Back to the official One Ring Zero site
Back to the main blog page.

ORZ in Taiwan

(Part 3 of 4)

 

Dear North America, I've got some bad news to report.  Frat kids have taken over Taiwan.... or at least they've taken over the Spring Scream Festival in Southern Taiwan.

"Dude, Taiwan's awesome!  You can like totally go there for super cheap and the chicks are hot!"

The festival, which was divided into two locations—one being the dude ranch that we were on, and the other a half-hour away at Erluanpi National Park (the very southern tip of the island)—was suddenly flooded with these ex-patriot frat kids, walking arm in arm with petite Asian girls.  The thing that baffled us the most, however, was that it seemed like a large majority of them could speak fluent Mandarin!  Many of them have lived here for five to ten years (and still wear Birkenstocks and drink Jello shooters until they vomit). Go figure.  Of course, there were still tons of actual local Taiwanese people at the festival, and everyone seemed to be having a great time and getting along.  Although I obviously had a difficult time with the frat kids, they all seemed to be very friendly and appreciative of our music.  Just beware of the flying Tsingtao bottles.  Both of our shows went well.  During the first performance, at the mega-sized Erluanpu main stage, it suddenly dawned on the entire band that we no longer had any idea how to play music!  Fortunately, by the end of the set we were back to ourselves.  We were just temporarily distracted by the 100 foot wide stage, the smoke machines constantly blowing a thick white fog around us, the multi-colored spotlights flashing back and
forth, and the brontosaurus-like crane-operated camera swinging back and forth between the stage and the audience.  Oh, and did I mention the slinky-dressed Marlboro girls dancing side by side in a kiosk next to the stage?  Stage banter also proved to be a slightly difficult task.  I'm not so certain people in Taiwan really care too much about
Paul Auster and Denis Johnson.  I did however explain that, "The lyrics for this next song were written by Rick Moody who also wrote the novel The Ice Storm which was made into a movie directed by your own Ang Lee!"  Okay, it's a stretch, but I had to do it.  At the end of the performance, I held up a copy of our CD for everyone to see, and pointed to Olivier who stood at a makeshift merchandise table.  I then tossed the CD out to the crowd, and it instantly spiraled out of control, and perfectly pegged the camera at the bottom of the crane.

After the gig, we headed back to the ranch and ate some food. Unfortunately, our only option was at the frat food court.  I bought a corn dog that tasted strangely like Chinese food, and Josh ordered a chicken cordon bleu sandwich--grilled by a shirtless American who counted, "T-minus three, two, one, and here's your sandwich dude!" After another evening of restless sleep, Olivier, Josh, Taylor, and I (Timothy slept in) took a taxi to the oceanfront.  I was suddenly reminded that I hadn't actually come to the festival to play music; I had come to see Taiwan!  And what could be more authentic than eating dumplings and rice and drinking local beer at a small open-air grill on the beach?  Josh swung in a hammock out front while Olivier, Taylor, and I poked our chopsticks at two plates of dumplings.  At one point while we were eating, Olivier pointed at a basket full of flip-flops on the ground next to our picnic table and said, "Oh my god. What do
those flip-flops say on them?"  Within the pile of random flip-flops were several pairs bearing the letters Orz across the top. "Holy crap!"   So stupid, and yet so amazing.  I contemplated buying every pair, thinking that I could then resell them at shows.  With better judgment, we bought only four pairs as souvenirs.  We later learned that the letters Orz are significant in text messaging and emails.  Somehow, because of the way the letters look like a person doubled over, it means that you have failed or are in despair to the point of being doubled over (?).

After lunch, we walked across a beautiful, but pointless, foot bridge.  We ate ice cream as we bounced across the wooden slats, and, once we got to other side, we turned around and bounced our way back.

Our show Saturday night was much better.  Despite the inclement weather, a larger crowd gathered for our performance.  At one point, I held up my digital camera (set to video) and had the audience scream "Hello America!"  I also tossed out another CD, which, once again, spiraled out of control and landed in the grass twenty feet away from where anybody was standing.

