TAIWAN

In Lukang, Vicki and I toured a very, very old neighborhood.  I is not very big, maybe only as big as our cul-de-sac, but it is like a maze.  The buildings are all red brick and tiny.  The tops of the doorways are even with my eyes.  The sidewalks between the walls are so narrow that my shoulders were touching the buildings on either side.  You could peak into tiny windows and see tiny rooms.  The residences are all connected like apartments would be, and individual families lived in each.  The name of the street we walked down is called Mo Lu Lane, which means “breasts touching,” because if you walked sideways down the street  your back touches the wall of one building and your tits brush up against the other.  Vicki blushed and laughed, “Well, not mine…!”  There are a few people still living in these old buildings but mostly they seem abandoned.

After the visit to the temple, we ate at an oyster restaurant.  They cook the food on wood-fired stovetop griddle affairs out on the street as they shout to the people to come in and eat.  Ohmigod, oysters!  Tons and tons of oysters!  We were in heaven!  We each ordered an oyster omelet and oyster soup.  Vicki ordered deep-fried oysters and I ordered raw ones.  I guess we ate hundreds, and when she was too full to touch another thing, I finished off her soup!  Vicki blushed and giggled again, “You know there are supposed to be hormones in oysters…”  I said, “I know.  They’re supposed to make you horny.”  She covered her mouth and laughed out loud, pointed to the oysters and said, “Nature’s viagra!”  There was a quiet pause and she blurted, “I can feel my boobs getting bigger already!”  I nearly spit out my soup! 

“Well, I feel my butt getting smaller!”  “We will both be very sexy,” she said.   It was really hilarious!  I just didn’t expect her to come off with the things she was blurting out!  I said, “Let’s go back to Mo Lu Lane and see!”  (Sort of a go-no-go gauge, in a manner of speaking.)

We strolled along the street market again watching people making things to sell, examining interesting stuff to buy, passing a hundred temples, I think, along the streets.  Then it was time for my next adventure.

We drove for an hour south and then headed east into the mountains.  It was beautiful there, lush green, misty and silent.  A half hour later, really deep in the woods, we parked and walked, Vicki carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses.  Inside a bath house were tiny rooms.  A bed and bath and small table in it, and out on the “deck,” two small chairs and a table.  Around the corner and down the hall from that, we were led by a tiny old lady to two doors.  Vicki disappeared behind one and I behind the other.  In this room was a tiny tiled bathtub, tiled floor with a drain, a sink and a shelf.  Into the tub was trickling hot mineral water, so hot that it was nearly boiling, coming from natural hot springs in the mountains.  It is opaque gray, rife with minerals, and you cannot see your body once you are immersed.  I had to run the cold spigot for awhile into my tub because it was just too, too hot.  I could barely put my hands and feet in, let alone all the other stuff, like “them” and “it.”  So you get naked and ease yourself into this tub and then you close your eyes and go away for half an hour.  Oh man, I needed that so much.  When you come out, your skin feels silky.  You suds up there in the middle of the floor, then fill the pan with water from the tap and dump it (cold!) all over yourself and give yourself a heart attack!  My breath was catching when I did this part.

After we were done with that, we went back to the bedroom feeling like wet noodles and poured a glass of champagne and sat on the deck.  Both of us nearly fell asleep at this point and pondered the deep, eternal question, “How are we going to drive home?”  We sat awhile, listened to the quiet of the mountains, the trickle of the water, birds and crickets.  It was a two and a half hour drive home and I arrived back to my room at 10PM feeling like a million dollars.

What a day!

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