Tour Report: 6th of August, Kilometre 0

I'm officially starting the trip tomorrow. Came home rather late tonight, it'd already last 2400 when I started to pack, and when I was done it was 0300. Didn't feel sleepy though, I was a bit worried, hoping that I'll be catching the first ray of light rising up the horizon, but I was also aware that it was pointless to wake up so early because I was going to the uni to bid farewell and only till after 0830 will everybody be there, so an early start will be impossible.

Woke up about 3 hours later, so astronomically punctual I was as precise as an atomic clock. Guess I was a bit nervous. Of course I'm no newbie in cycle touring, but it'd already been 2 years since the last time I was on the road on my loaded rig, think I was getting a bit rusted, the sedentary lifestyle was having an undetected negative effect on me, I was taking things for granted with or without realizing it. Yes, I was nervous and excited. I was about to mutter with stiff upper lip "why the fuck are you doing this for, punk?" again on the road amid the pain in the left knee, lower back, bottom, wrist, palm, neck, rain, sweat, headwind, heat, uphill, thirst, hunger and the sun.

The somberness of leaving behind the job and my students was temporarily gone. I was soon to be on the road again, to be on the move, I felt full of life. And likewise so full of life were a series of typhoons that were gearing up for the rendezvous in the days to come.

***

八月六號.

明天我就要上路了。去年沒能騎的環島今年終於有時間去了。今天有點晚才回家，這讓我想到Angeliki在西班牙的最後一晚，她的飛機是早上7點或是8點多從馬德里飛回希臘，但她這傢伙到了3點多還在那裡爛醉說她連行李都還沒打包。想起來還滿有趣的。當我發動引擎從逢甲飆回家時已經是晚上12點多了，我飛快似的整理裝備，一搞就是兩三個小時。雖然我一點睡意都沒有但還是上去躺個意思，因為幾個小時之後我就要上路了，但其實我沒有要這麼早出發，因為我還要去學校跟人道別而他們要到八點半之後才會全部都在，所以可以多睡一點。

早上六點我精神飽滿地出去吃早餐，躺不到三個小時卻一點睡意都沒有，自從課程結束之後我再也沒有這麼早起來。我想我有一點緊張。想不到吧，平常時看不出來，但我的確有一些不安。我雖然不是單車旅行的菜鳥，但是最近一次騎已經是兩年前在澳洲的事了，兩年來不動的生活方式已經讓我安逸下來，讓我變的有點沒用了。我需要出去碰觸，那感覺，讓我知道我還活著，還沒腐爛到無可救藥的地步，想到這裡我那因為丟下工作及學生而悶悶不樂的心情也稍微好轉。

的確，我有點緊張。再過幾個小時之後我左膝蓋、下背部、臀、手腕、手掌、頸部的酸痛以及雨、汗、逆風、熱浪、上坡、口渴、飢餓和大太陽將誘引我再一次咒罵自己白痴為甚麼出來活受罪。我就要上路了，再次靠自己的力量前進，我感覺充滿活力；在東方地平線的盡頭，帕布及其尚在娘胎中的兄弟們也蓄勢待發準備上路。

Tour Report: Cycling Taiwan

Well, this is the first entry for this year's tour, actually this trip was planned for last year, but since I started to work last August as teaching assistant in the uni it was unfortunately post phoned. Last month I quit my job and the masochistic voice within told me that it was time to be back on the road again. My sorrying ass was longing for some cursed soreness.

Today is the ninth day into the trip and I'd already covered 177k... eh? What the hell? I know, I know it sounds pretty lame, even the 90 year-old grandpa of your neighbour can do better than that I know, but just let me explain the whole thing, yeah?

Day one, started from my garage in Shalu and ended in Hsinchu in the north-west of Taiwan, following the Provinicial Highway No.1 and then the coastal Expressway No.61, 84k.

Day two, from Hsinchu to Taipei, mistakenly took the No.61, headed back midway to pick up No.1, 93k.

So far so good, eh? So what was it that kept me here in the capital for such a long time? Well, there was this interpreter job for the Honduras football team which came here to get ready for the FIFA U-17 World Cup 2007 in Korea. So after resting for one day which I desperately needed, detailed descriptions later, I headed to the hotel where they lodged. So since the 4th day of my trip I was temporarily off the bike working and having fun with the team till today - day 9.

To be honest, I didn't like the idea of breaking up my trip at first, besides I wanted to see my students off in the airport, but after a moment of pondering, I reckoned it quite beneficial from a working-travelling point of view, something which I'd desired for sometime, you know the romantic view of being on the road with the money you earned along the road. It wouldn't be such a bad idea after all, and I can always take the bus or train to the airport if I failed to end my journey before the flight to Spain and come back later to pick up where I left it anyway.

