suppose, though Dean said he would work on a Blu-ray version.

In other news, Maoman, Taffy et al are setting up a book party/signing for me on July 18th, a Saturday. They’re looking at Vinyl Decisions, which is near the old Bob’s (My, there are a lot of old/new places in that area). I imagine it will be a small affair, but I’ll post the details either here or on Facebook when I know more. Hopefully the print version will be available on amazon soon; they require a certain amount of time, but it’s been a while, so hopefully by that time it will be up. Currently the print version is available at Camphor Press’s site. If you buy one and somehow randomly encounter me on the street when I’m not in too foul a mood, I’ll probably even agree to sign it for you.

It seems my dear alma mater, Washington & Lee University, has decided not only to tear down my freshman-year dorm, Gilliam Hall, but also the place where I spent most of my time when I was at W&L, aka the old International House. The IHOP, as we called it, was an old two-story white wooden structure just two doors away from Gilliam. It must have been built very long ago, as it was already old and rickety when I first saw it in the late 1980’s. But it was a godsend for me.

Along with Chavis House, where I also spent a lot of time, the International House was the most interesting place on campus, a welcome oasis of multicultural influence in a desert of entitled white fratboys in polos and khakis with beers glued to their hands. If it were a fraternity I would have rushed it, but it was more of an anti-fraternity. Anyone was welcome; it was more about embracing than exclusion. And the people I met there were my best friends during those days. I keep in touch with many of them to this day. I honestly think that if it weren’t for them I would have left W&L altogether.

It will come as no surprise that I didn’t get along terribly well with most of the other students at W&L. That included my freshman-year roommate, Todd, which is not intended as any kind of negative reflection on him. He just became good friends, not with me, but instead with my high-school friend Garrick, who also attended W&L. We ended up having some kind of falling out over something that apparently neither of us can recall. It was ugly, but to me the entire fraternity culture was ugly.

The saving grace of W&L was the wonderfully kind and brilliant faculty, most of whom would bend over backwards to help students. But the International House made it home. I moved most of my things there and more-or-less lived there full time in a side room nobody happened to be using. There was one bathroom in the hall under the stairway, and the kitchen, with an oddly slanting floor, was an addition in the rear; the house had apparently been built before indoor plumbing was invented. Victor Cheung, from Hong Kong, lived upstairs in the master bedroom with his girlfriend Junku, from Japan. Members would have parties there, trips to places like Washington, DC, and occasional fights over who ate something out of the pantry that didn’t belong to them (I’m sorry Outi; I just love pop-tarts and I was hungry). Taiwanese cadets from the adjacent Virginia Military Institute would come to the parties as they knew they would be welcome there. There was always something going on, be it a midnight game of strip poker or just someone studying while the TV was on.

Later the building served as the university’s LGBQT Center, I saw to my astonishment when I visited a few years ago. But now it’s gone. Farewell, old friend.

The hotel had arranged for a car to the airport leaving at 7:30 a.m., but we were up at 5 and out on the streets to watch the city come to life. Chenbl was looking for the city gate we’d stumbled upon the previous day, but we failed to restumble upon it, and instead spent the time wandering around markets and random streets as the sun appeared and began to cast interesting light here and there.

Just as the light was getting really good, though, we had to leave. Time was up. Breakfast was had, and soon we were in the car driving sedately (there seems to be no other way to drive in Vietnam…everything is more or less sedate) in the direction of the airport. No muss, no fuss. We tipped the driver and walked back into the flurry cloud of travel, which included a large group of Very Loud Chinese just behind us. Oddly, the woman at the desk had us weigh our carry-ons, and then declared that we’d have to check them as they were over seven kilograms. This has never happened to me before, not just being over the weight, but having to weigh my carry-on luggage at all. Now we were free and unencumbered, with no worries as long as we didn’t miss our connecting flight.

So we missed our connecting flight. It wasn’t our fault; our flight out of Hanoi was delayed coming in, so by the time we got to Hong Kong our other flight had already left. We might have made it if air traffic control hadn’t had us flying in circles for half an hour. The women who met us at the gate in HK already had us on the next Cathay flight back to Taipei, but they’d also put us in the very middle seats. Once we were on board I asked a stewardess if there were any window seats available. The HK woman next to me then asked her the same thing. Five minutes later, the HK woman was escorted to an emergency exit window seat, but Chenbl had to snap at the stewardess to remind her of my request. In any case, I ended up with a nice view of the brand-spanking new Rolls-Royce engine as we jetted back to Taipei, a few hours behind schedule.

The train station, where the bus dropped us off, was full of people, as it tends to be on weekends. I really can’t wait for the airport MRT to be finished so I can start bitching about that instead of the airport buses. I was exhausted by the time I got home, and went to bed without fully unpacking.

The reason for this was that the next day, i.e. Sunday, I was hosting/judging a photography event in Sanxia. In order to make it there on time, I caught the first bus from Xindian at 6:40 a.m., arriving in Sanxia a little after 7. After wandering around the market a bit and meeting up with Chenbl and Ewan, the people who had arranged the event briefed me on what I was supposed to do. Basically it was a contest for market photography, and the event was kicking the whole thing off. I talked a little bit about this and that, went with them around the market, and we took some photos. It was fun. A few dozen photographers registered for the event, which includes some very nice prizes. Many of the participating photographers were seriously equipped older men who weren’t quite sure what the hell I was doing there but were afraid to ask.

Afterwards, we had some lunch in an alley, and then walked over to the temple to meet up with my friend Ashish, who brought along his two adorably cute kids. We walked around and chatted over ice treats before Ashish had to leave.

Just then a temple ceremony started up, so we watched people taking statuettes in and out of the temple, accompanied by fireworks. Then it was back on the bus home. This time, however, I felt that my trip was truly concluded. I’d been thinking so much about getting up and going to the event that I hadn’t truly relaxed since I got back.

Aaaand now it’s Monday. There are some reports in the media about the event, but nothing major. Anyway, back to work. See you later.