"It's so easy, even an english can do it!"

I've been back in Canada for a week now and have experienced a touch of what I hear is reverse culture shock, but I believe is actually more culture dismay. Things that dismay include ...

People driving around with the bass of their crap music rattling the door handles on their beater cars.

Fat people. So many. I mean, the sidewalks are wider here, but they really don't seem to be.

Pushy guys. Cat calling, ogling, etc.

The number or people who really care about the queen visiting. Like, thousands of them, standing in the rain to watch her look at some boats.

Protestors burning cars at the G20 summit and launching class action lawsuits for unlawful detainment. The controversy that grabbed the most headlines in connection with ECFA protesting in Taipei was that it was a little noisy and might distract students writing exams.

Shit is expensive.

Okay so I guess it's not that bad to be back. Some things are fantastic. Hearing good live music is something that is next to impossible in Taipei, as is walking in to any bar or cafe to watch soccer. As it happens to be jazz festival and world cup season in Montreal, it's actually difficult to not enjoy these things. And man did I miss cheese.

The Sweeter Side of Leaving

I'm leaving Taipei on Wednesday, meeting my mother in Vancouver and continuing on to Montreal the next morning. This is, of course, bittersweet.

To ensure that I do not rob myself of any bright and shiny tourist moments, I have been scrambling around since I got back from Japan to fill my remaining days with neglected sightseeing. So far this has included :

Yehliu Park and the “Queen's Head” rock ... An area of the shore in Keelung that has neat looking rock formations that have been shaped by a unique combination of geographic location and salt water. Although I didn't see the resemblance of the main attraction to Queen Elizabeth, there were some other highlights such as an ice cream cone, elephant, fairy shoe and candle. The road in is lined with traditional shops selling fresh fish in all of their many splendoured strangeness.

Keelung port and night market ... The busiest night market I have been to yet. Although going on a Saturday night probably didn't help matters, it is apparently very well known and would probably be packed any night of the week. I was sold on the extensive variety of urchins for purchase, as well as the giant preserved blow fish. It has a pretty nice temple at one end as well, although I do not see how anyone could feel particularly spiritual after shoving their way through fish guts and sweaty hordes.

The National Palace Museum ... Said to be one of the top 5 “most important museums in the world”. I'm not sure what kind of grounds they rank museums on, this is only what I've read. In addition to being in a huge, cool looking building it is full to the brim with artifacts for the ancient bronze and porcelain enthusiast's (clearly everyone's) inspection. Sections on religious artifacts are relegated to one show room on the first floor and, despite my best intentions, the calligraphy and extensive jade, pottery, bamboo, etc. displays got more than a little tedious. Still well worth seeing, however, as there are a few knock-out pieces that make the whole slog worth while.

Now, for some run-of-the-mill griping and offensiveness.

It's summer, and it's bloody hot. As if the heat isn't enough, there's the humidity. Humid as in, when you walk out of an air conditioned space your sunglasses and camera lens fog over and your hair curls up. When you get into bed at night, the sheets are damp. Why go to the beach when you can swim 24 hours every day, anywhere you are, in your very own sweat?

Now for the La-a. Please forgive me any slant in this translation, as I have been told this is a term for hordes of Mainland Chinese tourists, with an extremely obnoxious connotation. Pronounced La-prolonged screaming sound. La-aaaaaaaah! And appropriately so. When you arrive at your destination and the parking lot has row upon row of bubblegum-coloured tour buses sandwiched into an unruly parking scheme, you know you're in for some terror. The drivers sit in a group airing their guts and chewing betel nut while the passengers swarm the site. In a well-deserved generalization, these tourists are mind-numbingly loud and brazenly rude. A kind of mob-rule lawlessness comes over the hordes, and they elbow, fight, scream, stomp, poke, budge and belch their way through the attractions. Avoiding weekend excursions is no use – They are always there, and they are all-powerful.

Now when you combine the heat, humidity and La-a, any outing becomes, essentially, a matter of survival. Tempers flare and t-shirts stick. I've had my fill, at least of this. Please, bring on the wide sidewalks, culturally implied etiquette and sub 30 degree temperatures. Canada, I 'll be seeing you none too soon.

Izakaya Ya-Yas

Another neat item on the list ...