So here I am entering the 10th day and still 177k, averaging 12.2k/h... Hmm... Looks like I got some more explanations to do, but it's going to be the next time, probably tomorrow or sometime after that when I have connection to the internet again. I know 12.2k/h looks ultra lame, even the 90 year-old grandma of your neighbour can do better than that I know, but I'm no weenie, there was a very good reason behind that. Oh, blast it! My cycle computer is broken, I tried to pry it open but to no avail, I hope it's not too expensive to get a new one.

Alright, guess I'll stop the intro here and tie up the loose ends the next time. After that, the posts will come up chronologically and in both English and Mandarin. See you then.

Ingmar Bergman (July 14, 1918 – July 30, 2007)

Caught the news earlier tonight while I was having finner. Today was my last day at work, during the whole day I'd been busy tying up loose ends, the final frantic hour after almost a month of ease came somewhat unexpected.

Trying to get through all the procedures of the resignation process left my occupied mind little room to manoeuvre, it wasn't after 1600 when most of the people were gone and me found myself closing the doors for one last time that I was capable of appreciating the fact that it was the last time I was doing it, the thing I used to call, with no little amount of disdain, "routine". I didn't want it to end here, I liked the job despite some of its less than desirable elements. If it wasn't for my blasted thesis, no, if it wasn't for my incapability of studying while working, I would still be seeing my students merrily in less than 2 months...

It's too late for that. The future will not be avoided. One more extra year or not will inevitably meet its end, and you'll see yourself bitching about the bloody routine again and tying up the loose ends in the final frantic hour.

A couple of days ago I accidentally came upon Bob Marley's "No, Woman, Nuh Cry" and it brought me immediately back to Spain, to the smoke, to the strolling quietly in the beautifully illuminated streets under the moon, to her, to them, to memory, to me bitching about my flatmates, to the sky-high dirty plates in the sink, to spending too much time wasting it, to being in a bad mood constantly, to fooling around aimlessly, to finding the end fast approaching, to leaving on a jet plane, to moisturized cheeks, to remembering it fondly afterwards.

To remembering fondly that in the best year of my life I was bitching about nothing of critical importance. Of course, I didn't know during that time that it was going to be the best time of my life. But it was. And now I can only remember it. Would it be better that I stayed in that place and time complaining about things for all the eternity than remembering it, recreating it in my mind, with such fondness in years to come without being able to actually relive it?

Sometimes all you can do is laugh

When I saw her this afternoon in the office I thought my mind and my eyes were fucking with me. Dumbfounded, I stared at her incredulously... But it was her!

The realization didn't came with a light punch, it literally knocked me off my chair. Few years back shyness prevented me from talking to her and I paid the price for that afterwards. She disappeared, and I thought it was the last time I was going to see her.

This afternoon, despite being caught off guard, I initiated the conversation with feigned ease, and to my surprise, she knew my name and stayed there chatting with me long after everyone was gone.

But neither of us is going to stay here for too long, about 2 months or so for her and 2 weeks for me. Then it would be years before I had a chance to see her again. In between, there will only be recreations of her in my head.

What if this is as good as it gets

What's so incredible about your life so far is the fact that you only fall for those that will send you back into the self-pitying hole from where you've just managed to dig yourself out. Of course it's no comparison to the sufferings in, say, Darfur or Iraq, but it's just so fucking frustrating. Knowing that someone's dying of hunger, diseases, bomb attacks, or whatever somewhere in the world right now does little to help you feel a little bit better.

The outside world ceased to exist and a wave of tiredness rise up and enwrap you and you can only hear the music of sighing. It's pathetic, you know it, but you're helpless when frustration gets to you. Then you see that it's more convenient to blame the society, the world, life itself, and with every disappointment you become more and more cynical, and it goes on like a perfect circle.

You see a cockroach on the darkened floor, scuttling hurriedly to safety as you draw closer, and you think to yourself how easily you can squash that tenebrous piece of shit, no effort at all. In fact, all you have to do is to just lift your leg somewhat, reposition it, lower it and the bottom of your shoe will be juicy with roach rest. It's that simple. But in reality, you're no more robust than that piece of shit and someday you'll be the juice under somebody's boots, or probably, your own.

Cluttered Space

The act of navigating through the WWW is no longer suitable to be described as something as exciting and enjoyable as surfing, but rather as being stuck in the traffic jam. This is what I don't get - is it so much better to squeeze all that irrelevant informations into a single page?

Here at the uni we have like 2 glassfibre connections, 9 ADSL and VDSL (abbreviations for FAST, other than that, Google will appease to all your inquiry needs) and still sometimes I'm witnessing less than satisfactory pageloading performances.

While back home we have only 56k dial-up.

So these couple of days, to make the most out of the annual Dragon Boat Festival, I was back home watching the telly and playing computer games for days on end. However, as you may well know, nothing good lasts forever, my gamepad-grasping paradise was then relentlessly shattered when I switched the modem on and wait for the dialing shriek to die down. What followed was worthy of death penalty, or any of the cruelest form of "twist-and-turn"s ever devised by man - it took literally ages to open just one blog.

