Hungry Like the Wolf: Some thoughts on hedonism...

My line of work necessitates a precise vocabulary. Take, for example, hedonism. The commonly understood definition is: sensual self-indulgence. But there's another definition, which I find equally intriguing: the pursuit of pleasure. Why does this matter to me? Admittedly, I have a test prep teacher's obsession with verbal minutiae. But there's more to it than that. In recent years I've attempted to embrace my hedonistic nature, but I'm still not entirely sure which camp I fall into: pursuit, or indulgence? I have a fairly constant need for movement; I get wanderlust restlessness regularly (I'm predictable in my unpredictability). But there's so much to be said for steak and red wine at home during a downpour. And by that, I mean steak. fried in butter. At 4pm. The wine needs no explanation.

But indulgence isn't as interesting as pursuit, so let's focus on the movement. Before returning to my hedonistic Taipei pleasure dome in preparation for the summer teaching marathon, I explored a bit of Formosa. Most guidebooks will tell you that no trip to Taiwan is complete without a visit to Sun Moon Lake, so I made my pilgrimage there, and it was nice, and I'll blog about it (in like 7 months or something), but in my humble opinion it does not hold a candle to the magic and splendor that is Penghu. Ah, Penghu. Let me sing of your seafood, praise your windy landscape, and marvel at the kindness of your people. Penghu, land of squid, land of cactus. Penghu, you are a 50 minutes by plane from Taipei, and yet you hold mysteries unknown to the rest of this island-country. Penghu, wo ai!

Penghu is an archipelago off the west coast of Taiwan. Since it's made of basalt, its terrain provides a stark contrast to the lush, mountainous jungles found on the rest of the island. Instead of Jurassic Park ferns, it boasts aloe and cacti. Penghu is widely known for two things: wind and seafood. I managed to avoid the first, and revel in the second. I spent my days there biking. scooting, and eating. I love harbor towns, which I suppose makes sense since I grew up in one. There is something that feels so incredibly right about the smell of brine and the clang of boat rigging. My home base was the Moscor International Youth Hostel, run by perhaps the nicest people in all of Taiwan. Jeffrey and his wife provided me with a vintage bike and copious amounts of travel suggestions (they were also more than willing to write down said travel tips in Chinese, since this sad Waigouren is still functionally illiterate.)

Undoubtedly I have a yearning for new environments and experiences. But upon landing in a new locale, I'm easily contented. My first evening in Penghu was perfect: I ate this absurd fish soup consisting of a gooey broth juxtaposed with pieces of spicy fried fish indigenous to the region. I can admit that when I looked at this soup I was skeptical. But I forgot rule #1 - trust the locals. Even the semi-locals. My hostel-mate was a college girl studying in the south of Taiwan, and she led me through a night of culinary greatness. After the soup we went to the itty-bitty Penghu night market for fried squid. And suddenly, I knew. Penghu and squid. A marriage so perfect that George R.R. Martin would certainly kill one of them off by the third book/season. Penghu and squid go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong. Penghu and squid, well, they complete me. In a way that Tom Cruise and his creepy Scientology never will. Oh, and what did we wash this bounty down with? Bright purple cactus juice, the beverage of Penghu champions. And then, sated, it was on to the Penghu Fireworks festival, featuring Asian boy bands and a general disregard for deodorant. I rode my rickety bike home enveloped in a seaside embrace.

My saviors

So, um, despite my best efforts, I don't really speak Chinese. And I don't really have a valid drivers license. And this can be an issue in an area with few English speakers and even fewer cabs. My first full day in Penghu was a comedy of errors. A Smela-level state of absurdity. But, as always, things somehow worked out. When I missed the bus from the really old and big tree, generous food stall owners took me in, called me a cab, and gave me free beverages because "you are a friend now". And then, when the cab driver couldn't take me from the turtle temple to the traditional village he arranged for a crazy woman in the Taiwanese equivalent of a burka to shuttle me to my next destination. True, she spent most of the time yelling at me in Chinese, but beggars can't be choosers. And I did manage to get back in time to enjoy a lovely bike ride by the shore. And eat more squid. Yeah, I ate fried squid every day. You gotta problem with that?

Day two was island hopping. Luckily for me, no one on the far-reaching islands cares if you have a valid drivers license; they'll give you a scooter regardless. They'll also put a sticker on you so that people know which boat you belong to when you're wandering the harbor, sunburned, weeping, a broken woman, trying to find your way home. Not that this happened to me or anything. *Ahem* Chimei and Wangan were stunning. I rode around the practically desolate islands, drinking in the colors: brilliant blue water against a yellow, rocky shoreline. Green succulents amidst withered brown grass. This was my world, if only for a few hours. I felt such a sense of calm, of peace. Of person. There was only one way to honor this. More fried squid.*

Really? You're surprised?

Super Asian

My time in Penghu was woefully short. I did not cavort on the white sand beaches. I only tried one of the local melons. And I was only partially adopted by the hostel owners; we never had a chance to fill out the official paperwork. But Penghu will live on my memory as my rugged Taiwanese paradise. I will return with a valid license and most definitely an appetite.

People of Peghu: hide your squid.

* A note about the squid - the texture is firm, just short of chewy. And the flavor, oh my, so buttery, so right! The street stalls served it deep fried with fresh basil, garlic, and the mysterious Taiwanese salt-pepper. One can only dream of being worthy of such deliciousness. And goddammit. We haven't even talked about the oysters. The oysters! Gran dio! Giuosto ciel!