Can you think of a greater idea than cheap beer, barbecued meat and rowdy strangers? Queue the izakaya, one of Japan's greatest achievements. In contrast to your typical Western bar, you sit at a long row of tables with people you don't know, and when you are being seated the entire staff holler something that sounds part welcoming and part threatening at your party. General ridiculous behaviour is not just tolerated, but expected. Sure, warble Asia Top 40 hits while falling off your stool. Kanpai until you break your mug! Eat unreasonable varieties and volumes of grilled animals. We sat down beside these guys who looked like mobsters but ended up being about the nicest people ever. Canada needs to look into this.

The monorail. Even transit reflects the neat, tidy and pleasant Okinawan culture. Not only does the conductor wear a spiffy sky-blue getup, but a cheery jingle is played between each station (all above ground). It was the most damn pleasant experience I have had with public transit in my life.

Its hard to find much to dislike about Okinawa, and really, the only thing I could really take issue with was the Americans.

At present time there are 50,000 American military employees on the island of Okinawa. There are massive technical and tactical development sites as well as numerous camps. Obviously, everyone wants them gone, and for good reason. While I was there a news story surfaced about a GI on break in Naha who, upon drunkenly realizing that his friends were not in the taxi he'd gotten into, assaulted and strangled the driver. This is only one example out of many. The abrasiveness of these foreigners is at painfully odd ends with the locals. Coincidentally, at the beginning of June Japan's Prime Minister Yukio Hatoyama stepped down and aside from funding scandals the point of contention was the military bases on Okinawa. He'd promised to have them moved and following news from the US that the proposed replacement site in Guam would not be ready for several more years he broke his promise. It appears that since being annexed by Japan Okinawa, formerly Ryukyu, has been a dumping ground for Japanese and American political fallout. Raw deal. The “American Village” is a gaudy reminder of the population who sustain it and is complete with a giant Coca-Cola ferris wheel. If you are lucky enough, you can have your suntanning disrupted by an intimidating group of jogging marines.

Anyway. I would highly recommend Okinawa for anyone looking for a beach vacation involving cheap beer, grilled meat, and hot chicks. Which is pretty much everybody.

Okinawa continued.

I left off at awamori. I will pick up where the awamori took off.

Tone Satoshi. While offering around our fraudulent sake we met Satoshi-San, an underwater dive photographer. Very friendly, but we were having a tough time with the language barrier. We had planned to head to an izakaya for 100 yen beers later with some girls from Hong Kong, and he decided to come along, claiming to know the way. After 30 minutes of wandering in the rain we found the place. After a couple more beers, Satoshi-San was capable only of giggling hysterically. At about this point we realized we didn't know his name. Thus began a messy but suprisingly productive strategy of drawing cartoons and writing in Kanji (used in Japan and China) to communicate. He passed out on the common room floor of the hostel. The next morning, we were given gifts that he had left for us including a pricey bottle of Shochu and canned Spam. Awesome, thanks man.

Thanks Ani!

Ah, the wisdom garnered as a teen from a gay, feminist folk idol.

Ani Difranco once sang "...women should be allies and not competitors." Knock Ani all you want, but I would like to think that a touch of her feminism has stuck with me over the years. Hence the inspiration for an offer of the olive branch to an "enemy".

Really, why should a man be allowed to pit two women against eachother in venomous competition? Should that kind of ferocity and cunning not be reserved for someone who really has it coming?

No, I am not giving any background on this. But ladies, I know you know what I'm talking about. Stop, reconsider - maybe this enemy is really an ally in disguise.

Now back to writing that has context.

Back in the mess.

Getting jostled and stared at, drowning in the humidity, dodging giant cockroaches, packs of stray cats mating in alleys ... Looks like we're back in Taipei. After a week in uber laid-back Okinawa it's a shock to my system, but a welcome one. Beaches, island time and exceeding politeness are great but I feel more at home in the chaos.

Naha was amazing though. We managed to get extremely sunburnt and met some great people. My birthday was on our second to last night there and the staff organized a suprise party which turned into a late night of confusedly translating drinking games from English to Japanese, Mandarin, Cantonese and Korean. I have a whole new respect for the skill level required to play King's Cup in a second language.

Things that were particularly neat:

Awamori. We mistakenly got a bottle of this, thinking it was sake. The decision went something along the lines of "Wow, it's 30%? And 600 yen (about $7 Canadian)? Sure!" After offering it to someone at the hostel we found out that it was indeed not sake, but a sort of Okinawan vodka that was the island's signature hard liquor. Got drunk.

Will continue.