The next morning we said goodbye to the festival and loaded into a large bus.  We were the only white people on it, and for some reason, this made me happy.  For eight hours we drove along the west side of Taiwan, making several stops along the way.

Unlike America's hellish rest areas made up of Roy Rogers, TCBYs, Sbarros and A+Ws, we were completely stunned by the excitement of the Taiwanese bus stop. Zig-zagging mazes of strange foods.  Vendors barking into microphones.  Ladies handing out samples of dried sea things and greasy balls or rice dough.  And hordes of people from the fifteen-plus buses in the parking lot, pressing together and working their way through the building, trying to find the bathrooms, which, for men, meant a gulley along two of the walls for everyone to piss in.

We arrived in Taipei around eight pm.  Dragging our suitcases and instruments along the neon-lit sidewalk we could see Taipei 101 (the world’s tallest building, they say!).  For the first time since getting to Taiwan, we were truly on our own.  The festival was finished and we were now in a big city with no solid plan.  Our friend Hong-Kai (who lives in New York, but is from Taiwan) had put us in touch with her friend Tsai Hai-En (who's name is a set of three pitches--E, C, D).  I had emailed him several times from the U.S., and Tsai Hai-En had very cordially invited us to all stay in his apartment.  But still, the logistics were not totally clear.  The language barrier and email barrier had left me feeling not entirely confident in the situation.  After all, would you want five stinky musicians (who you don't know) staying in your apartment?  We tried to call him to let him know we were in town and to make sure it was still okay for us to come over. Unfortunately our cell phones are fairly useless in Taiwan, and we couldn't find a payphone anywhere.  I suggested that we just take a taxi to his place.  We could show the address to a taxi driver and hope for the best.  The first taxi driver looked at the English letters on the scrap of paper, and shook his head. The next taxi driver, after several minutes of contemplating the street name and number, made a cell-phone call.  He turned to us and nodded.   But we had another obstacle--too many people and too much equipment for one car.  We flagged down a second taxi and, with charade-like gestures, asked the first driver to communicate with the second driver.  Also, a man and woman walking down the sidewalk who happened to notice how pathetic we looked and who also happened to speak a bit of English, came over and helped.  We thanked them.  "Xie Xie!" (Our favorite new words.)

Ten minutes later we were in front of Tsai Hai-En's apartment. Amazingly, he was standing in front of his building waiting for us! We hopped out of the cars and quickly introduced ourselves.  He greeted us and then led us up to the third floor apartment where we met his two roommates, Han and Wolfgang--the second being a German guy who had lived in Taiwan for many years and spoke very good English. All three roommates were very nice and welcoming, however, immediately upon entering the apartment, we knew there was no way all five of us could stay here. There wasn't nearly enough room.  We were also tired, hungry and incredibly grumpy.  The festival had caught up with us.  The jet-lag had caught up with us.  We had hit a wall.  We needed food and we needed sleep.  Josh said, "No offense guys, but I hate all of you."  Olivier suggested we try to find a couple hotel rooms and divide up.  Wolfgang knew a hotel just a few blocks away.  We could walk by and see if there were rooms, and then continue on to one to get some food.  A plan!

After reserving a couple of rooms, Wolfgang, Han, and Tsai Hai-En led us to one of their favorite restaurants—a Thai/Taiwanese place just down the street.  With six large bottles of beer on our long table, we shoveled plates of mango salad, curried chicken, beef with scallion, and rice into our faces.  More plates came out.  Fish in broth.  Soup with broth.  Broth with broth.  We instantly felt better... and even more tired.  After paying our 1800 TD ($50 for eight full bellies), we walked back to the hotel and Tsai Hai-En's apartment. Olivier and I shared one room.  Timothy and Josh shared another. And Taylor slept on the couch at the apartment.  Good night!