So what's wrong with blogs? You might ask. Well, nothing's wrong of course, it's your personal page and you're entitled to do whatever you please with it. But, I just have enough with those that force you to listen to songs and whatever else when you just want to see whether it's been updated. Besides, these pages look utterly ugly, not at all user-friendly, unaesthetically designed, or perhaps made with cunning criminal intents conceived to fill you with rage.

Firefox crashs quite often when I open them all in tabs, looks like it can't stand it either.

What We See and What We Seem is But a Dream - A Dream Within a Dream

Apt in Brooklyn

It's 5 o'clock in the afternoon, the smell of rain is in the air, it's quiet, cool and surrounded by a light tinge of blue. I like that. It's not saying that I'm addicted to sadness (or am I?), rather it's the feeling that I'm familiar with. The impending onslaught of rain, the darkened land, the odor of rapidly moisturized atmosphere and the actual descent from heaven. I like looking at nothing in particular through the weeping glass.

It's one of those times that you are so occupied, yet without having the slightest urge to comply with the obligations. You're not in a great rush to go anywhere, you're content with staying right where you are (but of course, it would always be much better if she was here with you. Unfortunately, it's rather unlikely, of which you are aware). Maybe we can coin this mood something like ah Pacific Islandish, hmmm... Pacific Islandish... or perhaps Oceanicish... anyway, doesn't matter, you get the idea.

It's the kind of cozy and lazy afternoon feeling, like you've just had a cuppa, some sandwiches, ham and cakes on a nice shaded lawn ah what a lovely afternoon don't you agree my dear while soft breeze murmurs lullaby at your ears, inviting you to sink into a world of unchained fantasy. When you find yourself caught in this kind of mood, you know you're not necessarily happy, just sort of not-completely-of-the-negative-side-of-inactive.

Got an email from Rebecca the other day telling me that she was looking for someone to share the flat with. And even though Brooklyn was not among the most exotic of places in the world, it is for me at this very moment. It seems so distant and faraway, so unreal, it's one block from Prospect Park and the Brooklyn Library, with the Brooklyn Museum and the Botanical Gardens a few blocks away. On the 2, 3, B, Q subway lines. I have no idea what that translates into geographically, but it hardly matters. It feels so totally from another world, and, well, it is, after all, which helps me, for a while, to forget about my own troubles.

Monsoon Wedding

I find myself overdosing on motion pictures these couple of days. Motion pictures with emotions that I myself can't manage to muster. Gloria said that she'd been in the mood and that she'd cried. Well, I told her that it was something worthy of celebration because she was still capable of crying, for some of us can't. It's a luxury that is not to be luxuriated in by some.

At 47 minutes into the movie I checked Ailing's MSN alias, damn fool you're torturing yourself. At once, an overwhelming wave of vomiting sensation hit my brain and I was force to cut off every moving motion, I knew I shouldn't have looked, but I did, and the remaining 67 minutes of film seemed like 67 million years.

***

Fictions are magical, they present you with a world that is faraway, objective yet at the same time intimate and exotic, not matter how miserable and familiar the world in which the story unfolds is. That's why I love it. And you get to cry, despite being cinematographically induced, that's another bonus.

She said she was afraid of my dark side. Yes, she was being honest, I appreciate that, but I did scare her away, eh. I just screwed it up. Yes, the opposite of sex loves you when you're easy, and they're out of sight faster than the ray of light at the faintest hint of something foul. I know I shouldn't be cynical, but once you made a mistake you don't get a second chance, like you simply can't step into the same river twice.

Implosion

I've failed in foreseeing the same reaction. I didn't see that her presence would trigger such an inward rage, a rage of not foreseeing the forming of the same result. It's a rage that's hard to explain, whose shape is no easy task to grasp, nevertheless I will try to do so and hopefully in the process would be able to achieve that now sitting alone in the office with the residue of that rage.

It's, what can I say, irrational. It's a mixture of many things, but mostly her constant refusal, her unwillingness to express her thoughts, the lack of information and my nonstop guessing. Among them, I suppose it's the guessing that finally gets to me, it's endless and tiring. And I think I'm finally over quota.

I need a confirmation from her part, yet am unable to do that. Her attitude is ever ambiguous and this ambiguity is making my already troublesome organ even more troublesome. The sad thing is that I can't just go knock on her door and tell her that I want to die because I'm in love with her. But I need her to know that I'm suffering. So I didn't do anything, not the least reaction at all, when she said that her legs were killing her and that she was tired. I didn't do anything, not responding to her question why I was in a bad mood, not greeting her, no smiles, not looking at her, nothing.

Of course I know that this attitude of mine is stupid and won't achieve anything but the contrary, because he who plays it cool to make his world a little colder is a bloody fool. And I'm, most of all, angry at myself for being one, for not being able to care about her when I find myself getting caught by such emotions. The residue is nothing but remorse. It's like setting the hard works of your whole life aflame and see them disappear amongst the dancing flare in front of your very eyes.

What I need now is a truck that goes at 100km/h. One that is overloaded and comes towards me.